Recently, I was called to be the secretary in our Young Women’s organization. For those of you who aren’t members of my church, that means I’ve been asked to work with the girl youth, ages 12 to 18. Holy moly! What an experience it has been! I truly believe the Lord gave me this position for my growth and development. I am learning A LOT about myself and somehow through this calling, the Lord is showing me the many many blessings in my life. First and foremost how wonderfully supportive and loving my husband is. But I digress.

And yes I do realized I look like a thirteen year old in this picture. Maybe that just means the girls will be able to relate to me better! Izzy, standing behind me, is more than a head taller! What is this?

Working with these young women has caused me to reflect on my own experiences as a teenager. It’s such a difficult time! So many important choices are made during those few, precious years. But for some reason, that just doesn’t sink in as a teenager. Teens don’t realize simple day to day choices—like what to wear that day, who to date, or whether or not to sit by the loner girl at lunch—make a difference. Life has an interesting way of hinging outcomes on seemingly inconsequential decisions. For example, who would have thought that not making the Cheerleading Squad (which seemed the crowning disappointment of my teen years) would have such far reaching effects. Who I chose as my peers, my desire to do well in school, where I applied to college, getting accepted to that college, meeting my husband, deciding to be married in the temple, starting a beautiful family, and living happily ever after all resulted from that turning point in my life. Okay, okay, so my life isn’t perfect (of course) but I am very blessed. I feel lucky to have made the choices I did. But how and why was I able to make those good decisions when faced with the question “what now?” after my dream life as a popular cheerleader evaporated before my eyes? And more importantly, what can I do as a leader to help these precious young women make good choices, follow Jesus Christ, and reap the rewards of their righteousness? I want nothing more than for these girls to feel the happiness I have felt when living as I should, and to understand that the choices they are making now will determine their future.

Deep I know.

Any ideas? Any inspirational experiences of how your leaders positively affected you?

I hope we can all turn our hearts and thoughts toward our Savior, Jesus Christ this Easter weekend. We are nothing without Him and His mercy. All hope, happiness, and goodness are obtainable through the Atonement He made on our behalf.

I am so upset that I didn’t write this post a month ago. I wish I could portray now the raw feelings I had then. I remember one night after a deranged melt-down, I told Miles how angry I was that no one told the truth about postpartum depression and just how difficult it really was. I don’t mean to make anyone feel guilty for not warning me or comforting me while I was struggling. After all, I did my best to hide it and put on a happy face. I didn’t want to give anyone the impression that I wasn’t good at being a new mom. Why are we so afraid to seem imperfect? Because of this, I felt terribly alone. I was embarrassed to admit to anyone (and for awhile even to myself) that I was depressed. I know this affliction doesn’t strike everyone. Count yourself lucky! I’ve been told by a number of people that my situation was harder than normal and I had a much rougher start than most new moms. But how would I know. I’d never had a baby before. I think it mostly had to do with all the early health issues Link was facing. But I also know that having a baby is never easy for anyone. There are always struggles. For me I felt like I was PMSing x10 for weeks and weeks. I hated not feeling like my normal self. I blew everything out of proportion to the point that even the smallest hang-ups seemed like monumental burdens. But I couldn’t accurately decipher the size of my challenges. Everything was skewed in my mind. These enormous challenges I “made up” were my reality. I felt guilty that I wasn’t enjoying motherhood and felt even worse that I wasn’t being a good mom to Link—that I wasn’t hacking it. This led to regular melt downs where all I could do was cry hysterically. Miles would remind me over and over again that my hormones were wacky. Of course, this was comforting depending on what mood I was in.

I don’t know exactly when things started looking up but the burden just seemed to get lighter and lighter until one day I realized I felt like my happy self again. Taking up swimming and making sure I got out of the house everyday really helped lift my spirits, but I know this wasn’t the “cure.” I found the statement “it gets better,” which I had heard over and over again from basically anyone with children, was coming true. I don’t know how or why, but the depression did pass and boy am I grateful!

So I don’t really know what the point of this post is. I hope it can be eye-opening for a few, comforting for some, and refreshing for others.

My name is Michelle Pomeroy and I am imperfect. But I’m doing the best I can.

I just nursed Baby Lincoln and put him down for a nap. I was seriously debating whether or not I should finally write up my birth story or take a nap with him. Let me tell you, nothing is more precious than sleep right now! Maybe he’ll sleep long enough for me to write this and get a little shut-eye too!

I have a hard time pin-pointing exactly when labor started. I had regular contractions all day and night Friday May 30th. My mom even drove through the night because we all thought I was in labor! Well, it was a false alarm. When I woke up Saturday morning, the contractions were gone. The same thing happen all day Saturday. On Sunday we went to church. I was pretty discouraged. It was now my due date and I felt like I had “almost” been in labor forever. The contractions were now a bit more painful, but I wasn’t getting my hopes up.

That night, Miles surprised me with a “new mother” gift. He bought me the wedding band we couldn’t afford when we got married! I cried! It was so wonderful and thoughtful!

After that, we had a bit of euphoria. Miles and I were literally dancing in our living room together—something we wouldn’t normally do with company around.

I was still having a few contractions about every 7-10 min or so. Then, it happened. I was just sitting in the recliner and it hit me. No more messing around. I looked at Miles and wanted to tell him to just STOP lip syncing to the music, but I couldn’t do anything but breath. “Oh boy, that one hurt” I exclaimed. Right after, at 12:15am Monday morning, my water broke. My mom grabbed her camera.

I was totally surprised. I didn’t expect my water to break before we got to the hospital. Miles called Labor and Delivery, and they told us to take our time because my contractions were still pretty far apart. They told us to be at the hospital in 2 hours, and because there was the possible risk of infection they wanted the baby born within 24 hours. We now knew he would be born on Miles’ birthday. After the second gush of water, I ate a little breakfast for some energy and labored for 2 hours at home. From this point on, time went into hyperspeed.

We got to the hospital at 2:30am. I was already tired. The midwife checked me and I was only at 2 cm and 80% effaced. Not much progress from my doctor’s appointment. They wanted to put me on petocin right away, but I chose to labor for awhile, hoping my body would progress on it’s own. I didn’t want petocin unless I had the epidural, and I wasn’t ready for the epidural yet. Labor hurt pretty bad. We labored for about 5 hours in the hospital, walking the halls and such. Miles was such a good support. I hung on to him through every contraction.

My contractions were now coming about ever 3-5 minutes. We had some good progress! When the midwife came back in, I was ready for the epidural. Can I just tell you that the epidural was a piece of cake! I was really nervous about it, but the anesthesiologist did a wonderful job! Though I hated being strapped to the bed with all sorts of IVs, monitors and such, I was so happy for the relief.

The nurse checked me again, and I had progressed to 4 cm on my own. I was happy with this. Especially because I’ve been told contractions are so much stronger after your water breaks. Both Miles and I slept for a couple hours.

At about 1:00 in the afternoon, the nurse came in and notified me I was already at 8 cm! I couldn’t believe it. About 30 min after that, she said I was ready to push. I remember her saying, “your baby will be here soon. We’ll push for about 15 min okay?” Hah! So we started pushing. I’m so happy that I could feel the urge to push even through the epidural. We pushed with my legs in the stirrups, then on my side, then sitting up. I was exhausted. We did this for 2 hours. I was beginning to feel discouraged. Then the midwife came in and asked me “How do you feel about a c-section?” Are you kidding me? After all this work? No way. I want a vaginal birth. She said there was a “slight” possibility that I could deliver this baby if I pushed another hour. I asked the nurse if my husband could give me a blessing. He did, and there was no more doubt. I said let’s do it! I think I opened my eyes to look at Miles twice during the next hour and 15 minutes. I have never focused so hard on something in my life. I had Miles counting in my ear and holding my hand the entire time. My mom was on one leg, and the nurse was holding the other. They were all so helpful and encouraging. I really couldn’t have done it without them. I was so happy when they brought a mirror over and I could see the baby’s head. I pushed harder—which I didn’t think was possible. When the midwife returned, she was surprised I had progressed so much. I was given a small episiotomy and a few minutes later I was reaching down for my son.

I have never felt so much emotion in all my life when they placed my boy on my chest. Relief, love, happiness, pride, accomplishment, and joy, just to name a few. My baby was so beautiful! I can’t even write about it without crying. I had never worked so hard in my life, and the a reward was so amazing. I just held him and Miles and I sobbed. My mom says we were moaning with joy. The baby was then placed on my bare chest. Baby Lincoln was so alert gazing up at me.

The nurse helped me put him to the breast and he latched on right away. We spent about 45 minutes like this until the nurses took him to be cleaned up. He was 7 lbs 3 oz, and 20 1/4″ long. What a perfect size. He was so healthy and robust with a beautiful color.

The next part of the day is so vague to me. I know we were waiting to be taken to our post-partum room. My mom says we were there for more than 3 hours. I don’t remember it. I do remember the nurses helping try to get up for the first time to go the the bathroom. I couldn’t walk and I almost passed out. They gave me juice and waved ammonia under my nose. Finally they got me into the wheelchair, and I carried the baby to our new room.

Recovery in the hospital was brutal. I had torn past my episiotomy and ended up with a 3rd degree laceration (meaning I tore a bit into the rectal muscle). The most frustrating part was that I now had to take care of this new baby, and I could barely move and take care of myself.

The baby roomed in with us the first night and was up nearly ever hour. After not getting any sleep the night before and feeling like I was hit by a semi, this was really difficult. Miles took care of him most of that first night.

Everyday has gotten better since, but it’s still hard! He is so wonderful, but I’m not gonna lie—I’ve had those “what was I thinking” moments. I’ve learned more in the past 10 days than I ever could have imagined. I’ve learned that motherhood is hard work, I’ve never loved and appreciated my husband more, and it is impossible to be a good parent without the Lord’s help. We are so grateful for our baby boy. We’re so proud of him. He has such a special spirit and has added so much to our little family!