Love is....

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.  ~1 Corinthians 13:4-10

John's sister got married on Saturday, her ceremony was a little different than one I have been to before, as there was audience participation in a part asking that we help to guide them and support them. There was nothing wrong with it, just different.

As the pastor got to a section in their ceremony, as often happens, the famous "Love is patient" spiel began. Yet, at the love is kind section, I got a little side tracked.

Love is kind.

Love is supposed to be kind, but somewhere along the way we all screw that up. Every.single.person.

After the sit down with my inlaws a few months ago, I had hoped that relationship was on the road to recovery. Instead I think that relationship might not ever "heal". To a certain extent, I think that the majority of the parties involved have gotten to a place of comfort, a place that's easy, and instead of pushing forward and trying to change things, so that the past doesn't repeat itself, I think that we have moved on.

We are still often excluded from things. But, with wedding planning taking up a lot of time, we ignored it. Until we found out about John's grandmother being in the hospital, again...via Facebook. No phone call, no text. No nothing, just a post on Facebook, asking for prayers.

So while the pastor was reciting the passage from 1 Corinthians all I could think about was that love was supposed to be kind. I wished I could have stood up and shouted at John's parents, his brother and family and his sister. Love is kind. It's not supposed to hurt. They don't have to love me, but don't they realize what their indifference has done to their son, to their brother. It's not supposed to keep score. Yes, I've screwed up. I'm not perfect. But then again, I keep forgiving them, I keep turning the other cheek, I keep trying to be patient and kind. I often feel that I fail. Here lately they have certainly added to my own self esteem and self image issues. I'm critical enough of myself, I certainly don't need them worming into my head.

Love is patient.

Granted, no one is not going to get mad at someone that they care about. I love John, but every now and then he gets on my very last nerve and I get angry and say things that I shouldn't, and that I honestly don't mean. Yet, I often keep my mouth shut for a while and wait until I'm way past the boiling point, and all the little frustrations come spewing out too. It's not perfect, but it's who I am. Yet John is patient, he lets me vent my frustration, often at his expense, and then he wants to love me. Which, to a certain extent really annoys me. I want to be mad at him and he wants to hold me and tell me how much he loves me. Which is a total mad killer, just in case you were curious. Yet, at the same time I know that he still loves me, even if I did just threaten to beat him to death with the bag of trash.

I'll admit I've acted with less than patient intentions towards John's family. I've screwed up with them too, but to a certain extent, I feel like they want to hold that against me. John's brother's wife isn't willing to forgive. She isn't willing to sit down and at least tell me what we did wrong. She's made up her mind and she isn't willing to move forward. I'd like to tattoo the verse "it keeps no records of wrongs" on her forehead. Wonder if she would notice that?

There are big plans for our future. Plans that I'm not yet willing to post for the whole wide world to see. Mostly because I'm not 100% ready to take that step off the cliff into the unknown. These plans, will change our life. They are going to harbor moments of pure terror, heartache, joy, happiness, and love. They are big enough moments that we have told only a select few people who are important to us, because we simply are terrified. We want to be sure. Plus, after a few conversations with John, I think that we want to see what the future holds with my inlaws. They will play a small part in our future plans, and we need to be prepared for them to play there part and things go back to normal, or for our relationship to change completely.

Love never fails.

Sometimes Different is Just Different

I'm 7 days into my no school vacation. 12 more days until Summer school begins. It's not nearly enough of a break. But, I refuse to spend the next 12 days whining, at least here about school. Well, I'll try not to whine much.

I had big plans this semester. I wanted to be able to have a life and go to school and work. I swear I keep finding out more ways that this whole process doesn't work than it does. I can't seem to find a groove where I don't feel like I'm giving something up or missing out on something, yet as time continues to march forward, I honestly don't can't remember what I'm fighting for or towards.

This year has been full of suck. If I thought last year was bad, this year makes last year look like a year long vacation at the beach. Perfect weather, no sunburns, my body clad in a bikini and no one puking. Perfect. This year...words cannot even begin to describe the level of suck.

Yet, I can't seem to make myself wish for something different. I can't seem to see myself anywhere else, other than where I am. I can't believe that I would give up the Saturday cookie runs with my sweet friend, who this year was diagnosed with cancer. I can't imagine giving up my Friday nights cooking goodies to share with her and her sweet family. I can't imagine a world where my in-laws were totally awesome. Yet, I've got to the point that I actually prefer their indifference. No more guilt about spending time with my family, and less rubbing in how perfect everyone else is to John and I. My grades aren't what I would like for them to be, yet, I can't imagine giving up more than I feel like I already have to make them completely awesome. Although, I'm quite sure if I would cut the cord to Facebook, I would be fine. It's a great time waster for college students who want to avoid homework. I stalk people I don't even know, and probably wouldn't even like in real life so I can avoid homework. Yet, I can't imagine giving up school, even though most days it feels like it will be a lifetime before I graduate.

So, yeah, I would like things to be different. I would like John's cousin's wife to have not ended her own life. I would like my friend to be well so we could enjoy our hot sauce dates and movie nights. I would like to be finished with school. I'd like my grandfather to be able to sit at my college graduation and watch me get my diploma. Yet, all of the things I would like different, I would miss out on the thought provoking conversations that I've had on a random cookie run. Conversations that, even though she doesn't realize the impact they have had, has caused us to completely change our plans for the future. They have caused us to have conversations and rethink things that we were unsure of before.

If this year has taught me anything it's that sometimes different is just different. It's not any better or any worse than the what's happening in my little world right now, it's just different. So, I guess the saying about if all of the worlds problems were in a pile and you could see what all was going on in other people's lives, you would gladly take your own problems back. Besides, sometimes those problems end up being a blessing, and who can complain about that?

I Just Hope

Read this first. Infertility: 3 things to ask God for

This was typed to the very, very wonderful friend in response to this link. I just couldn't not share it. Don't worry, I won't share her response.

I love you so very, very much. So I'll forgive you for making me cry. : )


I'd stopped thinking about having a baby. In fact I didn't cry the last facebook friend who announced their pregnancy. I was having one of those rare moments of joy at our life.
Then stupid concert Saturday. It's all their fault. One of their sponsors for the tour is World Vision. They are a group that allows you to sponsor a child in a 3rd world country. I ended up having to actually go to their website, because about halfway through the video I was thinking about how different my life would be if I had a child. I get to play full time college student and worker bee, and I couldn't do that with a baby. Then again, there are days that I think about the baby we lost. He would have turned 8 in February. The 12th to be exact. That was my due date. I asked Brad a few years ago, if he knew what that date was. He didn't. I was heart broken for weeks. Now, it just seems to sneak up on me. I was getting ready to go to bed this year when the thought hit me.
I never made it to my first doctor's appointment. I had a miscarriage the night before. That was the hardest phone call I think I've ever had to make.
We have talked about adoption. We have talked about doing a round of in-vitro. I don't know what to do. So I pray. I pray that I'll pay attention and not let fear, or the timing stop me from following through. I pray that I won't be so self absorbed that I'll do what God wants. I pray for hope. Hope that my marriage survives. Hope that my heart doesn't break. Hope that I don't say the wrong thing to a friend who is pregnant, or to a friend that whines about her morning sickness, or her swollen ankles, or the sleepless nights. I hope that I don't avoid them so much that I hurt them, because I can't get over it. I hope that I can avoid the baby dedication and mother's day services at church. Because it's just another reminder. I want to hate mother's day and father's day, because infertiles are forgotten. We still have to celebrate with our own mothers, grandmothers, sisters, friends. I didn't cry last year, for the first time in 8 years. I didn't go to church either, but I didn't cry.

You want to be hopeful, but at the same time you have to be realistic because month after month, after month of disappointment gets old. You want to fit in, because suddenly you feel like the kid who always got pick last in gym class. The kid that no one wanted to eat lunch with because they were a little different. Sunday school classes don't know what to do with you. Apparently neither do pastors.

The drugs made me crazy. Hot flashes, cramps, mood swings, tender breasts, and morning sickness. I was miserable, and the cruelty of all of the symptoms of pregnancy without the baby was just... cruel. Add that to the stress of planned sex, which sounds like every guys fantasy, but after following doctors orders, and you have to preform on certain dates, it becomes a chore. Then, watching your bank account vomit out money so fast that it makes your head spin. It's just so overwhelming and so..alienating.

Then add the jealousy. The why can that 400 pound lady have 15 kids that she can't afford and I can't have just one. Your jealous of pregnant women, of women with children, of women without children, simply because it's still their choice. It doesn't feel like it's been taken away from them yet. It's unfair, you cry, you rant, you apparently sit down on a pallet of dog food in the middle of Walmart and cry about the injustice of it all. Not that I've ever done that.

Then you realize at that moment, surrounded by dog food, that this isn't the answer either. Of course, you then realize that the dog food aisle has a distinct smell, and the you hope you can find somewhere inconspicuous to throw up. Not that I've done that either. : )

You lose yourself, and find yourself all at the same time. Which had nothing to do with how this started, but I got a little carried away. : ) Apparently there is the blog post I've been looking for.

Back to Saturday. I'm wondering. If I'm not being pushed in another direction. That little voice in my head keeps telling me that there are different ways to have a child. I don't know if that means that I should sponsor a child. I don't know if that means that I should call this friend that works at Bruckners as a social worker, who lucky for me, has faced infertility and won. She has a 4 year old, and 8 month old twin girls. She did treatments to get them all. She told me, whenever I was ready to call her and she would tell me what my options were. I don't know if I should call an adoption agency. I don't know. Lost is an understatement.

It's a call I'm not ready to make, just yet. Not because I can't see myself loving a child that isn't mine. Just because I don't want to give up on having my own just yet. I'm trying so hard to not hang on to that and miss an opportunity. I'm trying to let that baby go.

I'm also, probably much to Brad's great disgust, attempting to lose weight again. I've kickboxed, this week, which I haven't done in months. I'm trying to pay more attention to what I'm eating. I think that part of me hopes that the doctors might be right and my weight is an issue, and that the other part hopes not, because I don't want the reason that we couldn't have a baby was because I wouldn't starve myself to lose weight. I think he is afraid to find out the truth too.

When the whole situation gets me down, I pray for peace. I pray for contentment. So that I can stop the fighting between my head and my heart, and that I can be thankful and find contentment in the friends and family that let me spoil their children and crash their t-ball games and love their kids.

I also pray for understanding so I don't choke my mother when she tells me the latest cure all that she found on the internet. And I just pray I don't snap where my in-laws are concerned, because their issues are way to many to list in a single request.

I like guided prayer too. I also like answers. I'm not patient. However, once I stopped being so stubborn, the only thing I hear when I ask when is it going to be my turn is "Be patient. Not yet." I just hope I will be ready. I just hope I won't hold on so tightly that I miss my chance.

I just hope.

Here and There

I've stared at this same screen for 2 weeks now. That little cursor flashing at me. Taunting me to try to come up with something worthwhile to write. Something worthwhile just in general.

It's been a long year. A very, very long year.

When did we get so old and adult like? When did that happen? When did it become a regular occurrence to talk with friends about their chemo and cancer treatments instead of an older family member, like a great uncle?

When did we have so much "bad" stuff go on this year that I am to the point, I don't know whether I should drink lots of margaritas or hide under the bed. Or both.

But we keep on trucking. Trying to keep our head above water.

And crap just keeps getting thrown at us. We just keep going.

We are kinda like the energizer bunny. Except we aren't happy about it.

Well, we are happy we are alive, but otherwise, not impressed with all the "crap".

So while you might be visiting this page annoyed that nothing new is going on around here. Keep in mind that right now, my main focus is my mental stability.

Which after the year we've had, is starting to dangle by a thin thread. Be patient. Keep checking back. Follow me on twitter.

I'll be back soon.

Hopefully with a better attitude. And sarcasm.

Danger Will Robinson, Danger.

I have used this blog as a place to vent to and share deep and not so deep thoughts. Well, today this blog is going to become a personal outlet for some current frustrations in my life. Namely my mother. Don't get me wrong, I do love her, even though this post will probably not portray that.

Saturday evening we took my dad to the emergency room. Which right now seems like a lifetime ago, could be because I'm exhausted. But, I digress, and it's way to early to do that.

I don't understand how she couldn't see how very sick he was. I walked in the door and after 5 minutes of conversation with him, I knew that he wasn't ok, even though he insisted he was. He was panting like my dog does when he lays in the back yard in 100* weather and sun bathes. Yet, he was sitting almost completely still in a chair. He assured me that he was just having a bad day. Um. No. He wasn't thrilled to be going to the doctor when my grandmother, his mother, and I convinced him that he should be going to the doctor. But he finally caved. Which, I'm very thankful for, otherwise we would be planning his funeral. His doctors have assured me of that fact. Another couple of days and it would have been too late. Right now he lies in an ICU bed with a tube shoved into his stomach to provide him some type of nourishment, as well as on a ventilator. There isn't a doubt in my mind that another day and he would have died.

My mom wanted me to take him to the doctor while she watched over her grandkids, my niece and nephew who were visiting for Spring Break. Her reason was that he would change his mind. We intended to follow her with the children in tow. It wasn't the ideal situation, but you do what you have to do. My husband dealt with the children while I sat in the room with my father waiting on the test results. My mom debated leaving once we discovered that he was going to be admitted. I'm glad she didn't, simply because when his CO2 levels got too high, he kinda flipped out, and I was thankful that I wasn't there alone with him. Not because I was afraid of him, but because we needed 2 hands so he didn't rip his IV and stuff out, which could have been a disaster.

We finally got him moved to ICU and about 3am went home. She stopped by my house and we called my step-sister and shared with her the latest information. At 4am the hospital called to tell me that he was being moved to a ventilator, because his blood gases still weren't where they needed to be. Awesome. They also informed me that they were taking him for a CT scan, because they were concerned that something else might be wrong.

We finally managed to make it to bed, but at 5am, I heard my cookoo clock chirp. The nurse called again at 6:45, and my alarm went of at 9 so that I could call my grandmother and give her an update. As far as they knew, he only had pneumonia, they didn't know he was in ICU and I didn't want them to show up and the hospital and not be aware of what was going on. So I called and gave them the low down.

Sundays at my house usually involve a lot of things. Like cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping and homework, but since I'm on Spring Break this week, homework is just a very bad dream. My grandmother was at the hospital, so I figured that I would take the opportunity to clean and do a little laundry and that I would take the afternoon shift. So we spent an hour mopping and scrubbing, just in case my mom needed somewhere to crash, my house was neat and clean. Not that it's usually a mess, considering it took us a whole 60 minutes to get it done.

We got ready and headed to the hospital. We chatted with the nurse and got the low down on how he was doing today, and what the plan was now. My mom was planning on coming for the evening shift. But her electricity went out and she refused to leave. So she didn't come Sunday.

Monday, I had to work. I had planned on working full time this week, and even though he was in the hospital that was still my plan. I wanted the extra cash to help to catch us back up after John's bought with unemployment. So I got up and went to work. There was a misunderstanding between my mom and my grandmother and if not for my insistence, she probably wouldn't have made it on Monday night either.

There house was horrific when I was there Saturday. There kitchen was buried, their dining table buried, it was like watching an episode of hoarders unfold before my very eyes. There was trash, and groceries that needed to be put away, it was just horrific. So I'll admit that she needs her house cleaned. Bad. So Sunday afternoon and Monday she did just that. She has been cleaning and organizing her house. She blames it on my father that she can't accomplish this any other time, yet I remember when they first got married that he typically helped her, or at least left her alone to get it done.

Yesterday, she was supposed to come to the hospital. I called her at 8:30 and she was a no show. She was cleaning up my father's man cave and just wanted to get it done. Which, is fine, but if that were my husband laying in ICU on a ventilator, I would be there with him. Granted, I would need to be practical, and I might not be there every second, but I honestly don't know. I'd rather not find out how I have to react to that situation. He almost died and she is worried about cleaning her house than about him. Granted he is oblivious either way, but still.

She's never been one to visit people in the hospital. She doesn't come see her mother in law, she often didn't come see my grandfather when he was in the nursing home. And once we moved him to Lubbock, I'm not sure that she ever stepped foot in the door any other days other than the day he moved in and the day he died. She's not a visitor. She would rather you come to her, which I understand too. But life doesn't work that way. It makes me wonder what is really going on between her and my dad. It makes me wonder if they have quit being married and are more like roommates who are affectionate of each other, yet wouldn't mind it if the other walked off a tall cliff.

I was telling a good friend about how crazy it drove me, and she said it seemed heartless. She's right. It's also loveless. Sure, I can think of a million other things that I would rather be doing during those brief visits to the hospital. Yet, I'm there. Every.single.day. I'm exhausted. I had things I wanted to accomplish over Spring Break, and all of that has taken a back seat. It can wait. It's important that my father knows that someone loves him. That someone cares about him. It's important that he hears my voice. Even though I've had some odd conversations with him. I told him last night that his "food" looked like Eagle Brand Milk, but probably tasted like poo. Then that conversation continued on to discuss how exactly one knew what poo tasted like. I don't eat poo, I'm sure he doesn't. I'm pretty sure that's when I realized that I was exhausted. But he looks peaceful, which gives me a sense of comfort in hopes that he will be ok. That he is just busy getting better.

I'm not sure what's going to happen when he wakes up, or even when he goes home. But I have a funny feeling that this is going to change a lot of things in his life and my mothers life, whether they want it too or not. There is definitely going to be an intervention. He's in for a rude awakening. Wake up from a drug induced coma and suddenly your a non smoker, and a health food junkie.  That'll teach him.

When There Are No Words

I've been going to write a post for the better part of 2 weeks now, it was just one of those things where I didn't know what to write. I didn't know what to think or feel, I'm still not sure.

It's been a helluva year. We were looking forward to moving away from Papa and Grandpa's deaths last year. We were looking forward to starting my second year at Tech. We were looking forward to the summer, and to this week of Spring Break when we were going to take a weekend getaway.

Then everything started to go wrong. Very, very wrong.

John lost his job, we found out some disturbing information about my ex brother in law. My friend Andrea has been sick and in and out of the hospital. My husband's cousin's wife committed suicide. It's just been a cluster. Then my husband finds a job with some crazy hours. I send my sister-in-law a birthday wish and get some serious hate thrown back at me. My friend Andrea is diagnosed with liver cancer. She goes off to Houston and it's actually colon cancer that has spread to her liver and lymph nodes. She's 33. Then it's my dad, who is currently lying in a hospital bed in ICU on a ventilator. Oh and we can't forget the homework and the deadlines and tests and all that has come with going to college. The stresses with a job in an industry that has taken a major hit.

I'm worried about him, about Andrea, but at this point, I'm just numb. At some point in the last month something somewhere has short circuited and I'm just...I don't know.

I've got John's sister actually making an effort with our relationship at the same time his brother's wife is shoving me so far away. Then with everything else, it's amazing that my head is still attached to my body. It's even more amazing that I'm not locked in a padded room in a straight jacket with Prozac being shoved down my throat every few minutes.

I finally think that my husband is more worried about me than about everyone else. Probably because I'm not a cleaning fool like I usually am when life piles it on. I want to, I just don't know which problem to dwell on while I clean. And none of the current issues are ones that can be solved with a clean closet. Most of them are completely and totally out of my hands. There isn't anything I can do, other than try to keep rolling with the punches. Which is maybe the point. I have a tendency to hold on to stuff, and let it pile up until I just have a complete and total meltdown.

I wanted this week to be a vacation, one that only allowed me to work, and getting ready to spoil Andrea and her family when they got home, so that they could ease back into life instead of having it thrown at them. I wanted a breather from stress. Instead, I just had another dosage.

I wanted to ask God, now what? Obviously, I can handle more. But really?  Really. I'm almost positive that I've prayed more in the last 3 months than I have in my entire life. Maybe that's the point too. I've prayed for Andrea and her family, I've prayed for my father to get better so I can kick his butt for getting this sick in the first place, I've prayed that my husband would love his job, I've prayed to let this be enough. I've prayed for good grades and for peace so that I don't get tests and sit down and freak out and fail the stupid things. I've prayed for things to be ok and us not loose our home when John lost his job. I've prayed for more hours in the day, and for sleep when I wake up several times at night.

I've learned that you can function and live on 3.25 hours of sleep. I've also learned that at some point, I have to take care of me. Thankfully, I have a husband who is helping do that.

My point with this post. Send some prayers our way. Otherwise, my head just might explode. Or my house will be as clean as a surgical table.

Not the Right Button

Friday night is typically date night at our house. We go out with friends, family or just by ourselves. It's the one night that I am guaranteed not to have to cook, except on rare occasions.

This past Friday, we were headed to the restaurant of choice, and we were stopped at a stop light. Sitting next to us was a bright yellow VW Bug.

We were making fun of the guy driving, his obviously girlfriend/wife's car because there was flowers in a vase inside the car.

He was also digging for some serious boogers while sitting at the light. Then he tried the "Be cool" moves in hopes that we hadn't seen him.

Sorry dude. We saw. We wished we hadn't but we did.

As the light changed, and he quickly sped off, my husband noticed that he had a transformer image (like the robot people that movies and toys are made of) on the back window.

The following conversation occurred:

Him: There's a transformer sticker on the back window.

Me: What? Does he think that actually makes his car transform into a transformer?

Him: I don't know.

Me: I'm pretty sure that's not where the button is. (Up his nostril)


Date night is so fun.