The Birth Story

So I’m giving up on the whole blogging thing. It’s just not cohesive with my personality and feels really forced. I’m trying new ways to #sharegoodness.

But, as a last farewell, here’s a post written by my husband. We never got around to finishing it, so I’ll tell you the ending: (~SPOILER ALERT~) the baby came out.

I now turn the time over to Nathanael.

January 29, 11:00pm—We were 41 weeks. Most people would be trying every induction technique under the sun, but no, not us. Instead we got Coldstone.

This induced labor.

January 30, 3:45am—My wife wakes me up and says she’s having contractions. I say, “Okay, should we go to the hospital?” “No.” I fall back asleep. Periodically wake up and check to see if there’s a baby.

10:30am—Contractions stopped.

12:00–2:00pm—I whipped up a mean frozen pizza. We ate it while my wife cried. Contractions had resumed and were 10–15 minutes apart. Watched Princess and the Frog to prep for our move to New Orleans.

5:00pm—Watching Netflix to pass the time. We were watching a show about parents trying to live vicariously through their children.

5:15pm—Wife tells me to stop talking. She plays dead to deal with her contractions.

6:30pm—Secretly pack hospital bag so family doesn’t freak out. But then they see us leaving and freak out anyway. My father-in-law takes a picture of the moment.

7:00pm—Leave my wife in the car to get us food from Zupa’s. Wait in line hoping my wife’s water didn’t break all over the car. We eat our food on the way to the hospital and sit in the parking lot while my wife finishes hers slowly. Not exactly the hospital entrance you see in movies.

7:30–9:30pm—Sitting in a rocking chair watching another woman feelsky my wife.

9:30pm—We go back home because my wife hadn’t “progressed.”

10:00pm–January 31, 1:00am—Work on my Sunday School lesson while my wife plays dead again in a dark corner of the room every 4.5 minutes.

1:00–2:00am—Back to the hospital. Wife gets another feelsky. She is no longer playing dead—she is actually dying and asks for someone to put a needle in her back.

2:30am—My wife starts acting like she’s in Disneyland. I talk to her a little and then go over to my luxurious couch/bed that I will inhabit for the next two days. We sleep.



And that’s as far as he got. Long story short, there appeared a wriggling, giant, purple, screaming baby who grew up to be the sweet, easygoing, ridiculously pleasant Marius who is currently asleep in my arms :).

Over and out! For now…




Gospel, Pictures, Portraits, Uncategorized

His Image

I’m a very private person (which is why it regularly surprises me that I have a blog), and that encompasses hiding my talents. Even people who know me well don’t know how much I love drawing. And to be honest, my drawing abilities were serving next to no purpose until this summer—the summer I worked really hard on making something of the gifts I’ve been given, which included creating these:

Jesus Christ

The Savior of the World, as depicted in images found in the LDS Media Library.

Nathanael blog

My handsome husband. Although, to be honest, I think this one is the worst and I will most likely make changes to it.

Shelbey blog

Yours truly.

I was inspired by a comment made by a friend in church regarding the covenant Latter-day Saints make at baptism to “take His [Jesus Christ’s] name upon us.” She noted that taking the name of the Savior upon us meant we became representatives of Him, and said we should ask ourselves if we were true likenesses of Him.

I’ve never felt creative inspiration that strongly before! When she said that, I was suddenly struck with the idea of drawing pictures of the Savior, Nathanael, and me to hang in our house. These would serve as a reminder to Nathanael and I of whose countenance we are trying to take upon us, language taken from Alma 5:14:

And now behold, I ask of you, my brethren of the church, have ye spiritually been born of God? Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?

To me, becoming like the Savior is the entire purpose of this life. Any other noble purpose can be categorized under that one. I’m awful at it, and maybe you are too, but it is SO important to try!

Happy Sunday!


Welcome! Bienvenue! Välkommen! приветствие!

Do you feel like you’re at a train station with that title? Good. I hope it’s King’s Cross.

Well, this is it, folks. I gave up the ghost on Weebly and switched to WordPress. I should be here to stay! One of the many features I prefer with WordPress is the ability to quite easily follow my blog. If you’d like to know when I post something new without having to come check, just click that little “Follow” button that should be not too far down in the menu to the right. Or, add me to your Feedly!

And look, I even have fireworks to celebrate!

new blog


Risk Watch

Sometimes I host a YouTube show for my work. My news anchor personality is a little embarrassing, so I thought you might get a kick out of it. Somebody get me a better professional wardrobe. And hey, if you suffer through my on-camera persona for long enough, you’ll see my cute office! My desk is in the background behind Coppelia once we cut to the office shots.


Dream Journal #5: Dance Class

There I was, in the studio where (in real life) I take bellly dance (i.e. modestly and tastefully).  Except the uncharacteristic abundance of young women wearing black leotards and leggings made it clear that this was not belly dance: this was modern dance.

The instructor had us line up in rows for across-the-floors. She taught us a basic sequence and we did it all the way across. When we regathered in our messy rows at one side of the studio, the teacher informed us that we would be doing the same movement, but this time as sad as we possibly could. We were to try and embody sadness as we dance.

The girls in front of me all did sort of the same thing—huge, sweeping, dramatic gestures with distraught looks on their faces. I thought they were doing a nice job of a Romeo and Juliet kind of sadness, but I wanted to do something different. I thought about what I do when I’m sad. Usually that’s crying on my bed or organizing something.

When it came to be my turn, I took a few upright steps forward and then slid to the floor and started slothing my way across it. Hello, I’m trying to be sad here! I was essentially doing The Worm, but not so much The Worm and more like a real worm—scrunching my body up and then releasing it, propelling myself forward. My classmates looked at me in confusion.

But my friend Mary (who had evidently been in line behind me the whole time) got it. She walked up behind me, arched her body over my legs and whispered, “I’m your shell! You’re a snail, right?”



My adorable little roommate, Dallas, got her mission call last night and I could not be more excited for her. She’s going to Berlin, Germany.

Watch out, Berlin–you’re about to be called to repentance!!!!!!

Boy oh boy will I miss that girl come July 25th.

But lest we all forget, every member is a missionary. Think about what that means. Think about what you can do about it. And then let’s get out there and help the full-time missionaries find ready hearts!


First Day of School

Disclosure: I don’t mean to make light of a serious subject; it was just that the forthrightness and suddenness of the following was rather funny.

My ballroom teacher was taking roll by calling out each student’s name. She calls out, “Janet Nichols. Are you here, Janet?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry about memorizing that name. I just finished up a divorce last semester and I’m still trying to get it changed. You can call me Janet Smith.”
“….Thanks for being here, Janet.”

‘Twas funny.