It has been months since I have really done anything musically.

And that’s okay. We all have seasons in our lives, and my life has been consumed with the baby inside my tummy for the past 28 weeks. Between being pregnant, work, and finishing my degree at BYU-I online, there just hasn’t been room for much else.

I’ve been praying a lot lately about what to do about my music career. I’ve just been in this rut for so long that it is hard to get back into the natural swing of things. Writing songs used to be so easy for me–I did it daily. Now I struggle to come up with a decent chorus.

I’ve been struggling with the decision to keep working at my part time job after I have the baby (after taking a leave of absence, of course). However, after a lot of prayer and soul searching, I have decided to quit. I put in my two weeks notice today.

My life is going to be so busy and full just with this little one coming into my life, and I don’t want to spend my available time that I have to myself folding clothes or checking receipts. It’s time for me to get serious about music, so I’m taking a leap of faith, letting go of that part of my life, and giving my all to my family and my music.

I probably won’t have any recordings up for a while (there’s a kid sitting on my diaphragm). But I’m excited to start changing gears. I feel like I’m finally getting to that point in my life that I’ve wanted to be at all along.

Here’s to new beginnings, and picking up where I left off.


Worth it.

So, I had a little pity party last night. Feels like I’ve been having a lot of those lately.

Mark was asleep, and I laid in bed and shed quiet tears as I reflected on, well, my reflection.

I get that pregnancy is “beautiful” in it’s own right. And it truly is.

But I am not a fan of stretch marks. Nope. And it feels like I spot more every day.

So between that, my super itchy/bumpy legs, weight gain, all of that good, superficial stuff, my insecure, hormonal, pregnant mind just let me have it.

So I said a silent prayer that I would be reminded that this is all worth it, blew my nose, and tried to calm my mind.

And then, my sweet baby reminded me why I’m doing this. It was almost like he was hugging me from the inside. With every kick, every stupid, superficial worry just melted away.

This is all for him. And it’s completely worth it.

Thanks for the reminder, buddy.

Gestational Misery.

So, as some know, I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes yesterday. It’s not the end of the world, and it’s only for the next 3 months, but it’s a bummer.

I spent all day yesterday rubbing it off like no big deal, convincing myself I didn’t really care. Crap happens, and I just gotta deal with it.

Then I went to work. And for some awesome reason, my pregnant mind decided to start caring. I started spiraling.

Could I have prevented it? Is my baby going to be okay? Am I going to be okay? Am I going to have to get induced? Have a C-Section cause my baby is 15 pounds? Is he going to be obese later in life because of me? Am I just too overweight? Am I ever going to like my body again? Why do some women get to look cute and skinny while pregnant? Why can’t I be one of those people who doesn’t get stretch marks? Why am I showing so much? Why did that lady just ask me if I was due this month or next month? Am I THAT huge?! 

Needless to say, I stopped folding clothes, and hid in the bathroom and had myself a good cry. I prayed for comfort and peace, and finally decided that I should just ask to go home, being the emotional wreck that I was.

I left the stall to go clean my face a little before asking my boss to go home, and just then two other ladies came out of their stalls. Both of them asked me what was wrong, and I laughed and said “hormones.” One lady said, “I don’t know if you’re a praying woman, but I will pray for you. God will take care of you.” Then she left the bathroom.

The other lady stayed behind. “Now, what is REALLY the matter honey?”

I told her I just found out I had GD. I don’t remember everything she said, but she proceeded to tell me that it wasn’t my fault, and that God was in control. She told me how she was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes a few weeks earlier, and how it was hard, but we just have to trust in God because He blesses us so much, even if we do have to face trials. Amongst many more words of wisdom, she said something I already knew, but needed to hear: God isn’t putting that fear in your heart. 

She gave me a big hug, and left. I will probably never see her again, but I will never forget that encounter. All of a sudden I felt peace and comfort wash over me. God isn’t the one filling me with doubts and fears, so why should I give those feelings any attention? I don’t have to feel that way. He can take it away.

So I let Him. I washed my face, went back to work, and everything was okay.

So, here’s to trusting in Him to be in control.

And here’s to making the most of these last three months before I get to meet my sweet boy.

I’m a Survivor!

I did it. I made it through the dreaded three-hour glucose test this morning. High five.

Not going to lie, I was terrified. I heard several horror stories about people throwing up and passing out and having to do it all over again because they couldn’t keep the “syrup” down. The idea of fasting, downing WAY too much sugar in a five minute period, and then having my blood taken 4 times was NOT appealing. But I survived, and got through the test.

Here’s the story, in case any of my pregnant friends out there are as scared/nervous as I was:

It wasn’t that terrible. I was surprised at how hungry I was when I woke up at 7, since I only had to fast from midnight on, and had eaten right before midnight. We got there, I got my blood drawn, and downed the 100 grams of sugar in the form of “fruit punch.” It wasn’t like trying to drink maple syrup, like i’d heard. It was just like over-sugary kool-aid.

About 20 minutes later, I felt desperate to just have a sip of water. Mark went to go ask the nurse if I could, and of course the nurse said I couldn’t. I started panicking as I got more and more nauseous, and the cold sweat came on. Mark came in handy at this point–he helped me prop my legs up on his lap, started playing Turbo on the iPad, and had me focus on watching it, while he pushed into the buttons on my sea sickness wrist bands.

Next thing I knew, an hour passed, and I was getting my blood drawn again. They saw how rough I looked, and offered to have me go to a private room to lay down. Yes.

Second hour was a little better, but the little guy was definitely on a sugar high. He wouldn’t stop kicking me, which did nothing to help my dizzyness. But oh well.

Blood drawn again. Third hour I could feel my energy starting to come back. Blood drawn again, and it was over. And you better believe I made Mark take me to go get some well-deserved fried chicken from Raising Cane’s.

But overall, not as horrendous as I expected. It actually went by super fast, thanks to Turbo and The Man Who Knew Too Little. And it was so comforting to have Mark there with me for support. I’ve felt pretty off today, but that’s to be expected after having that much glucose pumped into your system.

I’m nervous to find out what the results are– they call me tomorrow. Praying that I don’t have Gestational Diabetes, but if I do, I know that it’s in the Lord’s hands and everything will be okay. Either way, I just need to take care of my body so it takes care of my baby.

We’ve toured hospitals, and have decided where we’re going to deliver. I have to admit, it’s weird to think I have been in the room where I will give birth to a human. Ha. But it’s also comforting.

My belly button is officially an outie, my belly is massive, my back always hurts, I pee at least 5 times every night, acid reflux is awesome, and he kicks me ALL the time. And I am so, so happy.