I have always wanted to be healthier but during the school year, I use a million excuses not to be. Well, over the summertime, this teacher decided it was time to be stronger than her excuses (tagline stolen from Autumn Calebrese, BeachBody trainer).
A year ago, I did the Cize workout program, which was fun! But I did it during the first trimester of pregnancy (before the miscarriage), so I sometimes had to go throw up in the middle of dancing and therefore feel like I didn't give it my all.
When I decided to do the 21 Day Fix, I was going to give it my all.
But I was nervous- as someone who has struggled with anorexia in the past, I was worried the regimented eating, taking measurements, and weighing myself would trigger me back into starvation mode. So I prayed and thought and prayed some more before deciding to actually jump in. I prayed for God to keep me from walking down that path again.
Here is my day-by-day review of this program. I'm not being paid by BeachBody, and I am honest.
Day 1: OK, I can do this! I downloaded the 21 Day Fix app on my phone, which makes tracking my food so much easier. Instead of actually using the containers to measure everything (because that would be a LOT of washing dishes), I also use regular measuring cups. I do LOVE the color coding #typeAprobs The cardio workout wasn't that bad, either. I can do this. I have a Facebook accountability group, and that helps, too!
Day 2: I cannot do this. How do I get my coffee in ?! I haven't been to Starbucks in 48 hours and don't know what to do! I mean, I can drink black coffee or put a splash of almond milk (if I want to take away a yellow container, and I can still only do that three times a week).
Day 3: Ah ha! Figured out how to get my coffee in, thanks to some online digging: make a cup of black coffee, chill it, and use as base in my Shakeology! Brilliant! I have enjoyed playing around with Shakeo recipes- chocolate vegan, ice, coffee, and a splash of vanilla extract is my favorite right now.
Day 4: Let's talk about these workouts. I know some people hate Autumn's coaching style, but I LOVE it. I don't need someone to be high energy and yell at me while I'm lifting (as much as I love Shaun T, that energy feels...idk...fake?).
I love her focus on correct form over speed. I love how she gives multiple suggestions about how to modify exercises, like dropping weight or only doing one arm/leg at a time for a bit. I feel like I am getting the max number of reps in each round because I can modify without being scared I'm not doing it right. I'm moving the whole time. And I keep drooling over her body, but when she lifts her arms up, I'm pretty sure I can tell she has a spray tan ;)
Day 9: I ate too many vegetables today. I was hungry, and I read that it's better to overindulge on veggies or protein than, say, carbs or fats ;) One pound down from day 1.
Day 12: The workouts are still working me. I am getting a little more flexible (except my right ankle that I sprained in April). I think I see some abs trying to peek out from behind my belly button, but I'm not sure.
Day 15: Autum's spray tan still bothers me. I hate yoga. But I've lost five pounds and three inches so far, so I'll take it. The crucial part of my success? Accountability. Thanks, Facebook challenge group! Seriously.
Day 21: OK, fine...this program works. The workouts offer variety and modifications that I was able to progress through. The nutrition plan was challenging at first, but now that I have it down (and can keep track on my app), it's actually not so bad.
Final results after round one: I was down 7 pounds total! I'm not as good at measuring inches because I think I measure inconsistently but it's somewhere between 5-8 inches
I loved the program so much I did it two more times.
I lost a total of 18 pounds and like 11 inches.
And now I am doing (and loving) Core De Force...on day seven and down three pounds AND feeling like a total bad ass.
Again- I am not trying to sell you on anything BeachBody. But...I'm living proof that the nutrition, exercise, and accountability WORK. I feel healthy, I feel strong, and I feel more confident than I have in YEARS, and I have met some AMAZING people along the way.
Saturday, November 19, 2016
Saturday, July 30, 2016
Year Six: Like Chewing a Frozen Caramel
This year of marriage has been the hardest, I think
Like chewing a frozen caramel and trying not to get it stuck in your teeth.
You know it'll be worth it to keep chewing
It will eventually taste
Sweet
A year ago, we were dreaming
Boy or girl?
Star Wars or Dr. Who nursery?
Midwife or doula or both?
(We decided both)
A few months later, we were mourning
What would've
Could've
Should've
A year later, we're wondering
Why us?
When will we become parents?
How?
Biologically?
Foster to adopt?
... Not at all...?
There were nights I cried
And you didn't know why
And I didn't tell you sometimes
But you held me
Kissed my head
Held my hand
Pulled me in when I wanted to pull away
There were days I cried
And you knew why
And you couldn't help
But you held me
Kissed my hand
Held my gaze
Loved me when I was a skeleton consumed with grief,
Having nothing to give you in return.
Six years ago today, we promised to weather every storm
In sickness and in health
In good times and in bad
'Til death do us part
Love is patient, and kind, and humble
A ring is a circle because love never ends
Words easy to say but hard to live out
Marriage is hard sometimes
And this year, I understood why losing a child can drive couples apart
In spite of their vows, their love, their faith
So even though this year has been the hardest
It's also been the best.
Because we made it
And I love you more than ever
More deeply, more fully, more wholly.
Whatever God has in store for us, we'll face together
And that is enough.
Like chewing a frozen caramel and trying not to get it stuck in your teeth.
You know it'll be worth it to keep chewing
It will eventually taste
Sweet
A year ago, we were dreaming
Boy or girl?
Star Wars or Dr. Who nursery?
Midwife or doula or both?
(We decided both)
A few months later, we were mourning
What would've
Could've
Should've
A year later, we're wondering
Why us?
When will we become parents?
How?
Biologically?
Foster to adopt?
... Not at all...?
There were nights I cried
And you didn't know why
And I didn't tell you sometimes
But you held me
Kissed my head
Held my hand
Pulled me in when I wanted to pull away
There were days I cried
And you knew why
And you couldn't help
But you held me
Kissed my hand
Held my gaze
Loved me when I was a skeleton consumed with grief,
Having nothing to give you in return.
Six years ago today, we promised to weather every storm
In sickness and in health
In good times and in bad
'Til death do us part
Love is patient, and kind, and humble
A ring is a circle because love never ends
Words easy to say but hard to live out
Marriage is hard sometimes
And this year, I understood why losing a child can drive couples apart
In spite of their vows, their love, their faith
So even though this year has been the hardest
It's also been the best.
Because we made it
And I love you more than ever
More deeply, more fully, more wholly.
Whatever God has in store for us, we'll face together
And that is enough.
 |
| Happy birthday, Harry Potter! Oh, and happy wedding day to us! July 31, 2010 |
 |
| And (about) six years later... |
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Quaker Quotes (Not Quaker Oats)
*July 22, 2016*
Campus is quiet right now. The groups of boisterous teenagers (or maybe young adults...I'm getting too old; they all look like kids to me now) are gone, the other teachers who are attending this literacy conference are at their hotels or in their dorm rooms. Insects buzzing, birds chirping, occasional cars passing create the soundtrack to my quiet reading time.
Reading. I haven't been this into a book in...a while. I mean, I loved Reading in the Wild by my teaching idol (I use that term playfully) Donalyn Miller. But I haven't drowned myself happily in a novel in months now, I don't think.
I'm halfway through The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd and loving every minute of it. Set in South Carolina in the early to mid 1800s, The Invention of Wings follows two girls, Sarah and Handful or "Hetty," from childhood to adulthood. While close in age and proximity, they are worlds apart: Sarah is Hetty's owner, and Hetty is Sarah's family's slave. Sarah struggles with her feelings about slavery, rebelling against the idea of oppression and owning human beings but not quite sure what to do about it.
I came across this phrase a few minutes ago and haven't been able to keep reading since. It has lodged itself in my brain, like a splinter: "To remain silent in the face of evil is itself a form of evil."
Along with my obsessions with cats, coffee, books, Benedict Cumberbatch, and The Office, I'm quite intruiged by personality tests. If you know anything about Myers Briggs personality tests, it will mean something to you when I say I am an INFJ, also called "The Advocate." If those four letters mean nothing to you, here's a description of my personality type from 16personalities.com:
1. "INFJs indeed share a very unique combination of traits: though soft-spoken, they have very strong opinions and will fight tirelessly for an idea they believe in." Um, chya. Very strong.
2. "They are decisive and strong-willed, but will rarely use that energy for personal gain – INFJs will act with creativity, imagination, conviction and sensitivity not to create advantage, but to create balance." Although I recognize it's not always possible, I have to admit that deep down, I desire nothing more than for life to be fair. If it's not fair, I feel impelled to create fairness to the best of my ability.
3. "The passion of their convictions is perfectly capable of carrying them past their breaking point and if their zeal gets out of hand, they can find themselves exhausted, unhealthy and stressed. This becomes especially apparent when INFJs find themselves up against conflict and criticism – their sensitivity forces them to do everything they can to evade these seemingly personal attacks, but when the circumstances are unavoidable, they can fight back in highly irrational, unhelpful ways."
This explains why I get so defensive if someone disagrees with me about certain issues. Those beliefs are so integral to who I am that for you to attack the belief is for you to attack me. So I fight back. Because although I have thick skin about some things, I don't about others.
4. "To INFJs, the world is a place full of inequity – but it doesn’t have to be. No other personality type is better suited to create a movement to right a wrong, no matter how big or small." Ah, yes. The I can save the world mentality is indeed strong with this one.
So imagine me, a person with all these personality traits, reading this sentence: "To remain silent in the face of evil is itself a form of evil." A Quaker delivers this line to Sarah and, like me, the line (and the rest of the Quaker beliefs) cements itself into Sarah's brain, sparking further self-exploration.
I realize that, in many ways, I am Sarah. I am in a society that has innate injustice, and I benefit from it, most of the time. And sometimes, it's unpopular to speak out or to take action.
But as the Quaker says to Sarah, "God's way is narrow and the cost is great...do not fear to lose what needs to be lost."
So
...if me saying that black lives matter on social media loses me friends and followers, so be it.
...if me saying that women should be treated as complete equals in every aspect of life, including marriage and ministry, loses me respect or credibility, so be it.
...if me saying that abortion is wrong alienates me from you, so be it.
...if me saying that spanking is wrong causes you to roll your eyes and accuse me of not believing in "discipline," so be it.
Because those are things that I believe. And I won't apologize for them. I won't back down from defending them. My INFJ-ness won't let me. Because in each of those cases, I see myself as fighting against injustice and standing up for those who are being discriminated against, abused, and mistreated. And in those cases, I simply cannot be silent. It literally goes against the core of my being.
So yes. Sometimes my mouth gets me in trouble. But I sleep better at night erring on the side of speaking up and defending what I believe is just and good and true instead of remaining silent.
Campus is quiet right now. The groups of boisterous teenagers (or maybe young adults...I'm getting too old; they all look like kids to me now) are gone, the other teachers who are attending this literacy conference are at their hotels or in their dorm rooms. Insects buzzing, birds chirping, occasional cars passing create the soundtrack to my quiet reading time.
Reading. I haven't been this into a book in...a while. I mean, I loved Reading in the Wild by my teaching idol (I use that term playfully) Donalyn Miller. But I haven't drowned myself happily in a novel in months now, I don't think.
I'm halfway through The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd and loving every minute of it. Set in South Carolina in the early to mid 1800s, The Invention of Wings follows two girls, Sarah and Handful or "Hetty," from childhood to adulthood. While close in age and proximity, they are worlds apart: Sarah is Hetty's owner, and Hetty is Sarah's family's slave. Sarah struggles with her feelings about slavery, rebelling against the idea of oppression and owning human beings but not quite sure what to do about it.
I came across this phrase a few minutes ago and haven't been able to keep reading since. It has lodged itself in my brain, like a splinter: "To remain silent in the face of evil is itself a form of evil."
Along with my obsessions with cats, coffee, books, Benedict Cumberbatch, and The Office, I'm quite intruiged by personality tests. If you know anything about Myers Briggs personality tests, it will mean something to you when I say I am an INFJ, also called "The Advocate." If those four letters mean nothing to you, here's a description of my personality type from 16personalities.com:
1. "INFJs indeed share a very unique combination of traits: though soft-spoken, they have very strong opinions and will fight tirelessly for an idea they believe in." Um, chya. Very strong.
2. "They are decisive and strong-willed, but will rarely use that energy for personal gain – INFJs will act with creativity, imagination, conviction and sensitivity not to create advantage, but to create balance." Although I recognize it's not always possible, I have to admit that deep down, I desire nothing more than for life to be fair. If it's not fair, I feel impelled to create fairness to the best of my ability.
3. "The passion of their convictions is perfectly capable of carrying them past their breaking point and if their zeal gets out of hand, they can find themselves exhausted, unhealthy and stressed. This becomes especially apparent when INFJs find themselves up against conflict and criticism – their sensitivity forces them to do everything they can to evade these seemingly personal attacks, but when the circumstances are unavoidable, they can fight back in highly irrational, unhelpful ways."
This explains why I get so defensive if someone disagrees with me about certain issues. Those beliefs are so integral to who I am that for you to attack the belief is for you to attack me. So I fight back. Because although I have thick skin about some things, I don't about others.
4. "To INFJs, the world is a place full of inequity – but it doesn’t have to be. No other personality type is better suited to create a movement to right a wrong, no matter how big or small." Ah, yes. The I can save the world mentality is indeed strong with this one.
So imagine me, a person with all these personality traits, reading this sentence: "To remain silent in the face of evil is itself a form of evil." A Quaker delivers this line to Sarah and, like me, the line (and the rest of the Quaker beliefs) cements itself into Sarah's brain, sparking further self-exploration.
I realize that, in many ways, I am Sarah. I am in a society that has innate injustice, and I benefit from it, most of the time. And sometimes, it's unpopular to speak out or to take action.
But as the Quaker says to Sarah, "God's way is narrow and the cost is great...do not fear to lose what needs to be lost."
So
...if me saying that black lives matter on social media loses me friends and followers, so be it.
...if me saying that women should be treated as complete equals in every aspect of life, including marriage and ministry, loses me respect or credibility, so be it.
...if me saying that abortion is wrong alienates me from you, so be it.
...if me saying that spanking is wrong causes you to roll your eyes and accuse me of not believing in "discipline," so be it.
Because those are things that I believe. And I won't apologize for them. I won't back down from defending them. My INFJ-ness won't let me. Because in each of those cases, I see myself as fighting against injustice and standing up for those who are being discriminated against, abused, and mistreated. And in those cases, I simply cannot be silent. It literally goes against the core of my being.
So yes. Sometimes my mouth gets me in trouble. But I sleep better at night erring on the side of speaking up and defending what I believe is just and good and true instead of remaining silent.
Friday, July 15, 2016
The Day the Rollercoasters Made Me Ill
July 16, 2015...
We'd been "trying" (lazily) for about three months. July rolled around, and as I always do during the summer, I lost track of time and days. I hung out with friends, watched Netflix, and read books all the time.
Hubby and I had just gone to Busch Gardens on Wednesday, July 15th, because I bought us season passes as a gift for his pharmacy school graduation. On our way to the park, I was SUPER hungry. Usually I can hold out, but I asked him to stop at Wendy's and get me a (probably not real) chicken sandwich and fries.
At the park, I rode one ride and felt kind of sick. I thought it was because I had just eaten a (probably not real chicken) sandwich from a fast food joint. So I rode another. Felt more sick. Had to close my eyes on the Darkastle ride so I didn't lose my lunch.
Finally, after three or maybe four rides, this rollercoaster fanatic admitted defeat: "I am so, so sorry, babe. I do not know what is wrong with me today :( I can't do anymore rollercoasters." Hubby, as always, was sweet and understanding. And we went home, me reclined in the passenger seat trying not to vomit.
I was annoyed- at myself, for not being able to tough it out, and at my body, for depriving me of riding rollercoasters, which I LOVE.
The next day, I hung out with my little sister, who had a 1-year-old at the time. I was talking about how we had been "trying" to have a baby for a few months and it hadn't happened yet and I (naively, I now realize) wondered if something was wrong with me, since it seemed to happen so easily for her and our mom.
"Don't worry. That kind of happened with us, too." Hmm. So maybe it was normal for it to take a few months? (I now know there's only about a 20% chance of conceiving every cycle, according to the American Society for Reproductive Medicine).
That got me thinking on the drive back home- how long had it been since my period? Like...five weeks? Six weeks?
I stopped by CVS to pick up pregnancy tests, nervously smiling at the cashier whose bored eyes told me he didn't care I was buying pregnancy tests and I needed to stop being so awkward about it. I didn't think I was really pregnant, but it wouldn't hurt to test, right?
I got home and went straight to the bathroom- hubby was in his office with the internet guy.
I peed on a test...and it was positive. I was confused and in denial and really, really, really excited. Like, couldn't stop smiling excited.
I went to tell hubby goodbye before going to my running group. When running was over, I went straight to Walgreens to buy another test (a bundle of two). Armed with my two digital tests, I decided to go into Target to pee on a stick one last time. If it was positive, I'd buy hubby something cute to announce.
Positive. Super positive. So I purchased some white onesies and a card and a bib that said "I love my daddy" and put them all in a decorative box, along with a positive test. I remember it feeling surreal- all these years of dreaming about baby names and planning my natural delivery and researching how to make homemade baby food were finally going to come in handy! I would go to cloth diapering classes and find a doula and (let me do the math) the baby will be due in March, so I can probably just go out for the rest of the year and have SIX MONTHS at home with him or her before school starts again!
I got home and gave hubby the box. "It's just a little gift, a congratulations for finally getting your pharmacy license and passing your tests and everything." So clever.
He opened the box and pulled the items out one by one, confusion spreading across on his face, eyebrows furrowing closer and closer together until it hit him. He jerked his head towards me and said, "HOLY... really? Really?" And I nodded, "Yes."
And that moment was perfect.
As you all know, it didn't end perfectly. On August 27, we found out we'd lost the baby, and we haven't been able to get pregnant since then.
But today, I am choosing to dwell on how happy we were when we saw the positive test. How much hope and promise there was. How humbling it felt to know I was carrying a life inside of me.
Today, a year after that positive pregnancy test, I continue to dwell on the words of David in 1 Chronicles 16:11 "Look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always."
And so we do. Two lines or no two lines, we seek His face, His will, His plan, always.
We'd been "trying" (lazily) for about three months. July rolled around, and as I always do during the summer, I lost track of time and days. I hung out with friends, watched Netflix, and read books all the time.
Hubby and I had just gone to Busch Gardens on Wednesday, July 15th, because I bought us season passes as a gift for his pharmacy school graduation. On our way to the park, I was SUPER hungry. Usually I can hold out, but I asked him to stop at Wendy's and get me a (probably not real) chicken sandwich and fries.
At the park, I rode one ride and felt kind of sick. I thought it was because I had just eaten a (probably not real chicken) sandwich from a fast food joint. So I rode another. Felt more sick. Had to close my eyes on the Darkastle ride so I didn't lose my lunch.
Finally, after three or maybe four rides, this rollercoaster fanatic admitted defeat: "I am so, so sorry, babe. I do not know what is wrong with me today :( I can't do anymore rollercoasters." Hubby, as always, was sweet and understanding. And we went home, me reclined in the passenger seat trying not to vomit.
I was annoyed- at myself, for not being able to tough it out, and at my body, for depriving me of riding rollercoasters, which I LOVE.
The next day, I hung out with my little sister, who had a 1-year-old at the time. I was talking about how we had been "trying" to have a baby for a few months and it hadn't happened yet and I (naively, I now realize) wondered if something was wrong with me, since it seemed to happen so easily for her and our mom.
"Don't worry. That kind of happened with us, too." Hmm. So maybe it was normal for it to take a few months? (I now know there's only about a 20% chance of conceiving every cycle, according to the American Society for Reproductive Medicine).
That got me thinking on the drive back home- how long had it been since my period? Like...five weeks? Six weeks?
I stopped by CVS to pick up pregnancy tests, nervously smiling at the cashier whose bored eyes told me he didn't care I was buying pregnancy tests and I needed to stop being so awkward about it. I didn't think I was really pregnant, but it wouldn't hurt to test, right?
I got home and went straight to the bathroom- hubby was in his office with the internet guy.
I peed on a test...and it was positive. I was confused and in denial and really, really, really excited. Like, couldn't stop smiling excited.
I went to tell hubby goodbye before going to my running group. When running was over, I went straight to Walgreens to buy another test (a bundle of two). Armed with my two digital tests, I decided to go into Target to pee on a stick one last time. If it was positive, I'd buy hubby something cute to announce.
 |
| A little overkill on the tests, I admit. These are from July 16, 2015. |
I got home and gave hubby the box. "It's just a little gift, a congratulations for finally getting your pharmacy license and passing your tests and everything." So clever.
He opened the box and pulled the items out one by one, confusion spreading across on his face, eyebrows furrowing closer and closer together until it hit him. He jerked his head towards me and said, "HOLY... really? Really?" And I nodded, "Yes."
And that moment was perfect.
As you all know, it didn't end perfectly. On August 27, we found out we'd lost the baby, and we haven't been able to get pregnant since then.
But today, I am choosing to dwell on how happy we were when we saw the positive test. How much hope and promise there was. How humbling it felt to know I was carrying a life inside of me.
Today, a year after that positive pregnancy test, I continue to dwell on the words of David in 1 Chronicles 16:11 "Look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always."
And so we do. Two lines or no two lines, we seek His face, His will, His plan, always.
Sunday, June 12, 2016
My Playlist
Music moves most of us in ways nothing else can. It affects our moods, our brains, our stress levels.
Growing up, my parents only let us listen to Christian music. While I may not have appreciated it at the time, and while I may still catch some flack for not knowing classics or boy band hits, I cannot tell you the number of times a Christian song has come to mind in a stressful or dangerous situation (note: I am still not a huge fan of most Christian music, simply from a musical perspective, because I think much of it lacks originality and meaningful content, but I digress). I am so thankful for the gift that Christian music has been to me over the years.
When I drove home in the blizzard of 2009, the lyrics "They're all above me, beneath me, before me. They're all around me. My Father's angels are protecting everywhere" cycled through my head.
When I sat in the doctor's office waiting for a heartbeat that never appeared to flicker across the screen during an ultrasound, the lyrics "It is well, it is well with my soul" cut through my foggy brain like a laser.
So today, I give you the playlist of my past year. There is so much pain, so much heartache, so much senseless violence in the world. Perhaps something here will be used by the Lord to speak to you:
1) Not For a Moment by Meredith Andrews
"In the middle of it all, when I thought you were a thousand miles away, not for a moment did You forsake me."
2) Oceans (Where Feet May Fail) by Hillsong
"I will call upon Your name, and keep my eyes above the waves.
When oceans rise, my soul will rest in your embrace, for I am Yours, and You are mine."
3) Everlasting God by Lincoln Brewster
"You're the defender of the weak. You comfort those in need. You lift us up on wings like eagles."
7) Healer by Kari Jobe
"I believe You're my portion.
Lord, I believe You're more than enough for me
Jesus, You're all I need."
8) Last but not least, my current anthem and the song that induces tears every time:
"I Will Trust in You" by Lauren Daigle
"When You don't move the mountains I'm needing you to move
When You don't part the waters I wish I could walk through
When you don't give the answers as I cry out to you
I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You."
Growing up, my parents only let us listen to Christian music. While I may not have appreciated it at the time, and while I may still catch some flack for not knowing classics or boy band hits, I cannot tell you the number of times a Christian song has come to mind in a stressful or dangerous situation (note: I am still not a huge fan of most Christian music, simply from a musical perspective, because I think much of it lacks originality and meaningful content, but I digress). I am so thankful for the gift that Christian music has been to me over the years.
When I drove home in the blizzard of 2009, the lyrics "They're all above me, beneath me, before me. They're all around me. My Father's angels are protecting everywhere" cycled through my head.
When I sat in the doctor's office waiting for a heartbeat that never appeared to flicker across the screen during an ultrasound, the lyrics "It is well, it is well with my soul" cut through my foggy brain like a laser.
So today, I give you the playlist of my past year. There is so much pain, so much heartache, so much senseless violence in the world. Perhaps something here will be used by the Lord to speak to you:
1) Not For a Moment by Meredith Andrews
"In the middle of it all, when I thought you were a thousand miles away, not for a moment did You forsake me."
2) Oceans (Where Feet May Fail) by Hillsong
"I will call upon Your name, and keep my eyes above the waves.
When oceans rise, my soul will rest in your embrace, for I am Yours, and You are mine."
"You're the defender of the weak. You comfort those in need. You lift us up on wings like eagles."
4) Jesus Will Still Be There by Point of Grace
"When it looks like you've lost it all and you haven't got a prayer, Jesus will still be there."
5) Be My Escape by Relient K (my favorite band of all time)
"I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity...I'm begging You to be my escape."
6) There Will Be a Day by Jeremy Camp
"There will be a day with no more tears, no more pain, and no more fears
There will be a day when the burdens of this place,
Will be no more, we'll see Jesus face to face.
But until that day, we'll hold on to you always"
There will be a day when the burdens of this place,
Will be no more, we'll see Jesus face to face.
But until that day, we'll hold on to you always"
"I believe You're my portion.
Lord, I believe You're more than enough for me
Jesus, You're all I need."
8) Last but not least, my current anthem and the song that induces tears every time:
"I Will Trust in You" by Lauren Daigle
"When You don't move the mountains I'm needing you to move
When You don't part the waters I wish I could walk through
When you don't give the answers as I cry out to you
I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You."
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Don't Call Me a Mom. Please.
They don't make Mother's Day cards for people like me- people who were moms for a few weeks or a few months but who didn't get to carry their babe full term and meet him or her. I don't feel like a "real mom" because of that.
People have, with pure intentions and kind hearts, told me, "You're a mom. You'll always be a mom. Life starts at conception." Or whatever.
I'm here to tell you why I respectfully but passionately implore you not to call me a mom or tell me I am and always will be a mom. Other women who have had losses may feel differently, and we should respect their wishes, just as mine should be respected. If a woman who HAS had a loss wants to be referred to as a mom, do it. I know I will.
Yes, I do believe life begins at conception (more specifically implantation but let's not get nit picky). Yes, I do believe I was carrying a human, a baby, before I had my miscarriage in August. Yes, all I could THINK about was that child- everything I ate, bought, and did centered around my future as a mom. Trying to find a doula, starting a registry, touring a birth center- I got so many "mom" things done for those six weeks I knew I was pregnant!
And then it...just... vanished. The journey to motherhood ended abruptly, painfully.
And now, I can't connect with other moms, besides commiserating about morning sickness and first trimester exhaustion. I can't hold my own in a conversation about the second and third trimesters. I can't tell you what it's like to feel that first baby kick or take the glucose test for gestational diabetes. I can't share my labor story with you and compare our experiences or talk about what breastfeeding was like.
When moms give each other knowing smiles because baby is teething and drooling and not sleeping, I just stand there awkwardly, like I'm looking into the exclusive mom club, wanting to be invited in but failing to meet the prerequisites.
It actually HURTS when people call me a "mom" because it reminds me of all the things I will not experience with Lila Grace- sleepless nights, exploding diapers, temper tantrums, hearing her say "mama" for the first time, potty training, scraped knees, teaching her to read, telling her to pull her skirt down, watching her graduate from high school...the list goes on. "Real" moms share stories, are connected through their experiences, bond over their kids.
I have none of that. I have empty arms, an aching heart, and a longing for what would have been.
But I also have acceptance of God's plan, even though I don't understand it, and I have His Word and His promises, His grace, His comfort.
You may think of me as a mother, and that is your prerogative. But I think it's also mine to request that you not call me "mom" and remind me of everything I am missing out on. I know you're trying to help, to be kind, to remind me my baby mattered- and maybe someday I'll be ready for that title- but for now, it just stabs me and causes twinges of bitterness and resentment, which I am praying for the Lord to remove from my heart daily, sometimes hourly.
Even if I don't want to be called "mom," I'm thankful, though, for the opportunity to FEEL like a mom sometimes- like when I hug a kid who's crying or scold a kid who's tardy or feel the forehead of a kid who has a temperature. I'm thankful for all the young people who let me love on them, who bless me with their senses of humor, and who give me some practice at this whole "being a mom" thing...and who sometimes even tell me, "You're gonna be a good mom someday, Suders." <-- one also added she could see me singing Frozen songs with my future daughter. How adorable is that?
Thanks, kids. Someday, I hope I will be.
People have, with pure intentions and kind hearts, told me, "You're a mom. You'll always be a mom. Life starts at conception." Or whatever.
I'm here to tell you why I respectfully but passionately implore you not to call me a mom or tell me I am and always will be a mom. Other women who have had losses may feel differently, and we should respect their wishes, just as mine should be respected. If a woman who HAS had a loss wants to be referred to as a mom, do it. I know I will.
Yes, I do believe life begins at conception (more specifically implantation but let's not get nit picky). Yes, I do believe I was carrying a human, a baby, before I had my miscarriage in August. Yes, all I could THINK about was that child- everything I ate, bought, and did centered around my future as a mom. Trying to find a doula, starting a registry, touring a birth center- I got so many "mom" things done for those six weeks I knew I was pregnant!
And then it...just... vanished. The journey to motherhood ended abruptly, painfully.
And now, I can't connect with other moms, besides commiserating about morning sickness and first trimester exhaustion. I can't hold my own in a conversation about the second and third trimesters. I can't tell you what it's like to feel that first baby kick or take the glucose test for gestational diabetes. I can't share my labor story with you and compare our experiences or talk about what breastfeeding was like.
When moms give each other knowing smiles because baby is teething and drooling and not sleeping, I just stand there awkwardly, like I'm looking into the exclusive mom club, wanting to be invited in but failing to meet the prerequisites.
It actually HURTS when people call me a "mom" because it reminds me of all the things I will not experience with Lila Grace- sleepless nights, exploding diapers, temper tantrums, hearing her say "mama" for the first time, potty training, scraped knees, teaching her to read, telling her to pull her skirt down, watching her graduate from high school...the list goes on. "Real" moms share stories, are connected through their experiences, bond over their kids.
I have none of that. I have empty arms, an aching heart, and a longing for what would have been.
But I also have acceptance of God's plan, even though I don't understand it, and I have His Word and His promises, His grace, His comfort.
You may think of me as a mother, and that is your prerogative. But I think it's also mine to request that you not call me "mom" and remind me of everything I am missing out on. I know you're trying to help, to be kind, to remind me my baby mattered- and maybe someday I'll be ready for that title- but for now, it just stabs me and causes twinges of bitterness and resentment, which I am praying for the Lord to remove from my heart daily, sometimes hourly.
Even if I don't want to be called "mom," I'm thankful, though, for the opportunity to FEEL like a mom sometimes- like when I hug a kid who's crying or scold a kid who's tardy or feel the forehead of a kid who has a temperature. I'm thankful for all the young people who let me love on them, who bless me with their senses of humor, and who give me some practice at this whole "being a mom" thing...and who sometimes even tell me, "You're gonna be a good mom someday, Suders." <-- one also added she could see me singing Frozen songs with my future daughter. How adorable is that?
Thanks, kids. Someday, I hope I will be.
Monday, April 11, 2016
You might be TTC if...
I'm going to NOT publish the super angsty, whiny rant I wrote earlier while sipping my java chip frappucino. Today, I'm going to resort to humor. Or, at least, a more lighthearted tone.
It's been almost eight months since our miscarriage. Six months since we've hopped back on the trying to conceive (TTC for short, as I learned from baby boards) train. A month since our due date. And this whole "living my life in hopes of being a baby-making machine" is just a reality now (which I honestly never really thought it would be because babies = meh and little kids/older kids/teens = my bread and butter). But now all I really want is a giant belly and stretch marks and a squishy little poop monster to call Suders Junior...
So here's my "You might be trying to conceive if" list. Enjoy (or don't. Whatever. I don't write for you...I write for me):
1) You might be TTC if every time you see "AF" on social media, you think of "Aunt Flo" and not...what that actually stands for...
2) You might be TTC if you don't even accidentally SNIFF alcohol during the second part of your cycle, ya know, just in case.
3) You might be TTC if you've ever ordered pregnancy or ovulation tests on Amazon. Or Amazon Prime. Or Amazon Prime Now. Shhh...don't ask me how I know they sell them there...
4) You might be TTC if you have literally wanted to punch someone in the face after they've said, "Oh yeah, we weren't even trying!" *giggle giggle* The feeling soon passes and you're happy for them and still a little jealous, probably.
5) You might be TTC if you have tried acupuncture, herbal supplements, taking your temperature every morning, changing your diet, and other more, erm, intimate and private changes in hopes of increasing the chance of making a baby...
6) You might be TTC if you look at your calendar months in advance and make sure your schedule aligns with your husband's. Wink wink.
7) You might be TTC if someone asks you what day it is and you say "CD 21" instead of "April 11th."
8) You might be TTC if you know what AF, BFP, BFN, CD, CM, EWCM, and LP all stand for.
9) You might be TTC if you secretly spend time choosing baby names and building a baby registry and researching douals, ya know, just in case.
10) You might be TTC if you think, "This baby would be due in January if we MAKE IT RIGHT NOW."
Maybe a little TMI, but hey, it's better than the alternative, which was for me to vent (once again) about all the people who are magically becoming preggo without even trying, all the people complaining about their kids/pregnancies (gah, what I wouldn't give to feel that morning/noon/night nausea again!), and all the people who are telling me to "just relax."
So trust me- this awkward (for you...I don't care) list is way better than the alternative.
It's been almost eight months since our miscarriage. Six months since we've hopped back on the trying to conceive (TTC for short, as I learned from baby boards) train. A month since our due date. And this whole "living my life in hopes of being a baby-making machine" is just a reality now (which I honestly never really thought it would be because babies = meh and little kids/older kids/teens = my bread and butter). But now all I really want is a giant belly and stretch marks and a squishy little poop monster to call Suders Junior...
So here's my "You might be trying to conceive if" list. Enjoy (or don't. Whatever. I don't write for you...I write for me):
1) You might be TTC if every time you see "AF" on social media, you think of "Aunt Flo" and not...what that actually stands for...
2) You might be TTC if you don't even accidentally SNIFF alcohol during the second part of your cycle, ya know, just in case.
3) You might be TTC if you've ever ordered pregnancy or ovulation tests on Amazon. Or Amazon Prime. Or Amazon Prime Now. Shhh...don't ask me how I know they sell them there...
4) You might be TTC if you have literally wanted to punch someone in the face after they've said, "Oh yeah, we weren't even trying!" *giggle giggle* The feeling soon passes and you're happy for them and still a little jealous, probably.
5) You might be TTC if you have tried acupuncture, herbal supplements, taking your temperature every morning, changing your diet, and other more, erm, intimate and private changes in hopes of increasing the chance of making a baby...
6) You might be TTC if you look at your calendar months in advance and make sure your schedule aligns with your husband's. Wink wink.
7) You might be TTC if someone asks you what day it is and you say "CD 21" instead of "April 11th."
8) You might be TTC if you know what AF, BFP, BFN, CD, CM, EWCM, and LP all stand for.
9) You might be TTC if you secretly spend time choosing baby names and building a baby registry and researching douals, ya know, just in case.
10) You might be TTC if you think, "This baby would be due in January if we MAKE IT RIGHT NOW."
Maybe a little TMI, but hey, it's better than the alternative, which was for me to vent (once again) about all the people who are magically becoming preggo without even trying, all the people complaining about their kids/pregnancies (gah, what I wouldn't give to feel that morning/noon/night nausea again!), and all the people who are telling me to "just relax."
So trust me- this awkward (for you...I don't care) list is way better than the alternative.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Life is a Waiting Room
Life is like a box of chocolates.
Life is a highway.
A journey.
A game.
For me, right now, life is a waiting room. Waiting for signs and signals, nervously tapping my foot, hoping my body is ok and isn't broken, trying to pass the time by distracting myself.
Sometimes it's hard to stay distracted. I'll be at school in my classroom and randomly think, "I'm not supposed to be here right now... I'm supposed to be out on maternity leave...hmm..." But I wonder- like- AM I supposed to be in the classroom? Do those kids need me and whatever I'm giving them right now...? There have been a lot of awesome teacher moments lately. God knows I need them. There have also been REALLY challenging moments, like when two students write research papers on abortion................ok, I'll just stop there. Y'all know how incredibly pro-life I am.
The difference between God's perfect will and His permissive will is a topic that weighs heavily on me, like an overstuffed backpack, always kind of there but never at the forefront of my focus. I've kind of given up trying to understand what this whole miscarriage situation is. I've kind of just fallen into His arms and tried to trust him, tried to abandon my search for "the" right answer (which is hard for me, y'all).
And so I wait. For Him. For two pink lines instead of one. For summer. For the door of the waiting room to open. I'm not the one who opens the door, and for a control freak like me, that is h.a.r.d. to swallow.
Life is a highway.
A journey.
A game.
For me, right now, life is a waiting room. Waiting for signs and signals, nervously tapping my foot, hoping my body is ok and isn't broken, trying to pass the time by distracting myself.
Sometimes it's hard to stay distracted. I'll be at school in my classroom and randomly think, "I'm not supposed to be here right now... I'm supposed to be out on maternity leave...hmm..." But I wonder- like- AM I supposed to be in the classroom? Do those kids need me and whatever I'm giving them right now...? There have been a lot of awesome teacher moments lately. God knows I need them. There have also been REALLY challenging moments, like when two students write research papers on abortion................ok, I'll just stop there. Y'all know how incredibly pro-life I am.
The difference between God's perfect will and His permissive will is a topic that weighs heavily on me, like an overstuffed backpack, always kind of there but never at the forefront of my focus. I've kind of given up trying to understand what this whole miscarriage situation is. I've kind of just fallen into His arms and tried to trust him, tried to abandon my search for "the" right answer (which is hard for me, y'all).
And so I wait. For Him. For two pink lines instead of one. For summer. For the door of the waiting room to open. I'm not the one who opens the door, and for a control freak like me, that is h.a.r.d. to swallow.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
I should've become a mom today...
Thursday, March 3, 2016 *one week before due date*
I saw the date "March 10th" pop up on my phone calendar because I have some sort of meeting that day...and I just about lost it on the spot. March 10th is my due date. Was. Was my due date. The day we should be meeting Lila Grace. I want to be nesting in preparation for her arrival- washing and hanging tiny baby clothes and packing my hospital bag (let's be honest; I would've already had that packed) and finalizing my labor playlist and...
Instead, I'm sitting on the couch, my fluffy gray blanket hugging me tightly, with Netflix on, staring blindly at the blurry figures sliding across the flatscreen, looking but not seeing.
Monday, March 7, 2016 *three days before due date*
For some reason, I hate playing volleyball right now, in that I hate that I am still able to physically play volleyball, because I SHOULD be nine months pregnant. And somehow when I'm on the court, it reminds me of that fact even more than at other times, I think because when I was pregnant this summer, I had to really be aware of it when I was playing (no diving, for example).
My acupuncturist said I'm not really supposed to play volleyball during this second half of my cycle, since there could be a fertilized egg trying to implant (his words). I need the outlet, though...
Tuesday, March 8, 2016 *two days before due date*
I hate that the next time I'll see my odd day students will be Thursday. I was originally going to take the day off, but then I thought about it: What would I spend my time doing? Sitting at her grave eating moose tracks ice cream and blowing my snot into my shirt sleeve? And that's not how I want to spend her due date.
So I decided to go to the place I love, the place where time disappears and I'm so busy playing classroom management whack-a-mole that I can't think about anything else: my classroom.
I am terrified that I'm going to lose it in front of my kids. I've already thought of all sorts of exit strategies. Their education shouldn't suffer because of my grief, although I am confident most of them would be sweet and supportive.
I've also been asking "Why?" a lot lately. Why can other people get pregnant so easily? Why can people who don't want kids or teenagers who aren't ready and are making unwise choices or drug addicts or smokers or alcoholics...why can they get pregnant? It seems like every day someone announces a pregnancy and I'm dealing with my own mixed feelings of elation at new life and the wonder of pregnancy and anger, frustration, and immense sadness. I usually consider myself to be an emotionally resilient person with appropriate coping skills and a strong support system, but I am falling apart right now, and I just don't know if I'll be able to keep it together Thursday.
I guess we'll find out...
Wednesday, March 9, 2016 *one day before due date*
Lord, thank you for providing encouragement to me today. It was in the form of a note from a student (along with a coffee tumbler that says, "With man, this is impossible, but with God, all things are possible") and an email from a student thanking me for not giving up on him and a visit from an old student. I needed all of those things yesterday.
I am dreading tomorrow. It's hard knowing my arms, which should be snuggling a baby, will be empty tomorrow. It hurts.
Thursday, March 10, 2016 *due date*
Dear Lila,
I only had to step out of class once today. Not because I'm not sad...I'm crushed, empty, devastated, and aching to meet and hold you. But more because I know that wallowing in my grief won't bring you back. Being busy helped today go by more smoothly than I anticipated. I felt people's prayers and God's arms around me all day. Teaching my students made me feel useful, like life has a point, like I'm still being a "mom" (if that makes sense)... it helped, I think.
I'm so sad I won't get to meet you in this life. There's nothing more that I want right now than to hold you. I miss you (it's possible to miss someone you've never met, you know) baby girl, and I can't wait to meet you someday. Until then, enjoy heaven and say hi to Grandma and Grandpa(s) for me <3
I saw the date "March 10th" pop up on my phone calendar because I have some sort of meeting that day...and I just about lost it on the spot. March 10th is my due date. Was. Was my due date. The day we should be meeting Lila Grace. I want to be nesting in preparation for her arrival- washing and hanging tiny baby clothes and packing my hospital bag (let's be honest; I would've already had that packed) and finalizing my labor playlist and...
Instead, I'm sitting on the couch, my fluffy gray blanket hugging me tightly, with Netflix on, staring blindly at the blurry figures sliding across the flatscreen, looking but not seeing.
Monday, March 7, 2016 *three days before due date*
For some reason, I hate playing volleyball right now, in that I hate that I am still able to physically play volleyball, because I SHOULD be nine months pregnant. And somehow when I'm on the court, it reminds me of that fact even more than at other times, I think because when I was pregnant this summer, I had to really be aware of it when I was playing (no diving, for example).
My acupuncturist said I'm not really supposed to play volleyball during this second half of my cycle, since there could be a fertilized egg trying to implant (his words). I need the outlet, though...
Tuesday, March 8, 2016 *two days before due date*
I hate that the next time I'll see my odd day students will be Thursday. I was originally going to take the day off, but then I thought about it: What would I spend my time doing? Sitting at her grave eating moose tracks ice cream and blowing my snot into my shirt sleeve? And that's not how I want to spend her due date.
So I decided to go to the place I love, the place where time disappears and I'm so busy playing classroom management whack-a-mole that I can't think about anything else: my classroom.
I am terrified that I'm going to lose it in front of my kids. I've already thought of all sorts of exit strategies. Their education shouldn't suffer because of my grief, although I am confident most of them would be sweet and supportive.
I've also been asking "Why?" a lot lately. Why can other people get pregnant so easily? Why can people who don't want kids or teenagers who aren't ready and are making unwise choices or drug addicts or smokers or alcoholics...why can they get pregnant? It seems like every day someone announces a pregnancy and I'm dealing with my own mixed feelings of elation at new life and the wonder of pregnancy and anger, frustration, and immense sadness. I usually consider myself to be an emotionally resilient person with appropriate coping skills and a strong support system, but I am falling apart right now, and I just don't know if I'll be able to keep it together Thursday.
I guess we'll find out...
Wednesday, March 9, 2016 *one day before due date*
Lord, thank you for providing encouragement to me today. It was in the form of a note from a student (along with a coffee tumbler that says, "With man, this is impossible, but with God, all things are possible") and an email from a student thanking me for not giving up on him and a visit from an old student. I needed all of those things yesterday.
I am dreading tomorrow. It's hard knowing my arms, which should be snuggling a baby, will be empty tomorrow. It hurts.
Thursday, March 10, 2016 *due date*
Dear Lila,
I only had to step out of class once today. Not because I'm not sad...I'm crushed, empty, devastated, and aching to meet and hold you. But more because I know that wallowing in my grief won't bring you back. Being busy helped today go by more smoothly than I anticipated. I felt people's prayers and God's arms around me all day. Teaching my students made me feel useful, like life has a point, like I'm still being a "mom" (if that makes sense)... it helped, I think.
I'm so sad I won't get to meet you in this life. There's nothing more that I want right now than to hold you. I miss you (it's possible to miss someone you've never met, you know) baby girl, and I can't wait to meet you someday. Until then, enjoy heaven and say hi to Grandma and Grandpa(s) for me <3
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Side Hugs and Handshakes
This happens every year.
Every year, sometime in the second semester, I step back and look at my classroom and think, "Wow. This is my job. I get paid to do this. I teach over 100 kids each year, and I actually like most of them." This thought is usually accompanied by a stinging feeling in my eyes, one I quickly suppress. Gotta save that for the end of the year when I give them their letter ;)
This past week was one full of moments like this.
Like when my fifth block was in a heated argument about the real purpose of James Russell Lowell's poem "The First Snowfall" and couldn't agree on which rhetorical verb to put in their thesis statement. This really happened. If you'd told me that in September, I wouldn't have believed you.
And when my usually quiet (silent) first block wrote poems and shared them with the class. Some kids even rapped them or danced while reciting them, for extra credit. The poems even included, without my prompting, figurative language and alliteration and imagery, and I found myself raising my eyebrows because a few of them were so insightful, creative, revealing, full of personality.
And when a kid decides he wants to create a handshake with me. Um, ok...does that make me cool?
And when a favorite former student decides to give up his Saturday morning to meet you for breakfast, and you realize that your suspicions that he would grow into a fine young man have been confirmed.
And when I got to see two former students compete in the state track meet. Both of them gave me sweaty side hugs and smiles, and it warmed my heart.
And when I got to witness one of my other favorite former students working a charity event and helping to raise over $20,000 for cancer research.
How is this my life? I have the privilege of not only knowing such fabulous young people but also being their teacher and mentor. It's knock-the-wind-out-of-me humbling to think about.
I know that I'm touching lives with my work as a teacher, but what my students may not realize is they're touching mine, too.
Every year, sometime in the second semester, I step back and look at my classroom and think, "Wow. This is my job. I get paid to do this. I teach over 100 kids each year, and I actually like most of them." This thought is usually accompanied by a stinging feeling in my eyes, one I quickly suppress. Gotta save that for the end of the year when I give them their letter ;)
This past week was one full of moments like this.
Like when my fifth block was in a heated argument about the real purpose of James Russell Lowell's poem "The First Snowfall" and couldn't agree on which rhetorical verb to put in their thesis statement. This really happened. If you'd told me that in September, I wouldn't have believed you.
And when my usually quiet (silent) first block wrote poems and shared them with the class. Some kids even rapped them or danced while reciting them, for extra credit. The poems even included, without my prompting, figurative language and alliteration and imagery, and I found myself raising my eyebrows because a few of them were so insightful, creative, revealing, full of personality.
And when a kid decides he wants to create a handshake with me. Um, ok...does that make me cool?
And when a favorite former student decides to give up his Saturday morning to meet you for breakfast, and you realize that your suspicions that he would grow into a fine young man have been confirmed.
And when I got to see two former students compete in the state track meet. Both of them gave me sweaty side hugs and smiles, and it warmed my heart.
And when I got to witness one of my other favorite former students working a charity event and helping to raise over $20,000 for cancer research.
How is this my life? I have the privilege of not only knowing such fabulous young people but also being their teacher and mentor. It's knock-the-wind-out-of-me humbling to think about.
I know that I'm touching lives with my work as a teacher, but what my students may not realize is they're touching mine, too.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Stick a Needle In It
“First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes a baby in
a baby carriage.”
We all know this schoolyard chant. In fact, in our original pregnancy announcement pictures from July, before the miscarriage, hubby and I wrote the chant out on a chalkboard. We even sat at the bottom of a tree while our photographer snapped shots of us kissing:
 |
| No, I am not pregnant. This is old, from July. See? Wasn't this cute? (Miss you, Lila Grace, and wish we were meeting you in March). Photo by Lindsey Martin Photography. |
That chant is a lie. It makes it seem like love, marriage,
and babies just magically and effortlessly show up, much like children believe
gifts appear in stockings on Christmas morning. But love and marriage are work;
they are choices, and they don’t just “show up.” And, for some people, trying
to have a baby is work, too.
I didn’t think this would be my reality. Who does? After
all, our sex ed classes (at least mine) didn’t teach us that “[e]ach month that
she tries, a healthy, fertile 30-year-old woman has a 20% chance of getting
pregnant” (www.asrm.org). Or that
approximately one in six pregnancies end in a miscarriage (source: my OBGYN). They
didn’t teach me anything about (TMI WARNING) cervical mucus or LH surges. Maybe
it was mentioned in biology or something, but I don’t remember it.
Anyway…I got to the point where I realized that for some, the schoolyard chant doesn't play out, and the process of adding to one's family is a bit more clinical than romantic. So, after research and a friend’s recommendation, I
started going to an acupuncturist last week. I walked into his office, which
smelled kind of like a mixture of Icy Hot and hot tea, and immediately felt
at ease as we discussed my health history. Here is what you
would’ve heard if you’d been a fly on the wall (I'll skip the part where we discussed my bowel movements and menstrual cycle):
Him: Would you describe yourself as even keel?
Me [snickering, then clapping a hand over mouth and clearing throat]:
Uh, no way. I’m up and down, either all in or all out. Not
even keel at all, much to my poor husband’s chagrin.
Him: Do you find it easy to relax?
Me [starting to think this guy is a comedian]: I don’t
really do “relax.” I don’t like relaxing. I feel like I’m not getting anything
done if I relax.
Him: I see. Ok. Have you ever tried yoga?
Me: Yeah. I tried
it. But I hated it. It’s too slow and boring for me. I play volleyball like
three times a week and run and do circuit training stuff at the gym instead.
Him: After your miscarriage when you didn’t conceive in the
subsequent months, did you kind of take that as a personal failure? Type A
people tend to do that.
Me [lightbulb moment]: Oh my goodness…yeah, I totally did. I
felt like I was doing everything right, and I’m used to being successful and
getting my own way and having things go according to my plan. And yeah, that
didn’t happen with my pregnancy, and I tried not to but I did kind of take it
personally. I’m still working on accepting that it was out of my control.
I
think perhaps one of my biggest personal struggles and areas of growth and
constant prayer has been dealing with the knowledge that there are people who
do everything "wrong," like smoke, drink, do drugs, or who aren’t in a good or safe
relationship. And they get pregnant and I have to unfollow them on Facebook. [Acupuncturist smiles, but I'm being serious]. It’s just the way the world works
sometimes, and yeah, honestly, it’s been hard for me to deal with.
Him: So, in addition to doing treatments to help with
fertility, I really want you to focus on relaxing, especially in the second
half of your cycle. That’s when it’s the hardest because people are always thinking, “Ah,
I don’t know if I’m pregnant or not,” and people tend to get stressed about
that. So I want you to find something creative to do during the second half of
your cycle- or the whole cycle, really- some sort of creative project.
Me [making the "YIKES!" face]: Like…art? Because I’m terrible at art. Seriously.
 |
| My best "yikes" face. |
Him: No, it could be music or cooking or journaling.
Anything, really. In Chinese medicine, everything is a metaphor. So “creating”
is a metaphor for “procreating.” But really, you just need to relax.
First comes love,
which the hubby and I must constantly choose. Then comes marriage, which we
continue to work at and commit to. Then comes a baby (in a sling or warp instead
of a carriage, because I’m part hippie), in His timing when it is His will
because He is good.
So- anyone up for any creative projects this month? Because my acupuncturist said so? ;)
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