Happy New Year...

So, I am just now reluctantly acknowledging that we are two, almost three, full weeks into a new year.

One thing that can unleash incredibly depths of anxiety in me is allowing a major milestone or heck, even a common milestone such as the passing of a year, to go by without stopping to acknowledge it and honor it in some way. I like to have my time to sit with it, soak it in, and gather what meaning I can before sending it on its way.

I haven't had time to do anything close to that for a while now and it is keeping me up at night, so here I am trying to muddle through it all at 2:30 a.m.

I am immediately brought to tears when I think of the year that has passed.

It has been, without a doubt, by far the best year of my entire life. I am sorry to see 2010 come to and end. It has been such a good year to me. To us.

As the year began, our family was blindly feeling our way through the fog that had been months of sleepless nights, my crippling post-partum depression, and multiple stressful events and illnesses. We were just beginning to experience the fruit of the work we had started doing with Zane to help him learn to finally finally finally sleep through the night on his own. As a result, I was also beginning to experience the benefit of getting regular normal stretches of sleep at night. I was beginning to emerge from my depression and like a damp-winged butterfly struggling to free itself from the confines of its cocoon, I was beginning to feel my strength return.

There was much newness and tender tentative hope for the year to come. And oh how those hopes would be met, and then some.

There were so many joyful moments, so many adventures. Trips to the zoo, the museum. Going to parades together. Playing at playgrounds. Farmer's Markets, Hot Springs, Swimming Pools, Splash Parks, Yoga, Music, Storytime. Breakfasts out as a family, happy dinners together as a family. Morning walks, evenings spent in the backyard. House guests, playdates, traveling. The best vacation of our lives that also just happened to be a really simple one. Discovering caves, playing in rivers, going on hikes. Riding on trains, rolling in leaves, sledding in freshly fallen snow. Lots of cooking and laughing and every once in a while stopping to catch our breaths to exclaim to one another that we were having "the best year of our lives".

We soaked up as much as we could get of this year. We grabbed our life and we lived in it fully alive and aware. Maybe in some ways for the first time ever.

I reunited with a precious friend from my teenage years, who has quickly become a staple and a gift in our lives. My husband's sister came to live with us for four months, and taught us how to be a family in bigger and brighter ways. I had the opportunity to support and celebrate my sister as she finally realized her dream of becoming a mother in a bigger way that any of us could have anticipated. We were loved by so many amazing friends some who have walked with us for years, some who are just recently coming into our lives.

I did a lot of hard work in therapy, and found myself free from burdens I had carried for far far too long. We made big decisions together, drunk on our progress and momentum.

One of those big decisions was to move. We spent the last several weeks moving from the home that my husband owned when we married. The first home that was ever truly mine. The home where we learned to be husband and wife, where we struggled through years of trying to conceive a child, the home where we first found out we would be parents, the home where I labored for hours before finally heading to the hospital, the house we brought our son home to, the home he has known all of his two years, the home he took his first steps in, the home where we became a family.

This decision means we have started off 2011 in a new place, both literally and figuratively. We have so much hope for this new place, this new beginning. We made this decision in part to allow us even more of what we loved of the year that has passed. Only time, and effort on our part, will tell if our hopes will be met.

I am someone who prepares for the worst. I hope for the best but can't help but prepare for when things go awry as I am convinced they will. What goes up must come down and all that. After such a good, such a full, such a nourishing and freeing year, it is difficult to hope for more. It feels greedy.

But what choice do I have? So here we go....jumping head first into another year. With simple but big juicy hopes and dreams: to share even more laughter, to welcome friends and family with open arms, to continue to grow, even when it is difficult, and experience greater freedom and joy, to rest, to give generously, to love much, and to live fully and authentically this amazing life we have been given.

I hope the same for each and every one of you.

Happy New Year.

good-bye, Zebu

Last Friday we said good-bye to our beloved, seven year old Rhodesian Ridgeback, Zebu.

He was the first being we co-parented together all the way, from his sweet puppy-start to his much-to-soon end.

He was diagnosed with an aggressive and malignant cancer in January, and given 6 months to live. In many ways that diagnosis was a gift. We knew what was coming, we knew what to expect, we were able to be more intentional and present with him in his last months with us. We didn't always do it perfectly, but I am grateful for that time. We spoiled him, we made him as comfortable as we could, and when he reached a point that the pain and the illness became too much, we knew, and we were able to plan his passing.

We called our doctor of the last 10+ years. The same doctor who gave Zebu his puppyhood vaccinations, the same doctor who neutered him and helped him through various illnesses. He came to our home. We held Zebu in our arms, on his favorite bed, his head laying on my husband's lap. We told him it was ok to go, we told him we loved him, we thanked him, and we peacefully let him go. He went quickly, like a deep sigh of relief.

I thought there would be sobbing, but there were only quiet tears from us both. I know that this is something that will hit us in waves, creeping up on us in unexpected ways. Like today when I prepared to go for a bike ride with Zane and realized there was no petulant pup, crowding us at the door begging to come along.

The house is quiet. But I still feel him here, as I did with Sativa after she passed last year.

He was so strong and so brave at the end. There was always so much more going on for him than he let on. I know I will be a better mother in many ways for having loved him and being loved by him. He was our lion hunter, who trembled at the sound of a motorcycle. He was our 90lb lap dog and our ferocious protector. He was our sweet boy.

We love you Zebu, we miss you. We hope you are somewhere warm, running along the water's edge with Sativa and that there will always be plenty of soft fluffy beds for you at the end of the day.

And, I am sorry for that time we made you wear the princess crown. We couldn't resist. I hope you are laughing about it now.

Celebrating the Now

Tonight Zane laughed with his entire body as he initiated a game of peek-a-boo with us by crouching down in his co-sleeper and then popping up when we asked "Where's Baby Zane?". He was so thoroughly delighted with himself, his excitement was contagious.

Today Zane sat turning a button around and around on his new overalls, his head cocked to one side as if he was wondering, "What does this do?"

Today Zane drummed a wild rhythm on his high chair with his real grown-up drum sticks. He then proceeded to put each one horizontally across his mouth, make "raspberries" and laugh hysterically at himself.

Today Zane crawled all over the house, the ultimate explorer. He tested each surface, each object. Drumming on them to determine their sound and density, pinching them and stroking them to determine their softness or squeezability, and occasionally putting his mouth to them to taste them or to bellow into them. After each test he would look thoughtfully at the object or surface and then occasionally bounce and squeal with glee as if his careful experimentation had yielded the exact results he had hypothesized.

Today Zane bounced, patted his legs, and actually sang along to music. Well, his version of singing anyway. He delighted my soul with his voice.

Today he was ripe with growth, with development, with possibility.

Today I looked into his eyes, and as he looked back I saw a boy that I cannot wait to know more of.

Gosh I love this little monkey.

All this growing and exploring sure is exhausting!!!!

Identity Crisis

6 weeks ago today, my son was born and I became a mother. I entered whole new world and I have been trying to map the terrain ever since.

I knew motherhood would present challenges to my identity. I assumed my fierce independence would be confronted. I assumed my reluctance to define myself would become even more murky. I braced myself for a full-on identity crisis like I experienced when I was first married.

And I do feel strange and out of sorts and like a new baby (thanks for the metaphor, Selena) just trying to find out who I am in this new world of mine. But it isn't quite as hard or as scary as I thought it would be. At least not all the time.

In fact, sometimes it feels like a call into becoming. Becoming someone I have not yet met but know I am meant to be.

There are dozens of moments throughout the day when I get a glimpse of her. When Zane looks at me with utter adoration, when I can comfort him with just the scent of my skin, when I feed him with my own body, when I wake in the middle of the night completely exhausted and still find a smile for him, when I am able to make the choice to be there for him to be present with him even when I would rather check out for awhile - these moments and so many more give me a taste of the woman and mother I am becoming. She is loving, she is strong, she is honest, she is wise, and she is hot! Seriously. In those moments I feel like a total rockstar superhero. When my son looks up at me and smiles I imagine I am glowing with beauty and light.

And then? I look in the mirror. And yeah. Not so much.

Most days I look rather less than a glowing image of motherly light. And far short of a superhero. I look in the mirror - my hair needs serious attention, and though I have pretty much lost my pregnancy weight I am still heavier (and flabbier) than I would like to be, and there are dark circles under my eyes to remind me that in six weeks I have yet to sleep more than four hours or so at a time. And often I am still in my pajamas at 11am. Not hot. But real. This is me. Right now.

Right now.

But I believe that other woman is in me too, just waiting to become. Ok. So maybe I won't morph into some super-hot superhero with a halo of light shining all around me - that's a bit much. But I do believe I am on my way to someone pretty cool. And this revelation is completely shocking to me.

Despite my intense longing to become a mom, despite my desire to meet my child - I had (and still have) a lot of the same fears about taking on that role that I did about taking on the role of "wife". I wondered if I would still be me, if my identity, my life thus far, who I am - would be swallowed up by this role, by this other person. I feared my voice, my heart, my mind would become irrelevant. I worried I would have to squeeze myself into some box labeled "Mommy" that society dictated I would now belong in. I feared I would not find my way to my own definition, my own carving out of motherhood, that instead a new identity would be hoisted upon me with all its expectations and rules.

So I expected some inner turmoil - and to be honest, there is some. I have spent the last week challenging my spouse completely unnecessarily, to test him - to be sure he saw and valued my contributions as a Mom staying at home as much as his contributions as a Dad who works outside of the home, to be sure we were still partners in this. Like I said, completely unnecessary - but all about my fear of being forgotten and abandon and dismissed because I am now a "Mom".

Right beside that fear though, and perhaps stronger than it, is the notion that being a mother could actually bring me closer to who I am deep inside and who I am meant to be. This was my hope but I had no idea if it would be met. I still don't. But I do know that when I get those peeks at a future me - a strong, powerful, empowered woman and mother who is filled up and giving from her fullness - that is so enticing and exciting to me.

So, for now, I will give out of my exhaustion and my deep deep love and devotion and I will trust that the road to her will become apparent as I listen to my heart. I believe the greatest gift I can give my son, my husband, and myself is to listen and to follow this road to becoming.

In the meantime, I have two incredible partners in this journey - all of us trying to find our way.

38 weeks has arrived and it is kicking my ass

Before I get into everything, a quick update: I lost my mucous plug somewhere in the dark and early hours of Wednesday morning on one of my 500 trips to the bathroom. I don't know if I am any further dilated yet as I do not have my "38 week" appointment until Friday, when I will be 38 weeks and 3 days pregnant.

I have been trying to avoid writing this post. This post where I complain or bemoan my last weeks, or maybe days, of pregnancy - knowing full well, with all my heart how incredibly fortunate I am to even be here to begin with. I have spent the large majority of my pregnancy feeling that gratitude and wonder, knowing at each turn in the road, at each milestone, how very very blessed I am. Blessed to have a fairly textbook and simple pregnancy, blessed to enjoy pregnancy, blessed to be healthy and have a healthy little pepper growing inside of me, blessed all around. Just two weeks ago I was still commenting on how much I simply loved being pregnant, how great I still felt, how I was eager to meet our son but also perfectly content to hang out in my blissfully pregnant state as long as was needed.

I have had a spectacular pregnancy. I have stayed relatively healthy, have not gained a ton of weight, have been fairly active, have deeply enjoyed connecting with our son in utero, have loved my new pregnant curves, have loved how much my husband loved my new pregnant curves. It has been really amazing. So - when others kept warning me I would feel differently the last 2-3 weeks, I really didn't put much stock in it. I felt like I was made for this, made for pregnancy - my body was finally doing all it was meant to, and doing it well. It would not let me down. Ha!

Then 37 weeks hit. That nagging sciatic pain that had come and gone during previous months reared it's head again, but instead of coming and going - it moved in and made its home in the lower right quadrant of my back, my right buttock and my right thigh, reducing me to tears and foul words if I so much as tried to innocently take three steps across the kitchen floor. "Still", I thought, "this is normal pregnancy pain, not so bad - I will be ok - nothing to complain about." But each day the pain has gotten progressively worse, and nothing much seems to help. My chiropractor broke it to me simply: "there's not much I can do to help - you just have to have that baby."

Then, as if the rest of my body had gotten the message now that it was ok to start falling apart on me, other symptoms began to appear: massive lower back pain, pelvic pain, the timely reappearance of nightly acid reflux, complete utter exhaustion, and my new favorite - mind-numbing insomnia. And as each new symptom has appeared I tried very hard to simply take it in without complaint, to accept it as a sign things were moving in the right direction. I kept telling myself how very very lucky I was to even be feeling these things. But they kept coming. Soon, I found myself having to scooch four times to simply roll over in bed, and actually getting out of bed has become an olympic event in and of itself. I no longer feel beautiful and womanly and fertile, but simply huge and bloated and beached like a whale.

Thankfully, I have incredibly understanding and empathetic friends who have assured me that this is all very normal and does not mean I am any less grateful. They have kindly offered to allow me to vent as much as is needed. My doula has assured me that these feelings help prepare a woman to be ready to go through labor. After all, if you feel super-duper why would you willingly walk into something like labor and the ensuing uncertainty to follow? In her words, it almost has to get bad enough to make you willing to endure labor to come out of it. But there's the rub. I do want out. I am begging this child to come, I am eating spicy foods, drinking my tea, getting my daily dose of prostaglandins. And tonight - I feel really strange and guilty about it.

I don't want to end this chapter this way, with a desperate wish to get out of it. I don't want to forget in my haze of hormones and sleep deprivation what a tremendous gift this has been. I don't want my son to sense in any way that I can't wait to evict him just to get some relief. But at times, I have felt or am feeling all of those things and more.

On the other hand, I am also terrifyingly aware that regardless of how I feel, this little boy is coming out sometime. And it may be some time very soon. And then I think, "Holy Shit! How did I get here? It's all gone by so fast!" And I realize with alarming clarity that although I now know how to be pregnant, and have armed myself with all sorts of knowledge about breastfeeding, birthing, and even child-rearing - I know nothing, really, nothing of what motherhood is or will be for me. I don't know who I will be once this little guy makes his appearance, his permanent, life-altering appearance in our lives. I don't know who he will be. I will learn, I have been told. But it is more than a little frightening all the same. Frightening enough to almost make me beg for more time to figure it all out, as if there is such a thing.

So here I sit - half of me wishing desperately in the still dark hours of morning for some relief, and half of me mourning that this season is almost over. Mourning that soon my womb will be empty. That never again will I feel Poblano rolling over or jabbing me with his pointy-parts. That never again will being a mother be so easy, so contained. That once I have let go of him with my body, I will begin the life-long practice of letting go in a million ways, with my heart. And with that ache - the physical complaints I feel now seem no less painful, but maybe just a bit more bearable.

So - yes, I am ready. Ready for him to come. Ready to meet my son. Ready to trade these pains and discomforts for new ones. But I am also holding on just a bit, knowing that this is our last bit of time together like this. Knowing that soon the quiet nighttime wanderings of my anxious mind will be replaced by something altogether less quiet and less easily controlled. Knowing, in the words of one of my favorite poets, David Whyte:

the good news is: "Everything is waiting for you", the bad news is, "EVERYTHING is waiting for you."

37 weeks

Had my 37 week appt today.

• I am still just 1cm dilated. Which is pretty much right on schedule. I really *felt* like things were changing, and expected a bit more, but we're ok with 1cm. I want Poblano to come when he is good and ready. Even though I am dying to meet him - I can be patient!
• I am negative for GBS - yay!
• My blood pressure (90/60) is great.
• We did another NST and Poblano is doing perfectly.
• I am having mild contractions and "cramping".
• My Dr. looked over my "birth plan" (we're calling it Birth Wishes though) and approved everything.

Other than that, I am pretty wiped out most of the time - my huge surge of energy over the last couple weeks seems to be conspicuously missing. My brain is literally the size of a marble right now - I am really foggy and forgetful and lack normal reflexes. I am kind of scared to drive, feels like I am high on something.

It is also a really bizarre Christmas for me. Mr. Spicy and I decided to devote our time, energy, and finances this year to just laying low and prepping for Poblano's arrival - which is surprisingly a lot of work! So, no major crafting or baking sprees for me, and we aren't even really doing gifts except for kids in our family and maybe a few other family members. I feel sort of lame. It seemed like a good idea, a relief, when we made the decision. But now I am sort of missing all the holiday hullabaloo. I actually *love* buying and making gifts for others at Christmas. And now I feel all scroogy and weird because we haven't done that this year. Bah humbug!

But, we have carved out some time to honor our usual Christmas Eve traditions and to make some space for quiet spiritual reflection which is really the most important part of the season for me. So I am really looking forward to that.

And in case I sound grumpy and whiny - I assure you I am not. Just wishing I had more to give on all fronts: time, energy, gifts, attention.... I feel like we have begun the retreat into our cave to prepare for the life changing event to come, and I am having a hard time not being as available or as giving to the people we love as my heart would like to be.

But I am thrilled our little one is doing so well, grateful that I am doing so well, and looking forward to some time with my hubby over his holiday "break". It feels like we are awaiting the biggest Christmas gift of our lives and we aren't quite sure when it (he) will get here. Talk about joyful anticipation!

I hope everyone has a really special and meaningful time with people they love this holiday season - whatever that looks like for each of you. May you all be blessed with peace, love, and joy.

The perspective of the rain...

Three years ago we took a trip to Costa Rica, our first there together. We backpacked through the country, catching buses, staying in cheap hotels....it was magical.

Midway through the journey we arrived in a mountain town, high in the cloud forest, called Monteverde. We arrived by way of a rickety old bus driven precariously through the mountain roads. We got into town around noon or so and quickly found rustic and affordable lodging. We unpacked a bit and prepared to explore the area in the afternoon.

I don't remember exactly where we were when it began raining that day. Had we already left the room? Had we made it into "town"? I honestly can't say. But I do remember that it began to rain with such force and fury at 2pm in the afternoon that it felt as if the whole sky might indeed fall in upon us. The air was replaced by sheets and sheets of torrential rain released out of some invisible faucet above. It seemed that there could not possibly be that much water in the entire world.

People retreated from the streets, the bright afternoon darkened. It felt oppressive. And we wondered how long it would continue. But then, about 4pm, like clockwork, the faucet was turned off, the sun came out again, although muted by the clouds that area is known for, and it was all over.

We found out quickly through locals that in May this was pretty much standard for Monteverde, every day there would be these short intense rains beginning around 2pm. We just needed to plan accordingly. So, the next day we planned around the rain, had a fabulous morning, and by the time the rain hit we were happily enjoying Costa Rican coffee in a coffee shop and marveling at the beauty and power of nature.

It's all in the perspective isn't it?

A week and a half ago we were holed up in a luxurious hotel room, enjoying a blissful, romantic babymoon. (ironically, payed for almost entirely with rewards from our credit card, the one we used for many of our IVF expenses) We were well fed, well rested, thoroughly romanced and our internal emotional buckets were full for the first time in a long time. We laughed at our usual worries and talked about the things to come with a sense of peace. We were happy and content.

Then we returned home and within days the first rumblings of thunder began.

Mr. Spicy had decided to accept an offer at another company and after returning from our babymoon, gave notice to the team of people he had helped build and lead for six years. And a whole host of complications surrounding that decision came up like the first drops of impending rain - that we were not expecting.

The tension continued to build around his job stuff, our finances, future concerns we had been able to laugh at only days before.

And then, we decided (well, Mr. Spicy decided) to take in a cat. Seems harmless enough right? She had been crying and crying at our back door for a couple of days, she wanted in, she wanted petting, she wanted food. She was obviously not just another neighborhood alleycat. She had been with people before. Mr. Spicy began bringing her tuna on the deck, and before too long she had moved in - complete with a litterbox and premium cat food. I checked everywhere for someone who might be looking for her, but had no luck. We decided to keep her "for now" and talk about maybe trying to find her a good home after we had vaccinated and spayed her. The best laid plans....as they say.

Well, a few nights ago she began having diarrhea, and it got all over her back end. Mr. Spicy, trying to be helpful, grabbed a spray bottle of dog/cat cleaner and another spray bottle of what he assumed to be water to clean her up. He got her all clean, things seemed well, we went to bed. When we awoke the next morning we found the kitty curled up in a ball on our couch, growling in pain, we couldn't touch her without her yowling. I then noticed the cleaning supplies from the night before and realized that Mr. Spicy had sprayed the kitty, not with water, but with a solution I had mixed up for cleaning our kitchen. It was water, vinegar, and multiple essential oils. The essential oils I used were precisely the kind that are toxic to cats if ingested in large amounts. We feared we had accidentally poisoned our kitty.

We rushed her to the vet hospital for two days of IV fluids, multiple medications, much hand wringing on our part, and literally hundreds of dollars spent. In the hospital she spiked extremely high fevers and it became clear that we may not have had a role in her sudden illness at all. She may have simply had a severe infection. Regardless, we have now bought and paid for a cat - full on. We felt sick at the thought that we may have accidentally harmed her, we felt worried and sad for the little kitty who had so sweetly chosen our home to invade, and we felt anxious and ambivalent about all the money we were spending - money we really didn't have to spare - for a kitty we had only known for a week. We never regretted taking her in, doing the right thing for her - but those two days really took their toll on us.

During that same 48 hours, the truck that Mr. Spicy drives to work, the 19 year old monster of a truck with a broken door lock, the truck we knew we would need to replace in the next year - well, it sort of died. In reality, a major component of the truck died, and it is simply not worth it to put the money into it to replace it. But, if you can imagine - we were dealing with uber-expensive sick kitty in the hospital and the thought of needing to replace a vehicle, basically all at once.

And the rain came pouring down.

It felt very much like that oppressive rain storm our first day in Monteverde, I couldn't catch my breath, there were too many things happening at once - and too much we simply didn't have a buffer for, financially or otherwise. I sunk quickly into feeling sorry for myself, for us. Why was all this happening at once? How could we possibly take on more debt just as everything was changing? Soon, Mr. Spicy would start his new job, soon we will have a new baby - now we have to buy a car, pay vet bills, and we still have to pay for baby stuff and a doula, and Christmas....and and.....anxiety ensues. And the torrential downpour just gets louder.

But then? Then we remembered some "emergency" money we had stashed away. Not enough to fully cover the vet bills, but enough to make a big dent. And, probably more importantly, we remembered we were not alone. I called my dad who has an extra car he doesn't use regularly and asked if we could borrow it for a little while to give us time to buy a car. Not only did he gladly and generously offer it to us, but he made it clear we could borrow it for as long as we need to save up for a good car, a car that will be safe and dependable and actually fit our needs. Which was such a huge relief that I began to cry.

It is such a typically "American" and an extremely indulgent problem to have: the need to buy a car. I mean really. I wish I was someone who was able to simply figure out how to do without one. But for now, with Mr. Spicy working so far away and needing to be able to travel to different offices throughout the day, and with my nanny work - we aren't able to creatively work out another option just yet . And yes, how ridiculous to cry over a car, over maybe having to purchase an old, high mileage vehicle because that is all we could could afford right now - "Oh noes!" I know, I know - it could be so so much worse. And I feel sufficiently ridiculous about it. But knowing we can wait, wait till Mr. Spicy is comfortably settled into his new job, wait till our little Poblano makes his appearance, wait till we have a bit more saved from bonuses and tax returns to make this large purchase more reasonable and less rushed - well, it was like the rain just suddenly stopped pouring. And the sun came out. And I could take a full breath again.

And now? I look back over the past week and feel a bit silly and embarrassed. Somehow, I let this strange and admittedly stressful sequence of circumstances send me into a dark and fearful place. I am not surprised I ended up there, not surprised I possibly became WAY more stressed out than was necessary, not surprised that I allowed these events to invade my psyche and convince me once again that I could not rest, I am not safe, the world is dangerous and unpredictable, and we are all alone in it. I am not surprised. I am dismayed. I don't deny that we had a stressful cocktail of events all at once - I don't blame us for letting those effect us. But now that it has stopped raining, or at least for the most part - Now that our new kitty (her name is Tallulah by the way) is home safe and sound and just as sweet and loving as ever - Now that my dad and stepmom have reached out to us in this generous and loving way........

Well, now I can see that it wasn't the rainstorm meant to drown us, or ruin us - it was simply a short and powerful storm that has cleared up relatively quickly. We weren't drowned, we didn't lose much more than money and an old truck that was on its way out anyhow - we are ok. Sure, as Mr. Spicy makes this next big transition, it will be hard - we will both grieve the people he is leaving, the people he has known for 6 years, we will both feel anxious about the new expectations and new environment for him. He will be under some stress as he navigates his way into this new world. But we are ok. He is ok. Our kitty is ok. We are all ok.

I know part of my heightened reaction is due to pregnancy. And even if it isn't - that's my excuse and I am sticking to it! But I also know that some of it is just me, just us - and how we respond when things go off track for us. We have friends who face enormously stressful situations with so much more grace and so much more ability to simply shrug and move forward, doing what needs to be done. We get there eventually - but not without much gnashing of teeth, inner-soul-searching, and moaning and rolling on the floor. Ok, maybe not rolling on the floor...but you get my drift.

I just wish sometimes we could remember the perspective of that second day in Monteverde, the knowing that the rain would not last forever, was not going to harm us - that we would be ok. I wish we could find ourselves in a cafe, sipping coffee, waiting out the rain, and not losing sight of the beauty and power all around us in the midst of it. I wish we more regularly were the ones helping others out of the rain rather than needing that help so much for ourselves.

I am grateful that the rain was as short as it was. I am grateful for the lessons we have learned even in that short time. I am grateful for the perspective I have this morning, and that it didn't take me longer to get here. I am grateful we are fortunate enough that these were our worries.

Maybe next time I will not be so frightened when it begins to rain. Maybe next time I will remember.....

Long time, no posting.....

I cannot believe it has been 2 weeks since my last post. Wow.

So if any of you are still out there and following this, I should probably explain why I have been such a spotty blogger. (hey, that could be a cool band name, "Spotty Blogger") Here's a taste of what my month has been like (fascinating, I know):

At the beginning of the month, there was the depression. Then the depression eased up and morning sickness took me out. Literally, I couldn't even stand looking at a computer screen any time after noon. Then the morning sickness began to ease up and this week I found myself knocked out by a nasty sinus infection. Totally kicked my ass. Sinus infections make morning sickness look like a good thing. I finally got some antibiotics on Wed. from my OB (Dr. Honey) and waking up this morning without feeling like someone was trying to smash my head in with a mallet was like Christmas morning, only twenty times better. Whew. The morning sickness is still threatening to come back, but seems like it isn't quite as overwhelming as before. So, yeah....physically I have been a bit occupied.

And it has also been just a full month logistically. Mr. Spicy has been out of town on two business trips, which always forces me to up my game a bit. He's been out of town this whole week, missing my festival of incredible pain, aka "the sinus infection saga". This has been good for him - he needs a break from me and my endless whining and neediness - heck, I could use a break from me. But it kinda sucks for me. Or it did this week. I forgot how completely lonely it feels to be sick and have no one coming home to help you. I cannot wait for him to get home!

In addition to Mr. Spicy's trips, we took a short but very full trip together, a couple weeks ago, out to the Midwest to visit my family. We got to visit with my Grandma Penny, who is living in an assisted living home for Alzheimer's patients. It is a really nice facility, and I think she likes it overall. But I know the loss of freedom and independence is really really hard on her. She cracked us up by telling us she liked it there, the nurses were nice to her, but also, "they are all bitches". She certainly has kept her feisty spirit! She was very lucid and alert when we arrived, she knew who we are, that we are expecting a baby, and engaged in lots of conversation with us. More of my family arrived, my aunts and my uncle, two of my cousins, my mom and her fiance.... It was so good to see everyone and Gramma seemed to really enjoy all the attention. But it wore her out after a couple of hours, and that's when it became most evident how much things have changed. The more exhausted she got, the more confused she became. My heart just wanted to reach out and hold her like a child (not that she would tolerate that necessarily) - I just felt so tender towards her. It is hard to see her so frail.

Also on this trip we attended my niece (and goddaughter) and my nephew's dance recital. Again,most of the family showed up and we had a great time being entertained by dancing children of all ages. And what is more darling than precious young girls twirling in tutus? I was all weepy (I blame the hormones) and both my niece and nephew did really well. Although, I should make the disclaimer that my nephew is 3 years old and his performance consisted of wearing a Spiderman costume and tumbling across mats. He was ADORABLE!!!! My niece is eight and essentially had a ballet solo all by herself. I was so proud of them both. I got some video I need to put on to YouTube. Maybe I will post it later. It was really precious.

We got to have some fun meals with family, laughing, catching up and sharing stories and advice. It was so good seeing everyone. We stayed with my youngest sister and her family so I got some really nice one-on-one time with her, which I haven't had much of before. It is wild to now be relating to my "baby sister" about pregnancy and parenting....but she's a great mom and she has a really great perspective on most things. Where I am the person who stresses and over thinks things to death, she is really good at just putting that one foot in front of the other and living life day to day. We had some good late-night talks that helped put my mind at ease about a lot of things.

Overall, it was a great trip - but it was completely fast and furious and FULL!!! It took me a couple days to just recover from it all.

I also had my meet and greet and then my first official appt with Dr. Honey, my new OB. I like her. She is down-to-earth and really kind and approachable. She squeezed in a short ultrasound even though they usually wouldn't give me another one until 20 weeks. Everything looked great. I got to do a heartbeat check this week as well when I went in for the sinus infection and the Poblano's heartbeat was round 160 bpm, right where it should be. So far so good. And I think after coming to the office three times now, I finally am starting to accept that I belong there. At first it was just such a shock sitting in a waiting room full of very pregnant women. I actually felt anxious....like I would get caught for somehow sneaking in the wrong door. But no, I am one of "them" now - and I will just have to get used to it.

And so..... (if you have made it this far dear reader - I owe you a candy bar) - speaking of getting "used to it".....being pregnant that is......that is probably the biggest single reason I haven't been posting.

Right now, and for weeks, my head and heart have been so full of questions, fears, thoughts, ponderings, and realizations - that I simply haven't been able to even fathom getting it out into words. I still can't really. I think the weight, the responsibility, the reality of becoming a mom has just begun to sink in and in my usual fashion I am taking it all in, looking at it from every angle, probably over-thinking it a bit, feeling it all, and slowly slowly digesting it. Being pregnant, knowing I am a mother now, brings up so many things for me, childhood issues, questions of identity, issues of security, family junk, questions about spirituality and faith, fears (so many fears), hopes, and an overall sense of "How in the world am I going to know how to do this?". But I am processing it all, turning it over and over in my heart and in my head, and knowing this is work that needs to be done. And so, I am doing it. Bit by bit by bit, I am doing it. Or at least trying to.

And thankfully, I am not alone in it. I have wise and loving friends and family, a wise and loving counselor, wise and witty blog readers, and a wise and weary husband. I am not alone, even when I feel that way at times. And I am so grateful for that.

What was that line about it taking a village?

The post we have all been waiting for.....

Mr Spicy took the afternoon off so he would be with me when we got the beta results and while he was on his way home, I finally gave into the urge to pee on a stick. But I couldn't look at it. I made him go in the bathroom and look at it first. When he showed me the two lines, I could NOT believe it. I have NEVER seen TWO LINES!!!!! So we did another regular test and the one digital I had (given to me by a friend, leftover from her positive results). And, well...you can see for yourself. Wow. Seriously. Wow.

Then, our nurse, Amber called. She got us both on the phone and let us know that our beta number was great, very strong, at 197. Of course, I still have to go back on Thursday for the 2nd beta to make sure it is doubling as it should. So, I haven't completely exhaled just yet.

I will be starting Prometrium vaginal suppositories today and we'll get my progesterone results tomorrow (they don't run the progesterone test until they get a positive - so it wasn't run until this afternoon). I will go in Thu, then Monday to recheck hormone levels, and then our ultrasound will be either the 22nd or the 23rd. Again, wow.

Seriously. Is this really happening? I am in complete and utter shock! I literally cannot wrap my brain around this!!!!! I feel totally clueless now about being pregnant. I was literally in the midst of making myself a sandwich - you know, forbidden lunch meat and all - when Amber called. I had completely forgotten that lunch meat was off limits during pregnancy. Now I am terrified I am unwittingly doing any number of other idiotic anti-pregnancy things I am not even aware of! Yikes!

When we first began trying 2 and a half years ago, I was reading pregnancy books and websites like crazy - but as we neared a year of trying I put those books and websites away and began devouring infertility literature, and websites, and blogs. So now, I feel completely ignorant of what I am supposed to do or not do..... Oh well, just more for me to learn and obsess about and research. :)

I am so excited and so in shock I don't even have words to describe it. We have waited so so long for this. I cannot believe we are here. We are going to be parents. In a way, we already are.

Wow.

Thank you to EVERYONE - all of you who emailed, commented, called, to wish us well, to let us know you were praying, that you were holding out hope for us. It is no small thing. And I have no words to thank you adequately. But thank you. Thank you. Thank you.


I have been listening to "Sweet Sweet Baby" By Michelle Featherstone all day but cannot figure out how to get the song here to share with you.

I already love this baby (or babies) so much. I already feel like my entire heart is on the line - out there for all the world to see. I have never known a vulnerability quite like this.

I have never known a joy quite like this either.

Welcome little pepper(s), welcome.

We are so happy you have come, we cannot wait to meet you.

You are wanted and loved.

You always have been - you always will be.

Letting Go....

Today I am preparing to let go again.

Throughout this long journey over the last two and a half years there has been an almost singularly consistent theme of letting go.

Letting go of my ideas, my expectations, my control (always letting go of my control). Letting go of the timing, of the methods, of my understanding..... Letting go, at times, of my faith, my hope, my happiness, my sense of security, my plans, my own strength..... Always, always, letting go.

And one of the worst things you could have said to me during this time was that I needed to "just let go". Because, sometimes, I think the person saying that has the idea that letting go will be this peaceful happy thing. You will just choose to let go and poof! just like that you will be free from whatever you were clinging to so tightly.

Anyone who has ever really been forced to let go knows it doesn't happen this way. It is often painful and there is a lot of struggling and grieving involved. We don't hold tightly to things that don't matter deeply to us.

Sure, growth comes through this pain. Sure, letting go of one thing often opens you up to so much more. Sure, it is a process that will almost surely bring deep rewards. But - it is not easy. And there is no such thing as "just letting go".

That being said, I realized last night that the egg retrieval will be, for me, another profound experience of letting go.

The last couple of weeks, as I endured and welcomed the hormones surging through my body, I have been focused intently on growing these many little follicles inside of me. I envision them as grapes, or sometimes as a pepper patch ripening in the garden. I visualize their growth. I tenderly and gently rub my belly where I could feel them becoming more full. As I walked in the sunshine, I imagine the follicles soaking up the sun, becoming ever more full and ripe. I think carefully about what I am eating, drinking, and what vitamins I am taking - I want to give them the best possible nutrients for growing. I am nurturing life inside of me that is growing in a way it never has before.

Truly, the closest I have ever been to nurturing a baby growing inside of me.

So, it is no wonder that having them removed from me tomorrow fills me with just a little sadness and trepidation. I am sending my eggs, a part of myself that I have lovingly nurtured and cared for, out into the world - to be counted, scored, poked, prodded, and fertilized. They will join with sperm and become the embryos that they were meant to become. They will grow in dishes. All outside of my body. Outside of my careful watch. Outside of my control. I am entrusting scientists I have never met (albeit very very talented and brilliant scientists) with the care of these precious little cells, until they are to be returned to me to care for once more. This is more than a little scary. Of course, there is no alternative - this is what must happen for them to become what they are growing to be, what they are destined to be. But still, it makes me a little sad to know that tomorrow they will all be gone. Outside of my body, outside of my care, outside of my hands.....

So, once again, I am practicing letting go. And I am much better at it than I was a year, or even six months ago. So that's at least something.

Today I wanted to prepare myself for this in the only way I know how, through ritual. So, I bathed. Yes, I do bathe daily - but this was a special bath.

First, I scrubbed myself all over with a sea salt scrub - washing away my anxiety, my fear, anything holding me back from this next step. Releasing. Then, I filled the tub with warm water and added rose petals from the roses that have been by my bed for the last week or so, and grapeseed and rose oil. I descended into the water, submerging myself in the warmth and comfort and aromas. I piled rose petals upon my belly and talked to my follicles and the precious eggs they contain. I told them what would happen tomorrow, and the next several days. I told them how excited I was for two of them to return to me at the end of the week. I told them how hopeful I was. And I that I hoped I had given them everything they would need to grow, to thrive, to succeed. I imagined the bath as a pool of love that I was washing them, and myself, in before sending them on.

I emerged from the bath comforted, warmed, softened, peaceful, and ready.

I am going to have to let go. I have done all I can. The rest is a mystery.

A Beginning and a Burial.

Well, I started my stims this morning. I was up from 2am till 6am fretting about them. But all went smoothly. Now I will do 3 injections daily: 10u Lupron and 2 vials Menopur each morning, and 300u Gonal-F in the evening. I called them my "fertilizers" this morning and am visualizing them growing up healthy clusters of follicles like plump luscious grapes on a vine. This feels like the last big "beginning" - we are on our way to the retrieval now, officially. I am excited and very nervous at the same time. I have another ultrasound and more bloodwork on Tue to see how these fertilizers are working for me. All I can say is, wow. I still kind of can't believe this is here, this is us, we are really doing this. Wow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Also today, we finally buried Mr. Jones.

Because I left town the night he died, and then Mr. Spicy was out of town, and then we had guests - this was the first weekend we had open to devote to this very important ceremony.

So, Mr. Spicy retrieved his body from the clinic. I picked out a pear tree (pears symbolize separation and immortality in some Asian cultures). I wrote a short ceremony for us to follow. It was appropriately cold and drizzly, as if the whole world was being quiet and sad with us, for us.

We poured water over his body to release him fully from this world and release him from any suffering or pain he experienced while he was here. We poured oils of grape seed, myrrh, cassia, and cinnamon over his body to anoint him with our love and honor his spirit and his connection to God. We wrapped his body in white cloth, the cloth that made the aisle at our wedding. We poured rose petals into his grave and laid him to rest upon them. Then, we each read our eulogies and we prayed, and cried, and said "Thank you" and "Good-bye".

Finally, really, good-bye.

I lit a candle.

We covered him with dirt and then planted the pear tree above his grave.

He is really gone.

I don't know how to feel. I feel really sad and I feel an emptiness. But I also feel peace. And I feel really good about finally letting him go, letting his body return to the earth. It seems appropriate to say good-bye to him today, to honor his life, on this day - the day when we begin the stage of IVF that most closely resembles Spring, growth, new life - the stage of taking of medications to cause my little seeds to grow and grow and grow inside of me, into what we hope will become our future child(ren). Throughout this entire process, loss and death have been so very closely tied to hope and new life, and beginnings. He died on the day that I began bleeding, began the entire process. His passing is entwined with every stage of this cycle. He is still reminding me, every day, every step of the way...to pay attention.

Pay attention. Right now.

Brides, Birth Control Pills, Basket Stitch, and Butterflies

And...I'm back.

Mr. Spicy's sister and her boyfriend came to stay with us last Thu and just left yesterday. It was probably one of our best visits with her. We had a great time. We all went to a mutual friend's wedding on Friday (Congratulations Mrs. and Mr. Banana!) - I did the makeup for the bride which was more than a little intimidating, but no one made any clown jokes so I think it turned out OK. On Saturday we toured the area around Pikes Peak. We saw 7 Falls and Garden of the Gods, and ate an amazing meal in Manitou Springs. In fact, we ate quite a few great meals while they were here. I used their visit as an excuse to break two of my main dietary rules (no sugar and no dairy) and boy did I break them! I mean, if you are going to cheat, cheat big right??? We had Thai, Mexican, Italian, and most importantly my own homemade gluten-free banana cream pie. (Which elicited all sorts of inappropriate "pie" references - because we are all 12 years old) Mr. Spicy and I finished off the pie in bed last night (I convinced him that I needed to finish it before the week started so I could get back on my wagon on Monday) and it was delish! (If I do say so myself)

I did a lot of knitting this weekend too. I had part 2 of my Knitting 101 class on Sunday and I wanted to have a lot done on my sample swatch. Because, as Mr. Spicy is quick to point out, I must be the valedictorian of everything (unabashedly borrowing the term from Dooce) - literally - I was trying every stitch and stitch combination my little beginner brain could come up with: Garter, Stockinette, Rib, Seed, Basket... hmmm....those sound like terms related to fancy undergarments....where is my mind today? I was wanting to explore and challenge myself but also secretly hoping I would come to class and the teacher would marvel at my natural skill and pronounce me to be a knitting prodigy. The light would pour down upon me and she would realize that I was the chosen one, the one to which she should pass on her master skills , and also her pattern for the fancy lace shawl. Instead, however, I was 10 minutes late to class. And while the amount of knitting I had done did seem to impress them - there was no light, and no choir singing in the background. Which is just fine of course. I did start an actual project: a small little button-closure coin purse of sorts. I am doing it in this gorgeous pink yarn. I will try to post pics when it's finished. I am already planning projects (all for friends and family) after this one. I actually really enjoy knitting. The ability to just sit and be quiet and sort of zone-out, relax, and focus on something small and specific, letting go of everything else for a bit - while at the same time creating something beautiful - it's really quite amazing. I love just about anything where I can tap into my desire to create. And I can knit anywhere. I even find myself trying to arrive at appointments early so I can get a little knitting done. If knitting can reform my chronic lateness - that in and of itself will have almost been worth it! But getting to make beautiful things for people I love while doing something that helps me to stay calm and gives me some peace - that is really the ultimate payoff.

Took my last birth control pill on Saturday. Which meant I got to take them out of my purse finally and stop worrying that if someone saw them they might wonder why someone who is trying to get pregnant is taking the pill. I kept imagining someone seeing them and thinking maybe I was secretly sabotaging my efforts to get pregnant. Um, yeah. I think I have watched too many soap operas or Lifetime movies. But stopping the pill means I should get my period today or tomorrow....probably tomorrow. I am so anxious for this period! Once it comes - things really start kicking in to high gear....I will have an ultrasound and bloodwork to determine if I am adequately suppressed (no cysts, no dominant follicles, etc..) - and then the stims start. And the race begins....hopefully lots of strong little follicles will begin growing all together, like a pack of horses in a horse race. We want lots of strong horses, but no Sea Biscuit - no surprise horse that pulls way ahead of the others and ruins the race for everyone. This race will prove to be quite the nail biter, I am sure.

So far I have only had one or two more hot flashes on the Lupron, nothing too crazy. But my moods? Whooo boy! For the first part of the week I was manic - hyper, bouncing off the walls, saying whatever popped into my head - manic. But this weekend, the other side kicked in and I felt furious at Mr. Spicy about anything and everything. I sometimes could identify that I was over-reacting - but I simply could not help it. I was literally praying yesterday to remember that I loved him. Because in the moment? I felt completely justified in wanting to punch him in the face because he was trying to kiss me good-bye and I wanted him to WAIT 5 MINUTES. Yep. Also - that crazy-making anxiety and self-loathing began to kick in again this weekend. At the very slightest hint of criticism or of being told I might have done something wrong, or just not being rained upon with flowers and doves - I would decide I was worthless, horrible, terrible, broken, and bad - and as much as my logical mind would refute this...it would take many many hours to snap out of it.

The hard part of all of this is that when I feel these things they don't feel hormonally-induced. They feel like me. Like me, only crazy. So then I think - maybe it is just me. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I just need to fix it or figure it out. And then I get so frustrated because I can't fix it and I can't figure it out and blaming it all on the hormones feels like a cop out. Because it doesn't feel like something foreign. It feels like me, only much much worse. But maybe that's what the hormones do? They don't make us into someone we are not - they just fan the flame of a part of us we normally are able to reign-in a little better, or keep better control over? Maybe hormones just let all the doors wide open - and all our little monsters can come out to play? That's a cheerful thought, isn't it?

My counselor had advised me (wisely so) to make a list several weeks ago (before the hormones kicked in) of what is really true about me. This way, when the monsters came out to play, I could look at this list and have something concrete to remind me that I am not just the monsters, even though it may feel that way right now. I am also the butterflies.

I really really wish I hadn't procrastinated. I really really wish that I had tried to be the valedictorian then. Having a long list of what's really true about me would be really helpful right now. Because, as hard as I have worked to really ground myself, to find myself, to pay attention, and to be fully myself at the beginning of all of this - right now I am feeling a little off balance and a bit worried I might not find my way back.

It's not unbearable - it's just that if I am going to come through this the way I would like to - well, then, the monsters simply can't be all there is.

I am going to need some butterflies too.

Grieving and Anticipating...

Sigh.

I have deliberately avoided blogging for the last week. I felt as though I needed to just leave this space here, for Mr. Jones, for me. I am finding myself heartbroken in little ways all throughout my day. I miss him terribly and yet can't shake the feeling he is always here. I keep looking for him, thinking I will walk into my room and find him curled up in our pillows. And then I remember.

I saw my counselor today. I had avoided all out crying for the most part since last week - until I saw her. Something about her presence has a way of undoing me at times. We talked about Mr. Jones and the lessons he gave me while he was here - which were always generally somewhere along the lines of "Pay attention - Right now" She suggested that maybe even in the timing of his passing he might still be trying to remind me to "pay attention" to something very important right now. So I am, I am paying attention - to this crazy and full time. Full of loss, full of anticipation, full of "to do"'s and "not yet"s... I am paying attention to how delicate and sacred this time feels, how fragile my heart is right now in the midst of it all - how my heart needs the space right now, and the permission, to both grieve very deeply and to anticipate fully. Because there is much on the way. I am paying attention to myself like I imagine a mother might pay attention to her wounded child. I am giving myself permission to feel very sorry for all that I am having to carry right now, all at the same time.

And I am listening to myself - to that small little voice inside, when she says she needs something.

Yesterday, she needed roses. And so, I found a deal on roses and bought myself 3 dozen roses. I am not usually drawn to roses but yesterday? Only roses would do. Bright, spring colored roses. Everywhere. Next to my bed. On the mantle. On the table. By the door.


I woke up this morning with roses on either side of my bed. I felt loved. And I smiled.

I may buy roses through this entire next month. There is just something about them.



I received my box of meds yesterday, as well (excuse me? I ordered the LARGE?) - I plan to post some pics of those tomorrow as the sheer volume of medications that are about to enter my body in the next 4-6 weeks is truly something to behold. But, in the spirit of true anticipation and my desperate need to be the honor roll IVF student - I bought a wall calendar! A giant wall calendar! To write all my meds on! In color coded permanent marker! (I swear I was an elementary teacher in a past life) Though, as excited as a trip to Off.ice De.pot, with money in my pocket to burn, would usually make me - I did have a near nervous breakdown. twice. The first time was because I suddenly panicked about all the money we are spending and, you know, how I don't have job right now? The second time was when the cashier almost refused to give me my FREE bonus package of photo paper with my purchase of a twin pack of printer cartridges. I literally almost started crying. Really. Because, you know - that photo paper costs money and shit! And she was being like, totally unfair. But I got my damn photo paper - and avoided a trip to the psych ward. again.

*and yes, I did glue those words to my calendar - I actually plan on adding a lot more, images and words - a collage really. all over my calendar. subliminal messages and such. *

Also yesterday, and don't worry I won't post a photo of this, I found a large gaping hole on my oldest dog's back. Apparently she had a little scuffle while I was out of town and Mr. Spicy had missed the wound when he checked her. I went into full-on protective momma meets ex-vet tech mode. Wanting to avoid the vet (just not ready to go back yet) - I hit the store and loaded up on supplies. Some predictable ones: betadine, triple antibiotic ointment, cotton balls. Some not so predictable ones: A book on Homeopathic pet care, a homeopathic remedy for trauma and injuries, herbal healing salve, tea tree oil, vitamin C, and cod liver oil. (and this is why I am the spicy sister) I am dangerous in a natural foods store - watch out! But, my regimen is working really well. In about 24 hours the wound has healed up about 50% and shows no signs of infection. It is giving my over-active nurturing side something to focus on, and she seems to enjoy the extra attention she is getting. Win win.

Speaking of being out of town - I left last Wednesday night to go see my grandmother. I took the overnight train. Which I really don't mind at all, in fact I kind of enjoy the solitary time with my I.pod and my thoughts. It was a hard trip, as we had just said good-bye to Mr. Jones that same day. But the time alone was really good. Once there, I stayed with my very hip 21 year old cousin and her boyfriend - who taught me to knit. Yes, her boyfriend taught me to knit. He's just that cool. I have wanted to learn for a long time, and it was a great creative outlet to focus on - especially on the train ride home. And the two of them? Truly adorable.

It was really good seeing my family. I was pretty sad and out of it most of the trip. But it was ok, because everyone there is dealing with their own stuff as well - so I didn't have to hide it, but I wasn't asked to talk about it either, which was perfect. And seeing my grandmother was really really good. I am so glad I went to visit her. She made us laugh - she told raunchy stories about her apparently "wild" past and she was tender and vulnerable at times in ways I have never seen her. At one point she hugged me in this way that a child hugs you, just collapsing into your arms - and my heart just broke for her. It is so hard for her right now. She is aware that she isn't her "normal" self - she knows she has had a stroke and it is affecting her. She gets frustrated when she can't think of or say the right words, you can tell she knows in her mind what they are, but they just aren't coming out. She is deeply resentful of the restrictions placed upon her in her current facility - no smoking, no TV in her room, no cell phone, no going outside. She is a fierce and independent woman who has had to give up most of what brings her joy - being told "no" so many times each day must be absolutely infuriating. Thankfully, my aunt who lives there is a powerful and compassionate advocate for her. She is working very hard to get her moved to a better place with more freedom and more of what she is used to. Especially, (as she is quick to remind us) the ability to smoke again.

She was doing really well the days I was there, and I am so grateful for that time with her. I was always visiting her with an entourage of other family members (my gramma is like the rock-star of the place) - children included, and it was really amazing to watch her interact with all of us. Especially the kids. She just adored them and loved on them completely. She even shared her chocolate brownie ice cream with them - now that is love.

And I loved seeing the kids too - my youngest cousin who is 9, my niece (and goddaughter) who is 8, and my nephew who is 3. There is just nothing that makes me smile and touches my heart more than these kiddos. They just continually amaze me. I could fill a whole separate entry up just with stories about how incredibly awesome all three of them are. Maybe I will some day.

Actually, there are so many stories I want to share here about my time with my family - but in the interest of length, suffice it to say that I have a really crazy and wonderful family and I am really grateful for every one of them. I am glad I belong to them.

Soooo - last but not least, also last Wednesday, I started my period. Or rather it started on its own, I don't think I had anything to do with it starting - at least not willfully. Which means two things. First - as Mr. Spicy sadly pointed out - we are all through with our chances to get pregnant on our own, that was our last chance. From here on out it is "go time". Second - as I just mentioned - it is "go" time. I started my BCPs (birth control pills) on Friday night. I will be on those for 16 days. I start Lupron on Tuesday, and I have my Laminaria placement on Wednesday. It is about to get really real here, very soon. We are really gonna do this. I could be pregnant by this time next month. Wow.

My counselor and I talked today about how the grieving I am doing, the loss I am experiencing - it is carving out a place in me, opening me up. Both of us were actually afraid to even say that we hope that the space that is being carved out, is for something very very good to come. Like, oh I don't know....a baby?

All I can say for sure is that the space is being carved. I am being opened up. And it hurts.

But I hope, oh I hope - that it will soon be filled with someone really really good.

I feel like I am 13 again...

Waiting by the phone.

I am frantically checking email and my phone constantly to see if my stalkee the woman who interviewed me has contacted me about the summer or spring break positions. So far...nuttin'.

She said she would make a decision early this week. It is now mid-week. I am thinking this is not a good sign.

I really want this job. And I REALLY don't want to have to apply, interview, or subject myself to the stress of searching for another job. Can't just ONE thing go as planned? Just one thing. Please.

I really cannot handle one more drop of stress at this moment, it has been a monumentally stressful week. If you see me in the next few days, please try not to be distracted by my eye twitching and nervous tics.

Completely unrelated question.... When the kiddos come along, is it no longer acceptable to sleep on the couch because you are throwing a giant tantrum fighting with your husband?

Just wondering....

Feeling out of touch...

I just met with a dear friend tonight and as I relayed all that has gone on in the last 6 days, I realized I wasn't feeling much about any of it. It is as if I have just maxed out.

I remember feeling really good and then a little freaked out, and then really good again after Friday's appointment. I remember feeling relieved and excited to be moving forward with IVF soon. Then, as I finalized the decision to leave my job, I remember feeling nervous, scared, and a little sad - but also really free and hopeful. And when I heard about Grandma....I remember feeling scared and feeling an urgency to get out there as soon as I can. Then, yesterday happened - and the combined effect of it all seem to have left me really jumbled. So much so that I can't seem to find what I feel about much of anything at the moment.

I feel manic - like I just drank 18 cups of Turkish coffee. I know that is the adrenaline, the stress hormones, my body going into "fight or flight" mode as a result of the recent stress cocktail I just slammed. I also feel numb and emotionless. My default right now is to laugh or be funny - which is weird, this isn't my usual way of dealing with stress. I also find myself just completely spaced out and tuned out to everything around me - this I am used to.

None of it I like.

I know underneath there are some pretty big and maybe even confusing emotions brewing and I know they will have to come out soon. I want them to. I don't like feeling like this. Good thing I have counseling on Monday. I know I am in very deep need of rest, of time away, of time to breathe and space enough to feel safe to let it all come to the surface. I know I need to start this process now - even in small increments. I need to make the space to let those parts of me feel whatever it is they need to feel right now - no judgment.

I think also what is going on is that I felt so good this past weekend, so sure about moving forward with IVF, and quitting my job. I felt free for the first time in a long time. I felt excited. I felt like myself. I felt HAPPY. And, I think when everything else hit, well, part of me didn't want to let it in - part of me wants desperately to keep holding on to that great, incredible feeling that I had before. So I feel like I am artificially trying to stay in that place, even though the rest of me is trying to face the here and now. I am divided. It has just been so long since I felt *that good* - it is hard to part with it so quickly. It is hard to face what is in front of me. The reality of what is happening with my family, the reality of what is happening to my coworkers and to the organization that I have given over 2 years of dedicated service and passionate work to - the reality of it all.

So - here is my first step....

It is ok to feel all of this. There is enough room for it. I can make enough room for it. I can feel this. I don't have to be ok right now. I don't have to be in crisis to just not be "ok" for awhile. I am allowed to rest and to breathe, no matter what it is that is causing me distress.

Maybe I am not totally ok right now. Maybe not.

But that will be ok too.

30 days, 30 nights....

So. I gave my 30 day notice at my job today. That would be the 30 day notice of my resignation, that is. And yes, we have planned this for a while - in fact, it was a large part of the inspiration for the post where I whined incessantly about our money issues. Because the smartest thing to do when you are worried about a large financial cost looming in your very near future is to, of course, quit your job. Yep.

Ahem. Yep. I did it. It's done. So done. Wow.

I am still reeling a bit, so I am having a hard time writing about it.

I know it is good. It is good. It will be good.

But it is also completely crazy. Completely, utterly, "72 hour hold" crazy.

And hopeful. Let's not forget it is hopeful. I am hopeful.

I am going into that mode you go into when you are contemplating breaking up with a boyfriend who you know you have no future with, but dammit if he didn't just bring you some flowers tonight? So, they were picked from your own front yard....well, it's the thought that counts, right? That mode where you are trying to hold onto those last three things you really adore about him and will honestly miss...and afraid that even though it is clearly not going to work between the two of you...What if you never find anyone else, ever again? - And what if you die a horrible lonely death from falling in the shower because you were tripped by one of your 58 cats? And what if no one is there to help you? And what if you haven't shaved in weeks??...and, and??
You get the idea.

So yeah, I am already mourning a little what I will miss about my job. The top three things I will miss are: the kids, the kids, and the kids.... These kids I get to work with? They are so inspiring. They rock. Really. Often I just sit there and listen to them or watch them, and I think how they really have so much going for them, how so many are just so incredibly insightful, and honest, and real. They are true survivors, in every sense of the word. What always amazes me is that spark of innocence and hope and the will to thrive that is still burning in them, even after they have been through incredible traumas and tragedies. It gives me faith in humanity, in our ability to heal and transform, in our deep goodness and light, in our desire to be whole.

But, at the same time, I am moving on for me. (and I can't begin to explain how selfish I feel just writing that) I am moving on for my family. I am moving on as an act of faith. Faith that there is something more for me. Faith that I will have nothing left to give these children or any others if I stay here much longer. Faith that I will have many many opportunities to give again, and to give even more. Faith that if I follow my heart and I dream big the entire universe will come alongside me to help me.

What I do know is this: Yesterday I was driving, and as the mountains rose in all of their spectacular glory before me, I realized I was smiling. I was smiling with my whole heart. I recognized this feeling I had not felt in quite a long while, the feeling that there is some golden string extending from my heart, going forward into the space before me - I cannot see where it ends but I know it is pulling me towards something good.

For the first time in a long time,

I was not only aware of the thread,

but I felt free,

completely free,

to follow it.