God Knew Better

When my niece was born last year I thought it was just happy coincidence that our birthdays were so close together. What better gift than a new niece for your birthday. I would've been happy with a pony but a new niece?!?!?! C'mon! That's like THE best gift ever! Now, a year later, I'm convinced she is part of God's perfect plan.

This birthday for me marked the big 3-6. You know... the day the fertility died (if it ever lived). The day that according to doctors, if I hadn't gotten pregnant by I never would. At times, all I could hear was that music of doom that they always have in the movies. It could've been super depressing. Instead it wasn't too shabby. My coworkers treated me to a card, cake and decorations. My husband took me to a lovely dinner at a restaurant that serves delicious Argentinian cuisine. Then we went to my favorite craft store. I only got a little sad as I sat on my yard swing in the cool evening breeze and had a moment to think about the day and what it could mean for my future.
It didn't last long. I had things to do. I was making my niece's birthday cake. She was having a "Sweet as can Bee" birthday party. I had to get my creative juices flowing and figure out what design I wanted to do. This is how it turned out. :)

You see, God knew that I would need a distraction on my 36th birthday. That's why she was born the day after I turned 35. It all makes perfect sense to me now! Instead of me having a pity party, we were celebrating her first year. It was a year full of the usual milestones...that moment when she joined our family, the first smile, rolling over for the first time, first foods, the first crawl, then about 2 weeks later (it seemed) the first steps and our personal favorite, dancing. I'm so very blessed to have such a close relationship with her and her parents and I've been around to see some of those firsts. When I thought that I would have nothing to celebrate when I turned 36, God knew better. And what better reason to celebrate than a new life, just beginning, full of joy, innocence and beauty. In that, I was able to see beauty in my life.

Looking forward to many more birthdays together!

This Is A Nightmare...This Is Only A Nightmare

A frightening look inside my obviously warped mind...

When I was a little girl about 6 years old, my parents separated.  We moved out and for the first time I had my own room.  This was going to be GREAT! or so I thought.  I became terrified of my room.  I would flip the light switch and try to make it to my bed before the room became dark. My night light would cast long, ominous shadows against the wall and ceiling, scaring me to death. Finally I just moved my bed to right under the light switch.  I began having nightmares nearly every night.  Either me or my little 1st grade boyfriend, Bobby, or someone else I loved was being attacked by Dracula behind one of my grandparents barns.  I still don't venture behind that barn...and at the ripe old age of 36 (almost) I still do not watch vampire movies, aside from Twilight.  I've always believed that there is some sort of meaning to our dreams.  I sit and analyze them any time I have a dream or nightmare.  As I grew older I came to believe that the vampire dreams symbolized that my parents marriage was sucking the life out of me. lol...but really.
Last night, I had the most graphic, horrific nightmare I've had since I was 6.  This is the nightmare...

*read at your own risk- not for the squeamish*
Again...this is just a nightmare...

"I'm sitting on my couch feasting ravenously on some sort of meat.  I'm oblivious to all that is around me.  I startle to reality and realize that I'm devouring the head of a pre-term human infant. I'm instantly mortified by my actions.  I begin screaming and throw the head across the room, trying to get as far away from it as I can.  Still screaming my parents and my brother come in to see what is wrong.  I'm covered in blood and cannot be consoled.  My Dad and brother instantly begin to try to cover up my actions as they begin to dispose of the head.  My mother sits next to me on the couch and tries to comfort me but still I'm screaming.  I become nauseated, realizing what I've done and begin vomiting. In trying to figure out what the heck I'm doing, we determine that the baby is one that was the subject of an abortion that my mother performed in 1971.  As my family sits around trying to support and comfort me, I'm still sick to my stomach and shaking"

Then I wake up.  I'm still shaking and feeling horribly nauseated.  I cannot get the graphic images out of my head.  And then I begin struggling to find the meaning of the nightmare...surely there's got to be a reason my sick, twisted little subconscious decided to bestow these mental images upon me.

Fact 1) I am not a cannibal
Fact 2) No one in my family has ever had to conceal a crime that I've committed
Fact 3) My mother (to my knowledge) was not performing abortions in her early teens or any time before or after that for that matter.
Fact 4) My family has always been there to support and comfort me
Fact 5) I blame NO ONE for my PCOS...crap happens

My Interpretation:  The death of the infant is symbolic of my fertility.  As the doctors seem to think, I've eaten my way in to never having a baby.  I've been told repeatedly that if I don't lose weight and get pregnant by the age of 36 (in 4 days) then I never will.  While my family has always been a support for me, I've done this to myself.  My subconscious blames my mom since it is likely from her family line that I've gotten the PCOS gene.  I have no idea of the significance of the year 1971.  It was the year my husband was conceived...maybe it symbolizes his fertility dying as well??

Crap, I don't know.  I just know that I woke with the WORST feeling ever...sick, profoundly sad and heartbroken...looking for reasons why...

Hopefully y'all don't think I'm crazy since I cant control my subconscious.  this has seriously made me sick all day. Is it the anxiety of turning 36 in a few days?  I just don't know.  I pray to God that this awful nightmare doesn't repeat itself and I can actually get a restful sleep tonight.

Brain Flurries

Where do I start...  My mind has been a flurry of thoughts lately, so many things to think about.

In a previous blog I'd mentioned about our cat Sam getting sick shortly after Buddy died.  Last Saturday, after an emergency trip to the Animal Hospital and a major hit to our pocketbook, we lost our "little" Sammy to cancer.  I put little in quotes because anyone who ever saw Sam knew he was no little cat. I don't even feel like I've mourned him appropriately because I still feel a numbness from losing Buddy.  It is so weird how empty our house feels with Buddy and Sam missing.  We still have the 2 Chi's and our kitty Max, but we can definitely feel a difference.   For the first time in his life, Max is an only kitty.  It's easy to see how much he misses his cuddle buddy.  There was nothing little about Sammy.  From his many nicknames to his paws, he was huge.  I remember when we took  him to the vet as a kitten and asked the doctor, "How big do you think he's gonna get?"  The vet held him up and says "well when you switch him from kitty chow to adult formula, you may wanna go straight to the low cal stuff".  She was right.  In prime condition, Sam weighed about 22lbs.  (at his death, he weighed just about 16lbs or so).  I loved his little paws.  I don't know what about them was so cute but I loved them.  He was the only cat I've ever seen that had lips...like actual lips.  When he was a kitten he had this ginormous head and ears.  He reminded me of Yoda.  That would've been his name except I got outvoted by the husband.  So anyhow we're missing our little Sama-Bama. House feels empty and now he waits with Buddy at the Rainbow Bridge.

I'd also mentioned in a previous blog about feeling the need to paint our living room  prior to having a home study.  Well in case I needed a reminder that God does answer prayer and provide, a friend gifted us with everything we need to paint the living room...from drop cloths and brushes to tape and paint...everything! Sooooo guess what I'm doing on my next day off!

I've also been thinking about our birthmom (and dad) and continue to pray for her.  I've been thinking about what I would say in our autobiographies and our letter to her.  I'm still struggling with major feelings of inadequacy and feeling like I need to really "sell" us.  I have no idea what to say, where to start, where to end...  What do you say to a birthmom?  "Thank you" just seems sooooo inadequate and "Pick Me, Pick ME!!!" just seems so desperate!

So many things to think about...all the stuff that I want to do to the house, things I want to pay off.  Do I work after a baby comes to our home? Can we afford insurance if I don't work? Can we afford daycare if I do?  I HATE the thought of waiting so long for a baby then having to put him/her in daycare just for the insurance.  Then there's the cost of the adoption, homestudies, background checks and fingerprinting etc.  Our vet bill for the last two months would've paid for the homestudy.  Can you tell I worry about money all the time?  I don't know why.  God's always provided what we needed and I know He will provide for this if this is what we're supposed to do.

Another reminder of God's grace and provision and answered prayer...One of my friends who's struggled for many years to get pregnant is currently expecting.  I've prayed harder and more fervently for her than I have for any thing else in my life.  I check in with her frequently because I'm just as freaked out,  as scared and anxious as she is.  Probably bugs the crap out of her!   If you could please keep her in your prayers I'm sure we'd both appreciate it :)

Hmmm...think that's all for now.  I'm sure I'll have more brain flurries later.

All In My Head

Since Cliff and I decided we want to adopt I've had a flurry of thoughts in my head.  I've made a list of all the things I want to do before our first homestudy...clear out the spare room to make into a nursery, organize the computer room, paint the living room... I know the social worker wont care about the paint on the walls but I see 12 years of wear and I want everything to be perfect.  I know I'm not the greatest housekeeper and am hoping a fresh coat of paint will help camouflage that.  I know it's unreasonable to think that painting is something I HAVE to do prior to the homestudy but again...these are the thoughts in my head.

I am so excited about this process.  This is the first time in our marriage that Cliff and I have really been on the same page with this.  I love knowing that Cliff thinks about what we're doing.  He comes home from work and asks random questions that we've never really discussed before.  The other night his question was "So how do we feel about discipline?"  I guess it just makes me feel better knowing that it's on his mind throughout the day too.

I printed a general "homestudy check list" from a website.  I thought it would ease my mind a little to have a check list and be able to make sure I have everything in order.  Instead it kind of freaked me out.  Not only do I have to paint my house but I have to do all this stuff too?!?!? Commence anxiety attack in 3....2....1....

I know that we are having a HOMEstudy not a HOUSEstudy.  I know the social worker is going to be paying more attention to mine and Cliff's desire for a child than to when I dusted the furniture last (thank God).  It is highly improbable that the painting will be done.  At this point, I would just be happy to have all the laundry washed, dried and put away (as I sit here and type away on the laptop). 

I have a lot of apprehensions about the homestudy.  I worry that we're too old (some agencies wont work with people over the age of 40).  I worry that we wont be "good enough".  I worry that once again my weight will hinder my chances of motherhood...that I'll be too "unhealthy" to adopt.  I know it's silly...people older and heavier than me adopt all the time.  People who put their adopted children in cages were deemed "good enough" so surely Cliff and I have a chance right? *deep breath* Like my dad said, I need to change my mindset.  The "what-ifs" are killllllling me tho!

Priority on my list of things to do...praying for our birth mom.  I know that she may not have even conceived our baby yet but I am praying for her.  I know she is making a very difficult decision. I'm praying that God gives her the strength and peace she needs in making that decision. I know God already has our birth mom picked out.  That sounds wonderful..."our birth mom"..."our baby"...my baby. <insert warm fuzzy feeling here>

Decisions In The Making

Today Hubby and I celebrated our 16th wedding anniversary.  We took a couple days off to spend time together.  This allowed us to have discussions that might not have happened otherwise.  The biggest topic of discussion the last two days has been "where do we go from here?"  More infertility treatments?  Adoption?  What??  We talked about how much it scares us to spend an outrageous amount of money on fertility treatments that may or may not work.  Up to this point, out of all the things we've tried I've never had a confirmed pregnancy related to the treatments.  I believe I've had two miscarriages in the past but if they were, I had gotten pregnant without fertility meds and the pregnancies were never confirmed.  It's just a hunch on my part.  What if we spend thousands of dollars and I still don't get pregnant??  Then we're out all that money for nothing.  So we've decided to put our eggs in a different basket so to speak.  No I don't mean a surrogate.  We've decided to pursue adoption. 
I don't want it to seem like "oh well I can't get pregnant guess we'll see if someone wants to  give us their kid" or like it's a last resort.  I am however struggling with giving up my dream of experiencing pregnancy.  I've always dreamed of the maternity clothes, the kicks to the lungs and bladder, the baby's hiccups,  having that first ultrasound and hearing the heartbeat for the first time.  I've dreamed of the whole birth experience.  I remember waking one morning with horrible pain in my abdomen like I'd done a million sit ups or something.  I had dreamed that I had given birth.  My abdomen hurt from "pushing" in my sleep.  Imagine my disappointment when I awoke childless...again.  That dream seemed so very real.
I'm already overwhelmed by the information I've read about adoption thus far.  SO much to think about but now I have another dream.  My dream is that we find a birthmom who allows us to be there for the birth, have an open adoption with reasonable limitations, I get to bring a newborn home from the hospital, without forking over a bazillion dollars to an agency when we've done most of the work.  Is THIS dream possible??  If I have to give up one dream can I at least have this one come true?
Cliff and I've discussed so many things... We've determined that race/ethnicity is not an issue for us.  I don't care if the baby is black, white, purple with pink polka dots...doesn't matter.  We don't care about the gender of the baby.  We'd just be happy with a healthy baby.  I do know that I prefer a newborn but am willing to consider a child up to the age of two. We are ok with some contact with the birthmom after the birth/adoption.  Our child will always know that they grew in my heart not in my tummy. 
I have learned that in Washington, it is not legal to "advertise" that you are looking for a birthmom prior to having a home study, but I can mention it to my friends and family that this is the decision we've made.  What you choose to do with that information is up to you ;)
So I guess our next step is getting the homestudy.  I have no idea how to even begin this whole process so any prayers for discernment, guidance, and strength are welcome.  I appreciate everyone's support and prayers.  Stay tuned,  I may be asking you for reference letters or you may be interviewed for the homestudy :)

What's Going On

As you can see it's been a while since I've written a new blog.  I feel like a lot has been going on and a whole lot of nothing going on at the same time.  Over the last month my husband and I have struggled with our grief over the loss of our dog.  He comes up in conversation almost daily.  Personally, I am haunted by that day in the vet's office.  I've never had to euthanize an animal, much less a beloved pet.  The feelings that I had as we made the decision, then that sick in my gut feeling as I watched him take his last breath...I just can't seem to get them out of my mind.  I cry every time I think about it.
Since Buddy died I've gained about 5lbs :/  emotional eating along with depression= eating a package of Oreos mostly by myself.  Trying to remedy that beginning today.  Less than 2 weeks after Buddy died, my cat Sam got sick and had to spend the night at the vet. I was afraid we'd lose him too.  Added to the emotional eating, I haven't been able to exercise for about 6 weeks due to a stress fracture in my foot.  Turns out that my ambition to kick butt at the stair climbing at work has been to my detriment.  Word to the wise...start off slowly if you're not used to exercising.  My progressing too quickly is what led to the fracture and now I have to ease into walking over flat surfaces. 
I haven't been taking my meds the way I'm supposed to either.  Basically, I have not been taking care of myself for the last month.  Starting fresh today!

I haven't had a cycle since the med induced one in February.  Not doing any fertility stuff right now...hence the "lot of nothing" going on.  I'm really struggling with what my future holds as far as motherhood.  I nearly cried in the Taco Bell drive thru yesterday when I saw the car in front of me had a "happiness is being a grandparent" license plate frame.  All I could think was "I'll never know that happiness" :(  I wonder, will I ever get to be a mom?  Every time I turn around, there's another story about a parent harming their child, sometimes to the death.  I get angry.  Why couldn't God let ME have that baby!??!?   I would never harm a child.  They would be loved and protected and nurtured.  Why not me!?
Adoption has been on my mind a lot lately.  Frankly, I don't care how a child comes into our lives.  I just want a baby!  I'm reminded of when I was a little girl and wanted a horse.  I had this book of horses that I had with me all the time.  At night, I would turn the page to the horse that I wanted...an Arabian horse.  I would look out of my bedroom window and find a star...closing my eyes tightly I made a wish.  I would drift to sleep with prayers that the horse of my dreams would be tied to the tree outside of my window when I woke in the morning.  Sadly, I've never owned a horse.  I've dreamed of waking to find a baby on my doorstep, both literally and figuratively.  I fear that dream will never be realized as well. 

It's been particularly difficult for me these past couple of weeks.  Mother's day came and went.  I admit I skipped church that day.  I just couldn't sit there while the pastor preached a sermon about mothers (assumption on my part).  I did spend time with my mom and hubby's mom which was nice and did manage to take my mind of the fact that yet again I'm not a mother.  I feel like I can't spit at work without hitting someone who's pregnant.  One of my friends had her baby shower on Saturday and I just couldn't bear to go shopping for it.  Don't get me wrong.  I AM happy for my friends and coworkers but jealousy is definitely rearing its ugly head.  It just seems like everyone but me is getting pregnant.  So frikkin frustrating

I get to keep my niece again tomorrow.  I'm so thankful we live so close as I fear she may be the closest I ever get to having a child.  I try to do all the things with her that I would do with my own child.  Here's to hoping it's all good practice

Rainbow Bridge

Buddy 9/14/96-5/1/12

My heart is so sad.  On Tuesday, my husband and I had to say goodbye to our precious pound puppy, Buddy.  He's been a part of our family for 15+ years.  My husband and I adopted him from the pound when we'd been married for just 5 months.  I remember thinking "We should've just had a baby".  Buddy loved to sleep right between us, had to have his head on my pillow and was afraid of the dark. When we tried to get him to sleep in his own bed in our room, as soon as he heard Cliff start to snore I would feel one paw on the bed, then another, wait a few minutes, then the third paw.  If we stirred he'd wait then the whole Buddy was up on the bed slithering up in between us. I remember bringing him home like it happened yesterday.  He was named "Buddy" by accident.  While trying to think of a name we'd say things like "hey buddy" "our little buddy" "come here bud".  Eventually, that's all he would answer to, so Buddy he became.  He chewed everything.  Well, that's not true...he skipped the traditional shoe chewing and went straight for the couch.  I'll never forget patrolling the house for anything he  might try to chew up while I was at work.  The only things left out were his toys and his bed.  I came home from work to find my house covered in what looked like manna from heaven.  It was his bed...in iiiiiiiitty bitty pieces alllllllll over the house.  He loved to pester my cat, Sasha.  They would take turns chasing each other all over the house.
He was such a sweet dog.  I remember one time I was home with a migraine and Buddy brought me his rawhide and put it in my lap.  Thinking he wanted to play I tossed it to the floor and told him that I didn't feel like playing.  He picked it up again, placed it on my leg, nosed it up into my lap and gave me a look that said "take it.  It makes me feel better".  When I think about how he was a part of our lives for 15 years, I think about all the things we've been thru...all of the July 4th's where we had to medicate him to keep him somewhat sane during the fireworks, the illnesses, the surgeries (his and ours).  When he was happy to see you, it wasn't just his tail that wagged.  His whole body did.  I think fondly of the times our friend Shaun would come over and shout "BUDDYYYYYYYY!!!!" and Buddy would get so excited he'd pee all over the floor.  I think it was Shaun's personal goal to get him to pee ;)
I loved how whether we were gone all day at work or if we just went out to get the mail, Buddy would greet us as if we'd been gone for years!  He was a horrible attack dog unless it's possible to lick someone to death.  He was a great protector tho.  Any time Cliff was gone on a business trip, Buddy would go on "high alert" and was faithful to stay by my side until Cliff got home and he was "off duty".
In recent months, Cliff and I began noticing a bit of a decline in Buddy's health.  We attributed it to his age.  As far as we were concerned, after him making it thru bladder surgery a few years ago, we figured every day he was alive was just an extra bonus.  I was just talking about it with my sister in law on Tuesday.  After she left with my niece, Buddy began coughing as if he was going to vomit.  I put the dogs outside so he could do it out there.  He staggered around the yard for a minute or less then collapsed by the back door.  I watched to see if he would get up and when he didn't even raise his head I called Cliff at work.  I knew this was bad.  I called the vet to let them know we were coming in.  Cliff got home and we loaded Buddy into the truck.  We got to the vet's office and Cliff carried Buddy inside.  One of the techs did a quick triage and informed the doctor.  The doctor came in and said "it's probably not as bad as it seems" and he looked at me as I was bawling my eyes out.  After more questions and an exam of Buddy the doctor said he suspected a certain type of cancer.  Hemangiosarcoma...basically a cancer that grows on a blood vessel.  As the tumor grows, the part that is not right next to the vessel/blood supply begins to decay and can rupture leading to internal bleeding.  They did an xray and blood test.  The blood test indicated Buddy was very anemic (indicating internal bleeding) and the xray showed that he had so much fluid (blood) in his abdomen that the doc couldn't tell if a tumor was present.  The doctor said they could do further testing, exploratory surgery to verify that's what it was but he was pretty confident.  We knew Buddy would likely not survive a surgery at his age.  The doctor said that in these situations,  the animal can reabsorb the blood and recover...until the rupture happens again.  He said that IF Buddy recovered from this episode, the next would likely be fatal.  It could happen in a few months, weeks or even days.  We asked THE question...is it more reasonable/responsible/kind to euthanize him?  The doctor said that yes, it was VERY reasonable to do that.  I would like to think that if he thought Buddy had a chance of meaningful recovery that he would've told us that we should try the treatment options.  I think he thought that was what should happen as soon as he examined Buddy.  He was just afraid to jump right to that.  The people at the office were very nice.  They gave us time with him before the doctor came back in.  Since I've never been thru this he explained what would/could happen.  I'm grateful it happened so fast.  Buddy didn't even react to being poked.  He simply just stopped breathing.  The doctor listened as his heartbeat faded and let us know when it was over.  The doctor had told us we could stay with him as long as we wanted but we'd already said our goodbyes.  I had told him he was a good dog and we loved him and would miss him.  We cried, regained our composure and then left.  I cried this morning as I walked past his empty food dishes.  It breaks my heart to think that the dog that was with me nearly every day for 15 years is now gone.  I know he'll always be in my heart and is waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge.  (i know, i know...that's not theological but I kinda like the idea of it)