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  • A Onesie with Meaning

    This is Asher Jordan Al-Bjaly, our fifth born child, born on February 17, 2023.

    He is almost 2 and a half months old. Last week, I put him in a onesie that my sister gave me at my baby shower. It says, “I’m proof that God answers prayers.”

    When I opened the gift, she said how perfect it was for him, but I thought that it was a strange choice since we had not actually prayed to have another baby. Clothes like that surely belong to couples who have earnestly prayed for a child.

    I kept the onesie, though, since it was a thoughtful gift. And then I put it on Asher last week (it finally fits him now) and realized that it was actually a perfect piece of clothing for him.

    No, Jad and I never knelt down in tears asking God with all of our might for another child. On the contrary, Asher was an unplanned pregnancy. But, as I have thought carefully about it, I have realized that God has answered many prayers before and during my pregnancy, and after Asher’s birth.

    As I shared before, last March I thought I was pregnant, and then found out I wasn’t. I was surprised at how sad I was about that, but at the same time, Jad and I were not trying to have a baby and he knew he didn’t want another one.

    Those moments shook me, though, and more than once I found myself praying to know if I should have another baby. I promised that I was willing, but I didn’t know if I should. I didn’t share this with Jad, but just prayed on my own at home and even in the temple (including the Wahington DC Temple open house in June 2022). Well, God answered my prayer not by telling me that I should have a baby, but by allowing me to become pregnant when I should not have been able to be.

    August 14th – I’m pregnant!

    Obviously becoming pregnant came with a multitude of emotions and challenges. I shared my emotional roller coaster on previous blog posts here: The Fourth Was Not the Last… | Making Life a Bliss Complete and here: God gives you who you need: part 2 | Making Life a Bliss Complete. I had so many worries and disappointments and prayed for help with each. I will name just three, but there were many:

    1.I prayed that I would be able to overcome the huge disappointment of not being able to perform in my church’s musical. I had hoped that my whole family would perform in the musical this time, which was super important to me because it would be Eve’s first and Casey’s last. This prayer was answered in a unique way, by my son Casey receiving a significant role in the show. I felt so happy being able to see his growth as an actor and singer and then watch the show while glowing with pride at his performance and smiling adoringly at my daughter who was performing for the first time.

    Eve as a dreamer child (JS Dudley Photography)
    Casey as Dickon (JS Dudley Photography)
    Proud mama after watching The Secret Garden

    2. I prayed what to do about the new amazing job I had just gotten and was so excited about. I knew that I didn’t want to work if I had a baby at home in a few short months, and I also had been having a lot of morning sickness, but I still felt horrible about quitting. I prayed for courage, for my boss to be understanding, and for me to be okay changing my dream of going back into the workforce. When I told my boss I had to quit, she was super understanding and kind, which made me feel so much better. It was hard for a while knowing I would not be working again for many years, but I kept very busy volunteering, attending school functions, shopping for the baby, doing studies, exercising, and more. I was never bored my whole pregnancy even with all the kids in school.

    3. I prayed about how to make room for a new baby. Our house is large, but we did not design it to have more children. It took research and prayers to figure out how to make room – where to put the baby, how to make sure Eve had a space, and what to get rid of and move around, all without spending a lot of money. It sounds like a simple problem, but it definitely caused some stress. I can say that it all worked out beautifully and we were able to help others as we purged, as well as repurpose things for new needs we had. We also were able to get several things for free to help us furnish Eve’s new room and the baby’s room.

    Painting the old playroom to make it Eve’s bedroom
    The baby’s nursery – Eve’s old room

    My health was something else that could have plagued me throughout my pregnancy.

    I wrote this post on Facebook when I was 30 weeks along:

    It’s crazy to think I am 30 weeks pregnant today! I honestly would be extremely surprised if baby stays inside that long, though, and we are working hard to be prepared for him mentally and physically.
    I have been thinking about all the difficulties or things going against me in this pregnancy:
    1. Being overweight before pregnancy
    2. Being 38 years old at pregnancy
    3. Having a lost and likely migrated IUD [Note: Turns out it fell out but I had no idea – I found out when I had an x-ray after having the baby]
    4. Developing pregnancy sleep apnea
    5. Having a history of hypertension/preeclampsia with some elevated blood pressure this time already
    6. Getting gestational diabetes for the first time (just found out yesterday)
    7. Having a surprise pregnancy to begin with, which has taken a lot of adjustment and sacrifice.
    Yep, it can be said many things are against me. I am keeping a positive attitude, though. I am staying as physically active as I can. I am trying to see the diabetes as a blessing in disguise to push me into eating better. I’m focusing on how healthy our baby has been this whole time. I’m cherishing every movement and kick. I’m looking forward to the wonderful blessing this little guy will be for all of us.
    There is so much good even with all these issues, and I am so grateful for loving friends and family who have been there for me and will continue to be! I’m most importantly grateful to my Father in Heaven for helping me be more patient, long suffering, and faithful.

    The only reason I was able to be more patient, longsuffering and faithful during my health issues was because I prayed for these things. And God answered my prayers.

    He also helped prepare me for what was to come. I had a feeling around the time a friend was asking me about having a baby shower that our baby would be born around the same time as Eve – that my blood pressure would ultimately lead me to having preeclampsia again. I just felt it. I didn’t let it bother me, but Jad and I did pray daily for my health and the baby’s health. I know that God gave me the energy, and both Jad and I the time to prepare our baby’s nursery. I know that God also kept me calm as well so I could focus on the excitement of having a baby and not the worry of him likely coming early.

    I know He helped me choose my baby’s name. I think I looked at hundreds of names and kept looking and kept looking because nobody seemed satisfied. Jad and I had been praying about what to name him. As I felt that our time to decide was drawing to a close, I had made a list of our favorite ideas, and Jad had made it into more of a chart form regarding first and middle name options. One night as we went through each name together, we were able to remove names, and then we typed a few first and middle name possibilities. As we read through them, tears came to my eyes as I read the name “Asher Jordan Al-Bjaly.” I knew at that moment that should be his name. We still didn’t decide for sure, but I knew, and we ultimately named him that.

    I wish I could say that my pregnancy went full-term, or at least until the proposed 37-week induction due to my gestational diabetes. That would have been the best answer to mine and Jad’s daily prayers for my health and the health of our baby, but it was not to be.

    On Valentines Day with my four kids not expecting to have a fifth in 3 short days

    It was a very scary and unsettling experience to be told that I needed to be induced that day because my blood pressure was dangerously high. But, I felt God and his angels on earth help us. Our bishop came and gave me a blessing, and so many people prayed for Asher and me during the labor, and for all the time after his birth that he was in the NICU and I was recovering from childbirth. I know that God not only answered my prayers, but the prayers of those who love us.

    In labor

    Here is a little video I sent my kids when I was in labor:

    I only got to hold him for a couple minutes before they took him to the NICU – so in love.
    Our first picture with Asher.
    In the NICU not long after birth on oxygen

    Here is a video of me sharing Asher’s birth story:

    I had no choice but to get up and get things done after I was discharged from the hospital. I was at the NICU as much as I could be while also doing my best to spend time with my other children. I had so many people ask me how I was doing all of that when I just had a baby, and I always answered that God was giving me strength. The same answer was true for Jad, who even though he was on paternity leave, was in constant pain due to falling off a ladder while painting just a day after I had the baby.

    Even with Jad off work, we couldn’t balance life at the hospital and home all alone, so we prayed that we would be able to coordinate everybody’s needs. We were blessed with plenty of help from loving friends and family from meals to rides to childcare, and it brought us so much relief to be surrounded by this selfless love and care.

    Asher was in the NICU (at UNC first and then Alamance Regional Hospital) for two weeks before he went home. Some days were harder than others, but we felt so blessed that he only had to be on oxygen for one day, and that he only had to be under the bilirubin light for a few days. We also felt blessed that he got the opportunity to be transferred to Alamance Regional, which was so much closer to us, and also a much better fit for Jad and I as involved parents.

    On oxygen that first day
    Under the bilirubin light at UNC
    Being transported to ARMC  
    Under the bilirubin light right after arriving at ARMC
    Some of the goodies we got at ARMC – we especially loved the flannel hearts for us to wear and then leave with Asher so he could smell us when we couldn’t be with him

    It took Asher quite some time to be able to nurse with the stamina he needed, but he improved daily, and he was such a sweet, cuddly and good baby. Below are some of my favorite pictures of Asher when he was in the NICU, both at UNC and ARMC:

    The time Asher was in the NICU was hard for Jad and me because we felt so horrible about having to choose between being with our baby at the hospital or with our other four children. We switched off the best we could, but it was hard for us. It was also really hard for the kids. They had to live with basically one parent at a time, and had to make a lot of life adjustments, all the while not being able to meet their baby brother.

    A video call one night that Jad was at the NICU with Asher
    Baby Asher on the other side of the call

    One night, when Jad was at the NICU and I was at home, I felt just how big the strain was on them, and I was inspired to have a conversation with the children about it in hopes of helping them have hope and patience. Here is a video I recorded of that experience:

    Thankfully Asher came home very soon after this on March 3rd. The nurses marveled at how fast he was able to come home, since many preemies don’t go home until their due dates. They said they knew he was going home so soon because we were so present with him. I know that was part of it, but I know an even greater part of it was God answering our fervent prayers.

    And of course, Jad and I both hoped and prayed that when Asher came home, we would all be able to adjust to having him home and that everyone would love him. We were a little worried about Eve being jealous, since she had expressed concerns before about not having enough attention. We also prayed that we would be able to take care of and love all of our children as we added one more to our home. And that has been the greatest answer to prayer of all: every single one of us adores Asher more than we could ever describe. We have been able to adjust well to having him home with us, and it feels like he has always been a part of our family. Nobody has been jealous, and we are able to make time for everyone. We have all just had to learn to be more flexible and patient sometimes.

    Here are the kids’ first interactions with their baby brother:

      

    Here are my favorite photos of Asher and our family since then:

    I was worried when I was pregnant that I wasn’t going to be able to get back into new motherhood, and that I wouldn’t be able to love this boy as much as I loved and cherished Eve who was my first girl and a preemie – the one I thought would be my youngest and last.

    God has certainly answered those prayers. Jad and I have both remembered how to be parents of little ones, and we are cherishing each moment, with as much joy and laughter as we can muster through the lack of consistent sleep.

    And do we love Asher as much as Eve and the rest? Well, of course we do. I often tear up thinking about how blessed I am. I don’t know if I deserve this special child of God, but I feel so honored that it was part of God’s plan that Asher should join our family and that I should be his mother.

    It may sound like life is perfect. It’s not. It’s really challenging sometimes. We are always busy and tired and have a difficult time accomplishing what we used to do. Despite all that, I wouldn’t change a thing. I also wouldn’t wish that he came on time. It has actually been a tremendous blessing that he came early because it has provided almost six extra weeks for all of us to bond with him, especially Casey, who is graduating soon and will then be serving a two-year mission before going off to college. His relationship with Asher has been especially precious to watch.

    So, yes, the onesie my dear sister got for Asher was perfect, and I cannot express enough gratitude to my Heavenly Father for hearing and answering so many prayers on the behalf of myself, my baby, and my beloved family.  Our prayers keep coming, and He keeps answering. God is good.

    Our family of seven:

    We finally took our first family photo on March 12.
    At the Richmond VA Temple Open House on April 7 (I teared up in the Celestial Room as I looked at Asher and pondered on how nearly a year before I prayed in the DC Celestial Room to know if I should have another baby.)
    After church on Easter and the day of Asher’s baby blessing

  • A Teaching Moment with a Slash

    Sunday afternoon was pretty quiet. The boys had just finished watching some gospel-oriented shows while Jad and I took a little nap on the couch. Then, Casey and Rigel went upstairs.

    Casey came downstairs not long after, and told me that Rigel was making a card for his friend (we’ll call him Bob) that had his friend’s brother’s name (we’ll say his name is Will) on it crossed out. That didn’t sound good, so I went upstairs to talk to Rigel.

    I asked him what he was doing, and he didn’t admit to anything. I then turned over the papers and saw the drawings. I told him to come into my room so we could talk.

    He sat on the bed with me, and I stayed calm as I asked him why he had done that. Rigel explained that Will isn’t nice to him. I said I was sorry about that, and asked for examples of when he was mean. Rigel could only give one example from a while back, but said that Bob says Will is mean at home.

    Staying calm, I explained to Rigel that we don’t judge others based on hearsay.  I tried to tell him there are always two sides (or more) to every story, and we should base our judgments solely on how someone treats us directly. I also gave the suggestion that maybe Will was mean that one time because he was jealous of Rigel’s and Bob’s strong friendship.

    If that weren’t the case, and Will really was being a bully, I made sure Rigel understood that just because someone may be a bully to us, that doesn’t give us a right to be a bully back. If we don’t like being bullied, why would we try to make others feel the way we hate to feel?

    As part of our conversation I asked, “Would Jesus draw what you drew, Rigel?” He sighed and said “no.” I explained that Jesus would try to love and understand that person, and if He had a problem or concern with him, He would approach him and respectfully express it in hopes of reconciling.

    I also felt the need to talk to Rigel about family. Bob and Will are brothers – pulling them apart is not good for either one of them. To illustrate my point, I wrote Rigel’s name on the paper and crossed his name out just as he had done to Will’s name. I then asked him how he would feel if one of Kamren’s friends gave Kamren a card that looked like that. He admitted he would be sad, and I added that Kamren would be sad too.

    I reminded him that nobody in this world should be more important to him than his family. I want he, Casey, Kamren, and Eve to be close forever. I don’t want any of his friends to try to pull them apart, and I know that Bob’s mom doesn’t want anyone trying to pull her sons apart either.

    I asked Rigel what he could do that would help Will. He wasn’t sure what to say because he was uncomfortable playing with Will, so I told him that it didn’t have to include being around him if that was too hard right now. I then gave him the suggestion to pray for him, to wish him well, and to encourage Bob to be close to Will, even if he might never be.

    Rigel seemed to understand what I was saying, and we ended our conversation with me snuggling him, and telling him how much I loved him and what a good, loving boy he was. It was a special moment, and I am grateful I had the opportunity to influence him for good.

    That’s what parenting is all about. I hope I can continue to have these calm, sweet teaching experiences with my children.

    *Click here for a conversation I had with Casey about bullying four years ago.

     

  • A tribute to my siblings

    I am the oldest of four. My brother, Aaron, is two years and two months younger than me, and my other brother, Mark, is five years and two months younger. My only sister, Mariah, is eight years and 10 months younger than me. 
    My relationships with each of them have ebbed and flowed over time. I love them all so much, and wish to share my strongest memories and feelings about each of them. 
    Aaron 

    When we were little, Aaron and I were best buds. We colored out of the same coloring books at the same time. Sometimes we did coloring and drawing competitions. Most of the time we didn’t cheat by tracing, but sometimes we did. 
    Aaron went through a phase where he drew countless pictures of Jafar from Aladdin.
    We sang Disney songs together in the fan, to make our voices vibrate. He played paper dolls and barbies with me, and I played trucks and Ninja Turtles with him. He would wake me up early on Saturdays to watch all of our super hero cartoons. We also watched tons of movies, mostly Disney (his favorite was The Little Mermaid and my favorite was Lady and the Tramp). 
    It wasn’t all roses, though. We had arguments over whether long noodles were called “spaghetti” or “basghetti.”
    Sometimes I would blame him for things I did (my parents always assumed it was Aaron, anyway). Once, I was in my parents’ room and I saw a dark pink jar. I turned the lid to open it, and I accidentally spilled out this strong-smelling liquid (I found out later it was used to clean jewelry). I quickly got my mom’s towel from the bathroom, and sopped it up. My mom always had a long doily thing on her dresser then, so I know it got soaked. I think I left it there. My dad questioned us that day. When he asked me if I did it, I denied it, looking down at my food. When he asked Aaron, he said “I don’t know. It’s possible I did it.” I think he ended up with the blame, but didn’t get in trouble. Yep, I was a good sister. 
    As we got older, and I bloomed into adolescence, Aaron and I seemed to fight more than get along. At an age where I locked my door to get some peace, he took that opportunity to be as annoying as possible. He would stand outside my door and start making this weird clicking sound with his tongue, making it louder and louder (we called it the “tongue thing”). Then, he would stick his thumbnail into my lock, and slowly unlock the door, all the while making that maddening sound. I would scream, run to my door, and press all my weight into it so he couldn’t get in. I would prop my feet up on the wall in front of my door, even, just to keep him out. Sometimes, he would employ the help of our little brother, Mark. I couldn’t win then, not even with propped feet. 
    That is the face of an annoying brother for sure. 
    Aaron would also be annoying at the dinner table. I remember one night, while we were reading scriptures after dinner, he made me so mad. Every time he read a sentence, he would sniff, loudly. Like EVERY SINGLE TIME. I wanted to smack him. I tattled on him, but my parents were completely unaware of how he was trying to ruin my life. 
    I am still not done. We had three couches in our family room, and two of them were good for TV watching. Well, Aaron would always sit on the same couch as me. He would perch so that his butt would be up in the air, facing me. He did it on purpose to aggravate me. I hated it when he taunted me with that heart-shaped bottom. I would always lift my leg up high, and bring my heel down hard on his butt. He would just laugh, which drove me even more crazy. 
    As he became an adolescent, all this annoying stuff died down. I wish I could remember a lot about our relationship, but really, I just remember that I put him down sometimes because I was jealous. At one point, a girl at church really liked him, and I was upset because I didn’t have anyone who really liked me. I remember telling him that she flirted with other boys, and he shouldn’t go out with her. I wasn’t always sensitive to my brother’s feelings, and I regret it now.

    Even though I wasn’t always a good sister to him, and he was kind of annoying, he was always a great friend to others, hilarious, loving, and a very talented pianist. 


    Aaron and I didn’t see each other much for the years after I graduated high school. It wasn’t until a few years ago, that we started to reconnect, and even then, he had times when he lived other places. He is about to go to Peabody Conservatory in a few short months. 
    I am really going to miss him. He is so intelligent, funny, loving, sensitive, talented, humble, among many other things. He is the best uncle in the world to my children. They love him so much. He is so much still like a kid himself, so he is so much fun. I can always have a great conversation with him too. 
    Thanks for being my brother. I love you.
    Mark

    You already know that Mark would help Aaron unlock my door. 
    When he became a toddler, after his cute baby stage, he became our annoying younger brother. Aaron and I would try to play, and Mark would want to play too. Didn’t he realize he was in the way?
    Once, we were all lying on the floor playing, and I thought it would be fun to take my gum out of my mouth and slowly string it onto Mark’s hair. Oops, I couldn’t get it out. In a panic, I got some scissors, and cut the gum out. Later, my mom was worried, thinking Mark had a bald spot. I felt guilty and told her the truth. I learned that day that peanut butter will get out gum. I am sure I got in trouble, too.
    Mark was a cute little boy. He was really chubby, with kind of buck teeth. He always wore huge t-shirts to bed without shorts. I remember he would sit in chairs and we could see his underwear. Aaron and I would giggle about it. Once, I drew him in my “journal” (Aaron and I had composition books we drew in). 
    When he got older, he and Aaron played all the time. They had separate rooms, but ended up sharing because Mark always wanted to be with Aaron.I think when Mark and Aaron became close, was around the time Aaron started to be annoying to me. 
    I don’t remember having a really close relationship with Mark. He was so quiet, and always to himself. He drew a lot. He was really talented. I, unfortunately, don’t remember having much in common with him.

    However, when he got old enough to really play without being in the way, he would join Aaron and me in our puzzle building, gameboard playing, cartoon watching, make-believing, and trampoline jumping.

    As a teenager, I was really busy with homework, drama club, and, as Mark recently reminded me, singing musicals in my room (mostly Phantom). I am sure that is why I didn’t have a strong relationship with Aaron or Mark during those years. 

    Then I went to college. When I came home, Mark was still in high school, and I had a little boy.  I remember thinking Casey looked like Mark when he was little. It was nice to have Mark around. He was good at holding Casey for me. 
    He even drew a portrait of Casey as a baby for his a high school art class. That was awesome. I still have the portrait. 
     
    Mark and I have had a few good talks in our adult years, though he isn’t much of a talker. I remember one time he told me how much he admired me and how I lived my life. I will never forget that, and I appreciate it so.
    Now Mark is married to a lovely Brit named Laura. I helped Laura find her wedding dress. I set up my house for their wedding, and even made their wedding cake with Swedish fish. 
    Mark and I have more in common, now – more to talk about. We also both have love for cooking, and have made yummy things together.

     I am so grateful that he made the decision to marry Laura, and that he has stuck with her through hard times. I have very high hopes for the both of them in their continuing life together. 

    He continues to be a fabulous artist, a quality I admire greatly. I keep hoping he will get back into it, and bless others with his God-given gift. 
    Mark, I am so glad you are my brother. I love you. 
    Mariah
    I was much older than Mariah, so I helped out with her a lot when she was little. She was the cutest Easter baby ever, and the chunkiest. No, really, the chunkiest. Think Michelin man. 
    When she was a newborn, my mom wouldn’t let me hold her unless I was sitting down. I remember not liking that. I wanted to do what my mom did. I loved having a baby sister. 
    When she was about two, Mariah was terrified of the vacuum cleaner. Every time my mom vacuumed, I held her in my arms until it was over. I cherished those moments as her protector. 
    I remember fondly how she used to say “hunder” instead of thunder, and “marshfellow” instead of marshmallow.

    I remember watching Barney and Blue’s Clues with her all the time.

    She was so adorable, and so sweet. She was still pretty young when I went off to college. She was not even 10. 
    After college, my divorce, and my move to North Carolina, Mariah was at the agreeable age of 13. She was huge into jewelry. She had some cute clothes, some I even borrowed. I let her borrow some of my clothes too, like a dress for her career day at school. 
    I found a lot of her passions annoying – well, maybe one passion – a boy who didn’t treat her well that she was madly in love with. 
    Mariah and I have butted heads many times since I have lived in NC. We are so different.Those of you who know us, know what I am talking about. 
    I used to make the mistake of acting more like her mother than her sister. She hated that, and resented me for it. I have worked really hard to change that – to be a loving, supportive sister who offers a listening ear and genuine advice, minus the judgment. 
    We have been much closer the past couple years she has been out of high school. Mariah is a wonderful person. I am so proud of the young woman she has become. She and I are still very different, but we share the ultimate goal of having a loyal marriage and raising happy children.
    I admire her love for animals, her desire to make a difference in this world, her acceptance of everyone, and her giving nature. She is a hard worker. She also is a fantastic aunt. She spoils her nephews, and loves them to death. 
    I love you, Mariah. Sisters forever!
    The Thacker Kids
    Mandy, Aaron, Mark and Mariah. We are the Thacker kids. We grew up in VA, and now are all together (for a little longer) in NC. 
    We are a passionate, stubborn, hard-headed, slightly crazy, bunch. We love good food, and loud laughs. We are full of love for our family. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising us. You did a great job!

  • Don’t try to be hot. Try to be you.

    My mind has been going to modesty lately, and I realize I have a lot of experiences and thoughts I would like to share with you to help you see just how crucial it is.

    Members of my church think about modesty on a daily basis. You usually won’t see active Mormons wearing short skirts, low-cut tops, saggy pants, or even sleeveless attire. Why?

    Here is some of the official reasoning from the leaders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints:

    Your body is God’s sacred creation. Respect it as a gift from God, and do not defile it in any way. Through your dress and appearance, you can show the Lord that you know how precious your body is. You can show that you are a disciple of Jesus Christ.


    Prophets of God have always counseled His children to dress modestly. The way you dress is a reflection of what you are on the inside. Your dress and grooming send messages about you to others and influence the way you and others act. When you are well groomed and modestly dressed, you invite the companionship of the Spirit and can exercise a good influence on those around you.

    Never lower your dress standards for any occasion. Doing so sends the message that you are using your body to get attention and approval and that modesty is important only when it is convenient. (For the Strength of Youth: Dress and Appearance)

    I was also interested to see what the dictionary defines modestly as. A couple ways dictionary.com defines modesty are:

    1. Freedom from vanity, boastfulness, etc.
    2. Regard for decency of behavior, speech, dress, etc.
    I love these definitions, because they go so perfectly with the standards of my church. The way we dress does matter. It affects what others think about us; it reflects our own feelings of self-worth; it brings different kinds of attention.
    I really believe that vanity plays a huge part in how we choose to dress. There are certain ways to dress that will definitely be great for our egos. I like the second definition too, though, because modestly isn’t just about dress. Our speech and behavior can be immodest as well. Let me tell you some stories from my life to help illustrate this:
    As a little girl, there were certain clothes I liked better than others, and I would choose my clothing accordingly. All kids are that way. It wasn’t until middle school, however, that I felt pressured to dress and look and act differently than I would naturally choose to.
    I started 6th grade not really caring a whole lot how I looked. I remember wearing my mom’s old shirts that she didn’t want anymore. They were obviously too large for me. I also remember wearing some boy clothes because they were more comfortable. I was happy in this style (or lack thereof), until kids started to talk. I remember one day I wore a casual pink dress to school and paired it with dark blue Tweety Bird tennis shoes. A girl in Technology class laughed at me and said that my clothes didn’t match. On another occasion, I was wearing my favorite long-sleeved pink shirt with a satin pink bear on the front. Someone remarked rudely that I always wore the same shirt, and didn’t I have anything else to wear. I told that person I wore that shirt often because I loved it, but from that day on I made sure to wear it less.
    At 11 years old I was starting to learn that clothes mattered. People were going to either praise you or make fun of you for your clothing choices. At some point in that year I noticed that girls were starting to wear make up. I soon found some old blush of my mom’s in our hall closet, took it secretly, and then started to put blush on my cheeks after gym class every day so I would look prettier.
    Then after a summer, my parents took me to get new clothes and I started 7th grade. I remember sitting down in one of my classes and a boy saying a little too loudly for a whisper, “That’s Mandy? She looks different. She looks good!” I was wondering why that boy was saying that, but I blushed a little, excited to be looked at so differently than the year before. I recall that year making more certain I looked pretty at school. I even rolled up my shorts sometimes to make them just a little shorter. I wanted to get the attention the other pretty girls were getting. At that age, girls were starting to develop, and noticing I didn’t have much, I started to stuff my bra. I am not sure if someone told me to do that, or if I came up with it on my own, but I did it. I also took some large hoop earrings that my mom didn’t want me to wear, and wore them to school. I also remember on the days I wore button-down shirts, unbuttoning them from both ends so I showed way more skin that I should have. Why did I do all this? I knew it was wrong because on my walk home after getting off the bus, I would take off the earrings, remove the stuffing, and button my shirt. I was starting to learn that girls who dressed like that got more attention from the boys. That’s why. I liked not being the nerd anymore.
    I think I calmed down a bit in 8th grade. I wasn’t stuffing my bra anymore, but boys were still talking about breast sizes on the bus. I remember one day there were a couple boys pointing to different girls and yelling out a letter – a guess at cup size. I got embarrassed. I started thinking about it. I didn’t stuff my bra again, but I did make sure to pull my shirt down in the front whenever I could to make it look like I had something there. One day after school, right after I had gotten home from the bus, I got a phone call from a boy in my neighborhood. He told me I had looked extra hot that day, and he was wondering if I wanted to come to his house and make out. I was horrified. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t dressed like that so that boys would want to do stuff with me. I was doing it because I wanted to be pretty and just wanted attention from the boys. I didn’t know they were thinking about that. I turned him down saying I wasn’t like that. I never told my mom about it, but oh had I wished she had been home when I got home from school that day.
    In high school, I dressed pretty modestly. I think the incident in 8th grade woke me up a bit. Plus, in high school, kids just weren’t as mean. I actually was shocked when girls I knew from church would go to school and change their clothes in order to show off more skin. It really bothered me, actually. At the end of my junior year, I went to the Senior class dance because I was a Junior Marshall. One of my church friends, a Senior, came to the dance in a halter top and mini skirt. I couldn’t understand it, and I was upset by it.
    I was a little vain in high school, though. There was a time (Freshman year, maybe?) when I had to check my face almost constantly to make sure it looked good. I would hook my powder case to the drawstring in my gym shorts just so I could check my face periodically. Every time before I went up to the front of the class, I would have to check my face too. I didn’t want to look ugly and be laughed at.
    Though I dressed modestly in high school, my behavior didn’t stay so modest. Being in the theater program introduced me to a whole different way of behaving. I will say I was probably really good my Freshman through Junior year, but my Senior year was when I had my first kiss. I was in a musical called Pippin and I had to kiss the boy playing Pippin. I didn’t know this when I got the part, and freaked out when I realized I had to. I was also freaked out that I had to get under bedcovers with him in one scene. My parents laughed when I told them about it, probably because they knew I was so anxious about it and could be trusted;  I ended up performing in the musical.

    After having my first kiss during a rehearsal on stage, and then practicing kissing for months, I got pretty good at it. That opened me up to other boys wanting to kiss me, you know, just acting. I remember I would kiss random boys for fun. I just got way more comfortable with boys in general. That lead me to not always having modest behavior. Teenage boys like girls that will show them affection. Teens expect each other to have boyfriends or girlfriends. If you don’t, you are lame. Some of my friends had very immodest speech. They would talk about making out, and even sex. I couldn’t believe some of my friends were having sex. People would ask me about my sex life at school, and at work too. I was too afraid to say anything about it, so I would either be silent, or say that was personal. Was my speech modest? Well, it wasn’t immodest, but I probably led people to believe I was doing things I wasn’t.

    After high school, I started going to the Singles Ward – a Mormon congregation for Singles. I met MEN there. No more boys. Immediately I got the attention of men 3-5 years older than me. In high school, you were lucky to get the attention of someone one year older. I started dating. There was one guy after an activity who told me, as he drove me home, that he would stop the car right then and make out with me. I told him no because I had already kissed a guy that day. No joke. I had actually threatened a guy I had talked to most of that activity that he was being annoying and that if he didn’t stop, I would kiss him. He didn’t believe me. Well, I am a woman of my word… That annoying man and I actually dated for a  few weeks, and he was the first man I ever “fell in love” with. He would spend time with me, kiss me, and take me out, only to break my heart when he went back to school.
    After my first love left, I started dating again here and there. One evening, a guy who I had just been out on a date with, and who had given me a ride to an activity, asked me if I wanted to fog up the windows. I didn’t even know what he meant at the time. If I had, I would have been tempted to smack him and never talk to him again. You can see from these early adult experiences, I was still pretty naïve. The immodest people were the men I was going out with. But, I was getting a feel for why they liked me. I started to assume again that men only liked girls who were attractive to them. During my time before I went off to college, I really fell for a guy. He was so funny and sweet, and good looking. I remember one time at an activity I gave him a hug and lifted my leg around his waist to be funny. Thinking back, I have no idea why I did that. That wasn’t appropriate at all, and he told me he didn’t want me to do it. Mixed messages. So hard to figure out what behavior was best.
    Then I went off to college in Utah. From my first day there, I had men flocking to me. I went out on a date my first night after Institute (scripture class). I dated a lot of guys my first semester in college. They would all tell me how pretty I was. Many of them would try to put their arm around me or kiss me way before I was ready – sometimes I wasn’t even attracted to them. One evening, I went to a guy’s house to play games with his other friends. During one of the games, it came out that one of the guys loved my legs. I wasn’t wearing a short skirt, but he still felt he had to mention that. After the games were over, everyone went home, but the guy whose house we were at asked me to stay to talk. He told me he cared about me. He spoke words that made me want to stay with him a little longer. He gave me clothes to change into to be more comfortable.  He took advantage of me – of my innocence, naivety and trustworthiness.
    During this first semester, there was one man, only one, who treated me like a real person. He admired me for my personality – for being me. He didn’t spend all the time telling me how pretty I was. I was not attracted to him for months, but he kept being my friend and helping me. He never pressured me to date him. Then one day, I realized that I was in love with him. He was someone who saw passed physicality. He didn’t try to get me to engage in immodest behavior. I ended up marrying him… and ironically, he had a pornography addiction. What a conundrum.
    So, after two years of marriage, I was single again. I felt the lowest self-esteem I had ever felt. I was heavier because of having a baby. I was way too young to be divorced. I was desperate to find someone else. I expressed that desperation probably more than I realized, and it turned men off.
    I worked hard to lose all my baby weight, and that helped my confidence a bit. I started to try to look prettier, “hot,” even. I dated around. That seemed to help some of the men look passed my past and go out with me. None of the men I dated were right for me, though.
    At work, I started noticing that I got some attention on the days when men around me liked the way I looked. I don’t know why, but these men had no filter and would tell me straight up if they liked the way my butt looked in certain jeans, etc. One Halloween, I dressed up as Miss Scarlett because the supervisors in my department were doing a live Clue game. One of the IT men, an older man in a wheel chair, told me how much he liked how I looked. I don’t remember his exact words, just that he really found me attractive, and that I threw up a little knowing that. The outfit I wore wasn’t revealing, but looking back, your clothes don’t have to be revealing to be immodest. They don’t have to be revealing to get men’s attention. There are certain colors, fits and fabrics that make the men look a little harder and a little longer.
    Towards the end of 2007, I became good friends with a couple new people I met at work. We called ourselves “The Trio.” By the beginning of 2008 I realized I had strong feelings for the male in this trio. He wasn’t a member of my church, and I figured his values weren’t the same, but I felt this overwhelming desire to be with him. One night, he and I went to an art show that my work told us about. He went willingly because he loved art and was an artist himself.
    We had a wonderful time, and decided to watch a movie at his apartment afterwards. I didn’t think anything of it because we were just friends. He was so nice and rubbed my feet for me during the whole movie, and afterwards, I was ready to go home. He told me how attracted he was to me. I found this as a complete shock because he had never told me he had feelings for me.
    Well, he ended up kissing me. It didn’t take long, though, before he said nobody could know because I was a supervisor and he wasn’t. For months, I went through a roller coaster “relationship” with him. He kept telling me that we weren’t right together, but he was just so attracted to me at the same time. I found myself not dressing as modestly as I should. It wasn’t that I was wearing really revealing clothing either. I just made sure to show just a little bit of cleavage, wear really beautiful and flattering clothes everyday, and walk, talk, speak and look at him just right. Where did I learn how to do all that? I still don’t know. But I knew how to swing my hips just right, bend over at the right moments, ask him about how hot I looked that day, smile with my eyebrow raised and my lips pursed. That was how I got him to stay along with me, and not totally let go.  Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t playing him. I was madly in love with him, in fact. I wanted to marry him. He knew my son and got along well with him. I helped him get a promotion at work. I talked to him about religion all the time. He, however, even though he said he loved me, treated me like a doll. He would put me on the shelf whenever he was done with me. He would act tenderly with me, and then turn around and tell me we couldn’t be together.  It was terrible. We ended up never really being together as a steady couple.
    I realized throughout that time, though, that other men looked at me a certain way when I looked good. They would follow me with their eyes, almost hungrily. It was a little creepy at first, but then I learned to relish it because at least I was getting attention. Maybe some of the other women at work were even jealous of me.
    I got out of this phase when I met another man (a member of my church) a couple months after my work love ended. I never felt a need to talk, act, or dress immodestly with him. However, I still tried to look “hot” most of the time so that he would stay attracted to me. I guess I never really realized he grew to love me for me, and not how I looked. My relationship with him didn’t work out, though, because of personality issues and goal differences.
     Then I met my wonderful future husband, Jad. When I first met him, we were at a church dance. He had a very strong accent and I didn’t understand him well. All I knew was he was really handsome, knew how to dress, and smelled amazing. My first attraction to Jad was looks (and smell). His first attraction to me was also looks, so he tells me.
    The thing that was different was that our relationship never dwelled on our looks. He fell in love with me and I him for reasons having nothing to do with looks. He accepted my past without judgment. I wanted to look beautiful for him when we were first getting to know each other, but I never felt I had to look perfect. We went out and did activities where I didn’t always look my best. He loved me anyway. I never dressed immodestly with him. I never spoke that way, or acted that way either. In fact, I never liked it when he would call me “hot” or some other word like that. I was different. I think after my work love, I realized that when someone said he loved you, it wasn’t always love. Sometimes it was lust, and it stemmed from immodesty.
    I have been married to my husband for 4 1/2 years. You might be wondering if I have let myself go. No, I haven’t , actually. I still care about my appearance, but I don’t wear make up every day, and I don’t take nearly as long to get ready anymore. I don’t leave the house every day making sure I look “hot” or “sexy” before I get in the car.
    No, I don’t care about looking “hot” anymore because I have learned from all the experiences I just told you that when someone’s goal is to look “hot,” a lot of things happen:
    She forgets who she really is and what makes her special, and starts to become something she isn’t. She starts to make looks a priority, becoming vain. She desires men to desire her, and is often successful. She is viewed outwardly so penetratingly, people assume that is who she is inwardly. She starts to make poor choices because she does not have the Holy Ghost right there with her warning her of temptation and testifying to her of truth.
    There is nothing wrong with wanting to look good, sophisticated, beautiful, or well-dressed. It is not vain to take care of yourself, and to help express on the outside who you are on the inside. There is something wrong, though, with turning away your self-respect just to gain attention. Your outside should match who you want to be on the inside.
    When I dressed immodestly, or acted or spoke as such, that wasn’t me. I am not by nature a vain, selfish, immoral person. I was starting to become that way, though.  I also found myself being different in different places. I was a hypocrite. I didn’t want my fellow church members, or my parents, seeing me act that way. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t care. I care now, and that is why I have written all this.
    The stories I told each of you are very personal, and at times embarrassing. I told them so that you can see what I have come to know. I want the young girls, just starting to feel the pressure, to know that they should remain true to themselves. Don’t change your clothes, speech, or behavior to try to be popular or to get attention. Be you, and be the best you!

  • What I told my son when he asked me about bullying

    Bully: a blustering, quarrelsome, overbearing person who habitually badgers and intimidates smaller or weaker people.

    Last week my 9-year-old approached me and asked me if a certain word was a bad word. He was asking because a kid on the bus last year used to call him that over and over. He hadn’t really known if it was bad, and that was why he hadn’t told me about it before.

    I told him it indeed was a bad word, and that it was wrong for the kid to say that to him. I told my son he should never use that word, and that if a kid says something like that again, that he should tell his bus driver immediately, and talk to me or his dad about it after school.

    Then, Sunday, he came up to me again and wanted to talk about it some more. I asked him what specifically he wanted to talk about, and he wasn’t sure. So, I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer for guidance, and found myself saying:

    You should have compassion on kids who use bad language,  are mean, or make fun of you.

    Why do kids do these things? There are many reasons: they have friends or family who set bad examples; they don’t feel loved or encouraged at home; they are abused by parents or other family members; they have been bullied before; their media choices champion bullying; they don’t have many friends;  they don’t know that you or they are children of God; they don’t realize that true joy comes from helping and loving others. It could be any of these reasons, or others.

    Look at the list. Though their behavior should not be excused, they are not just bullies. They have pain and struggles too.

    That being said…

    You are not what these kids say you are. You can get to a point where you won’t feel bad when kids are mean to you.

    It is so important not to believe what bullies say. They don’t know you. They either pinpoint one quality they don’t like about you and define you by it, or they make something up just for laughs and to see you flinch. Do not let someone who doesn’t care about you define who you are.

    Just say to yourself, I know that this isn’t who I am. I am a child of God. I have a family who loves me. I have good friends. I do my best in school. I am not going to let this bother me. I am not going to let them pull me down and try to change me. I know my self-worth.

    Don’t let someone else try to change you.

    Sometimes kids take it to heart when people say mean things. If they are bullied about their clothes, they want to wear cooler, nicer clothes. If they are bullied about being nice to an unpopular kid, they stop being nice to that kid. If they are bullied about being helpful in class, they stop helping their teacher. Some kids even think that if they become bullies, they can then escape bullying.

    Don’t bend to them. They will not suddenly be your friend if you change. They will just laugh and realize they have exercised power over you.

    Always remember you are special. Remember what matters. Remember who you are.

    Kids will always find a way to make fun, whether it is clothes, body type, intellect, values.
    Sometimes kids make fun of qualities that are good.

    Oftentimes, kids bully because they are jealous. That is why they sometimes make fun of good things, like being a nice person or doing well in school. Never assume that you are doing something wrong if you are bullied.

    Don’t lie to avoid being made fun of.

    As a teen I remember sometimes lying about silly things, like saying I had two pairs of the same jeans when in reality I wore the same pair two days in a row. I lied many times in high school when I was asked out on dates and I wasn’t 16 yet. Every time I lied it was because I was afraid of the mockery, the gossip and the finger-pointing at my expense.

    You should never lie. What I did was wrong. I may have avoided one wrong, but I invited another. Have integrity. Tell the truth and don’t be ashamed of it.

    Never pick a fight.

    If bullying goes beyond harsh words, and a kid wants to fight you, you should not engage in a fight. If a kid hits you, defend yourself if you must. Do not get angry and do not continue the fight. Make sure to tell a teacher and always tell the truth.

    Not all mean words are curse words. Never call kids bad names.

    Never use curse words, whether in conversation or to bully. There are other words that are not necessarily curse words, but are meant to put others down. For example, when I was in school, I was often called a “goody goody” because I got good grades and helped my teacher willingly. Basically, don’t use any words that have a damaging intent.

    When someone else is being bullied, you should take a stand.

    Sometimes when you see a kid being bullied, you might be afraid to do or say anything for fear of retaliation. You never have to be afraid to do the right thing, though, and showing support for a victim is always a good thing. Ask the mean kids to stop. If they don’t, talk to the kid and make sure he/she is okay. Be that kid’s friend, even if it means you are also made fun of. Think of what good you can do.

    If you set an example by not being mean, and not participating in bullying, others may follow.

    Not all kids want to bully, or be quiet when they see it. They are just afraid. If they see you standing up for others, you will be surprised how many will follow you instead of the bully. You be a force for good.

    You can talk to me and your dad any time, about anything.

    There is nothing that you can’t talk to us about. We will be understanding. We will listen. We will give you a hug. We will talk you through it. We will pray with you and for you.

    We love you. You are a good boy. Thank you for coming to me and talking about this today.