Saturday, November 21, 2015

I Hate Thursdays

"Hey Mrs. Suders, why haven't you finished grading our projects yet?"

I spent all of my planning time sitting at my desk yesterday crying because even though it's been three months since my miscarriage, I am still sucker punched with grief at the most inopportune times. All I can think about when you guys aren't in the room with me is how I should be leaving school early to go to a doctor's appointment or to visit Lila's grave. The flowers are probably dead and rotting... 

"I don't know. Sorry. I'll get them done, guys..."

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Thursdays used to be my favorite days. This past summer, I eagerly awaited Thursdays  because they meant another week of pregnancy had passed successfully! I couldn't wait to see what new things the baby growing inside of me could do- bend elbows, swim around, have a heartbeat. I couldn't wait to watch the little "What to Expect" videos about our baby's development, head shaking with awe and heart full to the brim, hand absently tracing my belly button (since I'd already taken out my navel ring in anticipation of my stomach ballooning to watermelon size).

I guess you can guess that I hate most Thursdays now. This past one would've been 24 weeks.


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Sometimes I don't cry at all.
Sometimes I cry snot and shower water and black mascara.
All the time, no matter what, I miss the baby I never met.

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My AP students recently had to write an essay about fear. Some of their fears were typical: public speaking, death, failure, the dark, snakes. Some were unique: big dogs, getting lost, falling into the oven and getting burned.

My absolute biggest fear right now is never being able to get pregnant again. My next biggest fear is getting pregnant but losing another baby. My final fear is walking too close to the road and falling into the street and getting my head run over by a car. I'm not sure which is most likely to happen.

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This blog entry reflects me, who I am and what I'm feeling (it's cool how writing can do that).  My thoughts are kernels in an air popper, bouncing around noisily,  some exploding into thoughts that land on this page (screen...blog...whatever). My thoughts are red Starbucks cups, blank and politically incorrect (to some). My thoughts are mostly inside of me, and I guess I hope that getting them out will help me, help you, help the world, or something.

My thoughts let me know grieving is different for everyone. And that's ok. It's not always linear. It's not neat. It's not checkboxes and lists. It's messy, it's ugly, it's wadded tissues and screaming into a pillow and brushing off stupid advice and hoping you don't forget why you're so sad in the first place and feeling guilty for the days when you feel ok but also really wanting to feel ok because it would mean everything was the way it should be in the world.






Thursday, October 15, 2015

One in Four: Remembering Our Babies

I'm not sure where to start.

I could start by sharing all the things that have made me cry:
*Diving after a volleyball because, "I shouldn't be able to dive; I'm supposed to be pregnant right now."
*Brushing my teeth without gagging or throwing up because, again, it's a reminder that I have no more morning sickness, no more heartburn, no more nausea...because I'm not pregnant anymore.
*Seeing a young mom play with her baby at Target, tickling tiny toes to keep the sweet little one from fussing too much
*The phone call from a former player, who was sobbing so hard I truly could barely understand her. When she told me I would've been a "kick ass mom," I lost my composure and started sobbing along with her.
"We brought you Olaf. Because he makes everyone smile." - Former volleyball players



I could start by sharing all the things that have brought peace and comfort:
*Every Facebook message or text or conversation where some of YOU reached out to me and said, "You're not alone. I've been there too. I am so, so sorry."
*Every hug, even from those of you I don't know well, or those who are not huggers. Thank you.
* Every card, Edible Arrangement, bouquet of flowers, gift card, or other gift.
*Sponsoring a Compassion child whose birthday is March 10th, Lila's due date.
*Teaching. Being with my students all day gives me a sense of purpose and makes me feel like I am doing something good in the world.
* Attending a memorial service for all the babies who were lost within the past couple of months.
Thank you, Bliley Funeral Home, for honoring our babies with a beautiful ceremony.



I could start by sharing facts and statistics about miscarriage, ones I didn't know until I went through it.
*Approximately one in FOUR pregnancies end in loss. One in four, y'all. I am not alone, and that makes me so sad. I hate that this is so common.
*About half of early miscarriages are genetic. Something was wrong with the baby, and he/she would not have survived, so our bodies know this and miscarry.
* Some miscarriages are hormonal. Others are due to infection/illness. Still others are anatomical.
*Most women with one or two losses will go on to have a normal, healthy pregnancy and carry a baby full term.
* Being tested to find out WHY we miscarry usually isn't done until after the third miscarriage.

I don't really know where to start, though. My thoughts are too jumbled to sort into a cohesive and organized post. So I'll just copy and paste something I wrote for myself last week:

Sometimes you think you're fine and then you burst into tears because you can dive after a volleyball...and you shouldn't be able to because you SHOULD be 18 weeks pregnant but you're not... and you have to remind yourself that it is ok to cry, that crying isn't weak, and that it's ok to still feel sad for the baby you lost over a month ago,

Sometimes you see a pregnant woman and you smile because you're happy that there is new life in the world. But sometimes you're angry because it's unfair that it's not you. But sometimes you're also sad because you think, "That should be me." And other times, you don't know what to think or feel because you're a little numb.


Sometimes you go to your baby's grave without telling anyone. You just go alone, your black flats crunching disrespectfully on the gravel road edged by flowers upon flowers upon flowers--some fake and some real but all blossoming with love--, all adorning unmarked graves that hold tiny babies. You know that inside those graves are little white caskets, some with three or four babies in them because the babies were small.


Your baby's grave is still piled high with angry red dirt, but sometimes, if you feel up to it, you examine other graves, ones flat as a pancake and covered with scraggly crab grass. A giraffe lies on its side, pink and dusty. An orange toy car is parked next to a blue pinwheel that isn't moving because the air is so still it feels like time is frozen.
 
Sometimes you think you're ready to try again. And sometimes you know you're not because you're terrified. What if you miscarry again? What if people think you're trying to replace the first baby you lost? What if you have trouble getting pregnant this time?

Today, October 15, 2015, my heart goes out to all of you mamas and daddies who have lost a baby. We will remember them wishing we could hold them and watch them grow up and longing for the day we will meet them in heaven. To all the sweet babies we have lost, to my own Lila Grace- we love you.

Sunday, September 27, 2015

My Forever Child

Please stop reading
1) if you think this post is for attention or sympathy; it is not,
2) if discussions of miscarriages are triggering for you, or
3) if you think discussions of miscarriages should be private and not public.

If you continue reading, please
1) keep and open mind and heart,
2) say a quick prayer for grieving mothers and fathers everywhere,
3) hug and kiss your own kids extra hard today,
4) know that if you are pregnant, know that I am not jealous...I smile when I see you and am truly happy for you and your unborn child,
5) know that if you see me in person, there is no need to tiptoe around me...just treat me normally...I need normalcy in my life; so if you say you're sorry for my loss and then move on quickly in the conversation, I am ok with that; if you have questions, I am ok answering those, too :) Even better would be a good knock knock joke ;) Seriously, though. I am in a place where I can talk about this.
and finally... 
4) please...take a minute to count your blessings and express thankfulness for them. Go hug your baby or kiss your spouse or text your parents or post a funny link on your sibling's Facebook wall. Let them know you love them and are thankful for them. 

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I have prayed and thought about whether to write this. As I type this, in the wee hours of the morning on August 29th, 2015, with a purring cat on my lap, alternating between typing and curling up in a ball on the floor sobbing, I am truly not sure when or if I will share this with the world or if I will just write to process my own feelings. I like to grieve in private, and I like to be "tough."

However, I assure you...my sincere and earnest prayer is that maybe my story will bring some semblance of healing or comfort to someone somewhere. I also pray that God would be glorified and His love, faithfulness, and provision would be evident throughout this story.

Dear, sweet, Lila Grace,
July 16, 2015, was one of the happiest, most confusing, most overwhelming days of my life. There had been a few months of "not avoiding" pregnancy and a few months of no success (and tears and worry on my part that something was "wrong" with us, even though I knew the statistics were in our favor). Every period I had was met with dismay, and I told your dad, "I'm not sure if I can do this, emotionally, anymore." However, I decided to stop worrying and really turn it over to the Lord. I started praying 1 Samuel 1:27: "For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to him."

The month I started making that my prayer and not worrying, I didn't even realize when I was late. It was July 16th when I got not one, not two, but THREE strong positive pregnancy tests. Maybe overkill, but I was shocked it was finally positive- I've taken so many tests over the years, and they were all negative :) Your dad was surprised, too, but we were elated and immediately began planning your future. You were supposed to arrive on March 10, 2016, a date that will forever be so bittersweet for us. Your dad obviously wanted to name you either Luke or Leia, and he wouldn't have complained about putting light sabers in your nursery, either. On the other hand, I often daydreamed about which classic books I could use as inspiration for your name or nursery. The important thing for you to know, sweet Lila, is that you are and were loved, and you were SO very wanted. You were not an accident, and we were thrilled for the challenge and blessing of being your parents. It is important to me that you know that you were wanted and welcome and anticipated with much joy.

If you'd been able to stay on earth with us, you'd know that your mom likes to do everything by the rules and is a planner and, just maybe sometimes, can be a bit of a control freak. I'd already read so many journal articles, blog posts, and even books about pregnancy and childbirth, and my bookshelf quickly filled with even more books (thank you, Amazon Prime) to read in preparation for your arrival. I knew I couldn't be a perfect mom, but I did want to be informed and make every decision I could to ensure you were healthy and well cared for. I created multiple Google Docs with research about everything from birth plans to cloth diapers to breastfeeding. I went on a birth center tour and took a class on birth choices, and I began visiting my chiropractor regularly again. I started researching prenatal yoga and La Leche League. I wanted to do as much right for you as I could.

I chose, personally, to forgo any first trimester ultrasounds. Transvaginal ultrasounds have a very slight risk of increasing miscarriage (according to some research I did). I am so glad I made this choice, because even though I never got to hear your heartbeat, I have peace that your dad and I did everything we believe was right for your well-being.

So you can imagine my excitement when your 12-week appointment FINALLY arrived! I was going to meet with a midwife. I was going to hear your heartbeat. I was going to share our beautiful pregnancy announcement pictures with the world and let EVERYONE know how excited we were to welcome you!

The joy we felt about being your parents, captured by Lindsey Martin Photography. 



I went to my appointment alone, by choice. I knew I wasn't having an ultrasound yet, so it wasn't a super big deal that your dad wasn't with me. After a great check-up with the midwife, she pulled out the doppler and said, "Now, I might not be able to hear the heartbeat if the baby is turned in a strange position. So no panicking if you don't hear it, ok?" I assured her I'm not a freaker-outer and that I'd be calm. After about ten minutes of searching, the doppler gliding all over my slick-with-ultrasound-gel stomach, we heard no heartbeat.

So my midwife said, "I'm not going to let you leave today without hearing the heartbeat because I know you must be a little nervous right now. I don't do ultrasounds, but there's another midwife here who does. Let me see if she'd be willing to take a peek for you."

That other midwife, Melanie, is an angel. She was a gift from God on this tragic Thursday. She couldn't find a heartbeat either, but she said, "I'm kind of new working with this machine, so let me call the perinatal office next door and see if they have someone available who can check for you."

I'll be completely honest- by this point, I was mentally preparing myself for the worst. I was praying fervently to see a strong flicker on the screen, but I was also praying for the ability to stay calm and rational, if necessary. I saw you on the screen, small and still, not swimming around like I knew you should've been doing, not moving at all- so tiny, so human, so perfect.

Needless to say, the perinatal doctor couldn't find anything. I kept glancing over at Melanie the midwife, who accompanied me to the perinatal doctor, and I could tell my her stoic face that things weren't looking good. And even more worrisome was the measurement I saw on the screen: 9 weeks, 2 days. You were supposed to be at least 11 weeks, 5 days. Based on what I'd read about, I pretty much knew then it was what they call a "missed miscarriage."

Finally, the perinatal doctor delivered those devestating words, kindly and honestly, "I'm afraid I have some bad news: the baby is dead. There is no heartbeat, and it is measuring about two weeks too small. There is no way to know if the heart stopped beating two weeks ago or two days ago. I am sorry for your loss."

I thanked him, numbly and quietly, head spinning, reality not sinking in yet, and Melanie walked me back to her office. From there, I called your dad. That was the straw that broke my back. Having to tell your daddy, my high school sweetheart, that we'd lost you...hearing his voice...the tears I'd been so resolutely holding back were stronger than I was, and I cried. After talking to your dad, I made a plan with Melanie. We chose to have a D&C procedure (basically, it was described to me as all the "pregnancy" things being removed from my body and my uterine lining being scraped out). As much as I like to avoid procedures and let my body do what it does naturally, I knew the emotional turmoil of having you inside of me for one or possibly two more weeks would be too great and wouldn't allow me to start the grieving process.

I won't go into details about that procedure, but I have to take a moment to emphasize how utterly WONDERFUL the medical staff at St. Francis is. All my nurses and doctors (Chanda, Margaret, Lori, Cathy, Dr. M, and Dr. W) were just so kind and genuine. They all said they were sorry for my loss and hugged me or patted my arm. A couple of the nurses shared their own miscarriage stories, which helped me feel not as alone and brought me comfort. I have always had the utmost respect for nurses, but I want to give special thanks for them - I know they are overworked, underappreciated, underpaid, and yet they were the epitome of patient and kind. Truly angels walking on earth.

One nurse even said to me, "Someday I'm going to see you walking through the mall with a stroller and your own little bundle, and you won't remember me but I'll see you and be happy." I made a point of remembering her first and last name so that I can say hi to her when I DO see her in the mall someday ;)

The procedure went fine. I won't bore you with the details of the procedure and recovery. Family and a few close friends were lifting me and your dad up in prayer. Prayer is a powerful thing, my sweet child.

I feel so empty, like there is a giant black hole in my stomach, like something has been ripped from my gut, like part of me is truly missing. I have grieved before because I have lost people I love. But this grief is so... different. With others, I had fond memories to lean on and smile about. With you, I had hopes and dreams, and those will never come to fruition.


Your dad and I were so thrilled for this next step in our relationship.
Thanks again, Lindsey Martin Photography.
Your dad and I both thought (and I firmly believe) you are a girl, so I found myself wondering if you'd play volleyball (and sometimes even what position you'd play, obviously hoping you'd be a setter but trying to tell myself maybe you'd get lucky and be tall and be able to play middle). If you'd like playing in the mud and fishing like I did or if you'd like playing with Barbies (I would've been ok with either!). If you'd be feisty and opinionated like me or calm and gentle like your dad. If you'd love the Encyclopedia Brown books, like I did. If we'd argue about your skirts being too short and you wanting to get your nose pierced someday. If you would sing or play piano or be drawn to some other creative outlet I'm not, like dancing or drawing.

I had so many questions- would you get the sushi-loving gene from my dad's Japanese side of the family? Would you let me braid your hair before bedtime so it wouldn't be tangled in the morning? How wrapped around your little finger would your sweet daddy be? Would you stand on top of his feet and dance with him around the kitchen? Would he succeed in getting you to love Star Wars? Would you be able to convince him to get a dog?

My heart is utterly broken, and I am aching knowing I will never, ever  know the answers to those questions. 

But...I cannot emphasize this enough... I am so thankful for you. Being your mom, even if only for a few weeks, changed me. I prayed more frequently and fervently than I ever have in my life. I tried to take good care of my body. I found myself praying for every pregnant woman I saw. I found myself looking at difficult people and saying, "They are someone's baby, too," and thinking about how I'd want someone to treat you. I am so thankful God gave you to us. We were so honored to be your parents. 

As I am sure you can tell from this letter to you, your dad and I firmly and unapologetically believe you were a human life, a baby. And perhaps that is part of what makes grieving so hard. In our society, many would disagree with us. After all, how can someone say, "I'm sorry for your loss" on one hand but think it's ok to abort a baby your age on the other hand? The two are incongruent to me. I have always been staunchly pro-life, but this experience has solidified that belief even more. It pains me to think that some people don't view you as a baby. You are, and always will be, our baby and our first child, and the love I feel for you is truly indescribable. How can I love someone I've never met SO much, so deeply, to the core of my being?

Perhaps the most important thing to note, sweet baby, is that I am not angry at God. There have been a couple times I've wanted to be. But I feel His peace and His comfort around me, so real and so palpable, like a weighted blanket covering me and shielding me. I am not sure what God's plan is, but I trust Him. He is faithful, and He is good, and He is gracious, and I praise Him and thank Him for the blessing you were to your dad and I (and to our family and friends who shared in our joy).

I know you are with Him now, and I cannot wait to see you someday and hold you in my arms, my arms that are aching to hold you. I just want to snuggle you and kiss the top of your downy head and breathe in your sweet baby scent and count your fingers and toes and tickle you and sing to you. I want to hear you call me "Mom" and crawl up into my lap for a bedtime story. I want to check on you when you sleep, see your tiny chest rising and falling. I want to change your smelly diapers and try to comfort you when you're crying and struggle through the hardest job on earth: being a mom. I want that more than I have every wanted anything. You are so loved, and so missed, and we will always remember you.

Some people have said some rude and insensitive things to me. I try to remind myself their intentions are good. I know that sometimes people don't know what to say.  But really, people just saying they are sorry and praying is the absolute best thing. Not, "Your baby is better off with God right now." Not, "You're young! You still have time to have another." I know they are trying to be helpful, and I know that in the past before this experience, I might have been tempted to offer platitudes or Christian-ese phrases, but honestly, they are just not helpful in this situation. The most helpful thing is when they just say, "I'm so sorry. I'm praying for/thinking of you guys." Or when they listen to me talk about you-- that helps a lot, too, because it me feel like more people will remember or know about you, thus solidifying that you were a tiny person and not a blob of cells.

Maybe I will have kids sometime in the future, but none of our future children will ever replace you. Maybe this is what God wanted, but it is still utterly devastating. Maybe it is the result of living in a sinful world, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept. Maybe I wasn't further along in my pregnancy, but you were and are still our child.

We love you, sweetheart. Thank you for blessing us and being God's instrument to bring us more joy than you can imagine. You are the best thing that has happened to us. We can't wait to meet you in heaven someday. 
"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always.
As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

With all a mother's love,
Your mama



Wednesday, August 26, 2015

#Homeschoolprobs

Here's a familiar scene: My coworkers and I are huddled around the lunch table, quickly scarfing down sandwiches and checking Facebook in the 30 minutes of free time we have. Someone makes an allusion to a 90's movie or TV show or pop star and everyone laughs. I try to giggle politely, but it's evident from the look on my face that I have NO EARTHLY IDEA what the allusion is.

A coworker will inevitably say, "Nooooooo, don't tell me you haven't seen that!"

And I'll reply, "Nope! Remember, I was homeschooled?"

I have never, for a moment, regretted being homeschooled. My parents pulled me and my siblings out of the Christian academy I was attending in 3rd grade and they were in 1st and pre-k, respectively. We were all homeschooled until we went to public high school. I can't speak for them, but I can speak for myself: I loved being homeschooled.

1) Contrary to popular opinion, I didn't "miss out" on anything. Well, except losing my innocence too early and being bullied and getting burnt out on school. No one exposed me to things I wasn't ready to handle. I didn't start my period in the middle of class and not have a pad or tampon. I didn't have to change in front of other girls for PE during my sensitive "oh my god why is there hair there" time of puberty.

2) I had friends and a social life. I spent a ton of time with my friends and siblings. I got to volunteer at Colonial Williamsburg. I played rec and travel volleyball. I took a zoology class. I did activities with my church.
The Randolph House at Colonial Williamsburg, where I portrayed Elizabeth Harrison.
It was here that I learned how to play the English guitar and do the minuet. 


3) My schedule was SO flexible! So yes, you might have seen me at Farm Fresh with my mom at 2 p.m., but I was already done with my work for the day. And yes, mom made us do a little bit of school throughout the summer (so guess what? No summer slide [loss of information]). Our family took vacations in April or October when places were empty. We once went to Water Country during a school day after we were done with all our work and rode Big Daddy Falls ride at least seven times in a row because there was literally NO line.

4) I learned life skills. Yeah. Like how to go grocery shopping and stick to your list and compare prices per ounce. And how to interact with adults politely, because I had to do it if I wanted to check out books from the library.
One of my absolute favorite series growing up was the Encyclopedia Brown books.
I'd get so excited when I'd solve a mystery without having to flip to the back of the book!
Critical thinking skills for the win. 

5) I learned more in a year of homeschooling than some of my public school counterparts did in their entire elementary career. Not to mention, I entered public high school with a much higher understanding of how to solve my own problems and figure things out than my public schooled counterparts. I will never forget sitting in German I with Frau Holley and feeling so...shocked... that she was having to review parts of speech and subjects vs. objects. Or sitting in algebra class listening to people ask questions that were answered RIGHT in the directions. When I was homeschooled, I had to teach myself. I had to read my Saxon math book, look at the examples, figure out what was going on, and try it. And try it again. And try it one more time. And THEN ask Mom for help if I needed it ;)

Now... I am NOT saying all homeschooling is productive and beneficial and 100% awesome. It's not the right fit for every family. It's not a possibility for every family. And not every child will benefit from homeschooling. Also, I am obviously not bashing public education- I mean, I'm a public school teacher, for crying out loud. I believe there is merit in what I do.

BUT...I will say that my parents made tremendous sacrifices to give us what they believed (and I agree) to be the best education possible. No, we were not wealthy. We were lower middle class, y'all. We would've been "better off" if my mom had worked. But we would've missed out on so many rich opportunities- field trips to museums. Day trips to the pool when it was virtually empty. Bike rides for hours and hours on end. Fishing trips. The things that enrich childhood.

I will also say, and I hope my parents are ok with me sharing this, that neither of my parents has a college degree. But they are two of the most intelligent people I know. (My mom, who claims she "isn't good at writing and English stuff," knows more about grammar than some English majors I've met. Truth).  Their lives just took a different path. So for people who think you need to have certain qualifications (like a college degree) to homeschool? I vehemently disagree with you. My parents provided me with a RICH education at home, a house FULL of books, and an emphasis on doing my best at everything I did, both in the classroom and without. I am incredibly thankful for them. 

So I may not know the entire Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song. And I can't name all the characters from Saved By the Bell or sing every word of any N'Sync songs.

But I CAN rig a worm on a fishing hook, list hundreds of books I read as a kid, do the minuet, play the English guitar, speak in 18th century English, figure out how to diagram a sentence, bake you a delicious chocolate peppermint cake, and tell you with certainty that my years of puberty were not awkward or painful in any way. And I'm ok with your pop culture references going over my head.

I am a-okay with all my #homeschoolprobs


Saturday, July 18, 2015

Yes, I still get a summer

And I don't feel one bit guilty for it, y'all.

So far this summer, I have

1) Traveled to New Orleans to coach my AMAZING volleyball team at Nationals. Did I mention I got to drive the girls around in a sexy minivan?

2) Finished another grad school class...only four to go!

3) Tripped over a wine glass at my best friend's wedding, breaking it and cutting myself. But I made up for it by delivering a pretty kick butt Matron of Honor speech, if I do say so myself (no, no cheesy parody song...just an acronym, true English teacher style).

Me making the beautiful bride and her father laugh before walking down the aisle.
SHAMELESS plug for the incredibly photographer, Allegra http://www.allegrasstudio.com/2013site/. 


4) Moved across town. Well, across the river.

5) Had a girls day with my sister and some friends. I'm going to miss her when she moves!
#thuglife


6) FINALLY been to Busch Gardens after like three years of not going.

7) Seen my husband's family in Texas. Although we were so sad to say goodbye to Pawpaw, it was a blessing that his passing on allowed us to all reunite.

8) Read a couple books...plus some grad school textbooks. Riveting, let me tell you.

9) Met and joked around with Jackson from our local radio station. Yeah, I felt popular and cool for about three minutes. So sue me.

10) RELAXED...something that y'all teachers know doesn't happen often during the year with planning, grading, and parent phone calls. How nice it has been to catch up on Scandal and get further into Parks and Rec on Netflix.

Cheers to a great second half of summer! Coming up: five year anniversary, volleyball camp, cat sitting, and more!

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

In which I maybe don't hate running?

I am so confused.
My entire life, I've hated running. The constant wheezing in and out as I fight the inevitable stitches in my side. The lack of excitement and adrenaline. The pounding of my sore feet on the pavement. The blisters and callouses that I then have to apologize profusely for should I ever go get a pedicure.

I think I've also always hated running because (comparatively speaking), I've been bad at it. In high school, when our volleyball coach would make us run sprints, I'd always try to run with the other slower people so I didn't feel so badly about myself. It wasn't that I didn't want to push myself, necessarily. It was that no matter how hard I pushed myself, I was never going to beat the fast girls on the team, and that made me want to give up.

In college, I failed our mile run in preseason. Twice. It didn't help that I was in the midst of battling an eating disorder at that time, so I had no energy, and running just made me feel like I was going to pass out, like my heart was going to explode out of my chest, like I was going to vomit pure bile up onto the sidewalk.

So yeah. Running and I have a rocky relationship. We're barely on speaking terms, and we definitely haven't enjoyed each other's company. The only time we managed to get along was my senior year of college, when I only ran so that I could fit into my wedding dress (because, dude, alterations are expensive!).

Then why have I spent the last thirty minutes Googling "reflective running gear" and "running tips" and "races in Virginia"? Why have I been running more times in the past two weeks than I have in the past two years? Why did I sign up for a 10K fully expecting to run the entire thing when I've never run more than three miles in my life? Why am I hoping we have a snow day tomorrow partially so I'll have time to go running?

I'm still not sure if I'm a "runner" or not. But this identity crisis is good, and I may become a convert yet...

Sunday, January 4, 2015

2015 Resolutions

Last year, I decided to use Padlet to create my goals for 2014: http://padlet.com/cesuders/my_resolutions_2014

Here are my reflections on those goals:

1) Green cleaners- Eh. I just can't find a recipe for mirror/glass cleaner that works as well as Windex, no matter what others say. And carpet cleaner? Haven't tried anything "green" for that. Maybe in 2015. Everything else I'm using is safe, natural, and nontoxic.

2) Ha. I did not run a 10K.

3) I'm almost done with 50 books. I WILL finish before December 31st.

4) I've done really well with only buying used clothing. I mean, I bought a new swimsuit for when I started swimming at the Y this summer, and I bough a couple of bridesmaid dresses, but other than that, everything else has been from consignment/thrift stores. I think I shall continue this- it's frugal and environmentally responsible. It's also really freeing. I can go shopping with my friends without the pressure of buying anything. It's a relief to have a reason to only window shop!

5) Prayer journal- didn't happen. Praying more? Yes.

6) Taking a class to teach me a new skill- does my Word Study class for my master's degree count? Or my after school sessions with two art teachers who taught me how to throw on the wheel (aka put clay on the spinny thingy and make pottery)?

7)  I have not done better about cooking from scratch. I've done way worse. I blame it on working 12+ hours a day.

8) Decluttering hasn't happened once per season, but it has happened a couple times in 2014!

9) Listen to music more- check. Rocking out to Taylor Swift's new CD totally counts, yeah?

10) Buy organic/local. Our budget changed, so I wasn't able to do this as frequently as I wanted to, but I give myself a C for effort.

My big goal for 2015?
Thrive and not just survive.
(Thank you, Switchfoot, for that phrase).