About Twitter, For Twitter

Twitter can be amazing. Twitter is amazing. There are times when Twitter has been my sanity  - almost literally. Twitter friends have talked me through anxiety attacks and depressive days. They've been an amazing resource for so many different topics, but especially with everything infertility and loss related, Twitter has been my go to for information, sympathy, support, and understanding. I was on Twitter before my life became consumed by these things, but when it did was when it really shone.

I haven't been on a lot over the past months. There's been a few different reasons behind that I think.
Some of my irl connections have been growing. I wouldn't say I have any "close" friends yet, but connections are growing, so I often don't feel quite as alone.
Depression hasn't been as close. I don't need the support there that I have in the past. Anxiety still happens from time to time, but overall I've been doing better.
I'm in a new stage of my life. This baby coming is amazing and I know my tweeps celebrate with me, but I always feel nervous about how much to say. I don't want to over share or overwhelm. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable or sad with my tweets about pregnancy or baby, so I don't tweet so much.
And really, it's a bit of a chain reaction - I'm not on as much, so I feel less connected. I feel less connected, so I'm not on as much.

I joined Twitter originally as a place to share and vent about things I couldn't often voice in the rest of my life - a place to just be me, hence the username @justpureness. Well, it's not really pure Ness anymore. I've gradually found myself becoming quiet on this topic or that one, hesitating to retweet this piece of information or pass on that article. Most of the time, there was enough else going on that it didn't really matter. I was connecting in other places on other subjects with the friends I'd made, and the things we might disagree on didn't take up enough space to make a difference. I feel like as I become a "new parent" again, that it's going to change. I'm afraid the divide might grow, and the things that consume my time and thoughts will be a greater cause for conflict should I speak on them.

I don't want to lose the friends I've found, or the relationships I've built. They're important to me. You're important to me. I've gotten to know so many incredible people through Twitter and I care about you and what happens to you. I don't plan to abandon my account - now @infertileness - and I'll likely still check in about the same amount I am currently, doing my best to keep in touch and be a support to friends there, although I know I haven't been doing super great at that lately either. I'm sorry.
But, I think I need to start fresh. I need a new account where I can be me a bit more. Me, a person who thinks Jesus is important, and if I don't spend time with him in my day it's just not as good of a day. Me, too conservative for most, and too liberal for the rest. Too religious for some, but not "biblical" enough to please the other end. I'm pretty crunchy, using vinegar to clean, baking soda shampoo, cloth diapers, and even cloth kleenexes, but you can find disposable diapers, Mr. Clean erasers, and all kinds of non-organic products in my house. I'm a fan of Firefly, Nathan Fillion, Wil Wheaton, and The Bloggess, but am content to never watch Star Wars more than the once I have, or another episode of Dr. Who (much as I wanted to love it). I think people who say grains are bad for you are most likely right, and I agree that paleo is probably healthy, but I still eat bread every day. I think processed food is bad for you, and that real food counts more than calories, but we have a "snack cupboard" full of sugar and chips. I'm a non-vaxxer, but not anti-vax. I think cry it out is hard on everyone, and doesn't usually have high success rates, but I know one size doesn't fit all. I've yet to be convinced that spanking is a good tool, but I don't think parents who use it are abusive. I'm frugal, but I love new stuff. I love nature, but I'm not so great at getting out into it. I love to sing and read, but somehow don't do a lot of either one anymore. I'm planning a home birth, but if it scares you, I don't think you should do it yourself. I think "screen time" isn't great for kids, but struggle to keep it from being all my son does. I love accessories - necklaces and earrings, scarves and hats, but on an average day, you're much more likely to find me in a comfy shirt and jeans with my hair in a pony tail.

I'm pretty passionate about many of these topics, and a few even more controversial ones that I didn't mention, but I've leaned to not be so dogmatic in my approach to them. I make the choices I think are best for me and my family, but I don't think everyone has to agree with me. I do however want to be able to talk about them, even vent or rant about them occasionally, without living in fear that someone will be pissed off at me for it. So I'm starting a new account. I won't be surprised if I lost followers just from what I've written already, although I hate that that might be true, but if none of that phases you, even if you don't agree with it all, please come follow me at @therestofness. If any of it makes you uncomfortable or upset, I hope you'll stick with me at my original account where I won't talk about it any more than I do now. I hate conflict, and online debate is the worst of it for me, so I'm not looking to get into it with anyone, I just want to be able to share the truth of how I think without spending a lot of time worrying about how it will be received. Honestly, I'll probably still worry a bit about what people will think - I'm too much of a people pleaser - but to generally feel safe with these things and not disliked for them would be nice.

Both Resting and Trying

I've never been big on new year's resolutions. They always struck me as a bit ridiculous and I've never seen anyone actually carry them out. I never had any desire to set myself some vague or impossible goal that would leave me feeling like a failure in a few weeks. A few years ago I started to see a few bloggers post about "one word." They chose one word to focus on for the year, a word to pursue or try to incorporate in their lives.
This idea is so much more appealing to me, so last year I decided to try it and chose the word "joy." I can't come out and say that it was amazingly life changing for me, but I do feel that it had a positive impact on my year and life. Especially through the season of Advent and Christmas, I felt as though my spirit was working it's way to a more present and consistent joy in my life.
This year as I took some time to think and figure out what word would fit for this year, the first one that came to mind was "peace." Seemed like a good word, but not quite the right one. So I'm sitting there, reading my bible, and the word "rest" occurs to me. In many ways, it's not that different, but somehow it just seemed like I had found the word that fit. A focus on making our home and family a place of rest, a time of trying to stop holding myself to my perfectionist standards and never feeling like what I'm doing is good enough, and consciously working on letting go of worry and letting myself rest in God's hands. Rest.

My quiet spot

I know there is a lot in my life that will intertwine and weave through this word, but I think it is going to be especially fitting as Boy and I have decided to dive back into trying to conceive. We've decided to give it our all, to "actively" try to have a baby. We know that this will likely bring more miscarriage and loss into our lives, and I feel somewhat sad about that, but strangely not anxious. I feel like I can handle it, and I'm "resting" in allowing God to plan our family even though that may mean that our family expands only through children we won't get to hold for a long time. But this year, this year is it. Even if I manage to be restful and non-anxious about this, we know that ttc will bring a certain amount of stress and turmoil to our lives. Boy and I agreed that one full of year of all in is where it's time for us to stop. Unless something big changes between now and then, we don't feel it would be fair to keep doing this any longer than that. If there is no baby/on the way at the end of the year, we figure out how to grieve the loss of a bigger family and simply enjoy the family we have already been blessed with.
So, here we go. One year of learning how to rest in God, to create rest, to enjoy rest, to pursue a restful spirit, and to try, hope, and pray for a baby.

To My Tweeps

I'm thankful to all of you who replied to me this morning, especially those who said they would miss me or would like me to stay around. I will directly reply to some of you, but all that I'm feeling right now is just too much for Twitter, so I figured this was the best way to get it out there.

In the really horrible times, whether tragedy, loss, or just a day when I can't get on my feet is when Twitter shines. You are always there for me in those times. Always. And for that, I'm hugely grateful. You've gotten me through some seriously rough patches and kept me from feeling alone and lost. I know I can always count on encouraging words, sympathy, empathy, and a little extra strength when I'm really down and out, and I'm sure I won't ever give that up.
But I've been struggling with Twitter on and off since summer. I was offline for a couple of weeks and it felt like no one noticed. When I came on and mentioned how I felt, you were there to welcome me and send me love, and I climbed back into the twittersphere. But I'm not sure that my interaction level has ever really come back up since then. Part of it was conscious decision since I'd seen how much extra time I had and I knew I wanted to get some priorities straight regarding my family, and then I think part of it wasn't conscious. I just had a bit more trouble connecting, and I'd read, but often feel like I just didn't have anything to add anymore and the connections I had seemed to not be as strong as I thought they were, so I was a bit discouraged and not sure how much effort to put in. When I'm not on continuously and constantly engaging and replying, the few times I do tweet get little to no response. Natural maybe, but still lonely feeling.
I look around me on Twitter and I see people with relationships that go beyond Twitter - text, email, phone, lovely packages in the mail, and honestly, I want that. I want to make friends. I want to be needed, I want someone who checks up on me, who thinks of me during their day, sends me a link because they think I'll find it funny, someone who I can call on, and who knows they can call on me whenever they need something. There were a few relationships that I thought were moving in that direction, but as I go along, it seems the gap is widening, not closing, and I fear that, at most, I'm a second tier friend for these people. Now, realize, this is not blame placing, I'm not angry or feeling betrayed, I don't think this is "their" fault. I'm just seeing that things are not the way I thought or hoped for them to be. And, really I'm not sure how to get there. I've put a lot of effort into engaging others and offering support and help even when it wasn't easy, trying to show that I intend to be a friend (you know -"you've got to be  a friend to have a friend" and all that), but it didn't lead where I'd hoped. Again, no blame or anger, just noticing that I'm still not really connecting.
I'm also finding myself in a weird place in life that is making it difficult to connect. I want another baby, but I have no idea how or when to pursue it. It's all on pause, but at the same time it's not, because I'm sort of mentally working towards it, placing my foot tentatively around me trying to figure out where the safest ground is. I'm also trying to learn to be content with my life as it is now, and give my current family the attention and acceptance they deserve. So many of you are having babies now, and while I'm not upset about that (quite happy you are), I'm kind of numb in that area most of the time, just disconnected with it. Most of you who aren't there yet are pursuing it actively and while I've gained a huge education since meeting you all, I'm still a little confused about all process and procedures you are going through on that road. So there are two major groups where I often feel that I have very little to offer and I'm just kind of in this no-man's land occasionally bumping into someone on the edges that I manage to exchange pleasantries with.
As I read replies, it seems like this isn't unusual, and many find Twitter to be a bit of an ebb and flow of friendship, and some decide to take breaks when the connection ebbs away for a period. I can understand this, but if I'm finding greater distance in my relationships when I'm not constantly interacting, what will happen if I disappear entirely? Plus, that obviously won't fill the desire I have to find and build friendships.
I'm not really sure where I'll go from here. I've certainly considered taking a break from Twitter entirely, but my great desire to connect at least a little might not let me. I tried making a list of a few I'd like to continue making a concentrated effort on building relationships with, but my phone won't let me read a feed from it. Maybe I'll make a whole new Twitter account? I have no idea. I know I've been grateful to you time and again, and I'm sure I will be in the future also. In the meantime, anyone who wants to connect on Facebook, just let me know.
Much love to you all.

Making My Goal

Over the winter, I ran on the treadmill. Fairly regularly, although I know I took a few two week breaks here and there. By the time spring came around, I'd managed to do a 5k treadmill run. My first 5k ever! It was awesome, adrenaline pumping, and emotional. I definitely cried.
Come warm weather, I was anxious to be outside, to run in the sun and feel the wind. The first time I got out, I could barely run one kilometer. I was so incredibly discouraged. I cried here, too, but they were not happy tears. I kept running, and had a lot of discouraging runs. I didn't realize how much harder it would be to run outside. Harder, yes, but not that much. I made it a goal to run be able to do 5k outside by the end of the summer, and if possible, I really wanted to enter a 5k race somewhere.

Not me, but those are the shoes I run in.

All of that fell by the wayside when I got pregnant, and then even further away when I miscarried. It took me months of saying, "I really need to run," before I finally got back out there. Boy and I even bought a jogging stroller so we could run together and it still took us several weeks before we used it.
When we finally got our act together and got on the road, I was discouraged. Again. I practically passed out from lack of oxygen trying to get to one kilometer, while Boy was jogging beside me, talking as normally as if he was standing still. Ohmygosh, I felt so demoralized. It sucked.
We did another run or two before falling off the wagon again for a week or so. When we started up again it was all a bit easier, and I kept significantly increasing the amount I could do with each run, filling our 3k with more and more running and less walking.  It was nice to feel like I was finally getting somewhere, but the days have been getting significantly colder here and so many of them are rainy. The nice days for running outside may be coming to an end soon and then I would be back on the treadmill inside.
This morning it was chilly, but the weather was nice, so Boy and I headed out. I hadn't run in four days, and felt tired. I knew I was going slower than usual. On my last run I'd done 2k before walking and I wasn't sure I was going to make it that far today. I got to 1.5 and wanted to stop, but realized I didn't need to, so I just kept going. Two kilometers ends just before a big hill, but I decided I wanted to try to keep going up it, and then I knew I really wanted to do the 3k straight through, instead of with a walk break in the middle like I'd done last time. So I kept going. And I did it. My legs felt wobbly and I knew that old people with walkers could easily outpace me at the speed I was going, but I was running.
Boy decided that we were going go to 4k instead of that being enough for today. I could walk for a while, but then we were running again. Um, no thanks. I felt kind of pissed at how he just decided that for me. Um, I did good today, thankyouverymuch. But then I walked. And realized that I could run again. Probably to four, so why not?
We're going and I'm doing ok, and suddenly I think, "F**k this. If I'm going to do keep going, than I'm going to keep going. I'm going to run 5k today."
I knew it might be the last day we'd be outside running, at the very least for a while, since it's supposed to cold and rainy all week. Maybe it wouldn't be straight through, since I needed a 350m walk break, but when I got to the end, I was going to be able to say I ran five kilometers on the road.
And I did.

It wasn't exactly my goal since I'd been hoping for one continuous run, but today I ran 3k, walked, and than ran another 2k. And I sure as heck am going to count it. I made my goal to run 5k outside by the end of summer! Well, close enough.

Mama of Seven

I wrote this post and first shared it on The Frugal Foodie Mama's blog, but I wanted to post it here as  part of my story as well. The Frugal Foodie Mama has a great blog that is about, well frugal fantastic food, and being a mama. She also shares her story of the two babies she lost in early pregnancy. I invite you to check out her blog and share some love.


Whenever I meet someone new, I harbor a tiny feeling of dread for the moment I get asked that question, especially when that someone is a parent. What do parents like to talk about the most? Their kids. Somewhere in that initial conversation, you're bound to get some variation of the question, "How many kids do you have?" Doesn't really sound like such a horrible question does it? An innocent conversation maker. How do I always answer?
"Just one."
Just one. Except I don't have just one. I have seven children. Seven. There's just only one on earth with me. I hate answering that question. I always feel a little bit of guilt, a small feeling of betraying my other children, because they all deserve to be recognized, to be known, acknowledged. I love them all, I miss them all, they are all part of my life, of what makes me, me. Part of me longs to answer, "Seven," or, "One on earth." I want people to know I have all these wonderful, amazing children, but except for the very, very rare time, I can't bring myself to do it. It opens me up to questions I don't always want to answer, things I don't necessarily want to share with relative strangers. It would make people feel sorry for me, or just sorry they asked the question in the first place, because "Woah. That's far deeper water than I was intending to get into," and then the conversation becomes all awkward and stilted. I don't want to be the one to bring a dampener to a casual conversation.
I think that if I could just say it casually, a simple statement of fact, that maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but then I'm afraid that I'll appear callous, making little of miscarriage and related losses, the permanent mark left on my soul. Or be reinforcing the idea that miscarriage is not a big deal, sad, but you get over it, you know? But it is a big deal. It's huge. It's heartbreaking and life changing. And you don't really get over it, you just learn (or try to anyways) to accept it as part of your life. The losses become part of who you are.
I also have trouble answering this question as honestly as I want to, because I don't want to be known as the women who had six miscarriages. I don't want this to be my identity. I have had six miscarriages, but more than that, I am Mother to seven children. Seven children who I love dearly, six who I miss daily. One amazing boy that I get to cuddle, hug, and put to bed every night, and six that I love from a distance. I call them by name, I tell them how much I love them and I miss them. I tell them how glad I am that they are happy and that they have each other. I remind them to look out for one another, even though they really don't need to do that there (the mother in me can't help it). I ask Jesus to give them the hugs I so long to give to them myself. I can see them, how beautiful and strong they are. I see how kind they are and how full of love and joy, and I'm so incredibly proud to be their Mama.
Despite my guilt at not acknowledging them, at not sharing with the world that I have six more wonderful children, I know they hold nothing against me. They love me without hesitance, despite my hesitance to bring them up in casual conversation. They have no needs from me, they simply love me as I am, as I love them. They know how proud I am of them, and with this post I will find a way to begin telling everyone else how proud I am of them too.

- Vanessa, Mama to JJ, Dunadan, Anastasios, Sayuri, Tacey, Aliento, and Nima

It's Break Time

So I was gone from Twitter for a few weeks. I didn't really intend to do that, it just worked out that way. And honestly, it was good for me, because as much as I love Twitter, it can be kind of consuming and energy draining. I wasn't being tossed by the waves of ups and downs of two hundred other lives - although I know I missed some big events that I feel sad not being there for - there was enough waves in my life to deal with. I wasn't filling every spare second with catching up - although I'm so totally out of the loop now - and I had time to read several books, and spent my evenings with my husband instead of with him and a long list of people, many of whom I don't even know their first names.
Don't get me wrong - I love Twitter. These people have been there for me when there was no one else. They've understood me in a way that my "in real life" friends and family can't. And they allow a certain anonymity that grants the ability to share some of the dark spots and hidden parts of my spirit that few others get to see. They're a safe place.
So I love Twitter and the freedom I had from Twitter. Somehow I need to find a new balance, to keep the connections without letting it rule my life.
And I do have connections. At least a few. Part of the reason my absence was this long was feeling like no one missed me, and what was the point of coming back, if no one even noticed I was gone? But apparently at least a few did, so - here is why I took a break and what was going on with me while I was gone.

The why -
First, my phone broke over four weeks ago, the screen shattering when it was knocked out of my hand onto a concrete patio stone. We sent it to be fixed, but they keep having to wait for parts, so I've been completely without a phone since then. When we made a getaway to the cottage for a few days, there was basically only Boy's phone, so it just made sense to completely disconnect for a little bit. It was good and I just keep on extending the break, especially since my days seemed to be extra full. There were a few extra things on my schedule and we spent some time preparing for a visit with friends we hadn't seen in six years, and then, enjoying that visit! It was so fantastic to spend time with them again and meet their children that had been born since they moved away.

The what -
Before I left I shared that my older sister found out she was pregnant, which meant both my sisters were, building their families as they wished, and now, doing it at the same time, sharing something I might not be able to do again. I didn't think about the possibility of it being worse, but it was when she miscarried the next week. My heart was totally crushed to hear her pain, to know what she was going through, and especially to be so far away and not able to come and take care of her. And it was weird to feel this tiny bit of relief that my best friend and supporter now knew what I'd been through, even though I would have done anything in my power to keep her from experiencing that.

Next - I had realized that my timing had been off in this past cycle and there was a chance I could have gotten pregnant. I'd love to be excited about that possibility, but really I was just terrified. I'm so not ready to handle another miscarriage yet. And as an aside, I was worried about how to tell my sister after her just going through a loss. It's hard enough months later - the week after? OW.
So, I was in that place where everything is interpreted as a pregnancy symptom, and I was having trouble not freaking out on a daily basis as I got closer and closer to the time when I would find out. After having a big break down the day before my period was due, Boy decided we were going to test. I was so grateful to him. I couldn't bring myself to "give in," feeling like I was wasting a test, wasting money, being weak not able to wait until the next day when my body should tell me for sure. I needed that permission he gave to just do it and find out what the answer was.
When the test was absolutely, completely, unmistakably negative, I broke into tears. Sadness? Nope. Just relief. So much relief. I HATE that. Hate it. I hate that I'm relieved not to be pregnant. Not even a slight hint of sadness over it. I want to have a baby, to carry to term, to give birth. So so much. But far more times than not, pregnancy is only the beginning of a miscarriage for me. Being pregnant just means pain, heartache, grief. So, relief. I can't handle it again right now.

A few days later, my younger sister had her ultrasound and found out that she was having a girl. Her first daughter, the second granddaughter. So now both of my sisters have their boys and a baby girl. It made my heart hurt. I wouldn't trade my son for a whole handful of daughters, and I'm not sure if I can explain, but I've been waiting for my daughter since my first pregnancy. We've had two girls name picked out almost since we got married nine years ago. I'm not going to be able to use them both, and maybe I won't ever use either of them. I may never have a baby girl that I get to keep and hold. But there is nothing to do but say congratulations and try to be happy for her. So I did.
She made her Facebook pregnancy announcement that night with an album of bump and ultrasound pictures, each one an ache in my heart. One ultrasound picture was the announcement of the baby's name as well. Middle name is our older sister's first name. Dang, it still hurts. I mean, my older sister is fantastic, she deserves the honor, but it's just this permanent reminder that my younger sister picks her over me. That our relationship isn't awesome and she will probably never think me worthy of such honor. Even knowing she wouldn't likely ever use my name for a child, this conversation was probably the worst part of it all - Me: Congrats, again. It's a pretty name. [what else am I supposed to say, right?] Her: Thanks. I couldn't decide and I was worried I may never have another girl HA, [boys run in her husband's family] so we just used all of our favorites!
Ow ow ow ow. To give her credit, I don't think that she has any idea how hurtful and insulting that was. None of this is intentionally trying to hurt me. She's just kind of self-absorbed sometimes. Which isn't really that much better, but she's not mean, just thoughtless occasionally.

So. Normally, I'd have Twitter to share all of that with, but I just couldn't bring myself to piecemeal it the way I would need to to share it there, or to go over it multiple times, or even just the energy to write it out at that time. But life has been emotionally challenging, and there is more that I'm working through now which I'm not quite ready to put out there yet. Some time later this week maybe.

I'm so ready for a break. From emotional upheaval this time, instead of from Twitter.

Fall Frenzy

 Is there anyone out there who doesn't have a crazy life? Because mine just seems to go from craziness to craziness. There is so much going on and it's only going to get worse over the next weeks. So I know that despite really only having a tiny bit of time to write tonight, that moments like this will get harder to come by. This will be my attempt to get down at least the main details of everything that's going on, even though there is so much going in my head that I want to write and share, too.

Part One
My last post was all about how we were waiting on word for a job that Boy really wants. If you aren't following my Twitter feed, or just missed it - he got the job! It's looking like it will be an amazing job for him and an amazing place for our family. I'm pretty sure I'm very happy with it, but for some reason, our excitement over it has been a bit lacking. I think it may be that we are somewhat overwhelmed with all we have to do and I know Boy is feeling anxious about this new and more intense position. Also, saying goodbye to family and my home town certainly carries it's own sadness. Hopefully, once we get there and start unpacking and meeting people, we will have that enthusiasm come back!
Things were greatly dampened as the job offer came in when, it did in fact, include the condition that we only bring two cats. I wept and sobbed and decided along with my Boy, that this is what we would have to do. We needed this job and the hope and future that came with it.
While still very emotional, I asked Boy to send a request begging (yes, I used that word) them to please reconsider. I had little hope they would do so though, and began to inquire with friends if anyone knew of a good home for our poor kitties. I was especially worried about one girl, knowing it would be very hard to find a home for her and that we might have to make the decision to put her down. She's a skittish little girl who doesn't like anyone to come near her, pick her up, or generally exist. Oh, and she tends to pee on things. Who wants a cat like that? (Heck, most of the time we don't even want a cat like that, but she's our cat, she's part of the family, and that's what you do.)
Then - surprise. They really did consider our words and think about whether they could change this condition. And they did. We could bring them all! They did place a few conditions on that, but none of it was more than we offered to do in the first place. I am so very relieved to be free of the burden and sadness of finding good homes for four kitties. I am very grateful that we get to keep our family - and that I don't have to try to explain to Bug where are kitties are going.
Now to be completely honest (cause this is my honest space), it can be a huge pain to have so many cats. After spending a few days adjusting my mind to what it would be like to have only two cats, I am feeling anew the burden of six. Transporting them, vet bills, expensive food, keeping them out of bedrooms, cleaning up hairballs or vomit every couple of days, and of course, the joy of coming across something that has been peed on. I disconnected from them a bit during that time, and while I still love them and would hate to say goodbye, I can see how much easier our life would be without so many, and I'm closer to being willing to let go of them than I've ever been before. I'm not sure I would openly admit this to anyone in real life, but there it is.
Everything else on this storyline is going well. We put our house on the market and had an offer accepted, conditions waived, in one week. Our realtor said it had been a long time, since he'd seen a deal come together this quickly and smoothly. Just another confirmation we are on the right road.
We hired a U-Haul, the biggest they have, and then worried that we still wouldn't fit, so we got a trailer for it too. Boy was pretty anxious about driving this and happened to mention it to our new pastor/boss. He found someone to drive the six hours down here with him, in order to drive the truck back up the next day. How amazing is that? And I think this is only the first sign of what a great church family this is going to be.
We seem to be doing well with packing, as the boxes pile up to the ceiling, and it looks like we will be on track to be ready before we need to start loading the truck! (not always the case for us) We do have a few things going on that make this a bit more challenging for us though.

Part Two
For over a year now, I have been moving towards trying to find some answers as to why I'm having so much trouble carrying a baby. It took months to get in to see an OB/GYN, and if you've been reading, you know how much of a disaster that turned out to be. After that, I knew I needed to take greater measures, and I contacted a clinic in Toronto. I was still pretty nervous that I would get all the way down there and they would give me the same, "sorry, can't help you," that I'd already heard, but even on the phone they sounded friendly and professional, and I was assured more than once that my own experiences and home pregnancy tests would be taken seriously.
My appointment finally rolled around this past week. We did the 90 minute drive while my phone chirpped with the never ending, ever so valuable support from twitter friends, and I worried that it would be a huge gaffe taking Bug into a fertility clinic, despite the fact that I had been told that was just fine. We had a bit of trouble finding the clinic in the huge building, but with a bit of help, we arrived on time. I was immensely grateful to see that not only was it ok to bring a little one, but it was also expected, as Bug immediately spotted the a children's area off to the side.
Meeting with this doctor was like night and day from my last experience. She was quiet spoken, professional, friendly, had the ability to listen, took the time to explain things, allowed me time to ask questions, and most importantly of all, told me my early losses did indeed count in the puzzle of my fertility. She didn't necessarily know what they meant, might not be able to figure it out, but they were important and she was going to see what she could find.
She heard my story and then took me step by step through what she wanted to do, pausing to make sure I followed along and agreed with everything.  The first thing we did was blood work. I counted and they took seventeen vials of blood from me! I've done blood work before, but definitely never that much at a time. Next  week I go back down for an endometrial biopsy. She explained it as doing a pap, but going deeper to get a tissue sample. Since I really don't like doing paps, and have never had one that didn't hurt, I'm really not looking forward to this. I have two more blood work requisition forms and will have to call later to book a sonohysterography - an ultrasound where they use a bit of saline to expand your uterus to get a better look inside. Also not looking forward to that.
She's been very understanding of our imminent move and has worked to get as much of this done before we are four hours away from the clinic. It's making our days that much busier and giving me that much more stress, but I'm appreciative of her efforts to take care of us.
At the end of this month, maybe we will not only have a new home, a new city, and a new job; maybe we will also have some answers, some hope, and some help, giving us a chance to add another precious little one to this precious little family of ours.


If anyone has any info, tips, or encouragement on these procedures I'm looking at, please share! I'm quite intimidated by them and will welcome anything that would help them go smoothly.

The Weight of the Wait

I'm not sure I've ever had so many migraines in such a short period before. Every day I feel like I'm a little heavier, a little more weighed down. The stress is pushing me into the ground.

Five weeks ago we drove six hours to do a three day interview with a church, an associate pastor position for Boy. It went fantastic. The church felt comfortable and familiar, the house provided with the position felt good and fitting, the people felt like friends and family. Boy received compliments on his preaching and positive reviews on leading the service. Their priorities fit with ours. Their style of service keeps the children in until it's time for the sermon - a rare find and very important to us. Their theology meshes with ours and has actually helped Boy define some things. He says he didn't know before that he was (insert this church's denomination). Except for the fact that it's at least six hours away from all our immediate family, it looks like the potentially perfect church for us.
The high from that weekend only lasted so long though, because then we had to wait. And wait. And wait. And we are still waiting to hear. They had another candidate they wanted to interview and he and his family came a month after us. Now they have to decide who they think will be the best person for the job and for their church, and we get to wait. Is there anything so wearing as waiting? I'm not sure getting a negative answer is worse than waiting and dreading a negative answer. Especially when it feels like your last chance. Boy has been searching for a job for almost a year and our time is running out.
To add to the stress, the pastor sent an email last week asking about our cats and how "non-negotiable" they were. I think they're nervous about all our babies in the house after the previous residents left the (relatively small) carpeted area smelling like cat pee. I get that, but our house rarely smells like pee, and when it does, I hunt it down until it's GONE. There are few things more humiliating for me than to have people walk into my house and have it smell. I could just die. So anyways, we said we would repair any damages done out of pocket, give them a deposit if they wanted it, and would even replace the smelly carpet on our dime. I'm desperately hoping that it's enough, because if they come back and say they want us, but the cats can't come, I will break. I just don't think I can do it.
My sister says, "You aren't willing to give them up to be where God wants you to be?" First, thanks for the support. Second, I don't think I am. It's just too hard. These cats are part of my family and in a strange way, they are all tied up in my losses and my faith. I don't know how to let go of them. Maybe it makes me a bad Christian. Maybe it makes God disappointed in me (as my childhood picture of God would be). Maybe it will cost us a really great job with a really decent house in a time where we really can't afford it. I don't know. The one truth I know, is that God loves me. He loves me even if I can't make big sacrifices "for him." If I hold my cats tight, and we manage to thwart something big and miraculous and fantastic that God wants to do - he still loves me. I'm hoping that love means that whatever plans he has for us, whatever good he's working for us, that that includes this part of our family, these animals that are so close to my heart and so much a part of my life. I don't know really. I'm still just figuring out who God is and what he wants. The only thing I've got - he loves me.
So, I'm pretty familiar with the "be anxious about nothing" verse, cause you know, I'm working on it, but seriously, never been my strong point. I come from a long line of worriers. I really don't want to be like one older lady I know, who literally worries herself sick, like, put herself in the hospital sick. I'm hoping by that age that I've somehow figured out how to just trust God and let things rest in his hands, but I'm not sure I'm making much progress yet. It always the wait that kills me. I don't do well in waits. Once I know what is happening, I can usually handle it. I have seen God's hand in our lives and know that we have never been without what we need. We've always had a place to live and food on the table. Should this job not work out, I know I can trust in that. But, I'm still scared and stressed.
One of the church leaders called Boy last night to ask a few questions, so we know he's still in the running, and he seemed to think that we would know by the end of the week. Our wait may finally be coming to a close. Hoping and praying that this will be the place for us. A place to call home, a church family that feels like family, and a position where Boy can shine in the way I know he was meant to.
In the meantime, here's hoping the migraines will leave me alone.

A New Thing

Several years ago, I finally noticed that my life was not what it should be. I was depressed and I needed help. I wish I had had a better idea of what warning signs to look for, but I didn't. I thought I was fine. Seriously, I should have known that it wasn't ok to have mornings where it was hard to get out of bed. Where I needed to call Boy to help me put my underwear on. I just thought I was letting myself be overly dramatic, that really, I could do it, if I just made myself. I should have known that it wasn't ok to be getting upset every time Boy came home from work, and less ok that at one point I wanted to scream, "Could you please just stop breathing?!" because everything he did, even how he breathed, was irritating me. I just thought that I was hormonal, going through a rough patch in our marriage, whatever. The realization point for me was one morning while getting ready for work. I knocked the cats water dish with my foot and soaked down my sock. Annoying, but you just go change them, right? Nope. I broke down. Sat on the floor and bawled. Finally, my head said, "This is not ok. A wet sock shouldn't destroy you. Something is wrong." I met with my doctor and after a few hits and misses, found anti-depressants that helped me feel normal again. I used them for two years, and then slowly weaned off through much ups and downs as my body readjusted, eventually taking over and doing the job on it's own.
Ever since then, I've been terrified of heading down that path again. It stole my joy and my life. Turned my marriage into a burden. Took all my usefulness and made me nonfunctional. Every time I have a few bad days, it scares me. If things are feeling grimmer than usual, it scares me. If Boy feels especially irritating, it scares me. I know I struggled with depression as a teenager, hormones I suppose, and this deeper bout with depression was brought on by hormone imbalances (birth control pills) and stress. Now, I will never do the pill again, but guess who's life has been full of stress for quite a while now? Yeah, mine.
Boy has been looking for work longer than he's been out of work, and that's been since November. I don't know if any other hiring process is quite so stressful as within the church. I think they have more steps than other hiring processes and the waiting in between each step is often at least a month. So we are talking 5-6 months for the entire search to hire, or at least a month to find out if you've been rejected right off the bat. And the rest of your life in the meantime? It's on hold. You don't want to make any major decisions, commitments, or changes because you don't know what your life will be like in a few months. You don't know where you will be living, or how much income you will have, or if you will still be on hold. It's a sucky way to live.
The past year has also been full of dealing with, well mostly waiting on, doctors and hoping/fighting/despairing over trying to find answers as to why I've had so many miscarriages. Either one of these big things is a lot of stress. Together they are immense and overwhelming. Throw in a bad habit of going to bed late, with a little one whose struggled with his sleep this summer, resulting in some serious sleep shortage and we have a cocktail for disaster.
A few days ago I sat down with Boy to tell him how I'd been feeling. I was worried and scared. It seemed like I was spending a lot of time irritated with him and I was pretty sure it was me, not him or our marriage (although I'm not sure spending almost every second together for the past nine months has been that great for us. We love sharing everything and being together a lot, but we never have a chance to miss each other.) Also, I thought that I maybe wasn't being happy very often. I ended up breaking down, totally freaked out that I was headed towards depression and needing medication. He tried to calm me and said it wasn't that bad. He'd help me keep an eye on it, but I was doing ok. He prayed with me and for me, and I prayed. In praying many of the burdens and pain I've been carrying for years came out. My spirit touched again by Emerging Mummy and led by the heart of a child, I poured out that my heart was full of bitterness and cynicism and irritation, and I didn't want it anymore. I was tired of carrying it around. Despite the "coolness" of being a cynical Christian, and of being wary of emotional spiritual displays,and being too cool to be one of "those" ("Isn't Jesus great?!!") Christians, I didn't want it anymore. I was tired and broken and done. I wanted my heart to be full of him, and full of love, peace, and the joy he promises. I called and he answered. Somehow I felt freer, happier, and more alive. I also felt more connected to my husband than I had in months. Things weren't perfect. I knew I wasn't perfectly healed or over all I'd been feeling, but I knew he had heard me.
The next day I felt like nothing had changed. I was frustrated, irritated, and breaking down again. I felt dragged under, like things were actually worse than before. Talked with Boy and felt myself falling apart. "Where is he? Why can't I have the joy so many others have? Seriously. I can understand him not healing every cancer patient ever prayed for, not saving each baby I lost, not protecting every person from sickness or death, but when it comes to spiritual healing, why wouldn't he give that as soon as it was asked for? Isn't that what he wants most of all? Isn't that what Christ is all about? Why? Why can't I just have joy? Why would he deny that?" I don't remember all he said, but I remember his face and him voicing his fears that I would just give up. There have been many times I've struggled with believing God was really real, mainly because of wondering where the peace and joy were. I know that's not what I want. From the depths of my soul came, "I will not give up. I choose Christ. I choose joy." He promises these things and I will not give up until I have them. I will pursue them until they are mine.
There is no explanation for how this has happened, but these past few days have held more joy for me than the past year did. I've had moments of overwhelming, bubbling out of me, had to giggle out loud, joy. I've been more connected with my husband than I have been in months. I've initiated more kisses with him, than several previous weeks combined. Last night, we actually played together, wrestling and teasing like little kids. I can't remember that last time we did that. It's not been all sunshine and roses. There are times when the fear consumes me and I worry that none of it is real, I'm going down again, where is God and joy? There are times when I'm so irritated and frustrated I could cry. There are times when the cynicism takes hold and I think, "There is no way this job for Boy will work out. This doctor won't be able to help me, just like the others. This all has just been fleeting hope, and I will just be back where I started, wondering where God and his promises come into my life." But, I am finding ways to connect. I'm realizing how much I need quiet time, with no chance of distraction, times to walk alone and sit at the water, and be overwhelmed by God's Spirit. Each day is still a struggle, but if each has moments of joy, I am beginning to heal; to be a whole functioning person again, instead of pieces scattered on the floor. My heart has been a wasteland, but he is doing a new thing.
I choose Joy.
Isaiah 43: 18-19:
“See, I am doing a new thing! 
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? 
I am making a way in the desert 
and streams in the wasteland.”


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Disclaimer - Depression and faith have a very real connection, but in NO way do I think that if you are depressed it's because of lack of faith. My faith could not save me when I experienced long term depression before, and I am very grateful that anti-depressants were available. Depression is a condition that can eat your soul from the inside out, but it's also a medical problem. Sometimes faith can carry us through and I have seen God heal those struggling with it. Sometimes it can be managed with a good diet, sunshine, and exercise. Sometimes you need counselling. Sometimes medication is needed. More often than not, it's a combo of these things. If you think you may be depressed, please talk with your doctor or counselor. They can help you come up with what will work for you. Please don't suffer alone trying to ignore it, or "just get by." I am still trying to keep an eye on how I am doing, and am constantly reevaluating if this is just a blue period where I seriously need more sleep and less stress, or if it is pointing to a greater problem.

Friends Are Friends Forever

I <3 Twitter. I've learned the twtspk (a lot of it anyway). Figured out how to share pictures. Followed hashtags. Made up hashtags. Joined Twitter chats. And made connections. I've been on there for about nine months now and I've met so many amazing people. I don't know what it is about Twitter, but the community on there is pretty fantastic. I suppose it's not the same for everyone, but that's been my experience, and it seems to be the experience of most of my "tweeps." The majority of the gals I know (and yes, they are basically all girls, with the exception of Boy, and a fellow barefooter I follow - who I may just drop [sorry] because he doesn't tend to respond when I tweet him, oh - and a couple of "famous" folk I especially enjoy) any ways... the gals are mostly "members" of the infertility community and they continually come around each other to support and encourage in whatever stage they are at, whether it be the infamous "two week wait," starting a new procedure, dealing with a "BFN" (big fat negative pregnancy test), going through a miscarriage, or, wonder of wonders, celebrating a "BFP" (positive test).

Yesterday, we realized that many of us have another thing in common - lack of close friends in the places where we live. We chatted and dreamed about living in a community all together, bringing these friendships in closer and being able to support each other in person (grow a garden, raise some chickens, keep a cow - there was also mention of flowers, a tractor and booze - we're all set!). It's a pipe dream, but I was humbled and honored that they all wanted to include me. It's so nice to be liked and wanted, you know?

Unfortunately, it got me wondering - would they continue to like me so much if they met me in person? I don't have a great friend history. I've always had a hard time making friends, and occasionally the people I thought were friends, really didn't care all that much about me. I've struggled for a lot of my life with feeling like people would really rather not have me around, like I annoy them. I've had very few truly trusted friends over my life - actually I can count them on one hand - and I don't have any here and now.* I don't really understand it, but it makes me wonder - would they still like me if they met me?
I like bubbly, energetic people, but they are usually not drawn to me. I'm sort of shy, and don't often say a lot, except when I say too much.  I am a perfectionist, and it tends to make me overly critical. The bad things stand out to me so much more than the good things. I can find the bad in anything. I have an overly strong urge to correct, which I am slowly learning to temper. I am too sensitive and it's not unusual for me to be emotional. I can usually control my words, but my facial expressions are another thing. I don't change directions or plans easily and I NEED to know everything that is going on. I procrastinate terribly, and I think of all sorts of lovely things to do for others, but rarely actually do them. I want to, but I'm bad at making myself actually do it, and I get nervous. I don't have a lot of guts. I'm always afraid of what other people think and how they will respond to me. I have the hardest time approaching people I don't know really well about almost anything - to say "hi," offer help, ask a question. I tend to be an observer and not a participator. On Twitter it would be so easy for me to sit back and just read, interacting only occasionally. Sometimes, I have to push myself to respond, to put myself out there, to share my thoughts, to encourage, support, and love. It's totally worth it, but it doesn't always come easily to me. Plus, I'm always afraid I'll say the wrong thing. (And apparently I have self esteem issues.)
And, in this community I wonder how I would fit -with my beautiful little boy, and my ability to get pregnant (although not stay pregnant). Would having me around be hard? Would they resent that I had a son with no difficulties? Would they be ok meeting me along as he wasn't there? Would I be an outsider because I have responsibilities to take care of him, and not the freedom to whatever, whenever?
I hope that we would still be friends in real life. I have great appreciation for all of these ladies and the love they show one another, they way they share their lives, their pain, sorrow, and joy. I hope that they would see in person the same things they see on Twitter - the love I want to give, the kindness I want to show, the heart I try to reveal. I love to laugh and dance and sing. I have a good sense of humor, even if it's often a little sarcastic. I'm loyal to a fault and quick to forgive. I'm honest and trustworthy. I value my friends and have a heart of generosity towards them. I have a gentle heart and hate to see anyone in pain.  I cherish my friends and always try to treat them the way I would want to be treated.
I would love to meet some of the online friends I have made - infertile community or not - and I hope it would just strengthen our relationships, bringing us closer together.

*I do have a few dear friends who are still dear to me, but we've grown (moved) apart a bit and don't talk as often as we'd like.


By the way - bonus points for anyone who can tell me what song that title is from.

Finishing New York

(This is a post I began while we were still in New York. I'm going to try to complete the thoughts.)
It's been a long day again today. We didn't sleep very well last night. The single king sized bed (eta - when rearranging the bed for our second night, we realized that this "king" bed was about a foot shorter than our "king" bed at home. No wonder it felt so small) didn't really fit the three of us and Boy ended up spending a large part of the night on the floor. We were also so overtired by the time that we made it there that we had trouble falling asleep. So we weren't really ready to get up when Dune started bouncing on us at seven. So began our first full day with Boy's parents.

It was a very bouncy bed!

A little background - I love Boy's parents. I know they love us. But, it's like they are from a different culture. We simply don't speak the same language and even simple gestures have entirely meanings to each of us. They really don't get why we choose to go barefoot, that Dune and I can't eat milk products, why we prefer to avoid chemicals, the way we parent, and more personally - our personal expressions (eg. tattoos, no suits, despite the the fact that Boy is a pastor), and my very particular taste in food.
I fall into the picky eater category, and I know some people (like the IL's) see me as just being difficult, but it's really not that. It's truly difficult for me to eat other foods. I try occasionally. As I've gotten older, I've pushed myself to try things that weren't on my "normally eat" list and some things that were way beyond that (food is not supposed to be foamy and green. I don't care.) But, when it comes down to it, there just isn't a huge list of foods I enjoy eating, and that list got significantly smaller when I took dairy out of my diet. I know that this makes life difficult for others (try having me over for supper), and I always feel horrible about that, but there are times when I would truly prefer to go hungry than eat certain things. Not too long ago I read an article about highly sensitive kids that made me realize my food preferences were part of my sensitive nature, that it was actually "normal" for me. It doesn't really make life any easier, especially when dealing with people who see it as more of a character flaw, but it was like this little feeling of freedom to learn that.
So, mealtimes were stressful, not at all helped by the fact that Bug has a habit of taking off his shoes the moment he enters a building. (oh no, barefeet! how horrible! whatever shall we do?!) Activities had stressful moments since we all had different ideas on how and when to do things. And, 75% of all interactions involving Bug were stressful. Please don't ask my son what he wants to do if we aren't actually going to do it. If you want him to answer a question, give him a moment to think and respond, don't just keep rephrasing the question every two seconds. Don't tell him something might happen that you know won't. Don't say, "maybe there'll be pony rides" when it's highly unlikely. Don't tell him, "tomorrow we'll do this exciting thing," he doesn't understand tomorrow yet.  And, above all, DON'T step over my parenting/discipline and do things your way. If I am right here handling the situation, you don't get to step in. Bleh. I'm getting tense just thinking about it, and it was weeks ago.
I hate conflict, so we never actually addressed most of these issues (Boy touched on the outright lying to Bug), we just tried to parent around them. I don't really know what was the best way to handle it, although if there had been more than two times they overrode my parenting, we would have had that discussion, because even once is really not okay.  We will have to see what happens when we get together in the summer...
Bug enjoyed most of the trip - seeing the dinosaurs, playing at the Children's Museum, watching the polar bears at the zoo, enjoying his first hockey game on tv (how do I have a sports child?), but at the same time he wasn't so sure about this staying in a hotel room business and asked at least once a day to go home.
Of course, the whole point of this trip was a stressful one. I don't think I ever mentioned, but we went to NY to meet the IL's because my father in law was there to do some testing at Slone-Kettering's cancer center. He has melanoma that has spread to his lymph nodes and liver. His current treatment is chemo, but it generally has very little effect on this type of cancer. If he qualifies (and he does, we just found out today!), he will be able to receive a new drug that is just finishing it's trial phase. It's likely not a cure, but would make life better and longer for him. So having this test and result hanging over everyone added to the stress of the occasion. (one of the reasons we didn't make a bigger deal out of their frustrating interactions with Bug)
Good points - I got to see New York! Far from all of it of course, but I saw the Empire State Building out my window, Central Park and the zoo, the American Museum of Natural History,

impressive stores like Tiffany's and Saks, famous sites such as Rockefeller Plaza and The Plaza Hotel, and well known streets like Broadway and Madison Avenue.

One of these days I'm going to actually make an online album of all the pictures!
So the great things helped balance out the stress, but this experience took a lot out of us. It took us almost a week to prepare for the five day trip, and about a week and a half to de-stress and re-energize. I'm glad I had a chance to see this famous city, but we were all so glad to be on the train home.

New Year Blues

Anyone else not totally thrilled with a new year? As calendars turned over, I saw comment after comment excited about the new year. "Yay! A new year," "I love the new year, a fresh start," "Looking forward to a new year," etc. But for me I found that it only brought this vague feeling of dread.
The past year was a bad one for me and mine. We lost three babies, an uncle, and Boy's employment. I was looking forward to it being over, to having a chance for things to turn around. I just wanted to put that year and all it's bleakness behind me. But as the new year started, I realized that I didn't feel different. I didn't have a greater feeling of hope or a sense of a clean slate. Instead, I felt a subtle current of fear. What if this year isn't any different? What if we can't figure out why I've had four miscarriages so far? What if I have more? What if Boy isn't able to find a job? What if he finds one and it turns out to be bad? What if this year holds some other unexpected tragedy? This time last year, I had no idea what the months would hold for me. I certainly wasn't expecting all the heartache that would come. I want that clean slate, fresh start, but I realize that just because I pulled out a new calendar doesn't mean I've pulled out a new life. So I feel somewhat scared about what might happen this year.
I want to be someone who counts their blessings instead of focusing on the dark spots, so I talked to Boy today and asked him, "What were some of the good things of this past year?" We could think of a few - certainly watching Bug grow and develop, starting to speak in sentences, learning how to pedal his trike, gaining comfort and confidence in group settings; also a new nephew, enjoying times at the in-laws cottage,

Bug at the cottage

and starting a games night with some friends - but, those things feel overshadowed, creating a dark year for us.
I greatly hope that this year will be one of joy and celebration for us - a great job, a new baby, continued time to connect with family and friends. God willing, there is a change just over the horizon for us, something to give us hope and that fresh start. Heck, even writing all this down has given me a slightly brighter outlook.

I've never been one for New Year's resolutions, but in the spirit of fresh starts and new focus there is one thing that I want to do - sit down with Boy and detail a family vision. It's something that's been on my mind for a while now. Thanks to blogs like Passionate Homemaking and The Mommypotamus the idea of a family vision has been growing on me, and I can see the potential benefits it would have. It doesn't have to be anything huge or complicated, simply a list of what our priorities are and simple things that will help our lives to reflect them. For example, for us family is very important, not just our little family, but extended as well. One thing that I want to start doing to strengthen those bonds, is set up regular Skype dates with grandparents and other family we live far from. I think having a family vision written down will give us more focus and something to fall back to when making decisions, "Does it fit with our family vision?"  That's my new start for our new year, something fresh and hopeful to focus on.

May your new year be full of joy and wonderfulness. May sorrow be a stranger.

Stress Ball - Being One, not Having One

Do you ever go through times where everything going on is stressful? I feel like our life is stress glued together by stress. Boy has been looking for a new position for months now, and nothing is working out. He keeps interviewing at churches, having them tell him they really like him, he's their best candidate, etc, but - they can't hire him, because they don't have peace about it. How many lines of work can use that as a valid reason for not hiring someone, eh? (insert half sarcastic laugh) Well, the rest of you non-ministry families, thank your lucky patooties, cause it's an incredibly frustrating place to be. In a way it's easier, since it doesn't reflect on personality or a lack of skills on his part, so it doesn't hit his self-esteem in the same way, but on the other side, it can also be harder, since there is nothing he can work on or improve in order to have a better chance at the next one.
This last "no" that came through was our last chance to have a job lined up for when his current one ends at the end of November. So, now we are facing the reality that he will unemployed, and we have no idea for how long, since there is nothing else on the horizon.
We are continuing to try for a baby, but it seems like poor timing right now with this situation. We have no idea when a new job will work out, when we will have to move, and I can't even begin to think about trying to find a care provider in the middle of a pregnancy. That freaks me out the most. Midwives here fill up quickly and if you don't call right away, there is a good chance you won't get in. Having a hospital birth might not be horrible if I could find a doctor who would work with me and all that I want for my next birth, but such people are difficult to find anywhere, and almost completely impossible in a health system that gives little or no room to choose your own doctor. Heck, it's hard enough to find a doctor - period, let's not even contemplate finding one who is natural minded.
Have I mentioned that we're potty training? Although, can you call it training when you aren't actually making any progress? At this point, it's more like poorly working ECing. We don't go through a day without at least one pair of wet pants in the laundry, and more likely two or three. Bug is gaining the control - he can hold it for quite a while when he tries, but he doesn't yet have the self-control to get to the toilet. If Mama and Daddy remember to get him there on a regular basis, we do ok, but that becomes useless when it gets to the pooing. Sometimes, I look at him and realize what is going on, but lately he's started refusing to let me take him to the bathroom, so he just poos in his underwear (or, you know, where ever he happens to be standing pants-less. Which was on my desk chair earlier. I'm typing away on Boy's computer and notice a smell. At first, I think, "Bad fart." Then I begin to realize it's not going away. Turn around, and there is my beloved Bug standing on my chair, straddling a puddle and poo while futzing around on my computer. Awesome. He's, like, completely oblivious to the fact that he just pooed. On my chair. Did I say that part yet?)  I know he's just not ready to full on train yet, and we've talked about going back to diapers, but I haven't been able to bring myself to do it. I wonder how long it will take him to finally learn if we keep up with what we're doing. I wonder if there is anything else I can do to help him get there faster.
Anyone want to trade lives for a little while?

Little update on me

Offering a little update for those who might care -

I've just started a Twitter account for those little things I want to express but aren't big enough to blog about. Hopefully, it won't be a flash in the pan for me, but I make no guarantees on how often I will use it. You can find a link in my sidebar if you are at all interested in following.

For those who have been following my baby journey, Boy and I have decided we are ready to start trying again. I've started using a progesterone cream, because I think there is a really good probability that that has been a issue, although it's not entirely certain. We've never had trouble getting pregnant (one or two months trying has always done it), and I may be already. Eeee. So, all prayers, baby dust, best wishes, and good luck will be accepted. Thanks!

Writing for the Sake of Writing

So I promised myself I would write today. It's been two weeks which is a week longer than my goal for writing, but I just feel so tired tonight. Not just tired, a bit weary, you know what I mean? When it goes beyond your body to your soul. But, I will try to put something down, just to make sure I persevere on this blog. It's important to me that I don't give up on this. It's good to have some kind of creative outlet in your life, and while I used to have many - sketching, dancing, singing, occasional writing, it slowly dropped to um... nothing. All these things that I enjoyed so much, eventually became replaced with the more practical - a job, keeping a house, raising a Bug, and the more sedentary - spending almost all of my free time in front of the tv with my Boy. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't give up the life I have for anything, and I love my chillax time with hubby, but sometimes I wonder where I lost my drive and passion for the creative things in my life. I am bound and determined not to give up on them entirely. I'm grateful for my son who daily demands that I put on a "dince" (dance, meaning song). I used to listen to music constantly. I was always singing, or dancing, along to something, but I'd gotten to the point where I basically never put on music. I don't know why, but I just didn't. Thankfully, Bug isn't too discriminate about needing his music to be children's, so he bops along to some of my old favorites. It's nice to hear them again.
I used to draw, not frequently, but every once in a while when something would really catch my attention, I'd sketch it out. I really enjoyed it. I liked that it was something I was half decent at. I haven't done it in ages, but every now and then I look at my son and think how beautiful he is, and I itch to put it on paper. I'm grateful I have many photos of him, because one of these days, I'm going to sit down and capture him in my own hand. Another promise I've made to myself.
I think most teens go through a poetry or song writing stage. Sometimes it's really the only decent way to express the feelings you go through. It certainly helped me through a lot of times when I felt overwhelmed with emotions, as a teenager and beyond. I'm not sure I ever wrote anything that you could make money off of, but I always thought my works were pretty decent. This is one area that I'm not sure if I will ever really get back to. Occasionally, I go through some phrases in my mind and try to put something together, but it doesn't seem to work out the way it used to. Perhaps I'm not angst-y enough anymore.
That's where the blog comes in. There are times when I just have emotions I need to get out. A need to express in more than just a conversation. A challenge to make my thoughts more linear and perhaps to even provoke emotion in someone else. So, I will not, will not give up writing. I need to keep posting, even if my posts are somewhat inane and pointless. I need to keep posting just so this door is always open. I need to keep posting to prevent another burnt out outlet.
So, I post! Yay me!



You'd have no idea that I meant to write about something entirely different tonight, would you? Just got carried away on a train of thought...

I've Got Sunshine On A Cloudy Day

This past week... I'm not even really sure what to say. It's been very up and down and frustrating and exciting and, ugh... 
Inigo Montoya: Let me 'splain.
[pause]
Inigo Montoya: : No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
(Who doesn't love "Princess Bride?")

Since last week I've had a cold/sinus infection. It has finally been getting better, but I'm still dealing with an ache in my teeth and cheekbones that sets in for an hour or so around the middle of the day. Bug also had this cold at the beginning of the week, but thanks to breastmilk! he got over it much faster than I did.
Woman, Uncensored, followed by Dr. Momma hosted my post The Superior Choice on their amazing blogs. So incredibly exciting that they would think it worth sharing with their vast readerships. It's lead to a huge amount of positive support, moms who said I encouraged them, moms who thanked me for saying what they were thinking, and moms who judged me for judging other moms. (First - that's not what the post is about. Second - So... you're superior to me because you don't think you're superior to other moms? Third - Really, people? Do you read what you write? Perhaps I'm harsh, and maybe a bit of a snob [my sister did nickname me Snob when we were teens], but some of these comments just made me laugh out loud. "we're all superior... nobody is superior..." What? That... it... wh.... I can't even form a reply. Oh -NOT possible.) And, of course,  it lead to over 100 hits on my blog - woot woot! - and, count 'em, 12(!) followers. (Not one of which is me. I'm confused over why some people do that.) Thank you, everybody! It's so awesome to see you here!
We've been waiting and waiting to find out if my Boy (hubby)  has made it to the next step in the application process for a job we really, really want. This week, all we found out is that will be waiting at least a few more weeks. Urrr! Another rant in and of itself. So, so discouraging. 
Today it was confirmed that my cousin, who told me that she didn't want kids, is ten weeks pregnant. Thankfully, she is happy about it, and I'm sure when I'm in a better place I'll be happy for her. But right now, so soon after my loss, it just brings pain and feelings of unfairness.
With all the stuff that's been going on lately, including Boy's need to put in a lot of extra time at work, we've really felt like we need some time away. The IL's bought a "cottage" (read: seasonal house), and we planned to make a weekend getaway to it sometime in the next few weeks. (Hooray!) FIL let's us know today that there is no water hooked up, and won't likely be until May when the risk of freezing pipes passes. (sigh.)
My emotions are somewhat all over the place (or should I say hormones?), in part I'm sure from the miscarriage, and likely I'm getting close to ovulating again as well. So, I spent a chunk of the morning crying and wondering why something can't go right for me. (sigh, again)
But right now - this moment - my Boy has come home from work, my Bug has woken full of sunshine and kisses, and I have time to take a shower. What more does a woman need?

Rivalry

I hate this feeling. My sister and I have always had this inherent sense of competition between us. I don't know what causes it, why it's so much more present with the two of us than with all our other siblings, but there it is. And I hate it. I hate that I feel left behind sometimes when she's doing something new, or that I often feel like I need to show how I "one up" her on whatever story she's telling, or that I feel this need to do things first. Part of it is definitely personality. She's bold and outgoing. Not afraid to go for what she wants, or to demand what she feels she deserves. I, on the other hand, am more laid back and content in the background. I get nervous asking for small favours. But, I'm still the oldest, so she should have to wait for me, right? I should be able to get to things before she does. Marriage, babies, house, even little things - like writing a blog. This morning I wake to my sister's post, "trying this blogging thing." Urr! "Wait! I got there first! I already started one! I'm ahead of you! Really people, like last week, I started my own blog. Her idea isn't unique, it's just copying the rest of us!"
Everything in me wants to scream those words, to prove that I wasn't left behind again, that I'm right there, just a little bit ahead of her. I know, how childish. How immature and unwomanly. I'm fully aware of the stupidity of this, and how bad it makes me look, but I can't seem to shake it. I don't want to feel this way about her. I don't want to always feel in competition. I hate competition! It makes me antsy, and somehow feel less worthy. And, it puts such strain on our relationship. I love my sister. I wish we could just totally accept each other and where we are in life. I seem to be able to do that with all my other siblings, why not her?
Of course, the irony is that this blog was never meant for her to know about. Her, or any of the people who could look and judge who was "winning." So, I can't tell her about it. I can't prove that I got there first. I just have to accept that she has a "public" blog, and move on. A small exercise in moving past this juvenile competition that defines our lives.

Reality - now it will come down to who continues to write in their blog. Will I still be posting when life and a new baby have overwhelmed her time? Will she keep updating about the growing of her family while I have grown bored with taking the time to write? Who will be the blog writing winner?  
(frustration, frustration, frustration. Why can't I just let go?)