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.