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23 June 2014

Broken Hallelujah


I wept. I ached. I couldn't move. I am confused. I am afraid. So I forced myself up and I went to church. God's church of nature.

I went to clear my head. To allow the sun to kiss my forehead. To listen to the cold waves break against the black rocks; begging them to sway me back and forth into comforting sleep.

I'm not pregnant.

Again. After so many signs. After so many prayers. How. How do I prepare myself to go through this...AGAIN.

I was so sure this time. I could feel it in the way that I couldn't keep down my favorite foods and in the way certain smells would turn my stomach. I knew it in the way that I cried at everything and just wanted to nap all the time. I was so sure, but I didn't dare say it out loud.  To do so is not faith, it's foolish.

The fourteen-day wait isn't easy. Nineteen days have been even harder. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to pray.

I know that God knows my tears. My tears of joy and my tears of pain. He put me here. Here in this moment. And seven long months ago, he placed Nugget in my unprepared soul and blessed me with the chance of a lifetime. The hope to finally be a mother to a child of my own.

As I pull out my calendar I see months full of notes and numbers about cycle days and doctor appointments and travel. Where do I go from here? I know God has a plan. That my purpose will rise beautiful from the ashes.

And then I hear it. A song in my ear written just for me. It's lyrics washing over me like the lake over the shore. I fell back. Back into the beanbag on which I had been sitting. It wrapped around me in a close hug, let me curl up in a ball and cry until I had nothing left.

"When all is taken away, don't let my heart be changed....When I feel afraid, don't let my hope be erased. Let me always sing Hallelujah."

And so I go. I go again after so much pain. Again. And after. Hallelujah.

22 June 2014

Glowing!

It was only my second day away, but I was already homesick.  I started out the door to work on a dreary day and it began to lightly rain.

Great.

But I really didn't mind too much. I was still in a good mood from a Real Results Party I had hosted at a favorite local restaurant the night before and I was almost to the corner coffee shop today. I was feeling energized from a good night's sleep and the fresh air of a brisk morning walk.

Today would be a good day.

And it was.  I got a few things done in person that I hadn't been able to remotely and got to meet our new designers working out of Savannah, Ga. and introduce them to our brand. Before I knew it, the work day was over. As I walked back to the corporate house, the sun began to shine.

I opened the curtains and plopped on the couch in front of the big picture window that faces the street and started to dial my husband hoping for some Facetime. My connection was bad, but I noticed that I had a little sunshine on my shoulder from the phone glare. And yes, it made me happy.

(...and so sorry that you will now have that song also stuck in your head!)

I took a selfie and sent it to the hubz, to which he replied, "I knew it. You're GLOWING!"

Let's hope!

Tiny Dancer

It's the day of my youngest niece's annual dance recital, the one we've been going to every since she was just a toddler. Her mother was a dancer as was her mother before her. My husband...well, he married a woman with two left feet.

Everything about dance seems to come naturally to "Sass". Her many competition ribbons and trophies and certificates and wins prove it. A once-shy girl comes to life on stage. It's where she is meant to be.

Each year as she grows older in age and grows up in disposition, we get a glimpse of the little young lady she is becoming. She may never know the special place she holds in my heart forever.

I've had aunts on both sides of my family in the past, but only one that is still in my life that has known me from birth. Who held me when I was brought home from Hawaii and who loved me from a distance even before that day. Like me to Sass, she married into the family and so was not related by blood but by heart. Like me to Sass, she babysat me and didn't miss a birthday or recital or just a chance to hang out. But kids get bigger, schedules get filled and interests and obligations grow wider. There is a time when you are an aunt in just title. Someone who shows up for birthdays and recitals. Like me to Sass, that first bond is never broken and while she may not know it yet, I would do anything for her and love and protect her like a second mom. I hope I get many opportunities for her to feel just how big she has filled my life - just like I have recently been reminded just how much I am loved by my 'first' aunt.

Back at the recital, the hubs and I arrived late and grabbed a seat on the end of the family aisle. We had great seats this year and I couldn't wait to see our little star shine. At one point in the marathon of tapping shoes and pointed toes, Sass' Memo stumbled through our narrow aisle to use the restroom. Upon returning, she stopped right in front of me and leaned down to tell me that she had a dream about me last night. One in which I was holding a baby girl.

I was speechless.

This was not someone who knew of our endeavors. She had no knowledge that on this very day, I had completed my second round of IUI. She had no idea that miracles could very well be happening inside my hormone-packed body at that very moment.

Before she moved away back through the tangle of legs to her seat, I pulled her down to me and gave her a tight hug and simply said, "Thank you." She replied, "I've had premonitions like this before and they usually come true. So you just never know!"

A baby girl. Like all those beautiful little girls up on stage. Like OUR amazing little girl on stage up next. I could barely control my tears of mixed emotion as she walked out and absolutely lit up that stage.





09 June 2014

Enough

Nobody wants to leave this earth without having a meaningful life. One that fulfilled a hope, a dream or a purpose. One that mattered.

Even more than that, we want to leave behind a legacy; to have made an impact that lasts long after we're gone. For some, that's by living in the hearts and souls of their children and their children after them. For some it is much more.

For me, it's a struggle of self. I bounce between feeling lost and alone to trusting there is something amazing about to happen. As the only child in a childless home, I'm faced with the mortality of my existence on a daily basis.

When it comes to being a mother, in one breath I envy them - all of them; their purpose so obviously defined and the reward so easily included while in the next breath, I feel sorry for those who don't look outside of their own children to build a legacy. Successful and happy children are the product of the job we are required to do in answer to a blessing from God, not something above and beyond as a result of realizing the true gift we were given to share with the world.  But who am I to decide or judge or even have an opinion here.

In the midst of all this philosophizing, my husband and I went to see "The Fault in Our Stars", the story of two teenagers who met at a cancer support group and share a love that sweeps them on a miraculous, heart-wrenching and soul-searching journey.

When the curtain closed, both of us were spent. We sat there stunned and wrapped in our own thoughts. Long after the credits rolled, we were still there. Then Todd spoke. And as he always does, he told me how much he loves me and while he doesn't show it much, he told me about how he smiles and is overwhelmed sometimes when I'm not looking.  Wow.

And me?  I was struck with the realization that in all my searching and giving up, in bouncing back and falling down again, I've ignored the obvious. That my life does matter. It may not matter wide...but it matters deep. It matters to him.

I heard Todd's voice in that of Hazel when she tries to impress the fact to Gus that he has had a major impact on other people. "I just want to be enough for you, but I never can be. This can never be enough for you. But this is all you get. You get me, and your family and this world. This is your life. And it should be enough."

I may not have the kind of life that inspires a book-turned-movie and I may never get a life full of a child's laughter and tears, of growing up and growing old - but I have him. He matters to me and for some reason and somehow, he sees me as important and enough.

I love this man.
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