Crazy busy!

I know it has been forever since I have posted!  So let me recap the more interesting points of the last couple weeks.  For starters my younger sister just got engaged and I couldn’t be more excited.  She has no idea (until she reads thisJ) but it makes me happy to see the blossoming relationship and the joy she gets from being with her fiancé.  They are at that nauseatingly sweet stage where they spend every second with each other and they are still learning about the other person.  No one is taken for granted as they each view the other as the best person and blessing to have entered their lives.  Although my sister is unaware, I secretly live vicariously through her.  Because of the upcoming wedding I feel the same excitement and anticipation and take joy in the stolen kisses and butterflies that rule her life and secretly I wish I knew where to find all of these characteristics within my own marriage.  I miss that stage and as everyone else we were one of those couples that vowed to remain always in that stage and then one day we woke up and it was all shattered. (TO MY SISTER: this does not mean this happens in all relationships, it just happened to mine and I am so glad you get to experience this wonderful stage; I am just a little jealous of you)

We also attempted potty training, but sadly that didn’t go as well as I had anticipated.  Several months ago my son started asking to use the potty all on his own and for about a week would tell me when he wanted to pee or poop and accomplished both successfully.  Then all of the sudden he refused to practice going in the potty anymore, so my husband and I decided to wait a while.  My son is now two years and two months so we decided to use the potty training in a day method…at which point my son’s stubbornness came to rule the day.  You see as I mentioned before he is capable and understand how to potty but doesn’t want to take the time to stop what he is doing to fulfill his obligation in the bathroom.  He did not like being told where and when he should potty or practice going potty resulting in several long bouts of screaming.  Of course we did not let his fits detour our goals and we did not force him making for on very long day where we had eight messes and three successes.  It really was a day long battle of wills.  My mom, a psychologist in child development, said that there were two options.  We could keep doing exactly what we were doing until we broke the power trip he was trying to pull, or we could wait until he was ready and decided he wants to be potty trained.  She said the second option could be in a month or a year; it is totally dependent on him.  As my husband and I were emotionally fried from all the screaming we both knew we could not survive a second day of the same behavior and maintain the highly positive manner that is needed when teaching and have decided to try again once a week or every other week to judge where our son is at and hope it will work on the next attempts as we try to fill him with positive potty propaganda until the next session.

Last, but not least, we are trying to get things in order for the move.  We should find out Jan7th whether we move in a couple weeks or if we move in June, but since there is the possibility of a rushed move, I realized how much I need to get done.  For starters our closet in the bedroom has become a sort of catch all for things without a place in our home.  This includes a couple piles of things we salvaged from the apartment fire but never got around to sorting or copying so as not to lose.  This will take hours of work, hence the reason it hasn’t been dealt with yet.  So I am now attempting to work on these tasks in hopes of saving myself a frantic bustle of trying to get things sorted so as important documents are not placed in storage instead of with us, etc.

That’s everything in a nutshell other that Christmas went very well: Santa and Grandma sure made one little boy very happy and it was fun and infectious to partake in his excitement.  Headed to Indianapolis in a few days to visit my sister and her family so it may be another little while until I post again.  Love to all and Happy New Year.  Hope to post something a little more fun soon J

Seeing one’s self through another’s eyes

Josh was excited about the Christmas gift that he got me, that he insisted I open it early.  It was a necklace, on which he obviously spent a good amount of money.  He eagerly asked if I liked it and went on to explain that when he saw it, it made him think of me.  He said it looked classy, yet unique and really hoped I liked it.  I have to admit I was taken back.  For starters, I was surprised at the thought that went into his choice and I was surprised as it was not a piece I would have picked out for myself.  I didn’t want to tell him this as he was obviously very proud of his choice and I did like the necklace, I just didn’t see me in it.  As I looked at the necklace though and thought about his description, I began to see what he did.  It was a unique piece and it did have sort of a vintage class to it that I enjoy, but for some reason, that just wasn’t overly obviously at first glance.  The more I wore this necklace and the more I thought about what it represented and the more I realized just how much this really was the perfect necklace for me.

Had I been the one in the jewelry store, I would have walked by it, but somehow Josh saw something in me that I did not.  It made me appreciate my husband for seeing things in me that I don’t see or neglect to acknowledge.  Sometimes I learn more about myself from learning how others view me.  It makes me wonder about the times I may have been too quick to judge something as not my style or simply “not me” without taking into account this is a representation of what someone else sees in me.  How much better would we know and love ourselves if only we could see ourselves the way others viewed us?  I know I am my own worst critic, which allows me to downplay my accomplishments and criticize my assets.

This gift from Josh touched me not only for the though and the gift itself, but also for the reminder of who I am and how I am seen.  Especially lately as I have been feeling invisible, it was nice to know someone was watching and seeing me.  So this holiday if by chance you have a similar experience, stop and remember what people see in you.  I know it is a motivator to be the best me I can and to allow myself to love me so I can better love others. (sorry I feel if I went back over this I could say it all better, but this screaming baby of mine it telling me otherwise) Love you all!

Expression

Everyone expresses themselves differently.  Obviously, (or maybe not so obviously) I express myself and my emotions best through written word.  It empowers who I am by giving word and voice to the part of me I feel hides inside.  How do you express yourself?  I have come to learn there are infinite ways to do so.  My older sister I feel best expresses herself in her movements.  From her hand gestures to her choreographed dancing, her body sometimes says more than her words do.  My younger sister is best known for her talent with instruments and there is no doubt she is sharing herself every time she performs a piece or when she teaches someone else how to express themselves through this same outlet.  She speaks a language that sings to the soul.  My younger brother, while very smart and great at articulating himself through words, really shows who he is with his art.  It is unique and an insight into him and his view of the world.   I have a very dear friend who communicates herself best through the service she continually offers.  She willingly opens herself up to freely give to others the love she feels for all and the hope she inspires in others.  My husband expresses and defines himself through his work.  By assimilating and excelling at the challenges he is given, he finds his sense of self. So now that you have a couple of examples, how do you best express yourself?  Is it in your words, your actions, your thoughts?  How do you best be you and define yourself from the other six billion people on this planet?

ESP?

When I meet most people I can typically feel that person and the emotions they are carrying with them at the moment.  I notice small gestures.  I know their thoughts before they give voice to their words.  I have had several different people in my life label me as a mind reader.  In fact, when Josh and I dated long distance we spent many hours on the phone and he took great pleasure in making me guess the number he was thinking.  Skeptical?  I was too.  However, over the years I have come to recognize this for what it is: a spiritual gift.

I can’t “read minds.”  If you were to randomly call me up and ask me to tell you what you were thinking, I would probably be at a loss.  I can however, if a person is open with themselves and not guarded, connect with that person on a level that is beyond casual greetings.  Often times the person is unaware of my connection at all, but if they are open I can share thoughts and feelings with the individual.

I want you to really think about this in your life.  Haven’t you had that moment with a loved one where you think something and seconds later that person says they exact thing you thought and it is usually obscure enough to seem like a coincidence?  I think instances like these are our spirits communicating.  What about those days when all day long you keep thinking about a person and when you finally call they verify they too had been thinking of you all day.  Now this is a silly example, but it illustrates my point: My best friend and I lived on opposite sides of the country.  I gave her a call and the entire time I was on the phone with her I had the desire to color.  I voiced my desire and she laughed, admitting to me she had been trying all day to indulge herself in that very same activity, an activity neither one of us did often or even at all.

Does the thought of sharing ideas seem so impossible?  Why can people know exactly what we are saying and talking about when we have only gotten one word out of our mouth?  I believe emotions too can be shared in this same form of communication.

Haven’t you ever just walked by a person and you could feel their loneliness, sadness, anger, etc?  Forget body language for the moment.  Haven’t you ever been in a room with someone and just felt so strongly the vibes they were giving off?  People refer to this as the sixth sense, being overly observant, or ESP.  I think it is just the spirit inside these mortal vessels communicating the way they always have, just with the extreme limitations of our carnal bodies here on Earth.  Isn’t this just taking your “gut instinct” a step further?

I believe some people are more in tune with this spiritual communication, but I believe it is something that can be learned as well.  Be honest, does this seem farfetched, or is it something you can see being true?  Have you ever had experiences like these?

Eight and a Half Years

Eight and a half years ago today, my husband kissed me for the first time.  Looking back, I don’t even recognize who I used to be, or even who my husband used to be.  It really shows me how everything happens for a reason.  You see, even back then Josh was not my “type.”  There were some personal experiences and hardships that happened in my life right before I met Josh that opened me up to giving him a chance as I explored who I was, but had we met six months earlier, I would not have given him the time of day.  If I had to put my current self back in my shoes eight and a half years ago, I think I would have passed him by again.  I admit all of this not because I regret my marriage as that is not the case and honestly never has been despite our trials; I point this out because to me it confirms that Josh and I were meant to be in each other’s lives.

When Josh and I began dating, I felt this unexplainable pull to him and despite my best effort (and yes, I did try and fight this feeling) I fell head over heels in love with my opposite.  Never before had I experienced this feeling that I was meant to be with someone and I have not felt it with anyone else since.  When friends asked me over and over what I saw in him, I saw his potential and I felt this pull.  I felt like a drug addict because once we were apart my body ached to hear his voice, or feel the touch of his hand.  There just wasn’t any substitution in my life for anyone but Josh. 

Eight and a half years later, I can still see that potential if he is willing to work towards it.  Still, despite my best efforts during our darkest times, I still feel that pull that my responsibility is as a wife by Josh’s side.  I have always tried to be up front and honest with Josh about where I am at in terms of my feelings for him.  I guess today looking back on it all I knew better where I stand in Josh’s eyes.  Does he see potential in me?  Does he ever experience the butterflies we shared on that first kiss?  Does he view this day as a special day, or just another date to try and remember?

"Us"

Does he even find me attractive anymore?  When I confront him about it, he swears that he does, but I do not feel it; I do not believe it.  How can he find m attractive when so often his gaze looks right through me?  I feel I am not seen; at least not the way I feel he used to see me?  Have I changed so much?  Has he?

Last night we talked and it was about things already discussed, but last night he finally heard me.  This is progress as before it was deflection and justifications.  Last night he was forced to look on the situation and I hope that he finally saw what I have been seeing and carrying with me this last year.  If he gets to the point where he can finally name things for what they were then we finally have a place to start as this will show he is finally willing to admit what went wrong.  On this note, it surprises me what people can convince themselves what is truth and what is reality so that they don’t have to deal with the uglier side of things.  I guess confrontation of myself and confrontation with others does not bother me, that this is not an issue, making it harder to understand.

I know this is disjointed and ambiguous to probably all but me and my husband so to clarify: I think we might finally be able to work on “us” and I think we are finally making progress.

Ornaments

Last night my family and I put up our Christmas tree; something I was not really looking forward to this years since I had lost all my sentimental items in the fire last year.  Seeing as the fire happened right before Christmas, my family and I decided to vacation instead, so this was the first year at home all together as a family and I was dreading having to deal with the loss of the items we no longer owned as we went through our Christmas belongings for the first time.  You see, every year my mom and dad would give me an ornament that represented an accomplishment or personality trait that we achieved throughout the year.  This made all my ornaments very sentimental as I had one from every year since birth.  After the fire, josh had been able to salvage just a few of the ornaments that had been packed in the bottom of boxes, making them protected from the smoke and ash.

As I began going through the salvaged ornaments I was disappointed as some of the cheap and sentimentally worthless ornaments were among those saved.  After about five such disappointments I came across my very first ornament.  Tears welled in my eyes and I knew just how blessed I was.  I was blessed to have these precious items saved, but more importantly, it was a reminder of just how blessed we all were to get out safely.  After going through the rest of our decorations I was relieved to find a couple more of my sentimental favorites and although we lost just about everything, it was a gift to recover these items this year as we continue to start over.

inadequate

There is no doubt that motherhood is a divine calling.  I believe women are co-creators with God, meaning we have the noble task of bringing God’s precious souls into this mortal life.

              I don’t understand how when holding a newborn one can doubt or disbelieve in the existence of God.  When I hold these sweet spirit sons and daughters when they enter this world an indescribable peace, love and happiness washes over me, as if they are delivering blessings and well wishes from friends and family past.

              This is a very humbling moment; at least for me.  These little angels come to us perfect and while caring for these sweet defenseless souls, I feel all my inadequacies highlighted as I wonder, how I am going to teach them to be exactly as they are now: loving, peaceful and in tune with God?

              I know I am meant for this calling, or I know I would not have been blessed with the children I have.  Some days I just wish I was a better me so I can better help them be the best they can be.

Image

An image popped into my head today of an analogous person crying.  The tears were royal blue and stained the cheeks as they rolled down this person’s face.  If you looked close enough you could see faded stain marks of other colors from other tears shed, creating a somber rainbow if you looked for it.  The person did not look sad; the tears just overflowed and welled out of the eyes, staining a new path over paths already forged. 

I cry different colors.  As tears are just as subjective as the emotions that cause them.  Sometimes I don’t cry tears at all, but I am still crying.  If I were to cry now, the tears would be red and yellow, staining a path down my check to show someone on the outside that these tears were not shed in vain…even if they were not seen falling from my eyes, they still stain my cheek proving an emotion felt and if not heard, at least seen.

Another image of a person hunched over, no face visible, just the curved fetal position of a curved back and bowed head and at the feet a puddle of rainbow, reflecting the sorrowful expression.

Creature

So for my book club we are currently reading The Metamorphosis by Kafka.  For those of you unfamiliar with this short story it is about Gregor, a traveling salesman who turns into a bug overnight.  The way the bug is described many people have interpreted the bug to specifically be a cockroach which fit how Gregor felt about himself: ever industrious, but abhorred and looked down on.  This made me think; what would I be.  Not what animal or creature do I wish I was, rather what creature best represents me?  I have been thinking about this a long time and it is a tough question to answer, but after a lot of deliberation I think if I had to be represented in another form It would be in the form of a moth.  I think a moth is fitting as they undergo a radical transformation, from a lowly caterpillar of infancy to a creature that literally rises above.  Now I am aware moths do not have a long life span, but that does not mean they do not live full lives.  I am not predicting a short life, rather just a mantra to try and live by: no one knows when they will be called home, so become who you want to be and live life in a way you would be proud.  I don’t think I will be a big beautiful monarch butterfly, rather, I see myself as a common brown moth, just another one in a million.  I do not draw attention, but blend in as I follow and am drawn to the light ie. the things that make me happy and feel fulfilled.  I know there are people out there who don’t like me, but that doesn’t mean I need to let them stand in my way.  Although I seem fragile, I still try and fly even when someone man handles me and I lose the dust on my wings, I know what I am meant to be and that is what I will always try and be.

What creature are you?

Treat Hoarder

I have noticed that when my son finally possesses a coveted item, such as a marshmallow, rather than partake of his treat he holds it in his hand until my husband or I convince him to enjoy his treat.  I too am this way with things I enjoy.  I am one of those people who might buy a box of chocolates and only partake of small amounts on special occasions that I deem worthy of such a treat.  Sadly, many times I have forgotten I had the treat or it simply ruins before I to it.  Yet, still I have this intense desire to savor an item by tempting myself with it, telling myself I just might want or need it more on another day.  This means I do not enjoy the treat many days as I feel there is no reason to reward myself with such a thing and also this rejection give the treat this impossible standard that I am often disappointed when I do indulge in the item. 

My friend, when discussing this behavior with her, pointed out that this is a good life lesson.  How often do we, (meaning me) let life pass us by because we have unrealistic expectations of things in our life?  How often do we let life pass us by because we are too scared or preoccupied to just enjoy the moment?  I always regret and feel remiss when I discover a treat that could have been enjoyed that I missed out on.  I would hate to have any of those same regrets when looking back on my life.

Enjoy today.  You are here for a reason.  Live today as it is your life to live!

One Night

When his lips found min in the darkness, I felt the tentative pressure of his lips on mine.  I felt the concern.  I felt the longing.  I felt the lips of the man I married and not the lips of the stranger I have been living with this last year.  This glimpse gave me hope.  Hope that my insecurities were just insecurities and not some hidden truth.  Hope that there are more nights like this in our future.  Hope that the man I fell in love with and married is still inside the confused lost man I share my home with. 

I feel cheated that in the last year there have been only a couple of nights such as these when I was promised a lifetime, an eternity of nights like these.  I must remember however, that this was what I have and I should be thankful I at least have that one night as it is the diamond in the rough to encourage this process.  To remind me that this marriage is just that: something  of infinite value that just needs to be found and polished.

Dark Night

What is the point of being vocal about how I feel when no one hears?

I have struggled with depression for many years and for a long time I hid the pain and despair I constantly felt, deep within myself, tainting my experiences with that negativity.  I became aware of what I was doing and actively sought to be vocal about where I was at, what I was feeling and sharing my self-image with those around me..  I guess that just isn’t enough because the pain and negativity is only intensified when I share these raw, personal emotions only to be ignored.

It is not that I am ignored by everyone, just that I am ignored by the people I want most to hear me.  It hurts because it makes me feel as if I am not worth the time to be heard or worth the effort to be comforted or consoled, which is not what I am even searching for; just want to have a voice and for that voice to matter; there are these dark days though that I feel that this is not the case.

My depression is a compilation of all my insecurities and fears and when it takes over, that is all I am.  I am the fat girl, the naive girl, the selfish girl, the needy girl, the lonely girl, etc.  The mute girl who apparently can’t get the words out that need to be heard.

I don’t want your consolation or positive talk as I know this is a darker post.  I guess in writing this all I am looking for tonight is acknowledgement that I am not alone; that others feel just as powerless, ignored and conflicted as I do.  Don’t worry; I am sure this is just a hormone change and a dark night playing on my thoughts.  I will pick myself up ad I always do.  I just felt like sharing some of the raw.

Divine Nature

One reason I like my church is because we believe there is more to life than just worshiping God.  We believe that this life is a learning experience as we ourselves prepare to become higher deities as we continue to learn and grow.  Having said this, I have been thinking this morning about how we fail to value ourselves as a being with great potential.  Even if you do not believe as I do, I feel that we, especially women, tend to forget our potential as we get so caught up in what is expected of us here and now.

A very simple representation of this is when many young girls, and even us grown ones, refer to ourselves as a princess.  There is nothing wrong with seeing yourself as royalty because that is what we are, but why sell yourself short?  Why settle for princess when you can and should be queen?  Is it because we fail to see ourselves as worthy of this title, or we lack the desire to work for it?  I think in my life it is a little of both.

A queen is someone who stands as an example; someone who is looked up to and I know there are many traits and talents I lack that make me feel inadequate and unable to describe myself in this manner.  However, that doesn’t mean I can’t work on it.  I feel that in today’s society especially we have been devalued and often times only viewed as sexual objects when in reality we are co-creators with God in making human life.  This means we should respect our bodies and ourselves as we come to realize our potential within the confines of this life.  I need to work on having a positive body image as long as I am doing all I can to treat myself and my body as well as I can so that I can live up to the divinity within me.  Why must we feel the need to tear ourselves down, when there is so much of the outside world doing that for us already?  Remember who you are: a queen; a deity in training.

(Yes, this post was meant for me…sometimes I hear it better when I talk to myself J).

What Do I Have to Give?

November.  It has become popular to take the thankful challenge on Facebook and post things one is grateful for in their lives.  Although I don’t participate, I think it is always a great idea to count one’s blessings.  Having said that, let’s see if I can verbalize my train of thought:

Josh and I were talking in the car today about other eras and centuries we had wished to be born into.  I pointed out to Josh that he was romanticizing the feudalistic era he had chosen.  He acknowledged this and then concluded he was thankful to be born when he had been, in today’s era.  As members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, we believe we were saved for the last day; meaning, our gifts and abilities strengthened us to be here at this time and place.  Essentially, nothing is coincidental; we have something to offer and contribute which is why we are here now.  This led me to think: what are my gifts and abilities and why was I meant to be here, now?

I think it is great that we are thankful for the blessings in our lives, but I know I often overlook and neglect to be thankful for the talents and gifts I possess.  Especially in this day and age we find it easy to belittle ourselves and those around us: that I want to challenge you to identify five things about yourself you are thankful for.  Try and identify the things that allow you to serve others that typically are written off as a personality trait such as a meek disposition, learning a musical instrument easily, being a people person, etc (sadly, I lack these qualities, but can easily identify them in my friends).  I know this is difficult (or at least it was for me) but here are my five things.

1.       I feel emotions off of people, which usually makes me aware of a person on need of a hug or a listening ear.

2.       I am a bit OCD when it comes to organization, which helps me run my home smoothly, freeing up time I can spend with my spouse and children.  This skill has also been useful as I contribute this skill in some of my callings at church.

3.       My skill with crafts allows my children a Montessori style of learning that they thrive on, as well as provides me with a couple of skills I can teach to those who are interested in learning.

4.       Thirst for knowledge is something I feel is infectious and the point of our ministry on Earth.  This edifies me as well as my children as I am able to pass on knowledge and passion to them.

5.       Perspective.   Although I am well aware my thoughts are nothing more than typical, I feel my experience and in some cases my attitude have helped me empathize with others who have/ or are struggling with something similar to what I have experienced, allowing me to possibly be a support they felt they lacked.

Empowerment vs. victimization

              We all have trials and tribulations we are forced to encounter in this mortal life.  It is these trials that define who and what we are.  I have always been a strong believer that everything happens for a reason; meaning we are never weaker than the task or trial given up.  It is up to us, and us only to decide if we can rise to the challenge or become a victim of circumstance.  I bring this up because I realized the other day I have been playing the role of victim and I was highly disappointed in myself after always making a conscious effort to be empowered rather than victimized.  I believe this attitude began when Josh and I started having some difficulties.  I felt I had done all I could, which I still believe, but in my mind that justified my right to feel wronged. (I know that is worded awkwardly, yet I feel that best describes how I felt).  Although I did try to rise above the hurt and anger I was experiencing to fix my situation, I simultaneously began searching for the “cause” of such heartache.  One area in particular kept coming into focus and although I feel it deserves all the wrath and loathing I have given it; I ended up making myself the victim of its abuses.

I respect every men and woman who dedicate their time and lives to defend this country and I stand behind them %150 percent.  However, I do not support the institution of the Army.  I do not agree with how it is run, organized, enforced, or managed.  I feel that the time we have spent with the Army, has been some of the hardest times of our lives as I feel we have been dealt abuse after abuse.  The latest was this:  As you know while I was pregnant I encountered some difficulties which placed me on bed rest and made my pregnancy high risk.  Josh informed his officers of my condition and for the last month and a half Josh has not had to perform extra duty (which really isn’t a big deal as there are many men who go months without duty due to a lack of need). Well, Josh returned to work on Monday after his ten days of maternity leave and although his officers knew I had a c-section and we had a newborn at home, still assigned him CQ duty which means he had to work half the weekend and didn’t even get to come home Friday night.  Here I am two weeks post partum where I have been told to not even carry my newborn up the stairs by myself due to the strain on my body and I am forced to not only care for the newborn but my two year old son all by myself for two days straight.  I had to push myself physically and emotionally and the issue wasn’t whether I could do this or not as I would do anything to care for my children; I was upset that I should have to.  I felt I was once again a victim to the Army and their controlling officers, because duty (sitting around all night in case someone called the CQ phone) was more important than family.

You know what though?  I made it through those two days on my own just fine, despite the impromptu doctors visit that included taking both kids out of the house on my own.  That’s when it hit me: I was given this task to give me the confidence that I can be a mom to two and I can multi-task and meet the needs of both children.  When I got over feeling sorry for myself, I was able to see what it was I learned and accomplished.

In short, don’t make yourself the victim; you’re stronger than that!

Many Days

There are many days where I feel like I am slowly losing my husband.  The other day was one of those days.  For the first time, Josh has been trying to be more open with his depression and what is bothering him, and I am so glad he is finally letting me know where he is at, but at the same time it shows me just how little I understand and many times how much I disagree with my husband.  It is so frustrating because Josh is just coming to know himself for the first time, so there is no way to assess where we stand as a couple when he doesn’t even know where he stands on his own.  This concept in and of itself is completely foreign to me.  How do you not know who you are or what you stand for?  How can someone claim that they have never allowed anyone to know who they really are?  These days that he decides to open up on all this new self realization or hidden hope or belief are often days I feel my husband is not the man I married.  I hate to admit it, but it makes me question all the time spent, hurt endured, and affection given when there is still a possibility he might decide to leave me and his family due to some choice he feels he has to make.  It is not my place to share Josh’s thought process and to be honest I don’t understand it enough myself to even put it into words, which as I mentioned earlier, just fuels the frustration I feel. 

We are entrapped in this confusing dance as I try and support him and he tries to help out with the children and my comfort, but we lack that connection that always defined our relationship.  I brought up this issue with Josh one night as I shared the disconnect I was feeling and how many days I felt he was more a roommate than a husband.  Josh agreed that sometimes he felt the same way.  I asked him what made a woman a wife.  He listed things like taking care of the house and kids, supporting her husband, etc.  I pointed out that I met all the requirements on his list, yet still we came up lacking.  So what is it that makes a man a husband or a woman a wife?  Sadly, while writing this I feel I have answered my own question and I think the answer varies from couple to couple.  I know what is lacking from our relationship at the moment: trust; something that takes a lot of time to create and restore.  The only way I came to find this answer is to dig through all the other issue and they were all balanced on this cornerstone, which makes me wonder how many cornerstones there are in a relationship. Obviously, love is a cornerstone and I believe trust is one as well: what are some of the other cornerstone? I would love to hear your input.

I'm Back!

I know it has taken a while, but here is my first post after having my baby.  Things are well!  The c-section went well and our daughter was born healthy at 7 pounds and 14 ounces.  She was 19 inches long and has a full head of blonde hair.  All the things I was worried about have gone smoothly and has made our transition home a very easy one.  My son, has taken to the new baby and while I thought jealously might be an issue has been in fact, the very opposite.  He is in love and amused with the new little creature that has entered our home.  I didn’t think it was possible to love my son anymore than I already so, but watching him with his sister touches my heart and makes me proud to call him son. 

My husband has also been a gem.  He will wake up at night and hand me the baby so that I do not need to crawl in and out of bed with staples and will change all her dirty diapers then return her to me for feedings.  He also takes both children in the morning to give me a chance to sleep in.  This experience has been night and day compared to the birth of my son, when Josh had to return to Afghanistan and I was forced to do it all alone.  Although Josh has been struggling with his depression a lot this week and last, I still feel a connection with him, which to be honest is something that has been missing from our relationship for a while.

Today was my first day alone as Josh had to return to work and although there was a lot more up and down on my part, it went a lot better than I had expected.  I can only hope my son is as well behaved the rest of the week as I adjust to dealing with two children instead of just one.  I am trying to not set my own expectations too high as I want to give both children the attention they desire.  My son though is a high strung, supper active child that requires a lot of stimulation that has before now required almost all of my attention to satisfy, so now splitting my time and attention worries me.  I am proud of how well he has done though and hope things continue to transition as smoothly as they have.

So Blessed to Have a Four Day

Due to Columbus Day Josh has had Friday and Monday off, which could not have come at a better time.  My contractions are getting stronger and while they still are not close enough to go in, they are uncomfortable enough and strain my back enough to pretty much put me out of commission.  Meaning that for the last four days he has been on child duty and he has done an amazing job at meeting our sons needs while taking care of me.  It has been a really long time since I have felt he has taken care of me, so the last couple of days have been really wonderful and although I am not looking forward to him returning to work tomorrow, I will be able to rely on my mom as she is due to arrive tonight.

I am now to the point I am far enough along, I would rather have this baby on the scheduled date so that I can prepare go in and be in charge.  Also, because my doctor is out of town this week and I would really like for her to deliver my baby.  However, I say it is a fifty-fifty chance though just depending in my body.  At my last check up I was dilated to 1cm (solving the earlier mystery).  My doctor was surprised at how my baby girl was position though as she is up over my pelvic bone.  My doctor commented that it was a good thing we had the c-section scheduled because she didn’t think this baby would be able to come vaginally even if I wanted to.  She also explained that this would most likely make my contractions more painful as it is just grinding the baby into my hip bone (which explained a lot of the hip and back pain that had been a lot more severe this pregnancy).  She wasn’t sure if I would dilate or not due to this, but made sure I was aware that the baby was right where they opened me up for my emergency c-section with my son and that if I went into labor (even before hard labor, she said around 3-4cm) I needed to come in for fear of the baby tearing me open.  Other than that though the baby was healthy and everything else looked good.  So now it is just waiting through this last week and a half of misery before I get to hold that sweet little bundle in my arms.  I am getting excited and look forward to breast feeding as I had to wean my son at four or five months because he couldn’t digest my milk.  I am to the point I am excited to be having a girl and to be able to watch for her personality and watch her grow.  I am ready to be a mom to an infant again and to feel the miracle and great presence every newborn holds within them.

Getting ready

So I finally got my hospital bag packed last night; well all except the last minute items, like the camera and nook and stuff.  My mom will be here Monday or Tuesday to help me prepare this last week before I have the c-section.  Just under two weeks and I will have a little baby girl in my arms.  I am excited and quite frankly, ready for her to be here now rather than just waiting for wither the c-section, active labor or my water to break.  It is frustrating as this happened with my son as well, I was on bed rest for months and then around 35 weeks, everything stopped.  To deal with the stress and anxiety of trying to keep your unborn child healthy as you decide what you can and cannot physically do and then to finally be ready to have the said baby and have to wait is stressful.  Or maybe that just me, as I seem to always find the stress in every situation.  I know she will come when the time is right, I am just huge and uncomfortable and ready to have certain parts of my body back to myself.   See how selfish I can be. J I only take comfort in knowing most women feel this way towards the end of their pregnancy. 

I fear this may be my last pregnancy as every pregnancy has been a big deal and high risk, making it more difficult and dangerous for both me and the baby.  Of course if we feel we are not done, the sacrifice is well worth the blessing in the end, but this entire pregnancy I have been feeling like two is our number, which to be honest is a little disappointing as I always thought 3-5 kids would be more in our range.  Which still might happen as I would still love to adopt.  It was something Josh and I discussed when we were first married, then again when we were told we could not conceive and I feel like it is still something I would very much like to do even though we have been blessed with fertility.

On the marital front

I have had several people ask for an update with how Josh and I are doing so here it is: we are about the same.  Not much has changed since the last updates.  He is continuing to see a psychologist, which has been helping him see where his self hate comes from, but it is a very slow process.  Until Josh is able to be comfortable with himself I cannot really resolve our issues as he takes all the blame and creates a reality where my life and my children’s life are better without him; a scenario I obviously don’t agree with or I wouldn’t still be here.  There will be several days where I feel like he is really making an effort and our relationship id finally on the mend, and then there will be several days of the same things that have been plaguing our marriage.  In essence, it is still a lot of up and down, but it is something we are both trying to repair, so I feel that’s as much as I can ask for or expect at the moment.  I know it upsets him when I try and point out the selfishness he had been exhibiting and I feel that has really improved, especially as the date for my delivery grows near, it is nice to have him put me and the baby first in our needs, which really wasn’t the case several months ago.  So as I mentioned there is progress, but it is slow, but working.  I look forward to the day where I feel like I have the man I married back and that we can once again be a team in all we think and do, or at least have the tools to be comfortable with where the other is at that we can continue to learn and grow together.

Confusion

So as I posted in an earlier blog post, my husband had been checking my dilation.  He did for the two days he was home before Dorian arrived and was accurate with what he was feeling and what the nurses said I was.  So when I went in for my appointment Friday I was sure I would be at a 1 ½ like my husband had felt.  My doctor was backed up that day and although I didn’t feel she was rushing through the appointment at all she barely had her fingers up in me before she announced that my cervix was closed.  I was a little disappointed as I have been contracting steady enough that I was confidant there should be change, but didn’t want to second guess her.  I told Josh and he was disappointed and confused as he swore he felt a hole that was changing sizes.  We then did some research and looked at some pictures so he had a visual as what things should look and feel like.  Since the doctor said I was closed, I didn’t feel the need to have Josh check me every night.  Sunday, we went out what we thought would be a short walk.  This short walk on an unmarked trailhead turned into quite a hike and by the time we made it to the car I was contracting hard and steady; enough that I felt Josh should go ahead and check me again.  We went over the pictures again before he checked me.  Once again he said he felt like I was dilated to a two and the size of the hole was definitely changing.  So the question is: who is wrong; the doctor or my husband?  This is going to drive me crazy as my next appointment isn’t until Friday.  I just wish I knew where I was at so I could try and be a little more prepared.  I just had Josh check me again this evening and according to the pictures he said he would guess that I am dilated to a three, almost four, but there hasn’t been much effacing.

I have just decided that if the same occurrence happens at this next appointment I will ask her what he could possibly be feeling, but if all the sudden I am dilated to a three then I will just assume Josh had been correct the whole time.  Any ideas as to how this happened?  What do you think?

Angels among us

I know I have been slacking on posting daily, but life has kept me pretty busy as of late.  Because of this that means I have a lot of blessings to share.  The biggest being the sweet lady who has entered my life and taken me under her wing as she has befriended and reached out to me in ways that I needed most.  As you all know, we lost all of our belongings in a fire close to a year ago, so all the baby items we had invested in are all gone, so now that I am pregnant again, we have been forced to go out and require the same items all over again, but this time on a much tighter budget and without the reassurance that we will have more children in the future.  People were so generous in donating all they did after the fire that I didn’t want to proposition my friends and family for items we still needed for the new baby.  I was stressing out over all the things I still felt were missing and this sweet lady mentioned above, organized and threw me a surprise baby shower in which a room full of angels shared their love with me as they generously gave me the items I was still in need of.  I wish I knew how to express myself in person, the way I do in writing because I want all of these women to know just how much they bless my life.  In such a cruel self serving world, I feel so blessed to have come across so many who will go out of their way to serve someone as (undeserving, I feel) as me. 

With all the trials I have been through the last several years I have kept asking myself, why me, and why where we stationed here, but I know without a doubt that these wonderful people have been put in my life because it was only them that could reach out and love me the ways that I am in need of at this time.  I believe with all my heart that the Lord always provides for us and once again I want all my sweet friends and yes, you reading my blog, to know just how much I love you and value you because it is through your love and help that you have strengthened me through my hard times.

there were several more pictures, but I was crying in most of them as such sweetness touched my heart.

 

Day dreaming?

When I was a teen and I had a hard time dealing with the stresses of life, I would blast my music; sit on my bed and day dream stories in my head of epic romances, sure to knock any woman off her feet.  I would spend hours imagine what the perfect guys would say, do and even look like while trying to imagine what it would be like to be kissed by a hero’s lips. Today, I realized I don’t daydream any more.  My only guess as to why is most all the big decisions in life have already been made.  Now life is always full of the unknown, but what is left to romanticize? Old age, retirement?  I have a husband who like everything else in my life is very real, meaning he is now imagined hero who says and does all the right things.  I know longer imagine a cooing baby and what it would feel like to hold my child in my arms as I am granted the reality of that blessing every day, along with the screaming tantrums.  I don’t want to sound ungrateful for what I have because that is not at all what I am saying, instead, what is left to dream about?  Sure I have goals, but they are too intertwined in my reality to be something I can continually wish, a parable of the illusive enticing fruit.  Does anyone else still day dream, and if so what about.  I am not talking about longing for the quite day or a hot bath, but what place inside your head do you go to escape some of the harshness of reality?  Or is it even possible to do on our own anymore that we have become complacent and reliant on books and movies due to our age?  Can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

Chapter Eighteen: Blessings and Answered Prayers

My pregnancy and the deployment seemed to creep by.  I tried going out and being as active as I could, but I still did not know but one or two people in town and my morning sickness made me miserable at all times of the day.  I was hoping things would get better as I was now well into my second trimester, but the nausea and exhaustion continued.  My mom convinced me to come home for a month so we could take family pictures and so she could throw me a baby shower.  I was so excited for the opportunity to see my family and to celebrate my pregnancy with other people.  Seeing as I lived alone and knew next to no one, the prospects of going home before I became too pregnant was just what I needed.  All my siblings were in town and it was so nice to feel their love and support as they reached out to me as they tried to understand how emotionally draining a deployment was.   It was fun having family members rub my belly and give me the excitement and touches my husband was missing out on. 

My mom, once again went out of her way to put together a party for me where she invited her friends and mine to celebrate the miracle that was my pregnancy.  I was so appreciative and felt wrapped in love as person after person reached out to me with gifts and kind words to help bolster me up for the solitude I was returning to.  My mom tried to talk me into staying longer, but I was growing close to my third trimester and wouldn’t be able to travel much longer; somewhat reluctantly, I returned home.  When I did return home, I enrolled in a class at the hospital to give the information I would need about childbirth and child care.  My sweet aunt drove the hour to attend the classes with me so I would not feel as out of place and alone as others attended with their spouses. I learned a lot that gave me some peace of mind as I furthered my knowledge and had the support of all family members as they celebrated this time with me as they attempted to fill the gaps that were missing along with my husband.

I was still only averaging a call a week, usually meaning a twenty minute conversation.  Most of our conversations were all about me and the progression of the baby.  Josh would only talk about the sand storms or weather and occasionally about some of the friends he had made, but he avoided talking about his job other than it kept him busy.  There were a couple of times he would tell me weeks later that he had been on a patrol or a convoy and there had been no incidents, but I got what little information I did as he decided to share it with me.  I know he was trying to keep me from worrying, but I always worried, especially when there would be days of no phone, e-mail or facebook, which meant they were on blackout.  Blackouts terrified me because that meant a soldier was wounded or killed.  Everyone always told me that no news was good news, so I tried not to worry when sometimes I didn’t talk to my husband for two weeks rather than one.  It was hard to ignore the risks though as I knew Josh had already attended funeral services for two fallen soldiers since he had been over there and there were literally more every day.  I could tell Josh was becoming more aloof, but I tried to understand as I could only imagine the stresses he was dealing with over there. 

Shortly after I returned home from my vacation with family I began noticing how often my stomach was tightening up, causing me cramps on a very regular basis.  I called my doctor and asked if that was normal and was told to go into labor and delivery immediately.  I was terrified.  I was thankful to the classes I had been attending as I was at least familiar with the hospital and had been informed what to do when checking in.  Upon arrival, I was attached to machines to be monitored and it was determined pretty quickly that I was in fact contracting.  They began shots immediately to get the contractions to stop.  After four hours and three shots, my contractions were back under control.  The whole experience frightened me as I had no idea I had started labor other than a few cramps.  I was proud of myself that I had gone through the hospital ordeal on my own and talked myself up into believing that even if Josh didn’t make it home for the birth, I could do this.  Josh’s superiors were aware of my due date and had promised to schedule his two weeks R&R (rest and recuperation) during my due date in hopes the baby would come while he was home, but as always, there were no guarantees.  As you can imagine this disappointed me and stressed me out as Josh had missed all the firsts in his son’s life already: first kick, first hiccups, and the first hospital trip.  I hated to think that he would miss this miracles entrance into the world.  All I could do was have faith that everything would all work out.

After my trip to the hospital and my continued contractions throughout the days, I was put on bed rest.  Basically any time I started contracting, I needed to sit down, put my feet up and drink lots of water.  Seeing as I contracted every time I stood up, I spent most days in bed or in my chair watching television or playing on the computer.  Seeing as these were my only activities, the days seemed to stretch longer and I grew weary of doing the same things over and over, but was willing to do whatever it took to keep my unborn child safe.  The problem was that I was still all alone, which meant I still had to cook, clean and shop for myself.  I tried to always listen to my body but hated the days I ran out of food which meant the dreaded shopping trips.  I couldn’t walk down an aisle without having to wait several minutes before I would stop contracting enough to hit the next aisle.  I had tried to eat well most of my pregnancy, but once I hit this stage I was pretty much only capable of making frozen pizzas and macaroni and cheese as there was little to no preparation.  I puttered through my days and longed for the random times I would finally hear from my husband and hear the reassurance I needed that all was okay.  I know Josh continually worries about my condition and often times I found myself doing the same thing he did: I would only tell him the things I felt he needed to know without all the details that would make him worry.  Most important though, we always expressed our love and respect for one another so even though we were continents apart and abridging our experiences, we were still growing closer together.

I was surprised when one Sunday morning I saw an 888 number calling in; I knew that meant it was Josh but he had never called me during this time before as it was late over in Afghanistan.  I answered excited for the surprise call, but I could tell by the short sharpness of Josh’s voce that something wasn’t right.  I asked him immediately what was wrong and he let me know that he has been injured.  I asked him what happened and he explained he couldn’t tell me a whole lot due to safety and classifications but that there had been an incoming RPG (rocket propelled grenade) and he had gotten hit by some shrapnel.  He tried to joke it off as if there were nothing to worry about, saying it was just a scratch.  He said he had the opportunity to call me first and to be aware that the Army would be calling me to inform me that he had been injured and he didn’t want me to worry.  He then said he had to go and would call as soon as he could and quickly hung up the phone.

I literally felt my world crumbling around me.  The one thing I had feared had happened.  Josh’s conversation had been so short it didn’t put me at ease as I could tell there was something wrong and that it was certainly more than just a scratch if it was serious enough for the Army to call me.  I felt my hands trembling as I sat down and tried calling my mom and dad, but they were at church and no one was answering.  My mind was spinning with the information I had, knowing my husband was injured and half way around the world and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.  I called my siblings cell phones and my parent’s cell phones and finally called a friend and explained through my teats the call I had just received.  She promised to pray for him and sat attentively as I cried out all my deepest fears.  Fifteen minutes into the conversation I got a call back from my dad and switched phone lines to tell him the news.  He said he would spread the word around and have people start saying prayers for my injured husband.  I then had the task of calling Josh’s parents to let them know Josh had called me, but he had been injured.  I relayed the conversation word for word and I could hear the same fear in their voices as they thanked me for letting them know.  When I got off the phone I felt numb.  I knew very little and there was nothing I could do.  All I could do is sit and worry and wait for the phone call from the Army where I hoped I could get more information.  I tried to calm myself as I had at least heard his voice and he was able to call me, but if it wasn’t serious why had he not called me back yet?

I finally received a call from the army that afternoon.  A sergeant on rear detachment called to inform me that my husband had been injured over in Afghanistan.  I asked him what information he had, and he said he didn’t know much other than Josh’s wounds were classified as extremely serious.  Josh had been flown on a flight for life to Kandahar Air Field where he could receive some emergency medical treatment before they moved him to a hospital in Germany.  He informed me that Josh was in surgery as we spoke.  The sergeant then asked if I needed anything, but my head was empty of all thoughts as all I could think about was my husband stretched out on some hospital bed in a country I didn’t know.  I hung up the phone upset that Josh had left so much of the story out.  A scratch?! Why was he in surgery? What had really happened? Seriously injured?  If they were moving him to Germany, I knew that meant it was serious.  The fear I had that morning intensified as I wanted nothing more than to be by my husband’s side.  Not too soon afterwards, I received a call from my father in law as he had been told the same information.  He wanted to make sure I wasn’t upsetting myself into early labor and talked with me for an hour as we tried to come to terms with what was happening.  My mom and dad called my aunt and uncle who came up and sat with me as did my one friend in Clarksville.  I was so grateful for the love and support, but my heart ached as I waited desperately for more information.

Time crept by and I tossed and turned all night as I tried not to let my contractions intensify.  I cried for all the unknowns, I cried for my wounded husband and I cried for our unborn child in fears that he might grow up without a father.  Everyone tried to reassure me that Josh would be all right and I tried to believe that and honestly, deep down I did, but there was no proof that he would be.  I kept reminding myself again and again that at least he had called and he had been coherent and joking about a flesh wound, but I still feared.  I called the sergeant I had talked with back the next morning and asked for new information, but he still didn’t have any.  He said he would continue trying to get through and would call as soon as he had any new information.  The waiting was driving me crazy.  All I knew was Josh was hit by shrapnel from a bomb and had needed surgery and that it was serious enough to evacuate him out of the country.  My day was another mess of emotions as I waited with my phone gripped in my hand all day. 

Almost twenty four hours after I received a call from the Army I received another call from my husband.  I know he could hear the fear in my voice as I desperately demanded he tell me how he was doing.  He told me he was sore, but he was okay.  I asked him where he had been hit and he informed me that he had taken shrapnel to his neck.  The reality and the seriousness of the situation hit me hard.  I tried being strong for Josh, but there was no hiding my sobbing over the phone.  Josh assured me that he was okay.  I told him that he should have told me how serious it was and I was upset I had to find out from the Army that he had needed surgery.  He apologized as he thought he had told me that information and once again assured me that everything was all right.  I argued that he needed to stop down playing his injury as I already knew they were going to be sending him to Germany.  This piece of news caught Josh off guard as he had not heard that himself and said he didn’t think that would be necessary.  He told me how during the surgery they went in to collect the metal that had entered his neck and they had been able to get everything out except for one small piece, which was perfectly safe staying inside of him for the rest of his life.  There was no threat to him bleeding out or having any further complications so he hoped they would not send him to Germany.  He then said he as receiving morphine and would need to hang up.  He promised to call as soon as he could and with that I once again was left with my emotions and the little pieces of new information that I had.

Josh had been hit in the neck.  Had the shrapnel hit his jugular, I knew I wouldn’t have gotten a phone call from the Army; instead I very easily could have been getting the dreaded knock on the door.  Only later did I learn that Josh’s injury was only 6 mm away from hitting the crucial blood vein, meaning he was only 6 mm away from death.  Later that evening I received another call from the Army to inform me that Josh was out of surgery and stable, but that they still planed on moving him to Germany as soon as a flight opened up and to be expecting call to make travel arrangements if I wanted to go be with him in Germany.  I was feeling frustrated as Josh kept making it seem like he was fine and the Army made it seem like my husband was dying.  Then a whole new fear hit me.  I was seven and half month pregnant and on bed rest, no airline or doctor would okay me to travel to Germany.  None of this seemed fair.  Every time Josh and I seemed to be starting life over, something big and traumatic happened.  This was our first deployment, Josh was only a support MOS who very rarely left the FOB, why was it him that had been seriously injured?  On the other hand I knew even in his injury it was miraculous that he was even still with me, so I tried not to be upset or bitter, but it felt like every time we took one step forward, we seemed to take two steps back.

The days passed with conflicting information.  Josh kept telling me he was headed back to his FOB, while the Army kept telling me they were sending him to Germany.  The Army even called to make arrangements and agreed that I would be unable to travel in my condition, but assured me they would fly Josh’s parents out to Germany if they wanted.  After a week, Josh was released from the hospital and put in one of the recovery tents at KAF (Kandahar Air Field) where he began hearing the experiences of some of the infantry men in recovery.  Josh continued to downplay his injury until he admitted to me he relived it in detail and realized just how close a call it was.  I asked him if he would tell me about it and he promised he would when he got home, but for now he wanted me to focus on my pregnancy and he would focus on his recovery.  Although I was glad Josh had the miraculous recovery that he did, I was disappointed that e had to go through all that we did and after it all Josh still returned back to work.  After two weeks Josh returned to his FOB, and it was back to waiting for his calls and hoping this baby didn’t come before Josh’s R&R.

I now worried more than ever for Josh’s safety as I learned that even on the FOB, there were no guarantees to a soldier’s safety.  A month before my due date my mom drove out to stay with me which was a very welcome help and comfort.  I now no longer feared going into labor and not having anyone to drive me to the hospital.  I now had someone to help with the grocery shopping, housework and cooking and I finally had a friend and companion to share every day with.  Mom helped me get the last of the baby stuff I was still in need of as well as gave me suggestions for nursing bras.  We organized and got the nursery ready and began getting me out of the house in small doses to get me in shape for delivery after my long period of inactivity due to bed rest.  Before I knew it, there were only a couple days left before Josh was due home for two weeks.  I spent many of those days dreaming about what it would feel like in my husband’s arms after six months apart.  I couldn’t wait for him to feel our son kick through my belly and to see me in my entire pregnant splendor.  I longed to feel his kisses on my lips and I longed to run my finger over the scar that almost changed our lives forever, which was now my husband’s pride and joy.  There was so much we missed out on two weeks just didn’t seem like enough time, but that always seemed to be the problem: I just never had enough time with my husband.

The day I long awaited for finally arrived: it was time to pick Josh up from the hospital.  I was a little nervous about driving to the airport in Nashville by myself being as pregnant as I was, but I would go cross country to see Josh if that’s what was needed.  I had my doctor’s appointment that morning and found out I was dilated to a three.  With the happy news I quickly made my way to the airport and arrived just as Josh’s plane was landing.  As I didn’t arrive soon enough to meet him at the gate, I waited as patiently as I could by the luggage carousel.  Soldiers began spilling over the stairs and I couldn’t help but cry as I watched fellow spouses and loved ones like me find their loved one.  I waited patiently for my reunion until I finally saw Josh come down the stairs.  As soon as he saw me he galloped and skipped stairs, embracing me in a power hug that I had been needing for the last six months.  He rubbed my belly and grinned, commenting on how large and pregnant I looked.  I couldn’t help but smile back, thinking that finally the world was right again.

We went out and got lunch and spent the day in each other’s arms, making up on all the lost time we had spent apart.  I could tell it was a bit of a culture shock being back from Afghanistan as he woke up confused and looking for his weapon several times during the night and mumbling incoherent shop talk, but I didn’t care.  Josh was home and he was home in time for the birth of our son.  The next day we began predicting when Dorian would make his appearance.  We went for walks and talked and napped throughout the day.  I was craving pizza so Josh and I went out and tried a new pizza parlor and having finished decided to finish off the day with a nice stroll by the river.  As soon as we got to the river though I felt leakage in my pants and was horrified that I had just peed myself.  I asked Josh if we could go home and somewhat reluctantly told him the reason why.  He of course obliged and grinned at my embarrassment, but I felt the same sensation again.  It was an odd experience as I didn’t feel like I had to urinate, but I had heard several woman complain of such mishaps especially in the ending stages of their pregnancy.  When I got home I emptied my bladder and changed my underwear and walked into the kitchen where Josh was to try and explain it was a natural occurrence when it happened again.  Seeing as I had emptied myself, I knew whatever I was leaking, was not urine.  It was a clear liquid and reality finally hit me.  My water was leaking.  It was time to go to the hospital.  Our baby was on his way.