Any Other Wednesday

[Caution, rambling post ahead dealing with topics such as trying to conceive, baby loss and what not.]

We took a break from trying for a baby this month. Not on purpose; because the husband was across the country for work during the go-zone. It honestly feels like this is the longest two week wait in the history of ever, ever, because there’s literally 0% chance this month. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good knowing but also feels like such a waste of time. Our son is four, just about to be four and a half. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be starting over from scratch when my kid was essentially in Kindergarten. If we ever beat infertility and get to that point, that is.

Also did not dream up the divorce, or the time it took to get remarried or the losses or anything else that happened in between. If I wasn’t so sure about homeschooling the kid, I would probably get him enrolled in public school and pursue a new career. Be a “one and done” family, because after loss it pretty clearly feels like a closed door. Regardless, I would love love to study psychology in more depth than my animal health science degree allowed. But… there’s really no point if I can’t put it to use, is there? How would it look to get a degree now and not be able to use it for a decade, or more or who knows when because life as a whole is excellent at orchestrating plot twists?

Plus there’s the whole really can’t afford it thing. Is financial assistance for second degrees even a thing? Sounds a bit selfish but I would totally be all over that. Too scared to Google it. I suppose I am much more comfortable in the unknown. I do still think it royally unfair that we are supposed to know at eighteen what we want to do with our whole lives. Especially since despite having a passion for veterinary medicine and being very naturally skilled at blood draws, catheters and the like, it doesn’t fit who I am or what I want out of life anymore. I have a bachelors degree and licensure with my state and still cannot afford to put my kid in daycare to work. It’s madness. Props to all the technicians out there working their butts off for beans. It is definitely a calling and I have been called to something else.

So why do I feel so dissatisfied?

There’s certainly a bitterness that comes with pregnancy loss because none of this should even be an issue right now. I should have a five month old baby and be in the trenches of new-again motherhood but that’s not how it worked out for us. And I find myself drumming the keyboard at that thought because it just is. I wouldn’t wish losing a baby on my worst enemy, especially not three and especially not when the culture of our society is such that their lives were barely valid because they were never born. And I don’t know my point in writing this. Sometimes things just need to be written down and I suppose I am back to writing again, if only for now, because I have accumulated too many things to say.

I do know I am not exactly where I want to be in life and it’s hard. Because there’s nothing I can actually do about it. I feel like God has me in a holding pattern and I want to break free but I know that’s not the right answer either so I’m just waiting and waiting and that has never been a strength of mine. I have prayed for direction more times than I can count and last I heard over six months ago now was “REST.”

And I really did the best I could at doing just that.. maybe it wasn’t enough.

What if I’m just waiting forever?

What am I even waiting for?

Love,

Michelle

Divorce Chronicles :: Two Years Later

Dustin and I had an amazing time yesterday. We have been talking about going to Six Flags Magic Mountain for over a year now and finally made the trip. Splurged on Flash Passes for the first time ever and got to ride every coaster we wanted, most two or three times. There were a couple good coasters I have never had a chance to ride before, and it has been years, but Goliath, at night, was still my favorite. Nothing beats that first drop. Nothing beats the anticipation and thrill, the energy in the air, that deep breath and long scream, and those moments that steal your breath away. It was perfect. Exactly what I needed and more. 

And then this afternoon, during a quiet moment of the Hurricane’s nap, Facebook kindly reminded me that I have been divorced for exactly two years. So fitting, really, given the mild emotional breakdown I had in the car this morning on the way home… We are flying down the interstate and start talking about our wedding, just 40 days and 40 nights away. So soon, but so far away given that I feel like I have known this man forever – and often have to remind myself that we just truly met a year and a half ago. I commented honestly, that I am mostly pretty sure I am ready to get remarried when a wave of shame and anger and regret washed over me. Those deep in the pit of your stomach ugly, ugly feelings. And my concern for still being able to feel that way, even two years later caused me to burst into tears.

I am certain it is not that I am not ready to marry him. It’s the wasted time, years and years and almost a decade of wasted time, the cracks in my heart, the betrayal of trust that were all for nothing. Because besides the Hurricane, and being free and having a hell of a lot more confidence in who I am and why I’m here on this earth, no good comes from what I went through. But that’s everything at the same time, isn’t it?

It is everything. So I cried for my divorce and for me, and for the messy and beautiful family my son will have. For everything I never really wanted, wasn’t expecting, didn’t sign up for. Dustin reached over and grabbed my hand, calmly told me that it may never fully go away and that it’s okay if it never does and we sat in silence for a couple miles. He is my zen and I am so thankful. I still have a big heart, and it just so happens to be a big day in the short history of my divorced life. The highlight of which was picking up the Hurricane and him running at us yelling, “Mommy! Daddy!” before throwing himself into my arms. The gentle reminder that I am immeasurably blessed among this chaos.

Love and light,

Michelle

This is the “then”

Hello again, world.

It has been a while… I have been busy, honest, and I know I say that every time. I have actually been pretty sick on/off since before Christmas with colds, dealing with antibiotic side effects, allergies, bronchitis. You know it is sad when you go to the doctor because you cannot sleep because you cannot stop coughing and your ribs hurt, and the antibiotic they prescribe to prevent pneumonia because you really are that sick, makes your ribs hurt from tendonitis (of your ribs!). Who knew that could even happen?! And since January first it has been all study, all the time preparing for the vet tech national exam. . . But then, last night I was editing the boyfriend’s resume and realized that I really miss writing just for the sake of saying something. I miss just sitting down and pouring my mind and heart out on this keyboard, if that is not already obvious.

There is just a lot going on that I am not sure how to process. It feels a bit like doing math in my head… which everyone should know is not a skill I possess, college degree or not. I am trying my best to get my RVT this year. Forgiving myself for not making that more of a priority sooner, when it would have been easier. Because some days it does feel like any time in my recent history would have been easier than right now to be studying for one of two $300, four hour long tests needed to get my RVT. Know better, do better, I suppose. I am honestly committed. I even gave up Facebook in its entirety for the month of February, maybe even until after the national exam in April. Super serious, yo. I miss my moms on there.

Then yesterday, I had to delete a bunch of old emails. Something about switching to a new phone has the memory on my iCloud spazzing out, asking for more space, so I decided it was time for some stuff to go. A lot of stuff. In the middle of my shift + delete spree, I found the inspiration photo for my second tattoo. A little surprising to see how different the real thing turned out. And it reminded me that reality can be so much better than your dreams. Sometimes. At the same time I found a couple hundred old emails between the ex-husband and me, and that was hard. I had forgotten not only that they were still filed away, but that I had saved so many in the first place. Do not bother asking why, I no longer have any idea. The topics of the emails were so broad and the dates went way back into our forever ago time. The boyfriend could sense a change in my mood and I let him know I was snooping into my past, shared a couple important bits with him and continued deleting. I am just so over feeling any bad about the divorce.

So this year things will be different on December 31, I can say that for certain, but when exactly between now and then things will change is a mystery. I am already debt free – having just recently made the final payment on my car – and that is one goal I set for myself checked off the list. I am studying my brain cells away, barely giving myself time to breathe it feels. I am contemplating a move to a different city somewhere along the way. And I will write, nonsensical posts like this on occasion, complete with run-on sentences because that is the way my mind works when I am flustered. Because some day I will think about these days living in a cramped apartment overlooking a busy street with a different mindset and like so many times before, will wonder what I was feeling “then.”

This is the then we will reminisce.

As always before,

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Stitch It Up

I can feel the need to write something but I don’t know what it will be just yet. I feel like I’ve made another break through in the journey of post-divorce healing, as silly as that might sound. As I’m preparing to go public, and knowing that will land me in the zone of surprise and pity from friends who do not yet know about the sham that was my marriage…

I feel like this is a story I need to tell. The words push themselves off my heart and out of my mind. I have collected little notes scribbled on the back of receipts, saved quotes I’ve stumbled across on the web. I have met a few people who have helped me through this, and heavily relied on the support of my family and my mom friends. I know I’ve said a lot of the same things over and over in my currently private posts here.

I probably sound crazy. I have yet to proofread this post, as I usually do when I get to a sticky spot, but I imagine I sound a bit like a fruit loop talking in circles about this all. I don’t care. I’m learning who I am again. Learning what I will stand for, after learning far too much about what I will fall for.

I met someone. How isn’t important, and neither is the matter of who he is, because he’s moving and I’m definitely not that kind of girl. And even though thinking I might be that kind of girl is why he said hi in the first place, we had a pretty lengthy conversation. It reminded me of conversations with other friends, and boyfriends long ago. He reminded me that people can connect, even if timing is bad and nothing fits in a practical way. And that opened my heart again, helped me to remember the magic that is falling for someone, falling in love.

I’m not saying I’m falling for anyone, don’t misinterpret my intentions of this post. I had just left a lot more than memories and my pizza stone when I drove away from my old home. I forgot why people got married in the first place. I forgot what was so magnetic, so enigmatic about falling for someone. I don’t know what was real in my marriage anymore. When the divorce was like a raw, open wound hearing that I would find someone, someday was like a thousand grains of salt being poured into it..

It’s true what they say, that sometimes the right path is not the easiest one. I am almost certain that I won’t be alone for the rest of my life, and if I am, it won’t be because of a broken heart. And I am so thankful for a chance to start over, for the butterflies and future first dates and for falling and hopefully staying in love.

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Catching Up

The munch-ki-butt is down for a nap. Blissful silence for half an hour now, except for the noise of the sailor’s uniforms in the dryer. And the cat purring in my lap.

Meet Basil.

Basil

We’ve had this rescue kitty two weeks tomorrow and he fits our family perfectly. He is about two years old. Smart enough to run away when the baby tries pulling his tail and has the sweetest temperament. He pretty much lives in our windows and demands some attention once or twice a day. I was hesitant to post about him before now, because it is in my nature to care a little too much about what others think of me.. but in the whole scheme of things, it really isn’t a big deal.

Huge tangent >> [That’s the thing about judging others… It is my opinion that judging others is only good for deciding if you would care to be around them, or keep their company. Otherwise, it’s not my place to condemn others for their choices. Example. Had dinner at a new-ish couple friends house. The wife/mom mentioned being excited about being able to forward-face her son’s car seat soon because he makes such a fuss in the car. Their son is a few months older than our little. The bumble butt sometimes throws the worst fits in the car as well, but I will keep him rear facing as long as the limits on his car seat allow, hopefully upwards of three years old. I mentioned to my husband that I thought it was a foolish choice, to forward face as soon as the law allows, which is usually one year and twenty pounds. I didn’t say anything to the mom, thankfully, because later that night I realized there are tons of things others could use to judge me, especially my choices as a mom.

It’s not my place to judge her. I may drop hints that rear facing is way safer, but nothing more than that.

Judge me if you will for getting another cat, heaven knows I can’t stop you. Anyway…]

I’ve been meaning to write for a while now. I feel as if I’m playing catch up on the last month or so. Before the sailor got home, it was all talk and worry about the sailor getting home. And then he got home, and it was like our little snowglobe of a life was shaken up so violently, I’m still waiting for all the fake snowflakes to settle. I completely spaced writing a letter to little E for his five month birthday. It didn’t cross my mind once, not even after his monthly mini photo shoot.

fivemonthsold

He yawned. He gave his daddy a small smile. But mostly he fussed and frowned. It’s been a hard month here. The excitement of the sailor’s return quickly wreaked havoc on any semblance of a schedule the little and I had before his return. That mixed in with the lovely (insert sarcasm here) beginning of a very long wonder “week” (side: why do they call it a week when it’s actually sometimes a month?) and it’s been little more than poorly controlled chaos.

Then the four month sleep regression turned into “I’m never sleeping more than two or three hours at a time, ever again…and since we’re up, let’s party at 2am!” And the fussiness. Oh, the fussiness. There seems to be no end in sight. Maybe when he actually decides sitting is worthwhile. Or when a tooth finally pops through. Or when he can crawl or walk or talk…

le sigh.

So I didn’t just just disappear for no reason. I keep trying to post more regularly and something keeps popping up. But I’m still trying, folks!

Next up, a long overdue progress report on my five or so new years resolutions. Lack of proofreading sponsored by a very angry, post-nap baby.

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Blowing Raspberries

My blog feels a little dead, I will admit that. My mom was visiting, and with my husband’s homecoming breathing down my neck, I’ve been doing my best to stay busy. In the haze of activity, the bumble butt has been sleep regressing and teething and reaching a new, small developmental milestone each day. It’s amazing.

There is something magical about watching a tiny human grow up before your eyes. To go from the newborn days of the eat/sleep/poop/cry cycle, to a baby that is rolling over and laughing, scooting in circles on the floor and blowing raspberries. I didn’t think my blog would be consumed by baby talk once the little man was here, but it’s kind of hard to not talk about him. His sometimes happy, sometimes grumpy face is the first thing I see every morning, and the last thing I see at night. Make that multiple times a night.

Raspberries

I bought a camcorder, to capture all these little memories, and it was definitely one of those purchases that made me feel old. I mean, I can vaguely remember the boom-box sized camcorder my parents used to record my antics as a kid back in the 90’s… and the fact that my size reference is an out-dated music player kind of seals the deal. I somehow went from being a kid myself, to having one, in what feels like no time at all. Anyway.. I can hear the little dragon stirring from his nap.

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A Hard Year

It’s been a hard year.

Searched out my old blog hosted by blogger to find the name of a song I knew would be on the music player there. Found it. Paused for a few minutes to read the first few posts, or the last few before I moved to this blog, my “real” blog.

One of those last posts was written 364 days ago, detailing a mini-vacation the sailor and I had taken. I can remember getting into a fight, but I can’t remember about what and I don’t remember how we made it better, or if we did at all.

It’s been a hard year.

I often say, if you told me x-amount of time ago I would be here, now, I wouldn’t believe you. And that is true for a year ago, today. If you told me I would be in Washington, sitting in the living room of a home my husband and I own, nine months pregnant, waiting for the days to pass until they all blend together… well, I don’t think I would believe you.

This isn’t how I expected things to be, back when I was excited to be stationed in Washington, excited to return to the West Coast. I am doing the best I can, but I sometimes wonder why I ever wanted to come here. I wonder why I ever veered off the path laid out for me. Followed my heart instead of my head, chose a family over a career (even though they say you don’t have to choose).

All that nonsense.

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.

Summer Soon

I was thinking I owed it to anyone who might still read this thing to post something besides a weekly update, but all I’ve got are a bunch of random thoughts on my mind.

It felt like summer earlier this week. Was bright and sunny, like we brought back a part of CA to the typically gloomy Washington skies. Didn’t last long though, because it is once again an overcast and misty day out there. Was sunny long enough for me to buy a hoola hoop though, in the spirit of summer and all. I’m going to see if I can get Graham to jump through it, even though he really isn’t that great at jumping. And then I’ll get to see if I’m still any good at hula hooping. Haha! A gym I used to work out at in SoCal had weighted hula hoops and they were the best at working out your abs while standing up. It was either use the muscles, or squish your kidneys which never really felt all that awesome. That’s part of the reason I suspect – despite this little fat covering I’ve got on my belly – that it will be a long time before I’m honestly “showing” or have “popped.” I’m okay with that though. Less stretching = less stretch marks.

I’m still fighting off this cold. Had a major coughing fit as I walked into Target which was less than ideal considering all the stares I got. I know, sick people suck, but I’ve still got shopping to do and finally have the energy to leave the house for more than cold medicine. Oh! Speaking of shopping, I’m going to challenge myself to cook a wider variety of dinners. I’m in a major food rut of pasta, shake and bake chicken, salad w/ranch dressing. Things that are fine every once in a while, but have become far too easy to make way too often. I want more variety. And I also want to start making a salad as part of our meals every night for dinner. Doing the dishes together after that,  and going on walks afterwards. It’s time for some change.

I really wish I could be grocery shopping right now, as our fridge doesn’t have much besides yogurt, pickles and condiments in it. I feel the need to clarify that the pickles are for me, but not because I’m pregnant, just because they are delicious with a turkey and cheese sandwich. Instead of shopping for lunch foods and dinner foods, I am instead stuck here waiting for a plumber to come give me an estimate of what it will cost to clean the massive root invasion in our sewer line. The line that runs diagonally down our entire front yard. The same one I am hoping they can just jet (clean) and not have to dig a trench and replace because that would look seriously awful for a long time. Fingers crossed! The joys of home ownership; always something that needs fixing/replaced/worked on/painted. Anyway, I think I’ve about said enough for now. Going to make myself a sandwich for lunch and then take Graham a lamb out for some fetch in the yard. That is, if he actually feels like retrieving the ball today, unlike yesterday when he just looked at it.

Too Many Words

I have kept a journal for years. I am sure that at some point, that has come up in one of my posts before. It helps me mind dump before the day is over; helps me sleep at night knowing that I don’t have to pay any attention to the thoughts swirling around in my mind because they are already written down. I stopped writing (mostly) daily after I graduated from college. And I try to write most days in my pregnancy journal now..

I sometimes look back on where I was two or three or four years ago on that day… usually when I’m bored, or reminiscing, or “find” my journals after a move. Three years ago today I was counting down the days until summer, and until my wisdom teeth were to be removed. Two years ago today I was procrastinating final projects, and waiting to leave for Hawaii. Those were the days I would give everything to just hug my long distance boyfriend – who just happens to be my husband now. The days we still talked like best friends, would spend all our money on gas just to see each other for a weekend and counted down the days until we could be together every day.

I always thought what I had to say was so important, but it is honestly mostly whining about life, rushing through college and waiting for the future. The most interesting parts are actually the margins, not the posts themselves. I wrote the most random crap in the margins.. February 21st, 2009 :: “I hope my life doesn’t become.. “better in theory.”.. May 10th, 2008 :: “Life isn’t about you. It’s about the impact you make, if any at all.”

These journals are getting old. Ink bleeding through pages and they smell like a dorm room.I wrote about everything, anything that crossed my mind. I wonder if it’s possible, but I sometimes felt like I had more thoughts than other people. Like my mind over-complicated even the simple things and it was and still is a jumble of words on lined paper. There’s this quote that I have always felt suited me perfectly by Blaise Pascal, “I have made this letter longer, because I have not had the time to make it shorter.” I am wordy to the core. My english teachers in high school knew it and graded me down for it and I am wordy now, subjecting all of you, whoever you are, to random, long posts about nothing.

What do you care if I write journals? And who am I kidding, I know you have to “hook” your readers in the first two sentences or they get bored of what you have to say and move on. I should start saying really cool/random/weird stuff at the end of my posts just because of that.. Hmm.. I really can’t think of anything random, but I can’t get this off my mind :: “The trouble with being revolutionary and making waves is that sometimes a big wave sneaks up and tries to drown  you.” – me, today.