City Girl Can Survive

Patience

2012-02-23T12:32:00.000-08:00

This is the only moment of each day when Buster posesses any sort of quality that resembles patience.

Or self-control.

Yes, that bone is almost the size of his head.

Also? I know that I'm a terrible human being for making him wait to eat it because I needed to take a picture.

I really think he would wait all day if I asked him to.

But? I'm not that mean.

Lent & %&*^#$

2012-02-22T08:21:00.000-08:00

In addition to being quite sarcastic, I also have a very dirty mouth. Some might say pirate or sailor-like, really.

I try not to cuss, really I do. It just happens, you know?

Not that curse words simply slipping from my mouth is acceptable. As a writer, I realize that there is always a seemingly "better" word that could be used. But it's just sometimes hard to find a better word- like when I'm driving my car. Or, when my dogs do something terrible.
Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent. It's all about penance and moderation and trying to be a better person---which I surmise would mean less (or even no) cussing.

So, I'm giving it all up. All of my favorite curse words and even my least favorite ones, too. Out the door for forty full days. Every last one.

My dear sweet husband (who is doing P90X & not playing iPad games for 40 days) has also suggested another joint Lenten resolution: eating dinner at the dining room table with the television off.

f^#k.

I mean golly gee whilikers, that sounds wonderful. After hearing this suggestion, I suggested we take turns bringing a list of topics to discuss while sitting at the dining room table for conversation purposes. There's nothing I hate more than silence and conversation lapses. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

I also suggested he remove all his jackets and stuff from the top of this particular table, but there's no need to get crazy here. I mean, it's just Lent. Right?

Things I don't say

2012-02-20T12:01:00.000-08:00

People tend to cling to certain phrases and sayings and repeat them frequently. I am no exception to this rule, which is why I plan to make a bold Lenten resolution.

However, there are also a lot of things that will never, ever come out of my mouth:

"That is such a beautiful poncho!"

"Have you seen my Crocs anywhere?"

"Why don't more men wear short-sleeved dress shirts?"

"I'm totally wearing the right shoes for these conditions."

"I would like this deep-fried, please."

"You know, Gordon Lightfoot really makes great music."

"Wearing socks with your sandals is always a great choice."

"Oh yeah, I heard all about that on ESPN last night."

"I guess those shoes are cute, but the heels are just too high."

"I think I'm under-dressed for this event."

February 16th

2012-02-16T05:32:00.000-08:00

Today's the day. The one I thought would change something--anything--about this experience.

Today is 18 months since our adoption application was accepted, exactly.

When I reminded my husband of this, he scrunched his nose and said, "Really??"

His point was well taken: it does(n't) seem like that long. When you are in a constant state of waiting for something important, time passes both quickly and slowly--it's difficult to describe.

I figured we would never actually have to wait for this day, to be honest. The oldest sales trick in the book is to tell someone that the thing they want will take X days/months/years, even though you know with certainly it will come sooner. And when it does, you look like the hero.

Not the case here. Other than sending us two Christmas cards, we haven't heard a thing from the adoption agency in the last 18 months. The only thing we have to tell the people who want to know how things are going is absolutely nothing.

For me, my feelings can be best described as a mixed bag. I've always thought that was a funny term--until I lived it.

But, that's what happens when you have to have your feet in two different worlds. The world of moving on, acceptance and finding happiness--paired with the world of still wishing and hoping for the very thing you are trying to put behind you. The reality is that you can't live in both places if you want to remain sane. It's hard to describe how this feels, and I have yet to think of an analogy that applies to this feeling.

How can you possibly expect your heart to feel two completely different things?

I've begun to realize this: you can't. It's not a reasonable expectation, really. You instead need to find where you belong in the midst of that equation, wherever that might be.

What I have come to realize is that I have always led a very conventional, expected life. My choices have always been traditional and have never really gone against what was expected or even accepted. But, infertility has changed that part of me.

Our choice to walk away from fertility treatments was not traditional. Most people wouldn't choose our path, this I understand. I understand (really, I do) why people try everything possible to have a biological child before "moving on" to adoption. I know what it feels like to stand at a very significant crossroad and feel like everything has fallen apart and be presented with an opportunity to make things right again. But, I also know what it feels like to hear your heart telling you to choose the path that is not popular. Our hearts pulled us in a completely different direction. I know what it's like to feel for the first time in your life that it's your life, and you should do whatever you want.

I have always known that people who love us would support our choice either way--doing anything to make our dream, whatever it might be, possible. And I have always anticipated that there will be people who just don't get it.

Until you've stood at those crossroads with your own two feet, it's likely you will never really and fully understand the tsunami wave of feelings you feel in that moment.

It's a death.
It's a bad dream.
It's heartbreak.
It's confusing.
It makes no sense, no matter how many times you do the math.
It contains no logic.
It makes others uncomfortable.
It makes you feel inadequate.
It makes you angry.

Despite all the pain and power to pull you down, I believe this: you are stronger in the places where you're broken.

It's simple physiology really: muscle soreness comes from tiny tears caused by exercise or resistance training. In two days, those muscles heal larger and stronger than they were before. Your body actually becomes stronger in those weaker places---and so does your heart.

I am happier today than I have ever been in the last three years. I'm stronger than ever. I'm more powerful and more in control of my life's path than I ever thought possible. My torn muscles have finally healed. I'm completely at peace with my old wounds and my slowly fading scar--and everything it represents in my life.

And all this waiting? It's great, actually. It gave me the time and space to realize that I'm happy with being unconventional. I'm just really, really happy. And? Not caring what anyone else thinks is the actually one of the best feelings in this confusing world of ours.

And that's what moving on is all about.

...on surviving.

2012-02-08T08:31:00.000-08:00

“But don’t forget who you really are. And I’m not talking about your so-called real name. All names are made up by someone else, even the one your parents gave you. You know who you really are. When you’re alone at night, looking up at the stars, or maybe lying in your bed in total darkness, you know that nameless person inside you…Your muscles will toughen. So will your heart and soul. That’s necessary for survival. But don’t lose touch with that person deep inside you, or else you won’t really have survived at all.” -Louis Sachar

The Truth

2012-02-07T07:40:00.000-08:00

It doesn't matter how many times the universe shows us it is impossible, we still believe it is possible to hide from the truth. Sure, you can put it off for a while---but it will always come bobbing back up to the surface to remind you that it cannot be eradicated from your life.

There are plenty of high profile, widely publicized examples of this phenomenon: Tiger Woods, Bernie Madoff, Jerry Sandusky, et al. All people who tried to stifle the truth--their own faults/sins/shortcomings--and we all know how those stories end. It often seems like the smarter or or more successful we are, or think we are, the more we believe we are able to outsmart the truth. Somehow, we believe we can deny who we are or what we've done in a way that no one else has ever managed to do before us.

It never works, you see. Not permanently, anyway. The truth is willing to give you a rain check; willing to promise you that if you try hard enough and manage to lie enough, it will fade into the background. But it will never disappear entirely. And best of all, it will be waiting in the shadows to show itself at the most inappropriate of occasions. We think living a lie is easier and cleaner than being honest because we are afraid of what the truth potentially means for our life--and it's always more frightening in our heads. Or, the truth is damaging. Or illegal. Or whatever, really. It matters not what the truth is, we still fear what it will do to our life.

I have always been fascinated by our insistence upon resisting our own personal truths, too. Ever notice that when you start to feel a certain way that you believe will not be popular, you have a strong urge to hide it? Perhaps it's an unpopular decision or a choice that will potentially disappoint someone else. We believe that ignoring the truth or lying about it will save someone else from heartbreak. We also believe that lying is a better option than being honest. It's just our natural instinct to save our loved ones from pain, I think.

But what about you? What about your happiness? Odds are you have had moments in your life where you had to scratch and claw your way through something terrible to get to this point in your world--physically, spiritually, financially or mentally. Things haven't always been easy, or simple for you in those moments. Think about how that felt: did you try to hide it from others? Did you seek out the truth? Or, were you too ashamed to admit your own faults and shortcomings to admit anything at all?

Whatever your truth may be, I think it's time to set it free. Let it out there for everyone to see; even if it isn't nearly as pretty as you hoped it would be. The people that hate you for it never deserved you anyway. And the ones who truly care will understand---because all they want is for you to be happy.

Just set it free, and everything else will fall right where it should.

The Ebb

2012-02-06T11:41:00.000-08:00

The weather has been wildly fluctuating lately, which means people are filling the awkward parts of conversation with weather-related remarks. Terms like "crazy" and "can't make up it's mind" and "this is terrible" are being thrown around. I mean, I get it: it was one degree and snowy at one point. Last week, it was fifty degrees and rainy. I suppose crazy is a good way to describe this particular occurrence. Whatev.

But I always come back to this: the weather isn't all that much different than your life. There are breezy, sunny days at sixty-five degrees and frigid days at eleven degrees and you have to learn to adapt even when you truly despise the experience. When someone talks about the ebb and flow, this is what they mean: sometimes the tide will go out (ebb) and sometimes it will come back in (flow). But, it always comes back. The water that returns to the sea will again return to the beach. Sometimes it just requires a little patience for it to arrive.

When we experience an ebb in our lives, it feels like it will never end. When will our reprieve come? Why has everyone forgotten about us? It feels like the tide will never return and we are somehow stuck in a permanent agony. Like everything else, it's not going to last forever--the world couldn't possibly function with such a lack of balance. And neither could you, quite honestly.

When times are good, it's so easy to forget what the bad times felt like--and the opposite is also true. All you need to do is be patient and let your ebb teach you something about who you are, or who you are meant to be. And if you don't feel like doing that, just plant yourself on the beach and wait for the tide to come back in. It's only a matter of time.

This has been stuck in my head since Saturday

2012-02-01T06:20:00.000-08:00

...and now it will likely be stuck in yours. You're welcome/I'm sorry.

Tales from the Treadmill

2012-01-31T05:51:00.000-08:00

My treadmill and I have an incredibly tumultuous relationship. It's very Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown-esque, you see. Sometimes we love deeply, other times we fight intensely. But, at the end of the day the fact remains that I need the treadmill in order to remain a sane, functioning member of this society. No, really: I am the most terrible, awful ~~human~~ beast woman you have ever met in your life when I have not had the opportunity to run. And I sometimes suspect my treadmill knows this. Which is probably why I despise it so much.

Our issues typically come to a head in the winter months, what with the fact that there is little sunlight remaining when I arrive home from work. That, and I do not have any interest whatsoever in waking up early during the week to run outdoors by myself. Mostly because I treasure my sleep, but also because I have a ~~legitimate~~ perceived fear of being kidnapped and murdered. Hey I live in a small rural town and I watch the news. So, I totally know how running alone in the middle of nowhere works when there are people who creepily drive unmarked vans.

But enough about my personal paranoia.

Our treadmill is located in the basement, which means that it really does not need to be terrible for any other reason than that. No one wants to hang out in the basement, except the dogs who spend most of their day down there in cages. They clearly didn't even have a say in the matter, either.

To make matters worse, ~~I have been too lazy to call DirecTV~~ the satellite signal is not working in the basement. So, when I run on the treadmill I'm just stare at the wall instead of watching a television program. Which I do, naturally. While listening to a Johnny Cash-Lady Gaga-Justin Beiber song mixture.

Whatever works, right?

Learning Self-Control. Sorta.

2012-01-13T07:40:00.000-08:00

It is safe to say I'm not terrible with money. However, I have a serious problem with self control. There is just this thing that happens to me when I see something I want: I have to buy it. It's borderline obsessive, really. While it is necessary for me to dress professionally for my job, I would say that at this point in my life I have more than enough clothing options.

And shoe options.

And accessory options.

Options are good, but I recently realized I was spending more than necessary on items that were not, well, necessary. My closet is packed to the brim with stuff, y'all.

So, what's a gal to do?

Like everything else, dealing with money is all about tricking myself into having some semblance of self control. Because I have none when it comes to retail purchases. I am by no means bankrupting anyone, but I could stand to save more rather than spend more.

Here are some of the ways I'm working to fool myself into being thrifty:

1. Unsubscribing from e-mail lists for retail stores. Here's how this works: I sign up for the e-mail list. They give me free shipping, 20% off my first order, whatever. Then, they have me. They send me weekly e-mails, reminding me of sales and cute tops and oh look this thing you don't need is 30% off now! BUY IT. See, again with the self-control. I was on a lot of these lists. Every time an e-newsletter arrives, I unsubscribe. Out of sight, out of mind.

2. Using mint.com. This website is awesome: it's totally free, completely safe and it allows you to pull every single account that exists in your life together in one convenient location. I do mean everything too: car loans, mortgage, student loans, credit cards, bank accounts, investment accounts: they are all there. Plus, it shows you how you're spending your money, which is crucial for my self-control impaired self. Did you know that if you spend $30 here and then $50 there you soon spend $300 a month on clothing? Math is hard. Mint also lets me set a budget for categories as well, so I know when I have overspent for the month. Which makes me feel guilty about those 3 pairs of dress pants I bought last month.

3. Waiting a day. I realized something important about myself that is crucial to this situation: I want something right now. Or, yesterday. I can't be sure, things are hazy here. But, what I really want today is probably going to be a stupid idea tomorrow. Like, another pair of boots. Or, some black dress that is identical to the 343,000 I already own. I rarely sit on an idea before acting on a purchase---but I force myself to do it now. That dress really is a dumb idea and I don't buy it if I wait until tomorrow to revisit the idea.

4. Setting big & little goals. It's actually lot easier to save money when you are saving for something very specific. Maybe you want to buy a new car with cash. Perhaps it is your wish to go on a luxurious vacation next summer. Whatever it is, saving is much more fun when it's specific. We like to set really big goals and smaller monthly or yearly goals to keep things interesting. For example, we want to refinish our basement. We would be doing the work ourselves, which saves a lot of money. However, materials still cost money. That's our current "small" goal. Our big goal? To have our mortgage be the only major debt we have in 5 years. It's lofty, yes, but it's also very possible.

5. Making lifestyle changes. This, as you can imagine, is difficult. I like mineral makeup, salon hair products and other expensive things. I have come to realize that it is possible to have nice things without breaking the bank--it just takes some effort. These are some small changes that have really added up:

I am currently growing out my hair, which means I get fewer haircuts. I also went back to my natural color with the help of my hairdresser, then started dying and highlighting my hair at home using this product, which I love. I spend $15 every three months instead of $150.
We dropped our gym membership and bought a treadmill--which paid for itself in a year. Surprisingly, I find it's easier to stay motivated to exercise at home anyway. I also use a lot of exercise DVD's. When I get tired of a DVD, I sell it on half.com and buy a new one that is gently used.
We get the Sunday newspaper every week for the coupons. And er, the news. But mostly the coupons. I'm usually able to get multiple copies, which means multiple coupons.
We grocery shop based upon coupons & sales. I used to make fun of my husband for only buying something he wanted if it was on sale AND he had a coupon. But, it makes sense. Everything goes on sale eventually--and when it does you should buy it in bulk. A great example of this is cranberry juice. That stuff is crazy expensive, but we drink a lot of it. So, when it goes on sale we buy at least 12. The same goes for shampoo, hair products, toothpaste and whatever else you use. If it doesn't expire, you can just store it in a closet for later.

6. Trick yourself into saving money for the future. When I got my first job out of college, the best advice I ever received was this: start saving for retirement right now. I was 22 and retirement was literally the very last thing on my mind, but I took the advice. We both work for organizations that require us to contribute to a state retirement account, but my husband and I both opened additional retirement accounts as well. Each year, we increase our contributions and in just six years time we already have impressive nest egg(s) that will only get better with time. The best part? Since we started saving right away, we never missed the money we contribute because it was never there for us spend in the first place.

7. Create an untouchable account. One of the greatest feelings in life is receiving a sizeable sum of money unexpectedly. It is wonderful to dream of all the things you could spend it on, but it's even better to pretend like it does not exist. If you were fine financially before that money then you will likely be fine without it, too. We were fortunate to be in this situation recently and after a day or two of thinking about it, we put it all into an investment account that we could not touch for one year. The stock market has smelled much like a moldy egg since then and we have failed to earn any money, but this was still a better idea than spending it on something else. We are planning to roll this account into a longer term account that we can contribute to each month to grow the money for use somewhere down the road. Or, for a rainy day. Either way works.

8. Pay extra when you can afford it. This is not realistic for everyone, but if you can afford it this is my advice: when you pay off one debt, use that money to pay down another debt that has the highest interest rate. We recently paid off my husband's truck, meaning we would have an extra $300-ish a month for other expenses. However, we are fine without that money, which we would spend on ~~more dress pants~~ who knows what if it sat idly in our bank account. Instead, we are adding the entire amount of his car payment toward my car payment instead. Not only will this help pay off my car sooner, but the extra money we pay goes toward the principle of the loan and means we pay less interest in the long run.

9. Pick up extra work. To make some extra cash, I regularly do freelance work on the evenings and weekends. I was able to find a position through Elance, a website dedicated to freelance jobs. I work with a company to write about 5 articles a day. It's perfect for me, because I love to write and it's not hard work. It also doesn't take much of my time, and it means I have some extra cash to spend however I choose. Whatever your talents are, use them to make some extra cash for splurging on the "extras" you like.

I am by no means a money expert, but I think saving money or being frugal is more about realizing your weaknesses and tricking yourself into avoiding those pitfalls so you can save money. I still have my moments, but I am beginning to realize there is nothing wrong with being frugal, even if you can afford to be spendy.

My Life vs. Your Life

2012-01-12T08:12:00.000-08:00

“Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” - Steve Jobs

The world is an incredibly competitive place.

But, I am not telling you anything that you didn't already know for yourself. It seems like we are always competing with someone--anyone--for just about everything. Even the things that really don't mean much of anything. Like, the size of a television. Or, the label on a purse. The size or contents of a home.

Hell, we even compete with our stories about our dogs/children/spouses/in-laws/parents/whatever. We say our "this" is worse than your "that." Or, subtlety hint that a person is inferior because something they own isn't up to par in our eyes.

I think about this a lot, because I know that I'm often a participant in these types of conversations. By my very nature, I am a competitive person. Sometimes, things like this matter to me. But other times I realize that it's really all just a bunch of inconsequential nonsense. People compete with us without our knowledge, even. It often manifests itself in a nasty comment or look that sets us in some sort of unease. What did I do, we ask ourselves. Often, it really isn't about us--it's about them.

But I really and truly feel like it is all wrapped up in one concept that often creates chaos in our lives: expectations.

You know what I mean, don't you? It could be the expectations you have for yourself in some capacity: what you expect your position to be in life by a certain age; what you expect your spouse to be or do; or what you expect from others. Then, there are the expectations others have for us: what our parents want; what our spouse wants or what our friends expect from or for us.

These things are very tightly woven into our daily lives, often without us realizing they even exist. Sort of like land mines that are packed to the brim with very heavy emotions and painful shards of metal. It is natural for us and the people we surround ourselves with to expect things. However, those expectations sometimes turn into assumptions and they don't always provide a perfect fit as we grow emotionally.

We have options, of course. We can rebel. We can reject expectations, regardless of whether it hurts someone else or not. Or, we can go along with the song that has already been written for us, because it's really just easier that way. It's a much neater package when we simply go with the flow because we don't want to rock the boat.

But, this is your life. That sound? It's the beat of your heart, not anyone else's. And wasting any of those precious beats on a path that no longer makes you happy is no different than throwing them away entirely. You are allowed to change your own expectations. In fact, it's probably the best thing you could ever do for yourself.

When I look back on those moments in my own life where I was truly unhappy, it was also a time where I also felt a great sense of envy or anger because my life wasn't like someone else's life. Or, my current position was not what I had once imagined it to be. I find that truly understanding that my path is mine alone has changed my entire outlook on life---and what I want for myself. It doesn't matter that my 28 year-old counterparts have two or three children already. It really makes no difference that I may never give birth to a child; that is my path, not yours. And really? The acceptance of my own reality was what I was striving for all along, I was just too angry to see it.

'12

2012-01-04T06:22:00.000-08:00

Did you make a resolution for the new year?

I did not. Actually, it's safe to say that I rarely do.

You see, I have always found the idea of waiting to change until there is the chance for a "fresh start" somewhat...irritating. As in, I'll start my diet on Monday. Or, I'll workout regularly next year.

When I belonged to a gym (we dropped our membership a few years back & work out at home now) it never failed that the once moderately full gym was a zoo in the months of January and February. Filled with people who had resolved to exercise---and by St. Patrick's day the masses had diminished.

Why do we wait for what we perceive to be a fresh start to make a major change in our lives?

I believe that if there is something you truly do not like about yourself---something that bothers you, something you would rather not be or something you hate to do---you should change it right now. Not tomorrow. Why wait? Why push for something to change or some sort of grand experience to inspire you when the odds are not at all in your favor for success?

I'm not saying you shouldn't make resolutions or vow to do things differently. I'm not saying you are going to fail, either. What I'm saying, actually, is that you shouldn't waste your time waiting for Monday to start what you could be doing right now. Monday will come sooner than you think, and you'll be left feeling overwhelmed. Whether you want to eat healthier, lose weight or meet a goal of some kind, there is no better time than the exact moment you feel that whisper to change. Now.

That being said, it is nice to feel like you have the opportunity to make a fresh start. The year has only just begun and there's really no way you could begin to imagine what this new year has in store. You will probably be pleasantly surprised. Or, incredibly disappointed. You will be deliriously happy. You will probably cry. Or laugh. Or realize something important about yourself you didn't know in 2011. Those things are guarantees, actually.

For me, I wish only one thing for myself: to have the courage to always follow my heart. That was my prayer for 2011 and it's still my prayer for 2012. It's ambiguous, yes, but it makes me feel incredibly inspired. That's all I want, really--to feel inspired every day of my life to do what my heart is telling me to do. Following your heart isn't always easy, you know. I think about what that means every single time I make a decision: am I doing this because I feel obligated to do it, is this what others expect of me, or is this what my heart tells me is right?

In life, people are constantly making decisions for you. Telling you what you should do, or making you feel like you have to do something because it's what everyone else does. Making you feel obligated to say or do one thing over another because it's socially acceptable or right in their eyes. We get caught up in that idea of expectations---and it's a tricky game to play. Personally, I think you should try to do something once each day that makes someone else gasp audibly. You know, in that oh-good-sweet-Jesus-I-cannot-believe-she-did-that kind of way. It really makes you feel alive to not give two you-know-whats what anyone else thinks. In your own bad ass way. Without apologizing afterwards.

I will always think of 2011 as the year I finally found peace. Peace with myself, and with my current position in life. It was a long road, the one that lead up to 2011; and it did not start out that way. But it was worth every bump in the road and every heartbreak along the way; I was stronger in 2011 than I ever was in 2010. And I know with great certainty that I will only continue to get better in 2012. Not because of some list I wrote of all the things I want to do this year. Beacuse I made the choice to move on, learn from the past and never let it weigh me down ever again. That's what true freedom feels like.
It's your life. It's your year---do with it as you please. Take chances. Use every opportunity. And do the things your heart wants for you. And try the making people gasp thing. It's much more fun than you think.

Upside, down

2011-12-22T06:39:00.000-08:00

{My favorite necklace: a cross & a miraculous medal.}

Have you ever seen the movie Evan Almighty? Me neither. But I do really love a quote from the film that goes something like this:

"Let me ask you something: If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?"

As someone who was raised to pray---which I always thought meant to ask God for the things I want--I think a lot about what it really means. I guess I had always assumed I asked and then received. Clean, simple and without fuss. Being an adult however, I realize that this is a childish way to approach life--and faith. Foolish, even. It doesn't take much living of life to understand that you will never have all the things you want. And really, it happens that way for a reason.

For me, it always comes back to children. I think about the fool in me, the one who prayed for a child over and over again. I was just doing what I had always done, but this time I didn't get what I ~~demanded~~ asked. It made me angry. Why did I just get what I asked for? Why did I have to wait and suffer for something that seemed so simple?

I sincerely believe I was blind to my own lack of faith back then. I couldn't see past my anger, frustration and general "Why me?" to see what was unfolding in my own heart. That's the thing about faith--the point being made by that quote--it's about believing in something or someone greater than yourself in the moments where it feels like your pain will never end. That is when it counts; not when everything is going your way and life is equal parts hunky and dory. In the good times, it's easy to have faith. It's simple to feel like you have strong faith, because it feels like you are being endlessly blessed. If you want to be something, to gain an admirable trait, you're going to have to work for it.

I sincerely believe that life should be about finding blessings that are encased in a hard, painful shell. January is always a "marker" for me; that was when we started trying to have children three years ago. After all was said and done and we came to realize that it probably wasn't going to happen, I thought the worst possible thing that could happen to me was this: to live a life without children. It seemed unbearable back then--intolerable, even.

Today, I struggle to grasp what I really want---not what I feel obligated to choose or even what I'm expected to be or do. Or say, for that matter. Maybe that's why I stopped writing over the last month. Perhaps that's why I feel like I don't have all that much to say sometimes. For me, I need to really think it through in my head first before I can ever feel ready to 'write it down' here in this space.

Our life today, without children, is not the terrible intolerable mess I thought it would be. I don't spend every day feeling like something is missing or that any part of my life is miserable. As you can imagine, this creates some confusion. What, really and truly, do I want? Was this really the worst thing that could have happened?

I don't know. I mean really: I have no idea. Life is confusing to us sometimes when we really don't know what we want---and when we're given the rare option to choose the very foundation of our own path.

I have always loved Christmas because it is a time to really and truly soak in the quiet and peace of the season. As someone who is rarely quiet (I even hold long conversations aloud while I'm sleeping) I think it's important to just allow myself to be quiet and search for the peace in Christmas.

This year, I realize that I have more blessings that I could even begin to count. And peace? Well, peace is about following your heart, accepting whatever is thrown your way and realizing that maybe the worst thing isn't as bad as you though it would be. It might just be a blessing instead.

It's Called Clarity

2011-11-29T05:32:00.000-08:00

{Captivated by the possibility of a reason to bark.}

People sometimes say that when something traumatic happens their life "flashes before their eyes."

I can't say that I know the feeling, to be honest. I've had those moments where I came THIS close to getting in a serious accident or escaped a potentially traumatic injury but it's never caused me to feel like the entire life I have lived up until this point has flashed before me.

Instead, I like to think of those moments as an opportunity to experience clarity. It almost always follows that "Oh $hit" moment you feel when potential disaster narrowly misses you in some way. You think about what could have been---disaster---and what is now---another chance to exist the way you are right now.

A few weeks ago, I had a moment of clarity that has stuck with me for some reason. I was running with one of the dogs (the small but crazy one, if you're curious) around our country block and as we passed a field of corn that was being harvested, it happened. A huge deer--a massive buck--came leaping out of the dried corn and ran just behind us. Narrowly missing us, I'm guessing. I felt the breeze from his body if that says anything about our proximity to one another. I had no time to react or even understand what was happening. Once I did, the moment had already passed. It really happened that quickly. {Cue the snapping of my fingers.}

I stopped, however. Transfixed by that moment. We were nearly plowed over by a ginormous deer that easily could have maimed or killed us. I was searching for what it all meant, I think. I can't be sure, but I believe that the moments in our lives meant to snap us out of whatever funk we are in are just that major--and also just that subtle.

In a life that sometimes feels like it has no clarity, I tend to hang on to the moments where I feels like I can touch that feeling at least temporarily. Maybe it meant nothing; perhaps it represented something. I don't think that matters so much as that I took notice of the moment.

I think clarity arrives in each of our lives wearing a different face, and is often wrapped in an unassuming package. To remind us, like in this case, that timing really is everything. Or, that we sometimes need to stop what we're doing to think about what could have been or what might be happening that we haven't ever stopped to notice.

I also thought about what the headline might say in our local paper if I was, in fact, mauled by a deer. I imagine something like this:

Local Woman Mauled by Eight Point Buck in Freak Running Accident: Local Beagle Mix Still at Large

That's right: I live in a fantasy world in which I have the ability to write my own headlines. And I know for a fact that my Beagle Mix would still be at large in this instance. Sniffing some really important blade of grass that has captured every shred of his attention, I'm sure. I don't know that beagles understand clarity.

The Hiatus

2011-11-10T07:02:00.000-08:00

Have you ever taken a break from something you love?

It's a difficult thing to do, you know.

Without realizing it, I took a hiatus from one of my life's greatest loves: running. I haven't always completely understood my love for running, to be honest. We fell in love in college, and quickly fell into a full blown passionate love affair. Running is my life's passion. It's my therapy. It's always been an uncomplicated, love-filled relationship that brings light into my life.

In 2006, I ran my first half marathon. It was painful, but I kept going. I ran another half in 2007 and a third in 2008. Then, I stopped. I kept running on my own but I let my passion for running fizzle. I stopped because I wanted to have children. Then, I couldn't have children. Things got complicated.

I even let a physician with at least 4 advanced degrees hanging on his floral wallpaper covered office wall convince me that running was preventing me from getting pregnant. He gasped audibly and removed his glasses in a soap opera-like shock when I told him how many miles I ran a week (25+) and he told me I needed to either scale back or stop entirely. Anything over ten miles, he explained, had the potential to cause problems with my body. He even went so far as to say that running was "too jarring for the reproductive system." I pictured my insides being shaken up like a martini. It made sense. Apparently.

Back then, I clung to every word out of my doctor's mouth. Stop running. No alcohol. Don't take echinacea. Don't ride a bicycle. No coffee. Buy a three-year supply of prenatal vitamins. I did it all, because I always did as I was told. If I wanted to have a child, it was necessary to make these sacrifices.

It felt like my world was being turned upside down. I was fixated on something I couldn't touch, because of a laundry list of what I could not do. It got old very quickly. Particularly when it made no difference whatsoever.

Nearly three years later, I realize that I'm not willing to give up something I love for something that probably won't happen. It was snuffing out a light inside of me that was just begging to shine. I needed to start running again. I had been denying that part of myself for so long that I had forgotten it ever existed.

I signed up for a half marathon last week, in the spring of 2012. And in the fall I'm going to run my first full marathon. It was the culmination of so many things: getting back to my life's passion was like taking a mask from my eyes. I could see again, and it has renewed me in a way that is difficult to describe.

I gave up my passion without realizing it; it was only until I brought it back into my life that I realized it had been missing all these years. I don't remember letting it go, really. But it was gone. And it was slowly taking pieces of me with it.

I took my very last prenatal vitamin last week. I danced around the house with the enormous empty bottle, dogs and husband wondering if I had actually gone crazy. I have taken those stupid vitamins for three years, a daily reminder of what I do not have--and it was slowly snuffing out my joy.

Here's the thing: giving up something you love for something you desperately want is worth the sacrifice. However, letting it leave you entirely is not. I think sacrifice is often a means to an end; but it doesn't have to end something that makes you feel alive. I gave up my love for a purpose back then, but I realize today that my life has a new purpose---and I don't have to sacrifice a part of myself any more.

Life Lessons

2011-11-03T07:18:00.000-07:00

My BFF Oprah likes to say that your life is always speaking to you. Perhaps it's a whisper or maybe it's a brick wall that crumbles around you. It usually starts out as a whisper, then progresses to wall-like magnitude if you don't get the hint. Regardless, you need to get the hint--or you will be faced with disaster.

I think about this a lot: what is my life saying to me? Am I listening, or just simply going through the motions so that I can reach my destination? I was reminded of what my life has told me for years now as the football season drew to a close. My better half, the football coach, just wrapped up his first season as head coach.

We did not win a single game. Last year, we did not win a single game either.

It's not easy to face such a dire situation, you see. Sure, the game is not about winning--no, it's about much more than that. But, wouldn't it be nice to just win a few here and there?

Perhaps. But on one especially cold and dire evening, I reminded my husband of something he already knew: he and his team were smack dab in the middle of an important life lesson. Sure, those boys probably have no idea and maybe the adults don't either, but they were learning something incredibly important: things don't always turn out the way you imagined. And really, that's OK.

I know this because it took understanding that we are not in control of our destiny to get it. Who is more prepared to explain what it means to not have something you desperately want than my husband? Maybe it's not fair, or there could be some other way to "get it" but I don't believe that's for us to decide.

It's like watching the seasons change again; I tried to hang on to summer for as long as I could. Really, I did. But, it's not within my control. Time will pass, the years will drag on and I'm a fool to resist it. I think the changing seasons remind me that despite the flip of my calendar, it feels like we are still waiting to adopt and making little, if any, progress.

Time, as you probably know, has an amazing power to heal us. To separate us by distance and time from the things that have wounded us. It doesn't make them any less painful or less real, it just helps us to understand that the world doesn't stop for us. Or, that we can slowly move on from something that feels like it will never stop haunting us. I think a lot about what I have to learn, or how I could move on and I would say that my greatest healer has been my greatest obstacle: the passing of time. It really does heal you if you give it the chance. I hate waiting, but I know it's part of the experience. It's more rewarding this way. It means more to work for it.

My life has told me for years what I refused to hear: I'm not in control. I cannot control everything, or anything when it comes to the progression of my life. Things don't always fall exactly into place. You cannot take your blessings for granted. But most importantly: your greatest heartache will someday be your sweetest blessing.

"When you can see obstacles for what they are, you never lose faith in the path it takes to get you where you want to go. Who you're meant to be evolves from where you are right now. So learning to appreciate your best lessons, mistakes and setbacks as stepping stones to the future is a clear sign you're moving in the right direction and letting in the light.” –Oprah Winfrey

The Misery Test

2011-10-25T11:56:00.000-07:00

Allow me to describe someone that exists somewhere in your life: they are eternally negative, always seeing the downside of everything. They often make passive agressive comments, seem to always have negative thoughts and simply have a downright rotten outlook on life. They are miserable.

You know someone like this, right? Maybe she's the co-worker who gives you nasty looks and gossips behind your back. Perhaps he's the man who screams something rude from his car as you walk through a parking lot. Often, we feel as though these people have the capactity to ruin our day. Or, they cause us to have a negative outlook on ourselves or feel a sense of guilt about our position in life.

But here's the thing we tend to forget: you are only as miserable as you allow yourself to be. Those people, the ones who try to ruin your day? It's not your job to figure out why they are angry or what you did to deserve their wrath. It's your role to understand that they cannot steal your joy.

I heard someone say something recently that was a Oprah-aha-moment-worthy-experience: when someone says something to you, they are simply making an observation. It is you who gives that observation meaning, who strengthens it into a moment that is capable of ruining your day. As we all know, everyone has an opinion. Some, naturally, are just more harsh than others. However, I like to think of those moments as a test.

The Misery Test goes something like this: you are having a perfectly fine day. Someone, perhaps like that person I mentioned earlier, says something incredibly nasty to you. They give you a backhanded compliment like, "You know, you look nice when you actually try." or "You looked better as a blond." You get the point. My real point, however, is this: you are being tested. You can become miserable too, if you so choose. You can re-trace your steps and try to figure out what it was that you did to deserve such harshness or feel obligated to figure out why that person is so angry.

What you will likely discover is this: it's not about you. It's not your job to figure everyone else out. It's your job to live your live with purpose, to find the good in awful situations and to understand that words are only as powerful as you let them become. So often, we blame ourselves for someone else's bad day. We think we ruined them, or their life in some way that only we can obsess over or try to mend with our own words.

I say this: don't let your life be about anyone but you. The things you wear, the voices that plague your outlook on yourself, they really mean nothing. Listen your heart. Allow your voice be the strongest one that ever speaks to you.

I Wish I Had Known...

2011-10-18T07:45:00.000-07:00

I was recently asked to be part of a video series in which women record themselves, explaining something they wish they had known about infertility back when their journey began. I seriously considered recording a video, but realized I just couldn't do it. Why play this awful game with myself again?

I already play, actually: I think about all the things I wish I had known before, in the interest of having that knowledge now. It's a tricky wish. Think about it: if you had known then what you know now, would you still be standing here, in this place, today? Does wishing away your former lack of knowledge minimize the strength it took to get to today?

When I play this 'game' I remind myself of something important: sometimes, ignorance leads to your life's greatest lessons. Sure, it's easy to wish we could change something or pine for the chance to have a do-over; one where we say all the right things and have all the answers, thus allowing us to avoid heartbreak. But really, what would that mean for your life?

If you had known how things would turn out, would you change your behavior? Would you risk ruining everything just to avoid one thing? It's hard to know, really. I can't say if it is a risk I'd be willing to take, even knowing what I know today.

I would not wish my experience upon anyone---even myself, if given the option. But that does not negate the fact that it happened and I can't change that by wishing knowledge upon my former self. I lived in ignorance--and bliss--for years before facing my life's most painful truth. It's changed me for the better, and perhaps also for the worse. But I can't pick out the parts of who I am that I want to keep and throw the rest away; my life isn't trail mix. Neither is yours.

Maybe I do wish I had known something all along: that I would be OK. Really and truly, the dust would settle and everything would be alright. I'd live through the experience and the waiting and every shred of major disappointment. I would have the opportunity to crack open every piece of baggage I carry. Hell, I would live through having surgery--twice. And I'd still be standing, stronger and better than ever.

Maybe that's what my wish would be.

Nothing Has Changed

2011-10-14T07:03:00.000-07:00

We're still waiting---still no word, no phone call, no movement. With nothing to show for what I have come to know as our mental endurance. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night in a panic. I sit up, gasping for air, drenched in my own sweat. I'm caught in a nightmare of my own making.

Has the adoption agency forgotten about us?

What if they lost our application and all this waiting was for nothing?

My heart races, thinking about how I might react to the loss of our place in some imaginary line we've been waiting in for fourteen months. I play out my reaction in my head, wondering if I would cry or get really angry or maybe we'd just give up altogether. Would more waiting--after this waiting--really be worth it?

I strain to understand that this is worth it. The ugly truth? Some days it feels like it isn't.

Maybe we could just live without children instead; wouldn't that be easier?
But this has never been about doing the easy thing.

It's a tricky line to walk: the one between being OK without children and wishing you could have them---we have to have a foot planted securely in both worlds. I have a heart that has hardened itself to the dream of biological children, but still holds a soft place for an adopted one. Or, maybe a biological one if some miraculous-divine-intervention-biblical-event-thing could happen. Maybe. Perhaps. Probably not.

This is what my head looks like, which is probably why I struggle with what to write in this space sometimes. I feel like just posting this every day:

We're still waiting for adoption. We haven't heard anything. Just like yesterday. The End.

It's true, but that really can't be everything, can it? I feel compelled to understand why we are in this place together. What is God trying to tell me--teach me--by allowing me to live in what feels like limbo? I don't think I'm being punished, but I do believe I am being taught an important lesson, one that has the potential to change everything. I think about this constantly: I am trying to decode the secret message buried deeply beneath a pile of garbage and rusty junk.

I have to protect my heart, but I also have to leave it open to possibility. When this thought plagues me, I let my mind drift back to a parking lot.

We sat in a parking lot, together, after being told that IVF was the only way. The day was dreary: cloudy, rainy and overcast. We sat in silence for {what felt like} an eternity. Then, we spoke in unison: This doesn't feel right.

This is what I believe to be the most amazing thing about life: you don't have to justify every decision you make. You have the explicit right to blindly follow your heart without explanation. How many times have you done something just because your heart told you to? Sure, people will question you. Maybe they will think you're missing out on something or that you are setting yourself up for failure. But here's the amazing part: your heart tells you that for a reason. And you don't owe anyone an explanation for that.

I can't tell you why or how we chose adoption instead of a medical procedure. We didn't do any research. We didn't talk to friends who went through the process. We didn't consult another doctor. We didn't do anything to gain any further medical evidence. We just walked away---put that part of our lives back out into the universe and let it drift away.

It was the right choice: both decisions were. I know this because following my heart has never steered me in the wrong direction.

What is your heart telling you to do?

Stopping for Roses

2011-10-10T13:49:00.000-07:00

We went television shopping {and buying} yesterday. In essence, it meant dropping a large sum of money and spending four hours in the car. The latter is due to the fact that we overestimated the capacity of my midsize sedan and underestimated the size of a 55-inch television box. The nearest *big box* electronics store is approximately a 50-minute drive from our rural locale---and we made two round trips because the television box didn't fit in my trunk.

Spending all that time in the car was frustrating and meant that we didn't have our typical Sunday filled with around-the-house-accomplishment and cleaning. Well, unless rearranging our living room and installing a television counts toward a sense of accomplishing anything. The house was a wreck anyway, which always drives me into a state of anxiousness; I truly despise clutter with every shred of my being. But like everything else, things found a way to their proper home and all was right again in our little corner of the world.

After an early dinner and a walk with the dogs, I headed into the basement to work out. Fifty minutes later, I returned upstairs to find that my husband had cleaned, cooked, canned tomatoes and gathered roses--from my amazing double knockout rose bush -- and placed them all over the house. They are breathtaking.

I realized something, in that moment: I had forgotten about the roses. I had once fawned over them, admired their resiliency. Then, I forgot about them entirely. As I leaned over to take in their fragrence, and he said:

"They were too beautiful not to notice."

He was right: they were. But somehow along the way, I had stopped noticing. I had forgotten to take stock of my surroundings in my haste to clean up the clutter and make sure everything looked perfect. It was as though I had become some sort of strange walking oximoron. I was literally not stopping to smell my own roses. It was nice to know there is someone in my life who notices when I stop noticing things--and gives me a gentle reminder.

Maybe there are other things I have stopped noticing in my haste to live my life, do my job, and be the best version of myself--I just don't know.

What I do know is this: there's always time for roses.

The End of an Era

2011-10-07T07:27:00.000-07:00

We live in a world that tells us that things are important. Technology is always changing---companies re-issue the same products over and over again with a new spin to convince us to shell out $199.99 every six months. We usually fall for it; the trends, the technology and really-- the need to impress our friends. As someone who owns The Oldest Television In History that does not have a screen that is flat in any sense of the word, I can't say I really get it.

Things are just things--you can't take them with you and in the end, they really aren't important. However, like everything else, there is an exception to this rule.

You see, my husband and I have never (and I really do mean never) purchased a television--either of us. Every television we have ever owned was given to us by a sympathetic friend or family member who recently upgraded to a superior model. Ergo, we have always had a terrible television in our home. Actually, I stand corrected: we have three terrible televisions in our home.

The primary television was given to us by a friend and it is incredibly large and in charge {see photo above for proof} and recently, it left this world in the most dramatic fashion possible. I was watching the new FX television series, American Horror Story, and during a particularly tense scene, the television began doing some bizarre things. At first, I admired the great skills of the show's creators for a realistically horror-filled experience. Then, I quickly realized I was witnessing the death of my television.

It began with a strange white blur on the screen, followed by darkness. Then, there was a high pitched chirping-squealing hybrid that made the dogs howl. Soon after, there was a burning smell and smoke. Ol' faithful had left for that big garbage dump in the sky.

{RIP, Big Guy.}

My husband groaned loudly when I recalled the story with large hand and arm motions--we need a new television. After all these years of living with terrible picture quality and friends that would rather never come over to our home to watch the game, it was time to actually buy our first television.

Soon after, we pulled the dead TV out to the garage and he went into the basement to pull one of our "on deck" televisions from the basement. Not long after, he yelled:

"OK, so do you want the TV that is 21 years old or the TV that is 17 years old?"

My response?

"Well, I'd prefer the TV that is still learning to drive properly rather than the one that can legally drink alcohol in all 50 states."

We're going shopping for a new TV this weekend.

It rains, then it pours

2011-10-06T05:06:00.000-07:00

Ever notice how awful things tend to happen at the worst possible time?

Not that it's ever convenient for something terrible to happen, of course.

Last week, I was getting ready to leave for work in my super fabulous black sheath dress, gray patterned blazer, faux snake skin pumps, red lipstick and curled hair. Then, I realized there was approximately 2.5 inches of water in the basement. So, I added some chic snow boots and rubber gloves to said outfit. Then, I freaked out, said some awful cuss words and reached my entire arm (up to the armpit, in case you're wondering) into the hole in the floor of our basement where the sump pump resides. To turn it back on so it could start sucking again. {Pun intended.} After five minutes of using a push broom to direct the water toward its destination I realized there wasn't much else I could do. So, I went to work.

I've heard the saying, "Water knows how to make a decision" before, and it is true. It usually decides to seep through every crack and crevice and soak into every shred of carpet nearby. It's just logical, really. Our 'semi-finished' basement had some random carpet scraps that were destroyed in the process. And the shoddily hung drywall? It's toast.

So, as I stood in the backyard using the weight of my puny body to pull a large roll of musty smelling, water-soaked carpet through the basement window that is like THIS big in the aftermath of our water-filled basement, I realized something: this was not a big deal. Water in the basement, in the grand scheme of all things, is nothing. Of course, it seemed like the biggest deal in the history of Mankind at the time. Because that's how these things work.

When it comes down to it, water always dries eventually. Our basement is actual drier and cleaner than it was before---because we were inspired to clean up the mess left in the wake of the standing water. And perhaps this location in our home had become a catch-all for a large amount of junk. Perhaps.

Maybe we all need a little standing water in our basement to remind us that it could be worse. Or, that sometimes something has to snap us out of it so we can understand that there will always be those moments--the ones where we feel like everything is put together perfectly, only to be derailed by minor disasters.

I believe you should never take yourself seriously, and in that moment where I was looking fabulous and everything was in order, the Universe reminded me of this. I was put together. I was ready to arrive at work early. Instead, I threw on my double-insulated-rubber-bottomed snow boots and rubber gloves so I could wade armpit-deep into a hole in the floor. I cussed. Then, I laughed.

This was no time to take myself seriously. Then again, when is?

What to Reveal, What to Hide

2011-10-04T13:27:00.000-07:00

Is there something in your life that you'd rather not tell people about? Something that you are ashamed of, or that makes you feel like you are less than adequate? Maybe, deep in the protected parts of that heart of yours, you think telling people about yourself will cause you pain or ridicule. Or, maybe you just think the world would think less of you if they really knew--deep down--how you felt or what you hid.

I feel the same way. Which, if you have read anything I've written, you probably already realize.

You see, I reveal myself here--in this little corner of this world where it feels safe, warm and still just a bit protected. {I know, the Internet isn't safe, protected or any other word that elicits the same feeling, just stick with me here.}

What I mean to say is that we all have something--maybe it's big, perhaps it's small--that we hesitate to speak about. Or, we try to protect and hide until it is no longer an option. We make little choices to hide or big decisions to reveal each time a social interaction requires this of us. Sometimes, we do it with purpose. Other times, it just simply happens that way.

I live my life in such a way that I assume all the people that surround me know my story. They have heard me tell it or they have heard it through the adult version of The Telephone Game. Or, they have read it here. One way or another, my inability to produce children into this world has been brought to their attention---or so I believe. I operate in this world with the understanding that everyone knows, or has heard, this part of my story.

Recently, a co-worker made a comment in passing that made me realize I might be wrong. He jokingly said he would wait to retire until I was pregnant. In that moment, that split second where I needed to make a choice, I decided to say something.

"Well, I hope you're good at waiting. You got another 40 years or so in you?" I asked.

The subject was quickly and awkwardly changed, but I realized that I was assuming too much--that everyone knew my story--and I was incorrect. I think it's easy to take just about anything for granted, including that people know things we never actually tell them.

Maybe you have something to hide, maybe you don't. Whatever it is, I believe that showing people who you really are is the only way to set yourself free. Those who hate you for it don't belong in your life. Those who admire you for it only stand to show you what you already knew: you are stronger than you think.

As for me, I have decided to never hide this part of myself (trust me, there are others I'd rather not show) but at the same time I do that story injustice by taking it for granted in any way. It all means something, and I believe it's best framed as something that gives me an opportunity to stand up for myself and never waiver from what I believe. I'm not an advocate for adoption as much as I am for myself--and my ability to endure something traumatic and make a solid choice. If that prompts a conversation or even a nod of understanding, then I have achieved my goal.

People should take you at face value--all of you--and love you anyway. They should see through your attempts to hide your faults and tell you that you inspire them. In those moments, I hope you realize that you are strong--and showing people who you really are is the best possible thing you could ever do for yourself.

Spitting, IVF and Adoption

2011-09-22T06:03:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, I ran by a woman watering flowers in her front yard. I said hello, then a few steps later I spit on the ground.

"That is so unlady-like!" she yelled.

I stopped. Walked back to her and said, "Are you a runner?"

"Heck NO," she snapped.

"If you were," I explained, "then you would understand why I'm spitting."

I kept running toward home, thinking about what had just happened.

We tend to judge people for the things they do, without ever taking into consideration why it's being done--or what it might be like to be in a similar position. Some things, I believe, can only be understood by being experienced firsthand. I wasn't spitting to be crude, I was spitting because it's a necessary part of being a runner. When you run, you understand.

I kept running--and I kept thinking. How many times have I shook my head and walked away from a conversation or question because I realize that someone couldn't possibly understand what it means to stand in these high heeled shoes of mine?

It happens a lot when I talk about adoption; most people don't understand why we chose it instead of IVF. Why wouldn't we do absolutely everything in our power to have a biological child? Why walk away from that opportunity and choose a different route--one that is more complicated, costly and complex than the other? Why subject myself to a life of questions and explanations about the origin of a child that is not biologically of myself?

Choosing to be an adoptive parent is no different. Choosing to say no to IVF is just the same. When you live it, you understand it. I can attempt to explain what it felt like or why we made that choice, but I wouldn't do the experience justice. Or, I could try to tell you how I knew adoption was the right choice---but it would come back to the answer to every complicated concept in each of our lives: we just knew.

How did you know your significant other was "the one?"

Why do you have faith in God? How can you detect His presence in your life?

Why do you love your significant other?

You know the answers to these questions, of course, but you'd be hard pressed to generate a concise answer. I'm not morally opposed to IVF. I don't believe adoption is a superior choice to fertility treatments. All I know is this: adoption just felt right. I have never, in the last 13 months of waiting for this opportunity, believed anything else to be more true in my life. I have never questioned our choice; never waivered from my pillar of faith in our path.

Maybe you get it, maybe you don't. That part doesn't matter to me particularly; what matters is that at the end of each day, I know we made the right choice. And if I have to spend the rest of my days telling people that if they knew infertility they would understand, then so be it. I'm ready for any challenge.

Storm Warning

2011-09-19T11:23:00.000-07:00

Last night, a storm raged outside. While the rain poured from the sky, a storm was brewing within me.

I woke up at 2:34 AM, writhing in that same familar pain. I slept through the storm outside--it was my internal storm that woke me from my sleep.

It was excrutiating, just as it always is. It may be familiar, but it never makes it any easier to endure.

I quietly slipped out of bed, walking on my tip-toes and softly shutting the door behind me. Hoping the dogs and husband didn't hear me.

I flipped on the lights in the kitchen and reached up to the top shelf in a high cabinet for my familar bottle of Advil.

My fingers fumbled for the smooth white bottle.

It wasn't there. Could it be?

Could I have been so foolish as to use the last of my own personal monthly savior without replenishment?

I started to cry. I sat on the kitchen floor, pathetically sobbing.

They heard me. Everyone came running---on four legs and two.

Licked my tears from my face. Picked me up off the hard, wood floor.

And showed me where the Advil was: on the top shelf, in the high cabinet---laying on its side.

It's nice to know that in the midst of pure agony, there are dogs to lick my tears and a husband to gently remind me that I shouldn't give up so easily.

Sometimes, in our desperation to solve our problems, we don't look close enough.

There were six Advil inside that bottle; I took three and went back to bed.