Pre-Marriage Questioning

Pre-dating. When Katie was playing hard-to-get.  

I recently came across an article on the Interwebs with the title 54 Questions to Ask Before You Get Married. (I assumed one of those questions would be, “Do you put an inordinate amount of trust into anonymous articles that you come across on the Internet?”)

I thought back to when Katie and I were dating, and how this article would have most likely inspired my own line of questioning. Mainly:

“54 questions? Who has time for that?!”
“Will this involve a polygraph?”
“How much will this cut into ‘kissing time?’”

…and so forth.

Dating. And time permitting, being adorable.

Since our courtship was before the invention of the Internet, smartphones, Ted Talks, or Robert Mueller, I didn’t have easy access to lists of questions I should be asking this highly attractive, hilarious, and wicked-smart love of my life. For me, when I was dating Katie, the Question List was much shorter.

1. Do you like me?
2. Do you think you could like me forever?
3. How do you feel about eating ice cream every night?
4. Do you consider it a hate crime that Bill Murray doesn’t already have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame?
5.

That’s about it, I guess.

The Big Day.  

23 brief years later. 

I learned a lot by reading this list of 54 questions, you guys. I’ve been married almost 24 years, and I’ll just say it, I kind of thought I was nailing it. But NO! I am so embarrassed. As I read these questions, I began to realize that after 23 years of marriage – there are still things we have never even asked each other!

I couldn't wait for our next date night, so we could get to the bottom of some of these. "Do you want kids?" I would begin. "How many?" "If it were up to you, when would we start having kids?" Katie would then wrinkle her nose and squint her eyes, like she was giving a lot of thought to my timely questions. Or like she was wondering when I'd started drinking in the afternoon, since the relevancy of these questions is questionable. "Why do we want to marry each other?" "How should I behave when you’re in a bad mood?" "If physical attraction were eliminated, what would be left in our relationship?" ("Ha!" she would answer. "Like we’ll ever have to cross that bridge.")

54 questions would seem like an exhaustive list, right? Wrong. Like, wrong wrong. You should be ashamed of how wrong you are.

Sit down, you adorable Gen-Z’er. Let me tell you the kind of hard-hitting questions you want to ask that flawless young thing sitting across from you right now … peering into your eyes … fully confident that you have never had body odor or blown your nose in the shower.

Wanna know who you are really marrying? Consider these 20 questions that you couldn’t possibly even know needed answering before you get married …

1. Does the Christmas season start on November 1st or the day after Thanksgiving?

2. Will using humor diffuse a situation, or throw gas on the fire?

3. Follow up: Is it more important to be right or to be funny?

4. How do you feel about having a conversation while one of us is sitting on a toilet?

5. What temperature is the thermostat going to be set at?

6. It’s midnight, but there’s a new episode of Brooklyn 99. Do we watch it?

7. The speaker at church is super earnest. I’ve decided to do an impression of him for you. During the meeting. But with an adorable lateral-lisp. How do you respond?

8. There’s precisely one serving of ice cream left in the freezer. Who gets it? (Follow-up question: And how did this happen when the carton was half-full yesterday?)

9. I have a story from when I was single and at a church social function where an older, married woman mistook me for her husband and stuck her hand in my back pocket. I will be telling this story at parties for the rest of our lives. Is this a problem?

10. When I feel overwhelmed with love or gratitude – or when our kids do something amazing – I will get emotional. In public. Will this embarrass you?

11. How do you feel about stints of unemployment or underemployment?

12. How do you feel about putting up decorations for every holiday?

13. I won’t sing in public. But I will sing to you. And those songs will usually be pop songs where I have parodied the lyrics to the point where they are about 85% innuendo. Do you find this amusing?

14. Do you feel lip syncing is superior to karaoke? Correction: Why is lip syncing superior to karaoke?

15. Dinner is almost ready, but I go to the pantry anyway and grab a bag of chips. Is this met with a) eye rolls b) sarcasm or c) death threats?

16. We agreed on a specific price tag for our Christmas presents to each other. I completely ignored it and surprised you with something way out of budget. Again. For the 23rd year in a row. Even though I promised you I wasn’t going to do that this year. How much trouble am I in? Why do I keep doing this? Do promises mean nothing to me?

17. We will most likely see U2 every time they tour. Despite the ridiculous ticket costs. Problem?

18. There will be moments in our life together when I feel inspired to take over the world! To do something amazing! Excited and determined, I will present you with my ideas and plans. After the music dies down and I realize my plans require a lot of work, I will go back to being just me. Will you be able to get excited with me and tell me how wonderful I am when I present my ideas – and then, will you be able to quickly forget them and not throw them in my face when absolutely nothing happens?

19. If neither of us is a doctor, are you still comfortable looking at weird things in unspeakable places and answering the question, “What do you think this is?”

20. How much of our lives is going to be shared on blog posts?

Movies 8 Has Left the Building

If you don’t live in Provo, Utah, or never have, then this landmark might need a small introduction.

This is Provo's discount movie theater. It’s like a holding cell for movies, after they’ve enjoyed their standard run at the theater, but before they are released for home theater viewing. It’s a warm welcome, as far as holding cells go. “Here, La La Land, put your feet up. You must be exhausted after that long run at those upscale, prestigious theaters. Rest a bit. And don’t forget, you get one phone call.” Of course, during its one phone call, you’d find La La Land yelling at the theater, which is always full of chatty teenagers, “SHUT UP! I can’t hear anything with all your yapping!” And trust me, La La Land has a point.

You’ll notice the sign says, “Thank you for 28 years.” That means this theater was born in 1989. I remember. I was here. My freshman year at BYU was fall of 1989. This theater holds more memories, and more of my dollars, than I care to admit.

In 1989, my parents flew out to BYU with me, to drop me off and help me get settled. The night before they left, we went to dinner, and then went to a movie at Movies 8. We saw Chances Are, starring Robert Downey Jr. (You guys remember Robert Downey Jr.?) I remember my dad saying, “Three for Chances Are.” And the lady behind the glass saying, “Three dollars.” I had never heard of a discount theater, and my mind exploded. “THREE DOLLARS?! Cancel my contract at the freshman dorms, I’m living HERE!”

And I pretty much did.

You will never have an easier time finding one dollar and two hours than you will your freshman year of college.

“Dude. What are you doing?”
“Homework.”
“We’re going to see Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. You in?”
“Of course. I haven’t seen it since last night, when I also had $1 and two hours to spare.”
“Sweet.” [Exchange of high-fives.]*
(*Based on actual events.)

My friend, Jim, and I had a Friday afternoon Psychology class my freshman year. We both learned quickly that Friday afternoons are no time for college psychology classes. The grade was mostly based on attendance, so we would go to class, sign the roll, and then leave for Movies 8. And we would watch whatever was playing next. It was like movie roulette. Sometimes we won – Uncle Buck! But usually we lost, including an unfortunate viewing of a festering turd called Ski Patrol.

One afternoon my friend Ty and I went to buy tickets to a movie that night for us and our dates. Dead Poets Society. But since we were already there, and our dates weren’t until later, Ty thought it would probably be a good idea to see something right then, as well. Something our dates would be less interested in. Count yourselves lucky if you’ve ever had a friend as smart as Ty, you guys. “Two for License to Kill, please.”

Movies 8 was the backdrop to many significant life lessons and rites of passage moments for me.

I learned about second chances. For example, when I took my date, Melissa, to see Weekend at Bernie’s, and at the end of the night, she still agreed to a second date. A date where she would choose what we would be doing, but still, a second date!

I walked out of my first movie, ever, at Movies 8. Airheads. So incredibly inane, our whole group unanimously looked at each other, stood up, and marched out. No words were spoken. The movie didn’t deserve our words. But if that movie still wants to apologize for stealing those 32 minutes from us, there’s no statute of limitations.

You may already be aware of my feelings about hand-holding at movies (I’m for it! You can read about them here), but if these soon-to-be-torn-down walls could talk! Once, during a viewing of The Abyss – the scene where Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio has to drown so Ed Harris can pull her to the station and then revive her! – my date and I skipped the entire timid-phase and immediately clasped each other’s’ hands, held them to our hearts, and stopped breathing. Then our hands just sort of stayed locked the rest of the movie. [Swoon.] Of course, another time, at the beginning of a relationship, my date kept bumping my elbow with her hand, and I kept apologizing and shifting in my seat, only to realize after the third time that she was trying to stealthily hold my hand. In my defense, I was entranced by another brilliant performance by Robert Downey Jr. (you guys remember Robert Downey Jr.?) in the magical and under-appreciated, Heart & Souls.

My most memorable moment? Katie and I had been dating regularly, though not exclusively, and things were … changing. Feelings were developing, though I, for one, was pretty ineloquent in trying to articulate how I felt about her and what direction I thought we were going. She was being a little bit vague as well. We were at Movies 8 one night, taking in a viewing of Only You, starring Marisa Tomei and Robert Downey Jr. (You guys remember Robert Downey Jr.?) At the end of the movie, I looked over, and Katie had tears running down her cheeks. She took my face in her hands and kissed me. I was a little caught off guard. “Are you ok?” I asked. “I’m in love with you,” she said, softly. “Then I’m super glad we chose this over Clear and Present Danger,” I said.

 

When we moved back to Provo a few years ago, I was so excited to be near Movies 8. For taking a family of 10 to the movies, a discount theater is the way to go.

Kind of.

It’s different now. In 1989, there were no stadium-seating theaters with such amenities as food being brought out to you by a waiter, and no lounge chairs that are essentially beds. The full-price theaters looked and felt precisely like the Movies 8 discount theater. They were all the same. Also, the lag time between when a movie left the regular theater and was released on video was much longer. Now, by the time a movie comes to a discount theater, it’s pretty much released on video at the same time. Sure, I could take my family to the movies for $10. OR I could rent it on-demand or Redbox it for $1 and watch the movie on my couch, with my own personal waiter* bringing me food while I lounge. (*Usually Roxanna, my 13-year old daughter who bakes amazing cookies.)

I feel like I haven’t shown the proper level of attention to Movies 8 since I moved back here. Like, I haven’t been going weekly, or twice in one day … and I’ve never ditched a psychology class on a Friday afternoon to go see Encino Man. But with Movies 8’s closing, I think I’d like to honor it by carrying on its legacy. Therefore, I will open my home to the public and be charging $1 admission to come watch movies at my house. I’ll provide my chatty teenagers for ambiance, and I’ll see if Robert Downey Jr. will come to my grand opening. (You guys remember Robert Downey Jr.?)

A Moment in Time, Part 2

Katie and I recently celebrated our 20-year anniversary. We were married August 17, 1995. It was a Thursday. 1:00 p.m. Salt Lake City. It was hot, and it was inconvenient for almost everyone. And it was the best day ever in the history of days. Truly. I polled *everyone. (*Katie and myself.)

As part of our celebration, I made a video for Katie – narrowing down 20 years to 4.5 minutes. This was achieved because my brother, Dehn, who is a master with film production, suggested I just select a theme, and whatever footage doesn’t fit with that theme doesn’t get in the video. No matter how cute. That made it easier for me. I chose the theme of dancing/performing. Here it is:

On the night of the 17th, when I got home from work, our kids had set up dinner for Katie and I. They had turned the kitchen into a restaurant. Abbie had prepared the food. Garren and Connor were our waiters. Roxanna, Tanner, Becca and Lucy provided the music. Hillary was the loud drunk at the next table who insisted on wandering over and sampling our food. Especially dessert.

We loved it.

Katie and I had gotten engaged at The Underground, a restaurant in Provo that no longer exists. So the kids called this “restaurant” The Above Ground. They printed menus, with most of the meals being inside jokes. Example: “The Hot Pocket, with a side of Pepto.” (Jim Gaffigan reference.) Garren would say things like, “Are you celebrating anything special this evening? Oh! 20 years?! Well, at The Above Ground, all couples celebrating a 20-year anniversary eat free.”

When Katie and I had been married only a few weeks, both still students at BYU, we were going to bed one late evening when she said, “I can’t wait until we are done with school. We are going to be so wealthy.” Surprised and excited, I said, “We are?!” She said, “Yes, of course. You’re so talented, it’s just inevitable.” She fell asleep, and I stayed up, so happy and flattered in her confidence of our imminent wealth, and plotting all the ways we would spend this abundance. Well ... It’s 20 years later, and I think I can safely say … the joke’s on Katie.

Kind of.

We are not, by any definition, frolicking in piles of cash. (I believe that's officially one of the barometers of wealth, correct?) But when I look at our children and this life we’ve created together. When I look at where we live. When I look at the people who have played such intricate roles in our life and influenced us for good. When I look at all that is still before us. And when I look at Katie and see that she still has that same confidence in me that she did 20 years ago – the same confidence in us – I would absolutely use the word "wealth" and “abundance” to describe this extraordinary ordinary life.

Real Mothers

I consider the education I seek, the degree I earned, the jobs I filled, the musical instruments I study, the hobbies I cultivate, the interests I pursue, the books I read, the very person I become; all these things have shaped me and informed and improved the mother I am.  - Katie Fillmore Craig

18 months ago our family had the privilege of being cast in a Google Fiber ad. The photographer for the shoot was Samantha Mitchell, originally out of L.A., but now living in Salt Lake. We loved her. A year later, out of the blue, she reached out to Katie.

“My friend, Alyson Aliano, is also a photographer. She's originally from New York, but she's living in L.A., and she’s working on a book called Real Mother. I told her about you. She’s going to be in Utah just before Thanksgiving. Could she come do a shoot with you?”

The inspiration for Real Mother came to Alyson after marrying her husband and becoming a stepmother to young twin girls. People continually asked her the same questions - "Aren’t you going to have children? Don’t you want to have your own children? You know, because you're not their real mom." This started her on a photo series exploring what it means to be a "real mom." You can see some of the original photos here and here. She is looking at getting it published into a book. And Katie is going to be in it!

Alyson showed up at our front door the day before Thanksgiving. Wednesday. The day the pies get baked. One of the smaller of our 8 children answered the door and let her in.

“Hi, I’m Alyson.”

“Hi, I’m Katie.” [Walking from the kitchen to the front door.]

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Nope.”

“No, I mean...do you have cousins or friends over or something?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

“These are all mine.”

Blank stare from Alyson.

“I have 8 children.”

Continued blank stare. [Alyson is apparently, literally gobsmacked.]

“Did Samantha not tell you I had 8 children?”

According to Katie, Alyson had a look on her face like she was doing long division in her head. It was taking a while to process the words floating in the air between the two of them. But when they did, Alyson finally said, "This is the biggest family I've ever photographed." Katie couldn't tell if this was a good or bad thing, because Alyson still looked perplexed. Like, Italian-Queens-New-Yorker kind of perplexed. But then she confirmed, with the same no-nonsense inflection, "This just made my whole year."

These two women, from com-mm-plll-eee-tely different worlds (I cannot spread that word out over enough syllables to illustrate my point) connected, sharing the experiences of motherhood. All while Katie and the kids made pies for Thanksgiving.

I was at work and absent for the whole thing. I’m kind of sad, but kind of feel like it wouldn’t have been the same experience if I’d been there. And I love the experience for what it was.

Alyson left a questionnaire for Katie to fill out. It was no small thing for Katie. It's several pages long. She soul-searched and wrote answers and re-wrote them and finally sent them off, assuming Alyson would realistically use one or two answers. Alyson’s response? “I’m using everything you wrote. You will be the biggest family in the book and your voice is unique. I’m using everything from everyone.”

I’ve been married to Katie almost 20 years, and in reading her responses to these questions, I learned new things about her. I want our children to have copies of her answers as part of their own personal history records. I’m so happy for this experience. The book isn’t out yet, and I don’t want to make this a “spoiler,” so I’ll just share one of Katie’s answers.


What is motherhood for you? What is it like? How would you define it?

Motherhood is everything I do all day and into the night. It is snuggling my nursing baby’s sweaty head. It is staying up later than I had planned to listen to my 17 year-old tell me about someone at work. It is hearing “Mom!” and knowing whether it means my 3 year-old is ready to have her bum wiped or my 13 year-old finally got the LEDs on his arc reactor to work. It is cleaning up barf and urine and poo. It is answering the worst question (“What’s for dinner?”) and already knowing who’s excited and who’s in mourning. It is trying to react appropriately to missing socks and lost library books and big messes because I know I am always being watched. Motherhood is singing and crying and scolding and kissing. It is learning what a broken finger looks like and what pneumonia sounds like. It is spending a day making cookies with my 11 year-old and making a covered wagon with my 6 year-old. It is watching light saber fights and puppet shows and magic tricks and first dates. It is driving to auditions and try-outs and recitals and games. It is leaking milk through your shirt and wearing spit up on your shoulder. Motherhood is being hugged and scowled at and cried for and sneezed on. It is crying with your 15 year-old who feels friendless and laughing with your 9 year-old who got a joke. It is getting kids to practice the cello or piano or times tables or the Preamble.  It is trying to reason with a toddler. It is midnight prayers for a fever to break. It is births and miscarriages. It is a front row seat to the best and the worst of your own and your kids' emotions.  Mothering is the most important thing I will ever do with my time and my life. To me, motherhood is the most important work in society. I am creating and teaching and shaping the next generation. It’s messy, sweaty, and bloody and I choose it every day because I love it.  - Katie Fillmore Craig

This photo was in response to Alyson asking, "What else do you all like to do together?" and Katie responding, "We're practicing the hand chimes for a Christmas program." And so they played for Alyson. 

*Photos by Alyson Aliano

Announcing My New Baby, Hillary

 There are certain red flags that immediately identify hippie-freaks. 

“Oh, we don’t own a TV.”
“Waitress, are these ice cubes in my Diet Coke organic and locally sourced?” 
And finally...
“We’ve just loved homebirthing our eight children.” 

I had to ask myself some hard questions this weekend. 

If you are unfamiliar with the culture of the Craig family, let me explain. No. There is too much. Let me sum up. 

We use a midwife. 
We home birth. 

Apparently we are hippie-freaks. (Though we admittedly enjoy TV and the only thing we care about our ice is that it's pebble-ice.)

Not everyone wants to or should use a midwife. You may have health risks that prevent this opportunity - or bottom-line, it may not be what you’re comfortable with. And that’s fine. It is not everyone’s choice; but we are grateful that it can be ours. We have loved the experiences. 

This experience was different - in a few ways. 

1. I got The Call. Until this birth, I had never gotten that awesome call at work. “I’m in labor! Come home!” Wherein I then hastily throw out any papers on my desk, slam the computer, and flee the office while yelling to the front desk, “Hold my calls! My wife is in labor!” I finally got to do that! Though, just like all other media-versions of birth, that’s not exactly how it happened. But I’ll take it!

2. We had a new midwife. We’ve used the same midwife, in Las Vegas, for our last six children. It was not fun to realize she would not be here for this one. We found a new midwife here in Utah. Katie loved her because she is old, experienced, and holds the wisdom of an old, experienced midwife. I wasn’t so sure, but then, during Katie’s labor, when I was sitting behind Katie, holding her, and the two of us naturally had our hands on Katie’s tummy...and the midwife said, “Somebody please take a photo of those hands, I want it on the cover of my website. That is the photo of the century.” Well, when she said that, I thought, “You know, this midwife has something.  A certain eye for beauty and awesomeness. She really IS so very, very wise.” 

3. This baby was way overdue. We may never know how accurately overdue. You know they base the 40 week pregnancy cycle on the date of your last period. But since Katie has either been pregnant or nursing since 1997, she’s had, like, two periods. (My apologies to any men who... no. You know what? I don’t apologize. If you can’t talk about women’s periods, then you are no man. There I said, it. Now good day, sir.)

4. Ok, actually, I wasn’t done with my last point. I got going on my soapbox and forgot where I was. That’s right, Katie’s monthly menstrual periods. Anyway, so we really had no idea when her last period was, so we guessed. Well, we knew it was on the day we had used a gift-card to this bbq place in Orem, but there was no credit card record to confirm the date. And I think we guessed wrong. Because this baby was late, though not record-breaking late. 

5. We called the midwife early. We have traditionally called the midwife to come for the delivery at either the perfect time (baby born 15 min to an hour after the midwife arrives) or too late (Roxanna and Rebecca, who arrived before the midwife). This time...too early! I couldn’t believe it. That’s a rookie mistake, and this was our 8th baby. But Katie was tired and wanted to know how far along she was.  Midwife came at midnight on Friday, left at 2 a.m. and came back at 6:30 a.m. (Saturday morning), when we and the baby had stopped messing around. 

Katie’s contractions never got super-close together, but they got harder.  They got even worse whenever she got up to do something. So I had the brilliant/marriage-ending idea that Katie should just be up, moving around. I said it out loud. The midwife agreed (she is so, so wise, you guys). And Katie told us we were both fired.  

But that kicked things into high gear. Soon she was sitting on this awesome birth-chair that the midwife brought, and making these deep, bass-sounding noises that meant she was getting ready to push. More than the timing of contractions, more than any instruments, I know Katie’s status by the labor noises she makes. It’s more visceral, but it’s the best gauge I know. 

This is Katie, about 45 second before pushing out a head. I sat at her feet watching her. With all apologies to the women I know, plus my daughters and future daughter-in-laws, plus Pink (who I imagine to be pretty tough) - I told my children that their mom was the strongest woman they would ever know. 

I couldn’t believe we were finally at this point. I had had impressions this baby girl was coming a year ago, before Katie was ever pregnant. I’d had feelings she was a girl from the very beginning. I had been anxious to meet her. When I finally caught her, I felt gratitude beyond measure. She was here. She was healthy. Katie was healthy. The world stopped and for moments...it was perfect. What us hippies call “zen-tastic.” 

It is a unique challenge to write about miracles. Often, you can chronicle the framework of the occurrence. You can describe the specific circumstances. You might be able to articulate how it changes you. But there is some portion that eludes you. You can’t put words to it. It is sacred and otherworldly. And those divine moments generally involve people you love, with a power that cannot be manipulated. And you are simply grateful you got to be there. 

Hillary Craig
November 23, 2013
9 lbs 20.5” long

The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

The other day Josh asked me what I thought our theme for this week should be. Know what I said? Babies.

That's what I said.

Could be because at this moment, Katie is 16 days past her due date. And babies are ALL I can think about.

Here is a photo from a party Saturday night. That's Katie, still going to parties despite wanting to mostly cuddle up on the couch and watch movies until this baby decides to make the scene. And that's one of my BFFs and PTA's own Chris Clark – a self-proclaimed Baby Whisperer – telling this baby to step it up. (Photo taken by up-and-coming Baby Photographer, Kacy Faulconer.)

And I am seeing babies everywhere, now. Neighbors, strangers at the grocery store, random babies who just show up on my front porch, knocking, then pointing at me and laughing when I answer the door. (That last one might have been a dream.)

Look at the cover of this month's Ensign, for crying-gosh-sakes-outloud!

I know, I know. I'm not Katie, carrying around what is most likely a 10 pound baby, so what am I sounding so impatient about? I'm just anxious to hold this new soul, that's all. I love that.

I love the stillness that comes to a home when a newborn arrives.

I love the absolute wonder of new life.

I love the smell of the top of a baby's head.

I love how our babies are consoled by the sound of Katie's voice.

I don't love the worry when you don't know why they're crying, and I don't love the spit ups when you just put on a fresh shirt. But those always seem to work out just fine.

This footage is from the movie The Tree of Life. It is one of the most beautifully filmed movies I've ever seen. It's often impressionistic, and I don't often recommend it - because maybe you'll love it, or maybe you will find it boring and strange. But I loved it. 

Speaking of the Ensign, in President Eyring's talk on Sunday morning he quoted President George Q. Cannon: “There is not one of us but what God’s love has been expended upon. There is not one of us that He has not cared for and caressed.”

That observation reminded me of an image I once held, just briefly. I was sending Abbie off to Girls Camp, and before she left, I sat and visited with her. I hugged her and kissed her and offered words of encouragement and love. That was me, a super-flawed mortal father. And Abbie was leaving for only a single week. I couldn't help but think of how a perfect Father would spend a few moments with His child He loved perfectly before sending them to mortality. A few moments where He cared for and caressed His child at the start of their mortal journey that would last much longer. At least to the child.

And then that child arrives in your arms. And you almost swear that those impressions are still enveloping that baby...and you are somehow privileged to feel them. As if heaven is tangible for just a bit. 

Presenting Garren

14 years ago today, Garren was born in our Las Vegas apartment, on our Futon.

At this point you’re saying to yourself, “Futons aren’t comfortable for sleeping on, sitting on, or even lifting to turn it from a couch into a bed – why on earth would you birth on one!?”

Well, because the kitchen table was still full of dishes from dinner.

Not really. But when you imagine people that homebirth, your mind kind of goes that direction, doesn’t it? Mine used to. Like, “They homebirth; who knows what they’re capable of?!” To quote comedian Jim Gaffigan, “We homebirth and we use a midwife – because, of course, we’re into witchcraft.”

Having a home birth was never actually on our radar. Of course, living in Las Vegas and owning a Futon were never on our radar, either. You just can’t predict everything, people.

Even with Abbie, our first born, we employed the services of certified nurse midwives, who delivered in a hospital. This was more reassuring to me. Like it was kiiiind of homebirthing...but with a net. (Which would probably still be more comfortable than birthing with a Futon.)

After that first midwife experience with Abbie, we moved to Las Vegas. We couldn’t find a practice of certified nurse midwives, like we’d found in Utah, so we began looking at the option of a homebirth with a homebirth midwife. And that is how we found Margie the Midwife. And Garren’s birth then became our segue into homebirthing. And that’s the way all of our children since Garren have been born.

I act like it was this natural and carefree transition, but until we met Margie the Midwife, I was slightly unnerved. I would time how long it took me to drive from our apartment to the hospital, and I would try different routes. You know, in case of an emergency. Like an arm coming out before a head. Or like me freaking out. But after we met Margie, I had all the confidence in the world in her. I already had all the confidence in the world in Katie. So I started to accept that this would be a really neat, really new experience.

It was mid-morning on Saturday, September 18, 1999 when Katie started “early labor.” Katie’s mom had been with us for a few days, and my mom was at home in Lake Tahoe, waiting for our phone call to summons her. I wanted to document the “homebirth experience,” so I had a small notepad with me and jotted down thoughts as things progressed. Here they are, ripped from my journal:

1:00 p.m. Katie makes it public that she is in fact having regular contractions every 20 minutes or so. This continues through the afternoon, with the contractions getting closer – like, five to seven minutes apart – but never getting to the stage one would call Active Labor.

5:00 p.m. I call Mom, telling her to make some plans to get down here from Lake Tahoe, and the sooner the better. She finds two flights: One getting her here at 9:45 p.m. tonight, the other at 9:40 a.m. tomorrow morning. Mom feels impressed to come tonight or it would be too late. Katie feels impressed to kiss Mom, so ecstatic is she at Mom’s suggestion that this baby will come before tomorrow morning.

7:00 p.m. Katie’s sister, Shellie, and her daughter Annmarie (editor’s note: they happen to be living in Las Vegas at the time) come over to visit with Katie’s mom. We decide to distract Katie from the contractions, and we leave Abbie with Katie’s mom, Shellie, and Annmarie, and we head over to Monica’s, our friend who is having a big barbecue for the Oscar de la Hoya fight. On our way over, we get distracted and go to the movies.

7:25 p.m. We nestle into our seats to watch Adam Sandler’s new movie, Big Daddy. Apparently we wanted Katie to be able to say that labor wasn’t the most painful thing she endured today.

8:50 p.m. The movie ends, but we still have some time before we need to pick up my mom at the airport. We head over to Monica’s. As we pull into her driveway, Katie pleads with me to not tell everybody that she is in labor. She just doesn’t want people gawking and wondering if she is going to deliver right here in the Van Brocklin’s living room, in front of de la Hoya and all his fans. I, of course, love my wife, and have every intention of honoring any requests she has regarding her current state…that is, until I reach the front door, where I promptly announce that Katie is in labor. I have to do it, I am just too excited not to. All the girls oooh and aaaah and come running over to cater to Katie – asking her how she feels and if she needs anything, and about these dreams they’ve had lately where Katie is in labor, and even wearing the exact same outfit that she had on this very evening! (Okay, only our friend, Yvonne, had that dream.) We munch on some food, get some well-wishing, and flee to the airport to get Mom.

9:50 p.m. Mom arrives, but I can’t find her.

10:15 p.m. Oh, there she is. But I don’t know how she got on a broken escalator that has no exit on the main floor where I’m waiting for her. Mom is relieved to have not missed the birth.

10:45 p.m. Now we are home. And I’ve got to say, I don’t see this happening in the next several hours. Katie’s contractions are close together, but they haven’t gotten any harder. Katie says they are uncomfortable to a degree…but she can joke and walk and talk through the contractions. And that’s no good. We did call Margie the Midwife to bring her up to speed, so she’s aware. She told us to keep her posted when “things” start happening.

I feel anxious just in the anticipation. Even though this will be very different from Abbie’s laboring and delivery, I feel like because we’ve gone through this before, we’re more familiar with the process. I tell you this – I am not looking forward to seeing Katie in pain. I don’t like that part. It is emotionally draining.

Sunday, September 19

9:00 a.m. Katie has had contractions through the night – regular and slightly more uncomfortable. We decide church meetings might be a bit much - for us, and for members of the Desert Shores ward, who would justifiably stare at us in horror.

4:00 p.m. Things begin to get more serious. Katie’s contractions are painful. That’s right, Katie is in pain, and we couldn’t be happier! I am not allowed to leave the room or go too far. We labor mostly in our bedroom, where we find comfortable positions for Katie to sit in, and I can rub her lower back. Sometimes I stand up behind her and she slumps in my arms. We also try sitting on the bed, where I sit close behind her and rub her lower back. We made that one up, and we feel kind of cool that we are so professional and confident in our abilities that we could do whatever we want, even if it isn’t on the list of “preferred positions for laboring.” We are like…laboring vigilantes.

5:00 p.m. Shellie and Annmarie go home, and in anticipation of the baby coming soon, they take Abbie with them. They bring Abbie into the room to tell us goodbye. She is very cute and sweet and I dare say, at two years old, she seems somewhat sensitive to the situation. She is asking, “Mommy, what’s the matter?” “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Then she tells us she is going to Annmarie’s house, and she gives us hugs and kisses. We both get a little emotional at the gesture.

6:00 p.m. The contractions still don’t seem that hard, compared to laboring with Abbie, but for the peace of mind of knowing how far along Katie is, we decide to call Margie and see what she thinks. Margie, just getting back from a family outing, asks me a few questions about the contractions, but also about how Katie is feeling, and if Katie wants her to come now. I say it might be good for Katie’s strength in mind if she could find out how far along she is, and how dilated. Margie says she will pack her stuff and head over as soon as she gets home. We were to expect her in the next 45 minutes. Katie moves to the Futon in the front room, where we plan to have the baby.

7:00 p.m. Margie arrives and Katie is lying flat on the Futon. Margie sets up her stuff and checks Katie. Judging by how uncomfortable Katie says she is, but also by how calm and together she appears, I’m betting she’s at a 6. Katie, starting to doubt that anything good could be happening soon, thinks she’s perhaps at a 2. Margie checks her and she’s at an 8. We couldn’t believe it. We all let out a noise that was somewhere between a cry and a sigh and a laugh.

While she was checking how far Katie was dilated, Margie feels the bag of water right there in front. She says it is bulging, and although she doesn’t normally break the water, she recommends it this time because it feels like an arm might come through first, and that would mean an emergency rush to the hospital. I tell everyone precisely how many minutes that will take. We decide we are fine with Margie breaking the water and guiding the head down. As soon as she breaks the water, the contractions are intense. Katie must have shot into the transition stage.

Katie has a few more contractions, and it’s time to push. Our Moms are down with Margie at “the business end,” watching for the head. I stay up by Katie’s face, talking to her and holding her hands. When they all say they can see the head, I don’t believe them. I honestly don’t. I think for sure they are lying in order to sustain Katie and give her some sense of false hope.

Katie has a strength in her that she is very connected to. She is aware of her body and its abilities and the sacredness of what she is doing. I am in awe of her when I see her like this. She is stronger than I am.

I hear the three ladies letting out a relieved gasp, and Margie is suddenly handing the baby up to us. I scan the child looking for the “stuff.” And there it is – a brand new baby boy! Katie holds him for a few moments, then passes him to me. I sit on the end of the Futon looking at this new baby, and he opens his eyes and looks right at me. And I realize I am overwhelmed with the feeling that I have missed him. The words seemed to bubble to my lips and I almost involuntarily whisper, “I’ve missed you.” Upon whispering it, I realize what that means. It wasn’t the first time I had seen him, but the first time in a long time. I feel immediately that I know him.

I look around and it is the oddest, most comfortable thing to realize we have never left our home. We just brought a life into this world…right in our living room. And on our dark, blue Futon too. I’m left with the impression that birth can be a very peaceful, private thing.

The Moms go pick up Abbie from Shellie’s. Abbie has fallen asleep on the way home, but we wake her up when they get here. She is all smiles. She sits on the bed and holds him. She just stares at him and kisses his head and gives him hugs. She can’t stop smiling. She seems to know it’s the same baby that was in Mommy’s tummy, and that he is now out. She also still thinks we should name him Winnie the Pooh.

Margie packs up her stuff, and I help her carry it out to the car. Margie really knew what she was doing; she was kind and social and professional all at the same time. And we now have a new 9 lbs. 9 oz., 21 ¼” long, brown hair, dark blue eyes, perfect baby boy.

The Slump

Five months ago I moved my family from Las Vegas, Nevada to Orem, Utah. (There we are, in Utah.) There were several reasons we did this. Some of those reasons were super clear to me, and some were not. Some were public, and some were personal. Some I’m still not sure of yet. But the path was illuminated and we felt an internal nudge to walk that path. So we did.  

This move included the process of finding a new job. And...everybody relax...I finally found The One. In fact, I start today, and I am really, really excited!

If you've never been out of work for longer than two weeks, please allow me to share a just a few personal observations:

1.  It is the easiest thing in the world to “feel busy.” You will sometimes wonder how you ever found time to have a full-time career and do everything else. Your wife will ask you to go to the grocery store, and your response will be, “WHAT? That’s, like, my entire afternoon!” And then when she asks you what you’re so busy with…the only thing you’ll be able to think of is that all five seasons of Alias are now on Netflix, and those episodes aren't going to watch themselves!

2. Up to now, you have been unable to fully fathom both the glory and hazard that is Netflix Streaming.

3. There will come a day when you are standing in front of the bathroom mirror, and you have the razor in your hand, and the thought will come to you, “Who am I shaving for? Seriously, WHO cares if I’m clean shaven?” And with a smirk on your face, you’ll put the razor away. Then you’ll be surprised to notice that you’re wearing jeans…the same pair of jeans you've been wearing for four days. And they do nothing for your figure. And you’ll be disgusted with yourself. So you’ll throw those jeans in a dirty clothes pile, and you’ll go the entire morning pants-less. There will be whispered concerns between family members, but nobody will actually confront you; because clearly, you have only one marble left rolling around in that noggin of yours.

4. There will be moments where you absolutely do not feel like talking to anyone. Because even when they are genuinely concerned about your well being, you have to give them a lame update. And you start to feel that, in addition to being a disappointment to yourself, now you’re letting them down as well.  

5. You will appreciate the vulnerability of others like never before. 

6. You'll develop a deepened repugnance for Know-It-Alls. 

7. You will have conversations with your spouse that goes a little something like this:

Or something like this:

You: I’m sorry.

Spouse: For what?

You: For failing.

Spouse: Failing at what?

You: You name it.

Or maybe even something like this:

You: “The problem is I’m not qualified to do anything.”

Spouse: “You are qualified to do everything!”

You: “I've never done anything great.”

Spouse: “Everything you do is great!”

You: “Just saying the opposite of what I’m saying doesn't build confidence in me.”

Spouse: “So you want me to stop?”

You: “…Not really.”

8. You will watch clips like this, and you’ll wish that in all this "down time" you could have dinner with Elder Holland.

9.  People will ask you if you are enjoying some “down time” to do whatever it is you have always wanted to do. Write, sculpt, paint, lose weight, master the art of kung fu, create an app, become a stunt driver, start your midwifery practice…whatever. (They mean well, so don’t punch them in the throat.)  You have to remember that when you’re in the World of the Employed, having “free time” seems like the ultimate gift. But when you are in the World of the Unemployed, that “free time” and "energy to be creative" and "desire to develop new passions" and "need to wear pants" is completely choked out by the daily anxiety that despite no money coming through your door, it continues to fly out your windows.

10.  If you are blessed to be married to Katie then you will take profound comfort in her unparalleled level of confidence that all things will work together for your good, that you will be blessed to come off the conqueror and that somehow you have the abilities to provide for your family. And that she will be crazy about you, come what may.

11. You will read scriptures and your Patriarchal Blessing and remember other priesthood blessings and counsel you've received and you will be reassured and have fresh hope and courage fill your soul. Then it will be after lunch that same day, and your surroundings aren't any different than they've been for days. And you will conclude, “I know that if I am worthy of these blessings then the Lord will make good on all His promises. So…since the Lord cannot lie, and these blessings are eluding me…I must not be worthy of them. What am I doing wrong?” And so you’ll take it to the Lord over and over, and ask Him what you’re doing wrong. And the only clear answer will be, “We’re not working on your timetable. Have faith. Carry on.” And you’re kind of comforted by that, even though things are not working out when you think they should.

12. There are generous people everywhere; and sometimes even the smallest gestures of love or kindness will make you weep. It can truly be overwhelming. Whether you receive of somebody’s money or time or words of confidence, you feel known. And you wish you could adequately express your love and gratitude to these individuals, who have fast become your favorite people ever.

13. When you least expect it, you will receive clarity. For example, maybe you’re in the temple. And maybe there’s a man in front of you who has cerebral palsy and it takes his every painstaking effort to move ever so slowly, with the help of a walker. And you notice the grimace in his face, and the slowness of his breath. And it surprises you to see he’s younger than you. And a temple worker looks to you, wondering if you have come with this man to the temple today in order to assist him. And you haven’t, but you find yourself placing your hand on this stranger’s back and asking if he needs any help. And his grimace turns into a wide and warm smile, and he chuckles and responds, “Oh…I need every kind of help.” And as you are drawn into his disarming laughter, you marvel at his disposition and his faith and optimism. And you are embarrassed at how whiny you've been about your own temporary struggles. And you feel a voice patiently whispering to you, gently reminding you, “Your trial is a moment. Endure it well.”

Cirque du Storytelling

So you remember last year, when I was invited to speak at the Story @ Home conference, right? I spoke with my friend Jenny Eckton? Remember? About how to blog about your faith? You gave us a standing ovation and through your tears you hurled candy, flowers and money at us. Remember? Ah, memories.

Well, as a result of your enthusiasm and fan mail (that I’m assuming the USPS lost or maybe Jenny ended up with, because I never saw any of it), I have the distinct privilege of speaking at the Story @ Home Conference again THIS year! I KNOW!

This year I will be joined by my outrageously talented and lovely and delightful wife, Katie. Our presentation is titled Being Present in Your Own Story, and here is our description of the class: Are we so busy documenting our lives that we aren't living them? Or are we so focused on our presentation that we are missing the moments? Learn real-life strategies for enjoying and documenting life in a fun and humorous way!

In preparation for our class, Katie and I have spent hours upon hours practicing our Cirque du Soleil routine and we are going to incorporate it into the presentation to amaze you all! It’s going to be spectacular! (It’s going to be a single pose with Katie standing on my knees. But you simply have to see it to believe it!)

The Story @ Home Conference is really all about storytelling and the joy of telling your own story. Whether it’s blogging, bedtime stories, or entertaining a crowd, you can find classes that provide training, presentations, and workshops to develop and refine your craft.

Something else remarkable is that in only its sophomore year, the Story @ Home conference is combining with the RootsTech Conference, a renowned Family History conference held at the Salt Palace Convention Center in Salt Lake City. And while I can’t promise everyone will be doing Cirque du Soleil acts like Katie and I, you can get a pass for the entire Story @ Home conference for $79!

Mark your calendars, folks! March 21-23. See you there!

Non-Incriminating Evidence

Katie and I when we were dating. 

Sometimes when I really want to freak out the youth at church I tell them about when Sister Craig and I were dating, back in 1995. I weave tales about how I would sometimes, unannounced, just pop in at her apartment. And how sometimes…she wouldn't be there! AND I WOULD HAVE NO IDEA WHERE SHE WAS OR WHEN SHE WAS COMING BACK! So I would have to do something crazy like LEAVE A HANDWRITTEN NOTE, TELLING HER TO CALL ME LATER!  And then sometime, later that day, she’d hopefully get that note and call me. And MAYBE I would be at my apartment to answer my land-line phone, and MAYBE I WOULDN'T! Maybe I’d be out, and I actually wouldn't have any communication with her that entire afternoon or even that day! No communication! Like we were animals! And can you even stand the suspense of when we would see each other again?! I know!

Seriously, I sound ancient to these youth when I tell stories of living before every soul had a cell phone with texting or Find a Friend capabilities. And you know what? I totally feel archaic, too! I find my own self sitting there in a daze wondering how we lived so crippled by our lack of technology. I swear in 1995 it was like we had evolved one measly step from chimps playing with sticks. “And then to show Sister Craig I was interested in her romantically, I thumped my chest and handed her a branch that was on fire. She prayed about it, and we got married.”

Doesn't it feel as if society has so quickly adapted to all of us being absolutely accessible at all times, we can’t fathom a time when it wasn't that way? You may even find yourself thinking back on moments when you would have saved time, resources, and emotional anguish if we were all using Smart Phones and texting and apps. I've done that.

But the upside is this, my ancient friend, you also lived out your pubescent years at a time when the entire world didn't have video camera/phones on their person 24 hours a day; and then a medium to immediately distribute that video to the public. How can I know how awesome anything I did was if it wasn't immediately broadcasted and validated by the public! I know, we were animals!

But for those of us who are products from the 70s, 80s, or 90s…I think we are actually grateful for that. I know I am. My family bought a home video camera in 1984. I was 13. THIRTEEN! The only wise decision I ever made in my adolescent awkwardness (besides keeping my crush on Olivia Newton-John a secret) was to completely avoid being on camera. Sure, it was a fascinating new technology, but I knew better. In fact, the only two documented video sightings of me as a teenager is one of me yelling at my cousin to stop videotaping me, and  the other  is of me at age 16, at a ward Roadshow practice. And people, believe me, it is obnoxious! Probably because I was obnoxious at 16! I am on stage chewing a piece of gum like I’m doing it a favor and supplying more eye rolls than is legally allowed by the FCC.

Think on your own teen years, but imagine being surrounded by friends who are constantly prepared to video whatever foolishness you are prone to! Here’s a list of what you and I were spared by me being a teen of the 80s and as a result, no rogue video floating around:

*I played water polo. Nobody needs to see what that looked like. (This was before the “hip,” less-offensive Speedos you see in the Summer Olympics now.)

*Once during my sophomore year of high school I had to go up to the board to diagram a sentence in my English class. My pants caught on a broken part of a desk as I walked to the front and ripped a hole on the area of my jeans covering my bum. Not cool.  It was a YouTube moment waiting to happen…but mercifully, there was no YouTube!

*My first kiss was at a Youth Conference, on a bus, in front of millions of people. Whew, dodged a bullet there.

*My freshman year I played the clarinet. In the marching band. At football games. Nobody beat me up or gave me a wedgie. But they should have. And that would have been on Facebook for sure. (There wasn't the anti-bullying movement that you see nowadays. I guess it was an era when people figured if you were in the marching band then you had it coming. And it’s hard to argue with that logic.)