Happy (not so) New Year

I’m not a huge fan of  New Years resolutions. They are often cliche, over and underdone at the same time, and almost never come to fruition. That being said, I do have a few particular things I would like to work on this year.

1. I will write more. That means more blogging, more time spent writing in my “letters to Elliott” journal, and more emails to my husband while he’s away. Time is moving way too fast, and I’m so sleep deprived that in a year or two or ten I fear I won’t remember any of this.. and I know I will want to remember it.

2. I will put more money into savings. I have already started doing the 52 week plan, where you put a dollar per week of the year into a savings account, working up to $52 transferred the last week of the year. Only, I’m doing that backwards. Will have a little over $1300 in the bank by the end of the year, which isn’t much, but it’s a start. 

3. I will tackle the rest of this baby weight and then some! I’m already itching to get out and exercise but I know my body isn’t ready.. At least I don’t get winded walking around Costco anymore!

4. I will love more, live more, laugh more.. all around try to remember that I am a positive person and I am capable of accomplishing more than I know and more often than not, the only one holding me back is me.

That’s all I can think of for now, on the fly, sitting on my office floor. Was just setting up an automatic payment for our water bill because that’s one of the last ones I have to physically take care of every other month and with a baby, I’d rather not leave that up to memory to get taken care of anymore.

For the few people that stumble across my blog, and the few regular readers I have, do you have any resolutions? I love the idea of them, even if they are silly.. but I also think re-inventing yourself shouldn’t be a once-a-year thing. I think the best people are always working to better themselves.

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It Comes with a Price

Nothing seems to be coming easy to me lately, and it’s all a frustrating and pointless struggle to stay emotionally afloat during this deployment. There’s this song that goes, “am I supposed to be happy, when all I ever wanted, it comes with a price?” May be a bit of an immature point to conclude, but it fits. I feel like every good thing in my life is shrouded under some little black cloud of darkness. It leads me to feeling blessed but very, very unlucky.

It’s been two months to the day that they left, almost nine calendar weeks. It feels like months longer than that. And it will be months longer until they get to come home again. I don’t know why this deployment feels so different than previous underways or separations that we’ve had, and we’ve had more than our fair share. Before we got engaged we spent eight months apart. After we got engaged, we spent the six months before our wedding apart. After we were married, we spent six weeks apart while I finished up my college degree. We were together roughly three months this year, of which only two were mostly consecutive in terms of weeks spent at home. And we fought all the time.

This year has been rough on our marriage, but it’s been worse on our friendship. And now that he’s gone and getting into the “swing” of life away, I just feel like *our life* has been put on pause from his end… but I’m still here living it alone. I’m still having our baby in a few weeks. I’m still keeping up with our house and our bills and pretending that the bed doesn’t feel so empty when I go to sleep at night.

It’s so hard having to remind myself that this isn’t a permanent situation, that I’m doing this alone but I am not exactly a single mother, that I do still have a husband, somewhere, on the other side of the world. When emails are few and far in between and even those that get through don’t say what I need to hear.. When my midwife rambles on about how new dads get involved at the hospital and I have to stop her because he won’t be there. When I have to wonder how old our son will be when he meets his daddy for the first time. When I let myself think how epically unfair this whole situation is, and how no one who hasn’t been exactly where I am right now could possibly know.

I don’t know how to find resolution. I’ve tried prayer. I’ve tried distracting myself with crafts, friends, plain ignorance but none of those things last very long.

Over Thought

I’m in a talking mood today, and unfortunately for you, I currently live alone and my baby boy is asleep, so I figure writing would be a fine substitution…. Some nights I don’t sleep well because there are too many thoughts swirling around in my mind. It’s almost as if the processing that’s supposed to be done by your subconscious when you sleep, begins too soon, and I am well aware of it’s work. Last night was one of those nights. I can’t remember exactly what my mind chatter was all about. It was too much like standing in one spot on the platform of a busy train station. Too  many thoughts coming and going; hitching rides together and disappearing before I had a chance to grasp what they were all about. I was just aware of the constant motion, the disorderly organization of it all.

I think I over think things. I have always been this way though, for as long as I can remember, and as far as I know, it’s not intentional. I wrote a post a while ago about being stuck in the past, or looking back too often… I believe that is because I spend too much time in my head. I’m not the cerebral type at all. Don’t confuse me with someone who doesn’t have or choose to respond to their feelings. I think this blog alone paints a pretty accurate picture of that.

I just like to mull things over. To take a thought or idea and write it down on binder paper, old school style. To tear it apart into it’s smallest components and wonder why it is the way it is. I wonder why people are the way they are – and it must be the things they think but don’t dare say, much of who I am is what is written on these pages… the thoughts I could never just say aloud. I could sit here and wonder how I got here for hours. Especially because this isn’t where I thought I would be a year ago.. no where near who I thought I would be at the beginning of college.

It makes me wonder how much God is involved on a daily basis. I was saved when I was thirteen, but spent much of my teen years off doing my own thing. Now that I am back to praying daily, what affect does He have exactly? What would my life be like if I couldn’t believe, if there weren’t that calling in my heart? Why did I need to believe when the rest of my family doesn’t?

Why me.. I spend my free time meditating and reflecting and I think it makes me a better person, but that’s not to say someone who never takes a second to analyze their life is wrong. I wonder what it would be like to live that way for a week. I wonder if I would be any different.

I have friends that think my life is over because I’m this old, married and with a baby on the way. What they don’t know, is that I want to tell them that they are too afraid to start living. The social, party scene was never my thing.  It’s like a rut I see them get caught in. Work or school all week, Friday hits (TGIF by the way) and it’s once again time to pre-game for a weekend spent drinking and hanging out with other people who are stuck in the same way you are. People who are on the same “train” as you.

I feel like in many ways the decision to get married wasn’t mine to make. It was the path I inherently knew was mine to take. And I do take ownership for standing there, repeating vows that I didn’t remember but a second later. I was in the moment but out of it. It was life changing. It was one of those decisions that forces you to move away from who you were. Having a baby will be the same. It’s no wonder my friends think I’ve reached the end of all the good times in my life.. they can’t see the grass is still green on the other side from where they are standing. They can’t possibly know.

And so there you have it. A peak into what my mind is like the morning after a night of little rest. Tonight I hope to fall asleep and just sleep, but with a baby boy bouncing around all night, it’s highly unlikely that will happen. I almost don’t want to post this publicly.. because who really wants to read this? But it is my blog for saying the things I can’t say out loud; for writing the things I don’t think anyone would care to read. Let’s be honest, most days my page gets two hits, and one is probably me, signing in. I’m ok with that.

Limitless and Immeasurable

Before starting this blog, I had forgotten how much I like writing just to write. It’s like talking just to hear your own voice, except these words are rarely spoken aloud unless I am proofreading. I kept journals all through high school and college for the same reason. It’s not that I think what I have to say is particularly important or needs to be shared, but that I like blabbing about things; about anything really.

Seeing what I think and feel, or rather articulating what I think and feel, helps me understand myself and where I am coming from. It helps close some of the windows that keep popping up in my life. To get that, you probably have to have heard the analogy of our brains being just like computers. For the most part, men can just “X” out of windows whenever they like. When they are done thinking about something they close the window and they move on. Women, on the other hand, can only usually minimize the window and like an overloaded computer, the windows sometimes pop back up or become frozen and thus demand attention. I find this analogy works very well for me, and most people I know. You may find yourself to be different, and should probably consider yourself lucky.

Lately, a particular phrase keeps popping up in my  mind. Actually, its more of a quote type thing that I thought while driving to pick Logan up from work one day, and quickly wrote in a note on my phone.

“Overwhelmed by the thought that adult life is often limitless and immeasurable.”

Have you ever felt that way? ………. The more I think about it, the more true it becomes and the better it represents my attitude towards life at the current time. As kids, there was always school; homework, papers to be written, assignments to be done. When we accomplished those small goals, they amounted to moving on to the next grade, the next school, the next step. But after college, and besides intra-work promotions, what kind of grading system is there? For someone like me, who thrives under stress and structure, where can I find that sort of motivation? There doesn’t seem to be any.

Being an adult is at it’s core, limitless. I could do whatever I want – and of course there are those things that I should do, like get a job; and there are those things that I could do, like have a baby; and then there are those things that I have already done, such as buy a house and get a puppy. But there is no one to say what I have to do anymore, except for me, except for maybe standards and guidelines set forth by God and my peers, but really those are all up to my interpretation anyway.

And how do measure the accomplishments of adulthood anyway? You don’t get a fancy certificate saying “Congratulations, you bought a house!”…or anything of that sort. Where is my Life tile that rewards me with $200,000 when I retire because I graduated from college. Why can’t having kids be as simple as picking a card from a deck and finding out we’re having twin boys? It’s weird and probably only something I take time to consider, but who is to say how I should or could better spend this sunny afternoon, where I have a bit of headache and a mind full of thoughts? There is no one.

Peace, love and happy wondering wherever you are, from me,

How to Deal

This week has been a long one. Last weekend feels like a lifetime away; I can’t even remember how I spent my time.. was my hubby even home? Hah. I can’t remember now.

I felt oddly peaceful all day today. I woke up exhausted, got dressed half-asleep, dropped the hubby off at work and said goodbye to him for thirty-six hours. It’s a duty day for him, as is every third day, so he has to spend the night on the boat. By the time I was almost home, I felt mostly awake, and so instead of rushing back to get laundry started and dishes put away, I took Graham down to the little rocky shoreline and watched the sun come up over the hills. It was so nice watching the colors dance on the water and listen to the tide as it went out. I had all 150 feet of shoreline to myself.

Felt crummy a little while after getting home. Hot and sleepy.. I think my body is fighting a bit of a cold. I tired Graham out with a game of ghetto-fetch [[which means I throw the toy and end up getting it myself half the time, and trying to convince him it’s not the same game as tug-o-war the other half]] put him in his kennel so I wouldn’t have to worry about him getting into trouble and climbed into bed. Slept like a rock for three hours and dreamt weird dreams that I can’t remember now.

My mind feels slow today, and I don’t mind that one bit. I feel two shots of tequila happy and calm but without the alcohol. Prayer has helped heal my heart from the bad news we received only four days ago. It is oddly comforting knowing this is all in God’s hands; that nothing I did or didn’t do would have, could have changed anything. I did the best I could by following my gut and having those tests run; and my mind doesn’t have to go crazy wondering if something is wrong anymore.

There’s an old saying about that.. that the truth will set you free. I suppose this is what free could feel like..

One Chance

After a long discussion with my hubby last night, we decided that we are going to continue trying for a baby…but more importantly, this month only has once chance of working out. Some background for those not familiar with trying to conceive…

Women aren’t fertile all month. Fertility Friend (.com) is a great resource for those interested in charting their cycles and becoming more aware of what their bodies are doing all month long.. It describes the time a woman is able to get pregnant as the “fertile window” and goes on to say,

“Your fertile window is made up of the days in your menstrual cycle when pregnancy is possible. The length of this fertile phase is determined by the maximum life span of your partner’s sperm and your egg. Sperm can survive a maximum of five days in fertile cervical fluid and your ovum can survive for up to one day. Your theoretical fertile window is thus six days long, comprised of the five days before ovulation and the day of ovulation. You only have a chance to conceive when you have intercourse on these days. This means that pregnancy is technically possible from intercourse on any of these six days. The likelihood of actually becoming pregnant, however, is dramatically increased when you have intercourse in the three days immediately leading up to and including ovulation. This makes a practical fertile window of just three days.”

Today is cycle day twelve and the last few cycles I have ovulated on or around day eighteen. Given my doctor’s advice, we should only be baby dancing, “BDing”, (having sex) every two days, which seems crazy, but it’s what she said given that we have had trouble conceiving with a more traditional every day or every other day schedule. I’m not one who usually likes timing BD opportunities but given my hubby’s work schedule, my doctor’s advice and  his 24 hour duty days at work, we realistically have one chance to make it happen this month.

One chance for the little spermies to knock me up. Hahah.. That’s probably way too much to share on the internet, but that is my life, so there you go. :)

I’m not too confident this month will be our month but I am 100% OKAY not having a December baby given that I am a December baby and that month is crowded as it is!! Five more months of trying before Logan leaves for a six or seven month deployment. And please don’t paint me in your mind as some pathetically desperate woman; I am not, because this is all in God’s hands.

Baby Rant

I don’t know if I’ve written this post before. I feel like I may have, but I don’t feel like searching back through the archives to make sure I don’t restate the same things over again. If you’re reading this and it feels like deja vu, then it’s probably something you’ve heard me complain about before.

The hubby is at work today, all day (and night) so that leaves me alone wishing I had a friend to hang out with here. And more specifically, I wish I had a friend that understood how hard trying to conceive can be when it just isn’t happening.

I guess my chances would be higher if I were sixteen, in Vegas, in the back seat of some guy I met at a party’s car, drunk and “using” birth control.

Blah.

Seeing baby bump pictures on my newsfeed on Facebook from more than one friend certainly hasn’t helped much today either. Feeling defeated and broken and down about myself is not how I wanted to spend my Friday.

What About Us?

My Freshman English class in high school had a textbook with more pages than some versions of The Bible. It was the heaviest book I have ever had the privilege of lugging around, period. Everyone hated it. The ironic part was that we were responsible for bringing it to class every day, but we hardly read out of the thing. I believe it was three short stories in total that we read, which amounts to having cracked its’ cover three times in class and none at home. Flipping through the pages one day while half-listening to people giving their Macbeth speeches, I found the second piece of literature that has stuck with me since high school. It was titled, “The Universe,” by May Swenson.

My favorite line from the short poem goes like this: “And what if the universe is not about us? Then what? What is it about? And what about us? I suppose it resonated with me because I read it during a time in my life when there wasn’t much to hold on to. High school was just beginning and I never really fit in anywhere those four years. My junior high friends had all but gone their separate ways and I was struggling to find a meaning to life beyond the four walls of my classroom. I was lost in a way I used to think only fifteen-year olds could be; but have since welcomed that lost feeling as something familiar. I remember thinking to myself that I would have it all figured out by the time I was my age now… That certainly seven to ten years later I would have a better grip on life in general. 

I don’t. A good third of my blog posts prove I have no idea what I am doing, and another third show that I am far too impatient. I still wonder sometimes, when I stumble across news articles of shaken babies and college students being tear-gased for protesting, what about us? It is a question I asked “The Universe” when I was younger, one which I ask God on a fairly regular business now. Why do things have to be this way, and why does it feel every time I try to get ahead I get smacked back down again?

The unfortunate part of asking God is that I know, just as if i were talking to the air, or to the universe at large, I probably won’t ever get an answer… but that doesn’t stop me from asking.