Lucky Number 7

There is this really embarrassing but totally endearing movie called Saturday's Warrior. It's a musical about a gigantic Mormon family in the 80's, and it was the soundtrack of my childhood. The movie begins with a family of seven kids in heaven, waiting to come to earth. The youngest daughter is a girl named Emily, and she's worried that by the time it's her turn to be born into her family, she'll be forgotten. Her oldest brother promises not to forget about her. When he leaves, she cries out in the sweetest voice, "Don't forget your promise!" I told London and Juliette the story of Emily and Saturday's Warrior on the way home from piano lessons last month, and we all cried. 

The first time I journaled about Holland was more than five years ago. Of course, at the time, I didn't know her name was going to be Holland, although Kyle and I had loved the name for more than a decade. What I felt was this deep and overwhelming impression that there was a little girl missing from our family. But then Reid was born, and oh my gosh, he was the delight of the century. And then we got pregnant with Liam, and I thought he was a girl for SURE. Having seven children wasn't part of the plan, so I did my best to ignore and dismiss the unrelenting feeling that kept me up at night. But in my journal, I wrote about her again and again. Kyle and I agreed to wait until Liam was two, and then we would discuss the possibility of having just one more. 

My pregnancy was a huge surprise. It took me more than a year to get pregnant with Reid, and nearly a year to get pregnant with Liam. Yet somehow, while actively trying NOT to get pregnant, I did. I was sicker than sick for nearly 4 months. I was so weak and frail, and completely incapable of doing any of the things I do. Kyle became the sole parent and my mom took over everything at Treehouse, and every single other thing I had to let go of. In this world that I have created, where everything is just the way I want it, letting go of control and being utterly powerless took its toll on my mental health. Finally, the nausea lifted, and just in time for the holidays, I was able to get out of bed.

Holland took her sweeeet time. My other kids were 2, 3, and even 4 weeks early, which obviously led me to believe that she would be coming early, too! Then, after weeks of prodromal labor with zero progress, I gave up on the idea that she would ever be born. My due date came and went. I told Kyle, "If you put a gun to my head and asked me if Holland is ever going to be born, I would tell you no. I'm going to be pregnant forever." I was utterly convinced of it. He laughed and said, "You always say that at the end!" To which I responded, "Well I MEAN IT this time!" And I did.

Late in the afternoon on May 7th, my sister and brother-in-law came over to share all the details about their trip to San Felipe. My mom came over, too, so she could hear their stories and visit with us for the evening. We all climbed on the bed in my master bedroom, and I laid down--mostly because I was too uncomfortable to sit or stand or function in any way at that point in my pregnancy. I started to have contractions, but they were 10 minutes apart-- and I'd been having contractions for weeks. I thought absolutely nothing of it. Each time I had a contraction, Maeci and Lance would pause their story, I'd make it through the surge, and the conversation would resume once more. Unbeknownst to me, Lance started to time them. And I started to squeeze my sister's hand to make it through. But I still did not and could not believe that I was actually in labor. 

Then, I had a contraction that really hurt. "Okay, that was a good one!" I laughed. 

"How far apart was that one, Lance?" my mom asked.

"8 minutes". He said. I knew it was nothing. After all, Holland was never going to be born. My mom texted Kyle, who was mercifully pulling into our neighborhood at that exact moment. 

I had another contraction 3 minutes later.

"You better get in the shower now." My mom said. And Kyle called the birthing center. 

I had two really painful contractions in the shower--the kind where I pressed my hands hard against the shower wall, cried out in pain, and couldn't move. That's when I panicked. There was no way I had time to blow dry my hair, and there was absolutely zero chance I was going to be able to curl it. I threw a dress over my dripping wet hair and climbed in the passenger seat of Kyle's car. We bounced back and forth between laughing/telling jokes and me screaming uncontrollably/Kyle telling me to breathe... all the way to the birthing center. 

We never started my "Holland's Birth" playlist, and the essential oils I packed were forgotten in my hospital bag. The nutritious meal I made to eat after her birth, I left at home. It takes 20 minutes to fill the birthing tub, but Holland came in just 19. The only thing that went according to plan is the fact that by some absolute miracle, I made it to the birthing center--- and yet, her birth couldn't have been more perfect.

One contraction and a "POP" broke my water, and the next contraction, she was here. I froze, down on one hand and one elbow, and both knees, in shock. I could not move. I told myself- PICK HER UP. She's HERE! But my body wouldn't listen. I had to breathe first, to get some oxygen in my system, before I was capable of moving at all. 

"Whenever you're ready, she's right underneath you." one of the midwives said. 

There is absolutely nothing like it. Seeing this tiny person for the first time. You have loved them with your whole soul from the moment the pregnancy test was positive. And every time you threw up and you were too weak to walk to the bathroom, you pictured this exact moment of seeing their face. I never have to be pregnant again, but I also never get to have this feeling again. 

I can't believe she's here. It feels so right, so complete, so meant to be. Holland is our 7th baby, born on May 7th, weighing exactly 7 pounds. 

Liam's Birth Story

His tiny baby bottom rests on my forearm, his legs are tucked up tight against my stomach, and his cheek is pressed against my chest, while I sway and hum and kiss his perfect head over and over and over again. I am in love.

I was at that point...you know the one---the one where you are fully and completely convinced that you will be pregnant for the rest of your life because the baby will NEVER be born, when it hurts to walk and to sit and to lay down and to stand up, when your whole body is swollen and none of your maternity clothes fit anymore, and at any given moment, you might accidentally start crying.

This pregnancy was really hard for me. I wish I could point to one reason why- but I think it was a combination of a lot of things. First, I've never been pregnant while running my own business and mothering 5 kids. I think I was already so run down in every way possible, and then I was asking my body to grow a human at the same time, and that made my body a tiny bit angry. I had morning sickness for two months longer than usual, was completely wiped out by a case of COVID, and caught the stomach flu, but those things aside, I never really felt good during the pregnancy. I wanted it to all be okay, and it all HAD to be okay, because I had a school to run and ballet to drive to and the laundry wasn't going to wash itself. And as it turns out, when you tell yourself everything is totally fine when it's not, you can almost convince yourself it's true-- almost. 

I was right in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when my water broke. It was 5:33 pm. For a fraction of a second, I was in denial, because my water has never broken on its own before. While still processing the impossibility of what I knew had just happened, in true mom/ninja fashion, I threw my favorite leather tennis shoes off and into the adjacent dining room, saving them from certain destruction, and froze, standing in an enormous puddle of water on my kitchen floor. 

"LONDON!!!! KIDS!!!!" I called out from the kitchen.

They could tell something was wrong from the tone of my voice, and all 5 kids came running down the hall to rescue me. 

"Don't step in the kitchen! I just need a towel!" I cried.

Kyle was at Discount Tire, car up on the lift, right in the middle of getting his tires replaced, when he received my frantic call. "911. My water just broke!"

---------------------------------

When we arrived at the hospital, I was 5.5 centimeters dilated, and the nurse called for the epidural immediately. 

Hours went by without any progress at all, and then at about 10:30 pm, the nurse introduced a huge peanut-shaped exercise ball thing. She placed the giant peanut in between my knees, and I suddenly started having more painful contractions. I started to push the "extra epidural" button with each contraction, but I felt no relief from the pain. I was really hurting. 

Since the day we found out we were having another baby, Kyle was convinced the baby would be born on June 2nd-- 15 days before my due date. So when my doctor arrived in my hospital room at 11:51 pm on the night of June 2nd, Kyle told him right away that the clock was ticking.

"Challenge accepted," my doctor said. "Bristyl, you have one chance to push him out. You can do it!"

I laughed, pushed exactly 3 times, and Liam Jackson Garvin was born, sunny-side-up, at 12:02 am on June 3rd. He screamed for the first hour after birth, finally got the urge to nurse, and has hardly left my arms since. 

Reid never leaves Liam's side, and kisses him all day long. "Hi Baby Yiyam! Hi! I yuv mine baby buhver!" On repeat.

Everyone has been so so kind to me, and when I venture out of the house, I hear things like, "Wow, I don't know how you do it!" or " You're super-mom!" and I don't know how to respond other than to say "thank you". I don't feel that way about myself at all- and I feel like I haven't even slightly figured out how to balance a newborn with the emotional and physical needs of five other children, plus the running of a very demanding business that I pour myself into, the nurture of a marriage, AND my own needs to eat, exercise, read, and sometimes sleep. 

This could very well be my last baby, and I'm not quite sure what to do with that either. The time we have to have babies and to raise them just isn't enough time at all. I only get to have this beautiful, amazing, life-altering experience six times, and then I'm just supposed to move on to the next phase of my life? With all the demands of Treehouse, I feel like the chapter of growing our family is closing without my consent. Every part of me wants to be able to do it all, but I recognize that it truly isn't possible. For now, I'll just savor this sweetest little Liam, currently sleeping on my chest as I one-handedly type out his birth story.

The Very Best Yet...

I was washing the dishes today when I heard a cry coming from the other room. It was Reid. As soon as I heard it, I knew what was wrong. His leg was stuck. I dropped the pan in the sink and went running, but I already knew. 

Motherhood is so crazy like that. From a sound your child makes, you can know...Henry stubbed his toe, Elle is being mean to Juliette, London needs a break from her sisters copying her every move, and so you drop the pan and go running. You gather them up in your arms, and they try so hard not to smile at you when you squeeze them and kiss them over and over again. I love how my arms and my love make everything all better, always. 

Every new stage of motherhood, I think- THIS. THIS is my favorite. This new phase, where we decided to leave Acton to open our own school, feels like the very best yet. It feels like, as a family, we're just on the cusp of all of all the biggest, most beautiful things I could ever dream of--- just falling perfectly into place. The Treehouse Academy moved into Liberty Station earlier this month, and as soon as the rest of our COVID delayed Montessori furniture arrives, I can't wait to share our school with you. 

All my little loves in Big Bear

Why a mom just like you decided to open a school...

School: You sit at your desk. You listen to your teacher. You copy down the notes she writes. You do worksheets. You do homework. You take a quiz. You listen to your teacher. You copy down the notes she writes. You do worksheets. You do homework. You take a quiz. You study. You take a test to see if you remembered it all.

And you repeat this until you die... just kidding. (kind of)

But seriously, this is totally what we do! Like   h o n e s t l y   every child I know who goes to school does this. Private school. Public school. Charter school. And we don't know better. I mean, I didn't know better. When every answer to every question we can think of is just a, "Alexa...?" or "Siri...?" or "Hey Google...?" away, is this learning model really the best we can do? How fulfilled by, engaged in, challenged by, and passionate about their education are your kids?

The first time I entered an Acton classroom, I felt like I had entered the twilight zone.

It was early last spring. A friend of mine, Mandy Callister, asked me to open a private school called Acton Academy with her. I was intrigued. I watched a million YouTube videos and a few Ted Talks, and agreed to tour an Acton Academy campus in Orange County. I had to see this crazy, upside-down school for myself before I made any decisions. We drove up together one hot afternoon. We met the director outside, and she walked us up the stairs to where her Elementary, Middle, and High school students were working. When we entered their studios, it was like there was light radiating out of the faces of those children. I had never seen anything like it before. To say these kids were "happy" is like saying that the weather in San Diego is "nice". These kids were straight up JOYFUL. And every Acton studio I've visited since then has been exactly the same.

I started to devour books about education. What on earth was Acton Academy doing to make these kids act like that, to look like that, to speak with such confidence and poise, to be so dang engaged in learning?! I HAD TO KNOW. The One World School House by Salman Khan, Courage to Grow by Laura Sandefer, Choice Words: How Our Language Affects Children's Learning by Peter H. Johnston, The Talent Code by Daniel Coyle, Unschooling Rules by Clark Aldrich, How to Open A Private School in the Middle of a Pandemic by literally no one, and every book on the Montessori Method I could find... I could. not. stop. reading.

At Acton, they call their students "heroes". And they mean it. Young people on a journey to find their calling in life and to change the world. It's woven into every single detail. No tests, no grades, no homework, no lectures, no teachers---but rather GUIDES who inspire students to find the answers to their own questions. Heroes work on core skills at their own pace, set personal goals, and hold each other accountable. Instead of rules, there's a list of promises the heroes make to one another-- a list they collaborate on, write, and sign together. The classrooms are multi-age, tight-knit communities, and students are constantly mentoring and working with one another. There is character building, outdoor education, Socratic discussions, challenging real-life projects, community exhibitions, apprenticeships, music and art education. Why doesn't everyone do school like this?!

As of last August, there were over 18,000 applications submitted by people wanting to start an Acton Academy in their community, and there are currently 270 worldwide. The fact that we're opening an Acton Academy in San Diego is seriously one of the coolest things I've ever been a part of. I always thought I'd use my passion and love for children to open an orphanage or become a foster mom, and I might still do those things, but for now...I'm opening Acton Academy San Diego East.

Reidy-my-Reid

I wish I could put my finger on exactly what it is that makes him so delicious. It's that impossibly sweet smell of honey and warm milk, his buttery soft skin, those chunky baby thighs, his stinky baby feet and the tiny bit of lint that's always between his toes, his ticklish little armpits, the steady stream of drool that leaves a ring around his collar, the two fingers on his left hand that he chews on all day, the giggle he makes when I gobble his cute little neck, that wide-mouthed toothless smile, and the way his eyes light up and he kicks his legs and flaps his arms with excitement whenever he sees my face. It's his high-pitched squeal, that pretend cry when he wants to be played with, how he sucks on his lower lip so his cheeks poke out, and the way he tucks his knees up while he's nursing. It's those dreamy blue eyes, his deep auburn hair, and his absolutely enormous man hands.

Watching Reid with his siblings every day is so precious. They run to my bedroom each morning, so happy that he's awake and can play with them. He's everyone's favorite toy and their silliest form of entertainment. Even Charlie never ever leaves Reid's side. We call him Reid, Reidy-Roo, Reidy-my-Reid, and Reidy-boy.





I feel like all the love I have in my heart for Reid might just burst out of my chest. That, or I might accidentally eat him. 

Together is my favorite place to be

"Mom, have you lost your mind?!"
(everyone bursts out laughing)
"Mom, what does 'Have you lost your mind' mean?
(everyone laughs even harder)
-Henry, age 4

How are you all doing?!

Charlie wants to know.

It's hard for me to imagine that just over two weeks ago, my kids were playing at their friend's houses, Kyle and I were at a dinner party, and I had toilet paper. I feel like the shock of everything has warn off enough now that I've been able to process my feelings.

I can remember Juliette's first prayer when everything changed. We were sitting around the dinner table when she said, "Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this day. Thank you for all our blessings. Please help the people that have the corona virus that they can get better. And help everyone who is sick that they can feel better. And in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."

First, can I just say, what on earth has happened? I, a stay-at-home-mom and assistant director of a private school opening this fall, had absolutely no idea that there was anything actually wrong---until the world suddenly shut down. There are people with degrees in epidemiology, infectious disease control specialists, international health organizations and committees --- why didn't we know that corona was THIS bad? Even when the nightly news made references to the virus a few weeks ago, I rolled my eyes at the whole thing because I'm sooooooo used to every single thing on the news being "breaking news" and "disastrous" and "unprecedented". I had become so desensitized to the media that I completely missed the warning signs. I wish that someone---anyone with any authority in the matter had said LOUD AND CLEAR, "Listen. I realize that none of you have any knowledge whatsoever about pandemics, so I would like to provide you with some information that
will be helpful in the coming weeks and months. Be prepared for the possibility that travel will be halted. Be prepared because there is a possibility that the schools will close. Be prepared because we might close non-essential businesses and your husband might lose his salary. You might have to distance yourself from people who don't live in your home for a few weeks. We are doing everything we can to stop this from spreading across the world, but if we are not successful, your life is going to look really different for a while." See? Not. That. Hard.

Life is so strange now. No schooling, baby showers, weddings, PTA, doctors appointments, orthodontist appointments, dance classes, play dates, book clubs, church meetings, youth groups, ---the things that have absolutely filled every spare moment of my life are suddenly non-existent. There is so much time to do all the things that there was never any time to do before, like teach my kids piano, bake, garden, and play games together. I feel guilty with relief on one hand, and desperately lonely for dear friends and loved ones on the other. I long for human connection, while fearing that any connection at all might risk the life of someone I love. Each time I run into someone (from 6 feet away) that I know, I always give the same answer to "How are you doing?"
I'm fine...We're okay! We're just making the best of a difficult situation!

Life with five kids sheltering in place looks like this...

First thing in the morning, the kids get dressed, clean their rooms, make their beds, brush their teeth, and I do their hair [except for Henry--- who just started doing his own hair and it's ADORABLE!]. For my own sanity, I have to maintain this small sense of normalcy.

The girls treated us to a spa day :)

We learned about birds, and then the kids made their own!

We begin each "school" day with Cosmic Kids Yoga, basically the cutest kids YouTube channel I've ever seen. There is Star Wars yoga, Moana yoga, Frozen yoga, Pokemon yoga, the list goes on and on. My kids take turns and pick which adventure they'll have each day. Then, we have a writing lesson. I say a word that relates to our mission for the day, and Henry and Juliette sound it out and write it on their white boards. Elle writes a sentence using the word with one adjective, and London writes a paragraph about the word using 4 adjectives. The kids each share what they've written, one at a time, and congratulate one another on their excellent writing abilities. Next is snack-time. After the snack, the kids have a mission to accomplish together. I line the kids up in a row and they all giggle and salute me, and then carefully follow my instructions. The missions originally started from an Instagram account called #happytotshelf, and I've now adapted my own missions for the kids. The missions involve them looking up facts and finding answers to big questions together, doing science experiments, art and design skills, me reading related books aloud to them, and finally cleaning up everything they've used throughout the mission. After the house is clean again, we have lunch. Following lunch, it's silent reading for London and online apps for the twins and Elle. The younger kids choose between Homer, Starfall, ST Math, and Freckle, and then London joins in with Khan Academy. The kids love doing crafts or puzzles in the afternoon, and we take walks when the weather is nice.

side note: I am actually really enjoying teaching my kids. They're learning, challenging themselves, and having fun, all while working from completely different places academically. It's remarkable how they're able to help one another with their schoolwork, which prevents them from getting lost or too frustrated. Despite being uprooted from everything they've ever been used to, there is light and joy in their eyes as we learn together. Elle misses her teacher and her friends the most of all, and I hope that being away from them will get easier for her in the weeks ahead.

One or two or four of the kids always help me make dinner, while Reid watches in his swing. We eat around the table, each person shares their favorite part of the the day, and then it's time to take a bath and read the scriptures. Kyle and I usually wrap up the day with an episode of 24, except last night, when we binge-watched 3 episodes of Tiger King on Netflix (ohmygoodness!). There are NINE seasons of  24!!! That's- like--- a whole lot of episodes, so I'm fairly certain we'll be adequately entertained for the remainder of this whole pandemic! Thank goodness for Jack Bauer.

Red Haired

At my 32 week appointment, the doctor checked our little baby's position. His head was in my ribs.
"He still has plenty of time to turn!" she said.
So I did the only thing I know how to do, which is everything humanly possible to get him to move head-down. I tried spinning babies, the chiropractor, hot and cold compresses, an inversion table---but he never did. London was born via emergency C-section, and an 8 week recovery with 5 small children to care for was not exactly in my plans. Finally, on a Monday morning, two days before I went into spontaneous labor, my doctor scheduled a version. Kyle called it medieval torture, but it was basically the doctor pushing REALLY hard on my belly to manually turn the baby. The pain was excruciating, but only lasted a few minutes, and he turned immediately! I'm convinced it was because of all the prayers offered by the people I love the most!

I played volleyball with my favorite teenagers from church the following evening, even though my mom tried to stop me. Our team was amazing, despite my laughable attempts to waddle towards the ball and bump it with my arms, rather than my enormous baby belly. "You're going to go into labor!" my mom called from the sidelines. "Sounds good to me!" I replied.

I woke up the next morning, got Elle ready for school, and immediately climbed back in bed. I was having some uncomfortable contractions, but nothing I couldn't handle. I'd volunteered to make South African food for a homeschool group London meets with on Wednesdays at 10, and I realized I had to get out of bed right away and get to the kitchen. We made it to the group, and the other moms dished up the food for me, while I sat at a nearby table, breathing through contractions. These lasted all day, until a phone call with my mom around 7 pm.

"No, Mom, I'm fine....Yes, I'm timing them....Yeah, but they're not that bad....I can still talk through them. I'm fine....I-----------" and then I had one of those BIG ones. You know, the contractions where tears pour from your eyes and you can't speak?

Hospital time!

At the hospital, I was told I needed 2 rounds of antibiotics before I could deliver. They wouldn't break my water until 2 am at the earliest- so I laid in the hospital bed, contracting every 2-3 minutes, for HOURS. Around 1 AM, I was sooooo done with the pain and requested an epidural. Normally, the epidural man is my favorite person on earth. The moment he puts that magic medicine in, I nearly leap off my hospital bed to kiss his face. This time, I didn't feel much of a difference after he rolled out of my hospital room. I pressed the "boost" button with each and every contraction, and still wasn't getting any relief. The nurses called him back in after he completed a C section, and sure enough, the epidural was defective. "No problem!" he declared. He would do it over again.

I leaned forward, and he began his work. I suddenly started feeling really nauseous. The nurse handed me a bag, and then came the dizziness. My vision blurred, and I managed to tell the nurse so before falling onto her shoulder. I could hear the nurse and the anesthesiologist speaking, but I couldn't respond. "Give her another one!" I felt a needle go into my arm. "Another one!" I heard once more. I smelled alcohol close to my nose. The adrenaline they gave me made me shake for a while afterward, but I was finally able to rest!

Reid's baby blessing

My labor progressed S L O W L Y from there, likely because the double dose of epidural made me so very very numb. When it was finally time to push, Doctor Vu raised the bed all the way up, so he was actually standing during delivery! After 30 minutes of pushing, the doctor decided to turn our posterior little love, and half a push later, out came a perfect red-headed Garvin boy.

I already cut around his ears! 

 

We named him Reid Kimball. Reid, which ironically means "red haired", and Kimball, after Kyle's brother, who he has the sweetest relationship in the world with, and I was more than happy to honor.

Our first morning home...

What is it like having five children? Honestly, it's better than anything else I can imagine. I really can't believe that we have five---- I mean---- let's be real---- that's a pretty big number. My life is exhausting and crazy and so beautifully fulfilling. I'm so looking forward to 3 weeks of Christmas break with nothing to do at all but hold and cuddle and love this baby boy. We all adore our darling little Reid!