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?



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.