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Getting “There”

Lately I’ve been in one of those fogs… where you are more keenly aware of your mind and way more “inside yourself” than anything else.  And one thing that I keep coming back to – well, I figured I might as well share it with you guys.  That’s what blogs are for, right?

You know how growing up… for most people there’s a moment where we see someone (most likely a parent) doing something that they just do not love?  They seem so miserable or robot-like.  Like a zombie just going through the motions, day in and day out, because they have to.  And we swear to ourselves that we won’t be like that.  We won’t let ourselves just become a statistic… another drone that just drudges through life.

And then one day, we wake up and we’re exactly that.

How did we get there?

The bigger question I’ve been asking myself lately is… how do we change that?

There must be a way, right?  People all over the place are doing what they love.  So there’s got to be a way to make that happen.

But how do you bridge the gap?  How do you get to the point where you aren’t just mindlessly pushing through each day, constantly counting down to the next weekend and you are actually enjoying what you do?  Most people spend well over 2000 hours a year at their job, and what a waste that is when it’s a job that we don’t love.

We heard people tell us all the time that we could do anything we put our minds to.  That we could be anything we wanted to be.  So how many people actually took that to heart and really made it happen?

What about you guys – do you like what you do?

To be clear, I am SUPER grateful for the job that I have and for all that it has afforded me.  I believe that the work I do makes a difference and that is something that’s really important to me.  Maybe this is less about my actual job, currently, and more about the stage of life that I’m in.  I don’t know… But I do want to be clear that I’m not ungrateful.

I just sometimes look back and think about how I got to where I am and wonder how the slightest change in direction could’ve landed me in a completely different place.  This isn’t really the focus of this post, though, so I’ll get back to that before I veer too far off course…

I’m just not someone who sees myself sitting at a desk. I’ve been doing this kind of work for 12 years, now, and I just don’t know if it’s right for me.  I want to work with my hands.  I want to be outside more.  I want… just something different.

Do you now anyone who’s made a complete career change at some point in their lives?  How did they do this?

Doing something like this would take a lot of faith and right now it just seems like nothing more than a fantasy.

I don’t mean to sound depressing or completely unhappy because I’m not.  I have a good life.  I’m a happy person and I’m not sure if I do a good job of conveying that through this blog, but it’s true.  I’m just not one to go more than an hour without having a smile on my face.  It’s just not who I am.

But even in the midst of that, I can’t help but wonder, sometimes, if this is really what I should be doing… if it’s where I should be.  This isn’t something that I just started feeling recently, but I’ve discussed it with Studly on quite a few occasions over the years.  And it just all comes back to one major point:  how would I even begin to make such a drastic career change?
Anywho – this is really just my trying to sort through some thoughts “out loud” so I’d love to hear from you.  Anything to add?  Is anyone else dealing with similar feelings?  Have any of you or someone you know gone through this and just taken a giant leap of faith?  I’d love to hear about it!



A Rock and A Hard Place

Moving to Texas has proven to be more challenging that we originally thought it would be.

We haven’t really been able to develop a network of friends, though that’s entirely because of our schedule and our own inactivity in getting involved in anything outside of work.  We haven’t explored much of the city and have stuck to most of the same areas we found and/or heard about when we first moved here.  We also ended up in a difficult financial situation just weeks after getting moved in to our new home – and I think this has really played a part in all of the things I’ve mentioned above.

But frankly, all of these difficulties have really paled in comparison to one major change that we’ve encountered since moving:  opening our home to Studly’s sister.


In my heart, I know that we did the right thing.  But my. stinking. goodness… I have said more times than I would like to admit that I am just done.  And honestly?  That makes me feel ugly.  I feel like an ugly, awful person.  I catch myself being so unkind in my thoughts.  I am not mean to her and I am not cruel or rude to her outwardly, but within myself – I am not being a good, grace-extending, loving, Christian person.

I’m now in this constant struggle between not letting her manipulate and take advantage of us and also not being unfair or unkind, or not extending grace to her.  I mean… she’s only 18 years old.  She just doesn’t know anything other than life in her home growing up – and she was always allowed to be disrespectful and manipulative and just get her way there.

So yeah.  It has NOT been easy.  It’s a very big source of stress for me, and often Studly as well.  It has shown us a lot, though… in our approach to people and in what would otherwise be much like an approach to parenting. In that sense – it’s been good for us.  It’s started a lot of conversations about various situations and how we seem to approach them from a different perspective and that’s been good for us.  But all in all, I’ve discovered that this was something we were not even remotely prepared for.

I think in most similar situations, any new roommate situation would be difficult, but not necessarily at this level.  Most of the time, people are appreciative and considerate of someone opening their home to them.  They are grateful, not to where they are constantly thanking them or groveling or anything of that sort, but at least enough to take extra care or to be more respectful of them and their home… their space altogether.  However, this has not been our experience thus far.  Not even a little bit.

We have gotten to the point where we are no longer interested in helping her out.  That may seem harsh, but frankly – she seeks help from her parents, her boyfriend (who lives back in her home state), and anyone else she can find, really.  It’s not as though she’s not getting help or advice when she needs it.

And to clarify, her “help” is not in anything other than situations she gets herself into – for example, she quit her job without having another one lined up because she didn’t like it, and so she stopped making money.  She waited (I kid you not) 2 months before applying anywhere.  2 months.  We had agreed to not expect her to chip in for bills until she found another job, and I honestly believe that to be a mistake.  She now had no reason to look.  She was living for free in a nice, large home.  She had nothing to pay for except for gas (which we later discovered wasn’t even a concern because her father was sending her gas cards), so why bother trying to change her situation?  She had free food, free internet, free cable… why work for anything?

She also recently rescued a kitten… and brought it home.  Now don’t get me wrong, I am all for rescuing animals, but we weren’t much a part of this discussion (read: she didn’t ask).  And we don’t do cats.  They are sweet and I don’t mind them, but Studly is allergic and we have a dog that is obsessed with them (read: loves to play with them and doesn’t understand why they don’t like him), and we just do NOT do cat litter in this house.  (Sidetone: hats off to those of you who do… I just cannot stand the smell and the way I feel like it changes the smell of a house)  But she shows up at home with a kitten in her coat anyway, as though it’s her world and we’re just living in it.  And what’s frustrating are all the lies – she told Studly that she found it in a tree.  She later told me some story about finding it in a dumpster behind her work.  Does she not think we ever talk to each other?

Apparently not, because she also kept texting Studly on different occasions and asking him if she could keep the cat. “It’s so cuddly” or “It’s so little” or “It’s so sweet”… no, no, and no.  The girl never cleans her bathroom to begin with (the only 1 of 2 house chores she’s been asked to do… the bathroom that SHE uses, mind you… and she expects us to be okay with her having a cat in that mess?  That toilet was lined with black stuff because she didn’t clean it even ONCE after moving in (although she was given everything she needed to do so), and she thinks that having a cat seems like something that makes sense?!  Goodness… Studly told her that pets can be expensive and to “take it from us”, based on what had just happened with the Pup a couple of months ago (*coughninethousanddollarvetbillcough*), and that her life was too transient right now for a pet.  She didn’t seem able to argue those points, so the requests to keep the kitten finally stopped (but I later learned she kept asking her parents what she could say/do to keep it and if they would take it until she got her own place).

I asked her what her plan was with the cat and she said she was going to put it in a box in the bathroom she uses and contact shelters in the morning (found out later that this didn’t happen… she let her wonder her carpeted room and it had several accidents, which she swears never happened, but I SAW them when I went in to feed the cat after she stayed out stupid late again, one night – the thing is maybe 4-5 weeks old, mind you… it can’t go 12 hours without food or water, so ust add that to the long list of proof that she can’t be responsible).

She told me, when I asked the next day, that none of the local shelters are taking any cats and that even if they were, they charge money to drop of animals, which she doesn’t have.  (queue sympathy tears… see?  I’m telling you I’m not very patient with her in my heart).  I started contacting shelters on my own and found that quite a few would actually take her in and foster her.  So when she kept telling me that no one was contacting her back or no one would take the kitten, I just set it up.  I wouldn’t normally take care of anything for her, because I feel like she gets too much of that with her parents, but I was NOT going to let her keep doing this and stretching things out just to keep the cat in our house… it was not going to play out like that.  No ma’am.

I worked with on organization to finalize a foster for the kitty and I told her it would cost $90 for them to take in the kitten (to get its shots and medicine it would probably need, since it was abandoned so young, and eventually get her spayed), and that she needed to coordinate the drop-off with the foster lady.  She told me she didn’t have the money and it was too much… though I’m not sure what she planned to accomplish with this point.  I told her that of all the places that I contacted, they all cost anywhere from $90 – $120 and that’s because it would cost a LOT more than even that to provide initial care for the cat.  When she kept insisted that she didn’t have the money, Studly and I told her that we could loan it to her, but that it needed to be paid back because our budget was already set and it was pretty tight (remember the financial situations I mentioned above? Yeah… so this was 100% true).

Conveniently, after this point, she told me that she looked at her bank account and was able to “make it work” and would be meeting the person from the organization the next day.  So… I have to be pushy and draw a hard-line and then suddenly things conveniently work out?  I am so tired of being the bad guy.

Anywho – those are two very silly little stories.  I could go on and on, though, to prove the point.  Upon moving in, she put her stuff all over the pace, instead of what normal people do and keeping it in her spaces – medicine went into Studly and I’s medicine cabinet in the kitchen (she moved our stuff to fit it in… I can never get anything out without knocking stuff out onto the floor, now… there is NOT room).  She moved our stuff and created herself a shelf in the pantry (umm… make yourself at home?).  She constantly leaves boxes and recyclable stuff around the kitchen instead of opening the garage door and putting it in the bin like we all do.  She won’t put the clean dishes away (the only other of her 2 house chores she’s expected to complete) until I have to ask her to, which results in dishes piling up because I REFUSE to be her mother and don’t feel like I should have to ask her when she knows good and well that they are clean (she will take dishes out of the dishwasher, use them, then set them dirty on the counter and walk away like nothing’s wrong).  She has gone back home to visit her boyfriend (and barely seen her parents or brothers) twice since moving here in August (and all before Christmas)… and each time, I’ve gone in to check the status of that bathroom and it was disgusting, people.  *gag

You know what?  I feel like you really need to understand this level of gross… so be warned, the pictures are ridiculous:

Please note the nastiness of that toilet, as well as the piling trash (one overflowing bag she just didn’t take out at all, instead of her usual dumping it by our kitchen garbage and leaving it there for US to deal with or the dog to get into, because… you know…  we get such joy out of touching her gross bathroom trash)… and then there’s the nasty dirty floor.

Again… ???  And this awkward camera angle was in an attempt to NOT take include the pile of bras and underwear that is sitting just around the corner to the right.  Also, please note the presence of the toilet brush sitting in the sink area… it was still wrapped in plastic from when it was purchase by her mother after she first moved in.  Further evidence that the toilet had never once been even remotely cleaned from that point until this picture – the weekend after of Thanksgiving.  And the sink area is FULL of crap – trash, used paper products, makeup caked inside the sink, fast food trash and cups, etc.

And I’m sure you’re asking yourself – why does she even have these pictures?  Well, I’m glad you asked.

You see, my mother-in-law and I have a good relationship.  And she was telling me that while my sister-in-law was back in town there over Thanksgiving and she finally got a chance to see her (by taking her to lunch (because until she offered to do that she was conveniently ‘too busy’ or something like that… funny how things suddenly changed, huh?), my ever so kind SIL was telling her all kinds of stories… one of which was apparently that my house was disgusting and never clean, and this was accompanied by stories of us treating her like a live-in maid, not letting her use an empty closet to store her stuff, and telling her that she should just not bother coming home at night.  Umm… ‘scuse me?

So I took these pictures of HER bathroom (spared her the explosion that went off in her bedroom) and sent them to her mother.  I said something like “So our house is unbearably messy?  Really?!  Because my bathroom and kitchen are currently perfectly clean and this is her bathroom…” And her mother didn’t even doubt me, because we’re adults and have no reason to lie to each other, but then this was just icing on the cake.  She’s been to my house many times.  I am not one of those people to constantly clean and scrub things.  Things do have a place and I prefer that they be in them, but in all truth, we were still going through boxes, little by little… you know the ones full of just the most random stuff that you can’t figure out what to do with or if you should even keep it?  Yeah.  Like 4 of those boxes, which… big frikkin deal.  And they weren’t anywhere near my SIL’s spaces anyway, and in no way could have effected her.  Beyond that, anytime there were dishes around the kitchen, that would be a direct result of her not putting the clean ones away so that I could wash them.  And I’m not even remotely sure where any other level of “unclean” could have come from, considering I’m a nazi about wiping down counters and tables (it’s my “thing”… don’t judge me).  But as with everything else she mentioned, I’m not the slightest bit unsure that she didn’t just pull it out of her butt.

For whatever reason, she thought it would gain her some level of sympathy to tell her these things.  And lucky for me, I found out later on that she told her grandmother the same things, as well as aunts and uncles at Thanksgiving dinner.  Mother. Of. Pearl.  What is WRONG with this girl?!  What more does she NEED??  Where does ANY of this even come from?

Why the heck wouldn’t I let her use a completely empty hall closet that’s right outside of her door?  (we have 4 of those, mind you… 4 just on that level of the house. We are NOT hurting for storage.)  And other than Studly asking her to be home by 11 during the week so that our security system doesn’t wake us up in the middle of the night with her coming and going and us having work the next day, why would there even be a remote conversation about what she did with her time?  He did tell her “we aren’t your parents, and if you’d rather stay somewhere else at night… that’s your prerogative. You don’t need to ask or tell us that ahead of time. You’re an adult.” But how she could innocently misconstrue that as ME telling her to not bother coming home at night… I have no idea.

So THIS is what we are dealing with.  This level of inconsideration.  This measure of ungratefulness.  I don’t have any illusions that she could possibly understand what we’ve given up for her to live with us… the way that this has completely turned our world around and changed everything about home life for us.  She can’t possibly understand that because she’s 18.  She’s been handed everything in her life.  And sometimes I feel like we’ve just perpetuated that same spoiling expectation.  So I am done.

I’m really struggling with all of this, to be honest (if you can’t already tell).  It’s effected me way more than I ever anticipated it would.  Then again, I wasn’t even remotely prepared for things being like this.  I assumed there’d be mutual respect and we’d give each other space (which is a whole ‘nother issue I haven’t even addressed here) and that would be that.  Welp… I was wrong.  Way wrong.

We committed to having her live here for a year while she gets residency in the state of Texas so that she can go to the school she wants up north and get in-state tuition. To date, she still has not even gotten her license changed.  She hasn’t even applied to school.  She did, however, convince her parents to get her into another brand new leased car… while she still didn’t have a job.

The level of frustration is high.  And I’m just at a loss.  Studly and I have discussions on her being a teenager and blah blah blah… but I can’t relate to that.  I was FAR from a perfect teenager (is that even a thing?), but I just can NOT relate to this level of disrespect and this inconsiderate nature.  I never said intentionally hurtful things to people or told my mother I’d never speak to her again because I didn’t get what I wanted from her.  I didn’t keep my room very clean, but it was just clothes lying around… there was no trash all over my room and my bathroom (which was shared with my sisters) was NEVER that disgusting.  I had to start supporting myself at 17 because of our financial situation, and I did so.  I didn’t ask my parents for money.  I didn’t ask them to co-sign on a car loan with me because I didn’t have credit, much LESS expect them to get me a brand new lease.  I was independent and self-sufficient and frankly, I don’t think my parents would have tolerated my being anything else.  So I just have the hardest time wrapping my brain around that kind of behavior.

And her coming in to the house at 3 or sometimes almost 4 in the morning several times a week… what in the world?!  Nothing good happens after midnight.  And what upsets me the most is that I find myself not caring what she’s doing or who she’s with.    But shouldn’t I?  I may not be her mother, and that’s how it should be, but shouldn’t I still care about her?  She’s been doing this thing off and on since she moved here where she’ll make a friend in some random place (Target for example) and then go hang out with them and be out stupid late the next couple of nights.  Which is completely her prerogative (except that it goes against something we laid down when she first moved in), but… she doesn’t even know these people.  They could be ANYthing and she’s out with them Lord knows where until ridiculously late.  Shouldn’t I be concerned with that… just as a human being?

So this is my struggle.  I’m seeing sides of myself that I don’t like.  I’m uglier then I ever want to admit out loud.  It’s making me more and more cold and indifferent to her because I feel like I’m burnt out.  She could care less how anything she does affects anyone around her… she’s always the victim, never apologizes, and nothing matters except for how something effects her.  And I can’t wrap my mind around that kind of selfishness.  So instead, I start to become someone who I do NOT want to be.

I don’t want to be this person.

I want to be hospitable.  I want to be kind.  I want to be loving, even when people aren’t considerate or respectful.  And this is all showing me that I’m not very good at that.  I thought I was getting better at it, but maybe I was just fooling myself.

I suck.

I could try to explain it away… I could tell myself “it’s because she’s doing it over and over again…” or “normal adults don’t act this way, it’s not the same…” but does any of that matter?  No.  It doesn’t.

So I sit here in this difficult place… the tight space between what seems like two giant, unmovable rocks.  And I constantly struggle to find the balance between extending grace and not letting her take advantage of us.

I’ve always been a big fan of a saying that I heard (and I can’t for the life of me remember who said it) that goes something like this:  People will only ever treat you the way that you let them treat you.  I believe that is SO so true.  But how do I change how I let her treat us without being harsh or unkind or unloving?  How do I do this while still extending grace?

I feel stuck.

I could really use your prayers… or well wishes or good vibes, if you’re not the praying type.   I want to REEK of love and grace, but don’t want to be a pushover or allow us to be used and disrespected.  I am certainly learning a lot about myself, but not much of it has been good.  And I seriously want to change that, but am struggling to find the right direction… and for now I just find myself praying the same prayer, over and over, asking for patience and the ability to extend grace nonetheless.

Anyone else feeling like they’re in a really tough spot these days?


Bonus Information

For those of you reading, consider this your warning – this post 100% falls into the category of TMI (too much information) and you will read and learn things that may be out of your comfort zone.

If you have no interest in hearing about pains and processes of the female body and in a detailed fashion, then do NOT… I repeat DO NOT read one.

And with that warning… here we go:

I know that I’ve been MIA.  Sorry for that!  It’s really been a rough 6 weeks.  Basically, I’ve had a 6-week long period.  But more specifically – I started a period on 21 September.  It started a little light and then about 3 days in got to a more average/medium, typical flow.  Then it lasted like this into week 2.  Then into week 3.  And then I started off week 4 and was already SO done, as I’m sure you could imagine.

But it got worse.  It was not longer an average/medium flow, but ramped up to chaos level torture.  I started clotting really terribly.  Not smaller than golf-ball sized, and sometimes up near tennis-ball sized.  I had clotting contractions because my body couldn’t easily pass them at that size, so I literally felt them coming on, had to make myself breathe through them, and then deal with the “aftermath” when it was over.

Boy oh boy did that make things with work difficult, too.  Not to mention my inability to sleep through the night without getting up at least twice.  And one night I even had to change pants and underwear twice… just in one night!  Because there was no possible way to get from my bed to the bathroom in time once I was awaken in such a state of “already too late”… it was not cool (to put things lightly).

So after that night (which happened week 4, night 4), I had to call out of work.  AND I finally called my old doctor from when we lived on the East Coast.  I hadn’t yet gotten in with a new GYN, so it was really my only option besides maybe going to the ER, which felt like a less than awesome idea.  I left a message with one of the nurses who informed me that my old doctor was actually out of the office, but she said she’d send him a note and have one of the other doctors review things and get back to me.  About 2 hours later, I had a call back and a prescription was put in to my local pharmacy for Megestrel (essentially a high dose progesterone) to help stop the bleeding and clotting.

So I trudged out of the house in my pjs to pick up the meds and went back home.  Thankfully making it without incident.

There was a slightly awkward moment when the pharmacists at our new pharmacy wanted to chat since we were new to the pharmacy.  He was very nice and I appreciated his wanting to make sure we felt like we weren’t just another piece of paper in his stack… But he did ask a very awkward question (though I later found out why).  So he introduced himself, asked where we were from (turns out he, too, was from Maryland), and then said something along the lines of “So this medication is given for quite a few different things.  Why was it prescribed for you?”

Queue my fumbling, awkward stare.  Umm… “Uh… I’m having some… bleeding… issues?”

He quickly picked up on the awkwardness and moved on.  And just a few moments later I was well on my way home to take the first dose.  As I took the meds out of the bag to take the first dose, I realized why he’d asked me about the reason for it being prescribed.  It’s apparently typically prescribed for women struggling with breast cancer and/or uterine cancers. Ahah.  Now it all made sense.

Anywho – I took the meds for 5 days, and the bleeding/clotting immediately slowed down after the first dose, and stopped completely by the second.  Thank the good LORD!  Finally… sweet relief.

So I was able to breathe again.  Sleep through the night again.  Get through meetings at work again without having to excuse myself in the middle and run out to the bathroom.  Life was feeling pretty awesome in the normal day-to-day grind.

I had a work trip planned the next Friday (call it the end of week 5 for reference) and then…. it happened again.

While on my work trip (thankfully back in Maryland where there was at least SOME familiarity), It started up again.  So on what we’ll call Week 6, day 1… it came back.  WITH a vengeance.  The Day before I was already cramping something fierce, but it was manageable.  Just some non-fun cramps.  Nothing major.  So I started out right into an average/medium flow on what I call week 6, Day 1.  Then it got worse each day.  Again.

Clotting contractions and fun results came shortly after the restart.  On day 2 I was heavy and uncomfortable.  Day 3, Clotting and contractions were back, though the clotting size wasn’t all the way where it had been before… thankfully!  But then with each day it to worse and worse.  Well on its way to where I had been just a week and a half before.  And I was already unable to sit through meetings all the way.  And what made that even worse was that these were meetings that I had set up myself and half of them were meetings that I was leading.  So talk about awkward and terrible timing!  It’s never easy to deal with something like this, but being away from home, working a very very busy, packed-full schedule, and living out of a hotel just made things even more stellar (where’s the sarcasm font when you need it?  *sigh).

So on week 6, day 5, I finally called my old doctor to see if they could possibly fit me in.  They left me a message on my cell later that day and said they’d fit me in the next morning at 0800.  Thank goodness I have a doctor who cares and worked with me like a partner.  He had no room, but he MADE room based on the situation.

I went in that next morning.  They did a transvaginal sonogram and we chatted about everything.  While performing the soon, he informed me that quite a bit of clots in the lining, just sitting there waiting to be passed.  “That’ll be fun” he said.  Did I mention I love my doctor?  Because I really really do.  He also brought up the contractions I hadn’t even told him about yet.  Due to their size and how long I’ve already been on my cycle… he confirmed that they really were contractions because of my cervix having to dilate and then close back up in order to allow these clots to pass through.  Fun times.  smh

He finished up the soon after measuring my ovaries and noting the cysts (which I always have, so no biggie, really).  Right ovary was pretty typical with quite a few cysts chilling there.  And my left ovary had at least one “good sized” cyst among the others, which wasn’t a surprise since I had already felt that bad boy anyway.  Just another day in the life of someone with PCOS, I suppose.  So he talked to me about ordering some blood work, and then asked the question that I knew would be coming.

I had only skipped one month of a period – which for me is extreme commonplace and never surprising, but even after having skipped up to 6 months in the past I have NEVER ever had this heavy or long of a period.  Then came the question – “When you skipped that cycle, did you ever take a pregnancy test?”

Yes.  I took two.  Call it force of habit a this point, but I always know that it’s the first question I’ll be asked when I have to call the GYN about any variation to a normal cycle.  Even a variation from a “normal for me” cycle.  So I know to take them when I’ve skipped a period.  Then I typically wait almost a week and take another if it still hasn’t come.  Because, if for no other reason, I will be asked when I mention skipping the period.

The doc took a beat.  Didn’t immediately respond.  So I did.  “So of course something like this was me wondering in the back of my mind if somehow maybe I was pregnant and didn’t know it… and that this is something to do with something like that.”

He looked at me with kind eyes.  “We definitely think about that, too.  Of course we hope that this isn’t the case, but if it is, we’ll want to know.”

I told him that I didn’t dwell on it or let myself obsess over the possibility, but it was definitely a thought floating around in there. I know so many people who think something like this and then go crazy over it.  Month after month even being a day late they obsess over whether or not this could be the month.  And I don’t blame them!  But I’ve worked really hard over the past 7 years not to let myself do that.  Some months it’s harder than others.  But I don’t want being a mother or getting pregnant to become an idol for me.  For us.  Studly and I check in with each other regularly to make sure we aren’t doing that.  Because that’s what can lead down the path of putting things before your relationship.  And that’s a very dangerous, very slippery slope.  But back to the topic at hand…

“Well, you are right to wonder.  But we will see what we can find out.  I’ll order an hcg along with your other blood work and we’ll start to figure some things out, hopefully.  And it’ll give us something to compare to in the next week or so if need be.  So we’ll get your new doctor set up and I’ll give you enough meds to make it until your appointment with him.”

So that’s that.  I went straight from his office to get the blood work done.  Then went to pic up my prescription and started on it right away.  Right now I’m at Week 7, day 1.  The meds haven’t worked as quickly this time, but they have slowed things a tiny bit and hopefully they will fully kick in soon.  I’d like to feel some level of normal again, if that’s possible.  I’m starting to forget what that feels like.

I’m currently sitting here in my hotel room, cramping, clotting, and not wanting to move much.  Only left today to go grab some lunch, and don’t plan to leave again until I have to eat something for dinner.  For some reason this seems to be the only hotel that has no information about room service in their rooms, but… that would’ve made things way to easy on me, right?  And who wants that.  *eyeroll

I’ll keep you guys posted, or at least those of you who want to be kept in the loop.  And thanks for understanding my absence.  Hopefully this’ll be over soon, there will be a *simple* reason of all of this, and it’ll end up not being anything pregnancy related. But if it is?  We’ll deal with it.  We’ll get through it and we’ll process as necessary.

In the interest of full-disclosure, I did have a moment as I was getting dressed after my appointment.  The emotion of possibilities started to hit me and I took a few deep breaths as the tears started to build up and burn my eyes.  I closed my eyes, and started to pray a little.  Because at the end of the day, regardless of what this all is or means, God gives and He takes away… and His is still Holy.  He has a plan and a purpose for me that is to prosper me and not to harm me.  It’s hard to see the first through the trees, but my God is loving.  And though any outcome of this could be painful for now, and maybe even for a long time, it’s still just one page or chapter in the story.  And a story is never about just one page or chapter.

I hope you’re all doing well.  I look forward to catching up on your stories while I’ve been MIA, but please stay patient with  me and I get there.  I’m still trying to be smart and not overdo it when I can help it (since I can’t help it with my work stuff while on this trip).

I love you all.


A Good Place

I know that I’ve already told you about my desire to be a mother and how it comes with it’s ups and downs.

Honestly? Right now, I’m in a good place.

We have a lot going on, right now – We are getting ready for a big (BIG) move. We are getting ready to finally sell the house that we are currently renting out. We are making some pretty big life changes, and that’s all good.

Maybe I’m just distracted by all that’s going on, but regardless… I’m good.

I know that it’ll happen in Gods perfect timing, and that timing will be WAY better than my own “now now now!” perspective. And I know that very day that passes means that I’ll appreciate the moment when it finally happens that much more.

I also know that the fact that we’re spending our time bettering hearts, our relationship, our health… It just puts us in an altogether better place for when it does finally happen and we do become parents.

There will absolutely be rough times. But right now… This is one of the good ones.

And I am eating it up as much as possible.

I promise to stay real with you. To share the tough times, just as I’m sharing the good ones (but probably with more detail).

In the meantime, I’m praying for those of you who are still waiting on your littles, like we are. I’m praying for those of you who aren’t at a point yet where you want littles. And I’m praying for those of you who don’t ever plan to have littles of your own and are good with just being you. Whichever stage you’re in, you are loved and you are valued.

Life is way too crazy to go it alone, so I’m glad you’ve chosen to share it with me. *Hugs


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