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Seventeen

A few years ago, I wrote a blog post of my bucket list for things I wanted to do before I turned 23. I accomplished a lot of those things, but not all of them.

I've been focused on my health this year. Today, I'm writing a list of 17 things I want to do to improve my health by January 1, 2018 and I'm really aiming to cross every one of these off!

17 in 2017

1. Run 365 miles
2. Run a 5k
3. Run a half marathon
4. Burn 2,000 calories in one day
5. Hike the Y without breaks
6. Go a month without sugar
7. Go two weeks with a 9:30 bedtime
8.  Go two weeks without hitting snooze
9. Go two weeks with a 5:30 wakeup
10. Do a cartwheel
11. Banish 20 pounds
12. Do a handstand push-up
13. Learn how to properly meditate
14. Take 50,000 steps per week
15. Go two weeks without processed food
16. Be able to touch my toes (Beery flexibility is virtually zero)
17. Go 5 days only eating raw foods

I've gotten a lot of really awesome running advice, but I'm always open to more. I used to be a distance runner back between 2012 and 2014, but I stopped after I injured my knee. I picked back up for a very short time in 2015, but I never kept it up long enough to truly condition back into distance running.

I started on my goal to run 365 miles on this past Wednesday, July 5! It's roughly about 14.43 miles per week to meet the deadline. I was able to mark off 15.50 miles, so I only have 349.50 miles left! It sucked, so pray for me! 

I registered for the Haunted Half Marathon in Provo on October 28. Kind of nervous for that one!

How to ~Not~ be an Insensitive Douche to Someone Who Lost a Child

Recently, an acquaintance of mine messaged me on Facebook. Her good friend had just lost both of her premature twins, and she was at a loss of what to say to comfort her friend. She asked me what helped comfort me, and she asked for advice on what she could say or do to be of help to her friend. My heart broke for her friend, and I was SO thankful that she reached out to me for advice. It really showed how much she cared to help and the pure love she has for her friend.

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This is the reason I'm writing this post. I know many people don't know how to help so they end up saying things they think are comforting, but they're actually the opposite. I know this from first hand experience, and I just had to hold my tongue.

Let me preface this by saying that I know everyone means well when they try to comfort me in my grief. I don't plan to promote this post, but if you happen to run across it, I hope you read this and understand where I'm coming from. This post will probably seem morbid and bitter, but that's the reality of a grieving mom. I'm also sure that I have said hurtful things in the past when I thought that I was helping- because I was ignorant. And let me tell you, ignorance IS bliss. But for those of you that have a loved one or friend or acquaintance that is among the world's unluckiest, please read on.

I'm a Mormon. I have many beliefs, one of them being that I have an eternal family. I believe I will see my son in the next life, and I believe that I will get to raise him then.




I've compiled some of the first (and many times, only) responses I received after people found out my son died. Below each quote is the response that I said (or screamed) inside my head, and are likely the same responses that every grieving parent wishes they could say out loud.

"I know how you feel. I had a miscarriage too."

*screaming into megaphone* I DID NOT MISCARRY MY SON; I WATCHED HIM DIE. I watched him choke on his last breaths, I watched his eyes go lifeless, I watched his face turn blue and I felt his body turn cold. The only time I ever got to dress him was after he was already dead. I buried him in the ground, and now I get nightmares about the thought that his body no longer looks like it did when I kissed him for the last time.

I'm sorry about the loss of your pregnancy and I'd like to talk to you about that at a different time, but I'm confused what in the world your first trimester miscarriage has to do with the death of my son?

[side note: I miscarried 3 times before I had Jett]

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"Families are forever."

This is a favorite response among Mormons. Seriously 9/10 times, there's no "I'm so sorry," there's just "Families are forever." FYI: regardless of sector, every religious or spiritual person believes they will see their loved ones after death. But other religious people aren't insensitive and don't treat death like it's no big deal.


You know what feels like forever? Waiting 60 years until I die to see my son again. Your family is forever too, but I see you're sitting there ignoring your kids while you shop online, sooooo....?

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"Aren't you thankful for the knowledge of the Plan of Salvation?"

You have the same knowledge as I do, so why did my kid have to die and not yours?

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"You are so blessed to have a guardian angel for the rest of your life."

Ummm, I'd much rather my guardian angel be my grandmother that lived a long life and has already been dead for several years, thanks.

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"He's in a better place."

Oh wow, thanks so much for reminding me that my son is so much better off without me. Thanks to you, I've been cured from my grief.

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"God needed another angel. You are so blessed."

It's really easy to say that when He didn't ask for yours.

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"God won't give you any trials that you can't handle."

NEWS FLASH, I DON'T HAVE ANY OTHER CHOICE BUT TO HANDLE IT.

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"When are you going to try again?"

1) "Try again" is horrible wording. It makes me feel like you consider my first child a failed attempt.

2) I had a life threatening pregnancy, so I will be high-risk for the rest of my life. There are many personal and medical factors going into this.
3) A family's reproductive choices and struggles are none of your business.

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"When my dog died, I was really sad until I got another one."

Screw you and your dog.

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"Are you okay? Like, are things getting back to normal?"

I'm going to be asking you the same thing in about 5 minutes after I dislocate your nose.

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"Do you want to hold my baby?"

Literally no. Especially if your baby is a newborn or if he or she is close to what age my son would be if he was still alive. Another reason is because I have never liked any kids that aren't related to me. So no, I don't want to hold your baby. Hard pass.

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I don't want this post to seem like I only dwell on the hurtful things. I received many, many, many incredibly helpful messages, cards, meals, letters, flowers, gifts, and had lots meaningful conversations. This post is meant to help people recognize that unfortunately their "go-to" comfort comments often do more harm than good, regardless of their intentions.


Here are a few of the words that helped:



"I am so sorry for your loss."

"I will not pretend to have any idea what you're going through."

"I know there's nothing I can say or do to make you feel better."

"You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers."

"Thank you for sharing your son's story. It has impacted my life."

"I love witnessing the love you have for your son."

"Will you tell me more about Jett?"

"I'm so thankful I got to meet your sweet baby."

"I dropped off [xyz item] at your door. You're in my prayers."

"Please don't feel obligated to answer this, but I wanted to let you know that I've been thinking about you."





Again, I recognize that this post may make me seem ungrateful, bitter, angry, morbid, and many other things. But the reality is, I go through every one of those emotions every single day. I hope that instead of hardening your heart, you can take this and learn how to better help someone in need of  comfort.

Pro-Compassion

This is for all of you "I would never terminate a pregnancy no matter what" people. This is for all of you "I can't believe a woman could terminate her pregnancy" people. This is for all of you "Termination is murder, you shouldn't play God" people. This is for all of you "There is no gray area" people. I used to be one of you.

I have always been pro-life. My whole life, that meant that MY babies should have a chance at life, no matter what. That meant if Heaven forbid something was wrong with my child, I would carry them to term regardless. That meant terminating a pregnancy was not an option. That meant I was a better person than somebody else who decided to terminate. That meant I was more Christlike than someone who made a different choice.

And you know what? I was ignorant. I was clueless, I lacked compassion, and I was far from Christlike.

I didn't know about my son Jett's lethal chromosome disorder until I was nearly 36 weeks pregnant. Many people who share the same faith as I do will say to me, "Well even if you knew earlier, obviously it wouldn't have changed anything. You'd still carry to term."

Would I have? I have no idea. I can't make that assessment for certain, but I can look at the feelings and emotions I had from the day I found out until the day I delivered. I knew for a total of 20 days of my pregnancy that my son was going to die. Those were the most agonizing, gut-wrenching, heartbreaking days of my life.

For those 20 days, I thought to myself:
"Maybe it would be easier if he was stillborn. Then I wouldn't have to watch him die."
"Maybe it would be easier not to medically intervene at all when he's born and just let him die."
"I don't want to be pregnant anymore."
"There's no point in waiting until full term, he's going to die anyway."

Do you know what it feels like to feel a kick from your baby and wonder if that will be the last one? Do you know what it feels like to go to the hospital 6 days a week for monitoring and appointments and to wonder if there will be a heartbeat or not? Do you know what it feels like to have strangers see you in public and congratulate you while you try not to break down in tears? Do you know what it's like for other moms to look at you and say, "Have you started nesting yet? Are you ready to never sleep again?" Do you know what it's like to pack up your baby's nursery and go through the clothes he will never get to wear? Do you know what it's like to wipe your tears after a sales associate asks why you're returning a car seat? Do you know what it's like for an acquaintance to see you after you've buried your child and ask, "Weren't you pregnant? Where's the baby?"



Many people I converse with have been using me as a point of contact to validate their views of being pro-life.

"All babies should be carried to term no matter what, you know that because you actually lived it."
"I'd never terminate a pregnancy, just like you."
"I can't believe these vile women would end a life just because their babies aren't physically perfect."
"You must be disgusted with abortions since your baby passed."


As a mother who has lived through the agony, I could never EVER fault another woman for terminating her pregnancy because of a genetic disorder. Not everybody has the same belief system as I do. Not everybody has the same support system that I do. Not everybody was able to reach the end of term before finding out about a fatal condition. I know the hell hole of emotions and grief and shame that is associated with being a mother of a child not meant for earth and I cannot and will not shame another person for making a different decision than I did. 

For those of you who don't bother to research, terminating a pregnancy due to genetic abnormalities found in the second or third trimester means inducing labor. This means these mothers go through fighting their body's natural instinct to keep the baby inside and fight through hours and even DAYS of active labor. They go through the contractions and traumatizing physical pain of child birth, just like other mothers do. But they don't get the reward that you do.

Many babies that come from terminated pregnancies live for even a couple of minutes. So whether those couple of minutes are induced at 20 weeks gestation or at 40 weeks, why is it your job to judge when it's allowed?

What if that baby could have lived for a couple of minutes if it was delivered at 20 weeks, but instead that baby died in the womb at 38 weeks?

Do you know what a couple of minutes of life can get you?
- certificate of live birth
- social security number
- religious records
- insurance forms
- legal documents
- claimed as dependent
- the comfort of solid documentation that your baby is real, is loved, was alive, and you are a mother.

Do you know what you get for a stillborn baby? 

Nothing.

In the eyes of the government and religious records, that child did not exist. When a mother of a stillborn gets a hospital bill, she is paying for a delivery of a child that apparently never existed.

I had mother's intuition about my son. I knew with every piece of me that he needed to be c-sectioned in order to come out alive, and I had to fight tooth and nail for the operation to even be considered. And guess what? I was right. After Jetty's birth, the doctors assessed his sweet little body and told us our son's scull plates were fused together and if he had been born traditionally, his scull would have shattered and he would have bled out and died an extremely painful death in the birth canal.

What if another mother had intuition that her child needed to be born at 20 weeks, or 24 weeks, or 27 weeks, in order to be born alive? Is a mother's intuition not valid unless she's full term? You feel so strongly about giving a baby a chance at life... What if this woman is giving her baby a chance at life by terminating the pregnancy?

A mother knows her baby; you do not.

Do you know what it's like to be carrying a child with a lethal condition? No?
Your opinion is invalid.

 If you do know the horrible nightmare of carrying a child with a lethal condition and you STILL think it's your place to hang judgment over a mother's head for making a different decision than you, then I am so sorry. I am so sorry that you failed to learn the single most important lesson from that trial. I am so sorry that you still lack compassion after going through the deepest pain of grief.

These children with lethal conditions- though their bodies are imperfect, their spirits are flawless. Their spirits are so profound and pure and wise beyond our human comprehension. Do you really think that a spirit that is worthy of standing in the presence of our Creator is incapable of knowing, loving and understanding their mother? Do you think those spirits are incapable of accepting her for her imperfections and worldly flaws? Do you think they lack the compassion in their perfect hearts to forgive her? Do you think they'll be punished in the eternities for her decisions?



Many of these women who terminate their pregnancies went through emotional hell just like I did but they were not lucky enough to get 7 days of finger holding, sleeping baby snuggles like I was. To pretend I'm without sin and a better person and a better mother than someone else just because I stayed pregnant is not how Christ would want me to be.

I'm Chaney. I'm a mother of an angel too sweet for earth. I believe families are eternal, I'm a Mormon, and I believe another woman's uterus is none of your freaking business.

Jello isn't salad.

I've mentioned before that I identify myself as a "Midwest Mormon."

I've been living in Utah for just over a year now. Many cultural components are easy for me to adjust to simply because much of the culture here is based off of the religion that I have been a faithful part of my entire life.
Earlier this year, I married the best man I've ever met who was born and raised right in the heart of Happy Valley; which means there is a big chance that I will spend the rest of my days living here. This is definitely something I promised myself I would never do! I mean come on, there's not even an NFL team here! I guess that gives me all the more reason to raise my kids as Bears fans.
There are so many things I love about living here (which I will definitely address soon)!
But some things... some things... I'm 100% sure I will never get used to or identify with.


Jello.
People put this crap in everything. If you freeze it, you can make it a popsicle. If you layer it with whipped cream, it becomes a casserole. If it's in a bundt pan, it's a cake. If you put graham crackers on the bottom, it's a pie. If you put fruit and marshmallows in it, somehow it becomes a salad...?

Where I'm from, we make fun of jello dishes. Where I currently live, it's a main food group. Last week my sweet Mother-in-Law texted my husband and asked if we would bring a jello salad to the family party on Sunday. I instantly was overwhelmed with anxiety and informed my siblings of the current situation.

I just can't bring myself to embrace this part of Utah living. I made my husband make it.

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"Unique" Names.
First off, you should know that I have uncontrollable tunnel vision when I see a typo and I can't ignore it until it's fixed. Just imagine a mosquito bite on the inside edge of your ear. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. It's just like that. I can't ignore it. Before I even spot it, I feel physical vibes steaming off the paper just waiting for me to find and correct it.


Recently at work, I handed a blank contract form to a girl named London. She was interested in signing up for a membership.
I counted to 60 and then I peered down at said form to begin transferring her scribbled personal information into the computer system.

Name: Lundyn.

My eyes grew wide with disgust- I thought they might pop and ooze out red pen correction markings.
Inadvertently, I informed her of her misspelling of "London".

Apparently it's "just unique."

No.

Even more recently, I was trollying through the grocery store when I saw a driver's license shimmering below the wheel of my cart. I plucked it off the concrete floor and glanced at the picture to compare it to the faces of the people scurrying around me. Again, I felt the typo vibes steaming in my hot little hand.

This license was to be returned to a woman named Allysnn Hyllyry.

ALLYSNN HYLLYRY.

My IQ just dropped.

I shifted my eyes around frantically as I audibly inquired, "Is this a joke? Am I being punked?"

It took all of my willpower not to shred that physical piece of illiteracy into a million pieces before returning it to customer service.

A common name that's illiterately spelled does not make it unique.

Me going through the Utah County Whitepages:

Everyone should just name their children Chaney.