Behind the Scenes

It's been almost 5 years since I wrote on here...how time flies. Life has changed in so many ways...so many of them for the better.

Three years ago I met the love of my life. He has made all the others who came before him look like fools in comparison. He loves me outwardly, obviously and outrageously. He proves himself and his love for me over and over daily. He loves me as much as I love him (that's what we all look for, isn't it?) and he isn't afraid to tell me so. I don't know how I got so lucky.

Even better, he was from close to my hometown. So I moved home, for good this time, got a job and enrolled Lex in the same private school my dad, brother and I all attended. My love (J) and I put up a house across the field from my dad and we couldn't be happier where we are.

There's only been one dark spot on our happiness. Several months after we began dating, I became pregnant. Excited and a bit scared, J and I kept the news to ourselves, hoping to wait til after the first few appointments before we told anyone. Neither of us knew if we were ready but we were willing; we knew we wanted a child together and we already knew we wanted this relationship forever. I love my Lexi more than anything and so does Justin but we both wanted another and a sibling for Lex. Unfortunately, our baby didn't make it to those first appointments. At 6 weeks along, God chose to make him an angel. And while I grieved, I felt optimistic that maybe it was just too early in our relationship and that God would soon give us another shot.

Fast forward two and a half years, several more early miscarriages, multiple OB appointments, multiple appointments with a fertility specialist, tons of bloodwork, a hysterosalpingogram, chromosomal abnormality testing, several rounds of fertility drugs, a diagnosis of being premenopausal and Diminished Ovarian Reserve, being told that I wasn't a candidate for fertility treatments such as IVF, hundreds of ovulation and pregnancy tests and countless tears and here we are today, still without. And many days I just feel broken.

While several of our closest friends know of our struggles, we have kept it from many close family members, not to hurt them by not knowing but because how does one bring it up in conversation? How do I say that in 3 weeks I would have been celebrating my youngest child's 2nd birthday or that my due date this year would have been almost New Year's Eve? How do I tell them that I can't do again the one thing that my body was made to do as a woman? I did it once though I was much younger and I'm so incredibly thankful for Lexi, more than she will ever know. She has become my miracle, possibly my once in a lifetime.

I have days when I'm not sure I can even bring myself to get out of bed but I do it anyway. Days when I can't bring myself to open Facebook because friends there are announcing pregnancies or newborns and while I am very happy for those friends, it's also a reminder of not being able to conceive. Days when it's a struggle to just put one foot in front of the other because I feel the massive weight of this failure pulling me down. I mostly don't let people see the down side. I don't let them see that I deal almost every day with an underlying sadness that I can't seem to shake. I do occasionally talk about those days with one person in particular who gets it because she's been in these shoes.

I'm at the point now where I have exhausted my patience with doctors and tests and bloodwork and for the past six months or so, I've given it to God to handle. I still struggle on a daily basis with letting go and letting God do his will but I'm trying my best.

I'm tired of hiding all of this from others. I'm tired of the stigma around infertility and miscarriage, the hush-hush, we don't talk about that, etc. About 1 in 4 women experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. 10 percent (~6 million!) of women aged 15-44 experience infertility. Women are always speaking about building each other up. There can be no better way to help build up other woman than to be a no judgment listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a friend to share experiences with, both the good AND the bad.

But please, please do not tell a woman who has had a miscarriage or is going through infertility that "everything happens for a reason" or "at least it was early on". Those statements are more hurtful than you can imagine. Instead, express your condolences and ask what you can do to help or if they'd like to talk. Validate the fact that at least for her (and her partner as well), that child existed: even if it was only briefly, even if they didn't get far enough along to hear a heartbeat...it was a baby to them.

On September 10th, 2018, I should be celebrating my youngest child's 2nd birthday. On December 30th, 2018 I would have been due to welcome a new baby. I will never lay eyes on those babies here on earth but they are still my children.

Dance Like No One's Watching

More and more, I've come to realize that having a child is by far the most amazing thing I've ever done in my life. It hasn't been a perfect experience, not even close. But it has been perfectly imperfect. It was a surprise when I became pregnant at 21. I will never say she was a mistake, because: 1) I believe in God's timing and 2) not once have I ever regretted having her. She is my world. We argue like crazy some days, but there is nothing in the world like hearing "I love you, Mommy," no matter what is going on.

She has always been an intelligent, inquisitive and spirited child and at times, leaps and bounds ahead of her peers in development. I have rarely ever used "baby-talk" with her, except maybe in her first few months of life. This resulted in a child who could converse with adults relatively easily since she was quite young. 

Now as we begin to enter the tween/teen years, in some ways she is still unusually mature for her age. However, in other ways...well, she's 11 going on 25. She thinks she can take on the world. She can be selfish at times and her mood swings are killer. She's a girl so she's loud and squeals and giggles like a maniac when something sets her off. And like other kids of almost every age, she gets whiny, hungry, tired, snarky, and sometimes she even has to pee. And guess what? Since she is a child, she has to voice these things to me or whatever adult she is with (ie: teachers, friends' parents), because that is how children have their needs tended to. They can't just internalize it like most adults do. Occasionally, there is no excuse for her whining. When that happens, I am sure to bring that to her attention. Sometimes though, just like adults, she is overwhelmed, overstimulated or just plain tired.

What most don't realize is that she is also so incredibly sensitive as she lets very few see that side of her. My daughter has a huge heart. She's immensely compassionate. She is incredibly astute at reading people, especially me. And even a harsh tone of voice can sometimes be hurtful to her. She, like her mother, usually wears a mask of indifference when people (of any age) hurt her feelings in one way or another. It is not until we are alone that she admits to me how deeply something someone has said or done has affected her, at times with tears. And that breaks my heart into pieces.

I guess some just don't understand that her actions are completely normal for her age. Yes, I do expect her to behave. But I also expect and want her to act like a child. If she wants to dance in public, by all means, go for it! If she wants to laugh and squeal and have fun...as long as she doesn't scream to the top of her lungs inside my car or a home (mainly because she has a "Janet Leigh in Psycho" scream), I'm fine with squealing. I think this world would be a happier, healthier place if more parents would allow their children to be children while they can and let them be silly. If only more people would be understanding of that, instead of many wanting them to be "seen but not heard". My daughter dances and skips through Target and as long as she's not in anybody's way or knocking anything over, who the hell cares who's watching or what they have to say about it?! 

The Perpetual Wearer of Rose Colored Glasses

I'm a very good judge of character...that is, unless I'm emotionally involved. In that case, all logic and all reason goes out the window. I am truly the perpetual wearer of rose colored glasses. I guess I just try to find the good in everyone. It is, at times, the one thing I wish I could change about myself. Once I'm emotionally invested, it takes having my heart crushed by stumbling across proof on my own before believing that this person could be anything but good and honest, no matter what anyone tries to tell me otherwise.

You would think by now I would have learned my lesson. It's happened enough times that I should have become cynical, skeptical and cold. There are moments lately when I almost wish for that. Almost.

Ramblings of a Girl Up Way Past her Bedtime

I've struggled lately, questioning myself and him. I've let my own insecurities get the best of me at times. I've also been upfront and honest with him about what I need in this. And he's trying, I can tell. I'm so thankful for that.

Tonight, I went out with new friends, one of which was a male. As the night went on, this male made his interest in me quite obvious, despite me telling him previously that my heart is taken. In turn, I had to spell it out to him very clearly that I was in no way, shape or form interested in him, or anyone other than the man I love.

This whole exchange really completely solidified, in my mind, the fact that I'm in a relationship with exactly who I want to be with. He may not be perfect and I don't expect him to be, cause God knows I'm not. But he is the only one I want and I am undoubtedly, irrevocably in love with him.

I'm going to do my very best to stop questioning, worrying, and doubting everything and just start having a little faith that everything is going to be okay.

22 Years...a Blog of Appreciation

22 years ago, I was 10yo, with a broken leg. I was in a cast and on crutches. My family and I were traveling to SC to help my aunt move from an apartment into her new house.

Being as young as I was, I wasn't really expected to help much with the moving, so I was exploring the backyard. I was wearing a shirt that had a bow or something that was removable. I'd lost the bow and was trying hard to find it. I was approached by a girl about my age, who was the daughter of one of my aunt's good friends. Her name was Beth and she offered to help me look for that bow. We never did find the bow, but what we found at that moment, that neither of us could have foreseen, was a lifelong friendship.

We started our friendship as penpals after that day at my aunt's, because I lived 3 hours away, in NC. We would write to each other like we were writing in a journal, with 4-5 days of entries in each letter. As we got older, letters were combined with the occasional phone calls our parents would allow...and once or twice, the $300 home phone bill that they DIDN'T allow...oops! :-)

We continued to write to each other until we were about 16yo, as well as summer visits and vacations with each other's families (Disney World, St. Petersburg, Hilton Head and OBX).

By the time Beth went off to college (in NC! But still 3 hrs from me), I was going through a rough patch in my life and ended up spending large amounts of time at UNC-G with her.

To sum it all up, I don't know where I'd be today if it weren't for her. She has been there for me through everything, from my very first crush to having my daughter, my marriage ending, my arduous journey through college and much, much more. I'd like to think I've been there for her just as much.

All of this and we've never lived less than 3 hrs away from one another.

I am so eternally grateful for her support, love and advice (even if I don't always put that advice into use...I DO hear it lol). I am especially grateful for her right now, because she has experienced some of what I'm going through right now and she's able to help me deal with it when things get difficult or when I overreact, which I am admittedly prone to doing at times.

There is something very special about our friendship and I hope that never changes. It has truly withstood the test of time, and I hope to have her in my life for at least another 50-60 years. :-)

I love you Beth, and I thank God every day that he brought us together that day, 22 years ago, to become sisters in every way but blood.

Sometimes You Just Have to Jump and Build Your Wings On the Way Down

I write here more for myself than anything else. Today, I felt the need to write about how I've been feeling lately.

I have jumped into the unknown and it scares the hell out of me. I have uprooted my life and moved to Oklahoma...because I am in love. It's the scariest and the most exhilarating thing I've ever done in my life.

I hate the unknown, I hate big changes. Yet, this felt more right than anything I've done before. The fear I feel really has nothing to do with living on my own or making a life away from the support of my family. The fear I feel stems directly from wondering if he understands the depth of my feelings for him and if he will ever get to that point with me.

I am aware of my own shortcomings. I have trust issues, I can be very insecure, I get jealous easily though I try really hard not to, I jump to conclusions in .2 seconds sometimes. I need reassurance occasionally that things are okay, I need intimacy and affection. I know I'm not the easiest person to date but under all of that, I will do everything in my power to make those I love happy and I'm as loyal as they come.

If it doesn't work out, I know I will be okay, I know it won't kill me. God knows I've been through it before, though I've never had feelings quite as strong as these. I'm strong enough to know I will survive and life will go on. But I want this to work more than I've ever wanted anything.

An Inside Look...

Here's the thing...I'm a complex individual with hopes, dreams, flaws, and insecurities just like everyone else. 

What I don't think people realize is the depth of my feelings. I feel more than anyone will ever realize, emotionally and physically. It's intense, to say the least. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the situation), I get attached to people pretty quickly, this is true not only for romantic interests, but also for friends and even my patients. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and it doesn't always serve me well, but it's one of the things I've yet to be able to change about myself, despite being hurt time after time because of it. I'm not sure I even want to change that about me. It allows me to be the compassionate person that I am. I wish more people realized just how genuine, compassionate, loyal and loving I am. I don't say that to sound conceited. It is me. It's who I am, and while I am able to control how much of it people get to see, it runs rampant inside me. It is my undoing at times, because trying to control what's visible to others becomes exhausting, but I know it would probably overwhelm them if I allowed myself to completely and totally be me.

However, in this day and age, in a world of liars, cheaters and manipulators, it's very difficult for some to believe that I could care as much as I do, or that I am as genuine as I appear. It's hard for me to open up to people about my feelings because I continue to get hurt by the ones I have allowed to see that part of me. And because of that, it is very, very hard for me to trust.

I'm in a situation now where I'm very close to allowing myself to becoming comfortable enough to open up and be myself, and I only hope, with every fiber of my being, that he realizes how hard it is for me to do so, how very special he is to me, and that he doesn't run for the hills. I just need him to be the stand-up guy I know he is and give me a chance to prove to him that I'm for real and I'm worth keeping.