2014 Goals

These goals are to be accomplished by July 11, 2014 (one full year from the time I made them) I completed many so I am taking off the completed ones and adding new ones to the list to make 2014 the new start I want it to be, extending the July deadline for some.


Concrete Results:

1.  Reach my goal weight of 128 (I am currently 160)

2. Start a Bunco group. (still haven't made an effort yet, but I still plan on making this happen).

3. Make (sell) 12 cakes this year.

4.Read the BOM, D&C, POGP (I have read and finished both the BOM and the POGP and am currently on section 78 of D&C)

5. Read at least four religious books this year (on my second book)

6. Crochet Amellia a new dress I am proud to have her wear.

7. Take family pictures (me and the kids)

8. Catch up/finish my memoir (rough draft)

9. Run a 5K without stopping to walk (technically I have already done this, but good to keep doing)

10. Make an effort for the children to see Josh's parents sometime this year.

 Ethereal Results:

1. Get to a point where I never yell at my kids. (still failing at this on a consistent basis, but I am working on reminding myself, there is no need to raise my voice at all).

2. Give service to others more frequently. (Lets be honest, I have been very focused on myself and my children.  I have been failing at this one, but I hope to get to a point where I can do this more).

3. Eat healthier (want to continually do this)  (I am eating better than I have in years, which is helping with the weight lose goal above.

4. Be more active  (want to continually do this)  (I go to the gym six days a week; no exceptions).

5. Get rid of the past (clothes that don't fit, pictures that aren't good memories, emotions that are better to let go of, etc).

6. Get to a point where I am proud of who I see when I look in the mirror.

 7. Attend the temple more (haven't been since July sadly.  Want to make this a priority and find a way to work out child care that I can make this happen.

8. Get Dorian ready for kindergarten' help inspire a love to learn (some days I am really good an doing activities and teaching him the way in which he learns, but there are still a lot of TV days as we pick ourselves up, so I am still working on this one).

9. meditate frequently (not sure if this counts, but I reflect on my scripture reading everyday and the time in which I journal, but I do not allow myself time to just stop and feel.  I will work on this more).

10. never turn down a date because I am scared

Happy New Year!

Life is GOOD!
First and foremost, as I just cannot say this enough: I LOVE my new boobs.  When I look in the mirror, for the first time in my life, I like what I see and I feel beautiful.  I feel normal and like a tremendous gift has been given to me as I no longer have to lug around those five pounds of hate I had. I did have to run into the office this morning as they were becoming increasingly uncomfortable and itchy, and having experienced an allergic reaction to medical tape before, knew what was going on. They cleaned off the area and replaced the tape with a different kind and am now doing better :)
Today Josh and I sat down and went over our divorce paperwork and finished getting in notarized so that everything is ready for the static conference tomorrow.  What I hope this means is this: since Josh and I are in accordance with everything (basically because Josh doesn't care and is walking away) he won't contest anything.  If we are both in agreement I hope that means we won't have to do a court date and just have to wait until the 90 days are up and the divorce is granted.  All this leaves is a four hour mandatory parenting class we are both required to take.  of course I will know for sure all obligations I have left tomorrow, but I feel that from here on out I have already done the work that needed to be done.
Root canal is being done Jan6, LASIK Jan 8, Crown Jan14 and I am done with all my appointments (well two follow up for the LASIK) so come January, I really am starting the new year off right.
I get my tubes out of my breast Thursday and hope to go shopping that day for bras and new wardrobe and excited to get back to the gym to see how much more mobile my new body is :)  Okay well I could go on and on about how much I am in love with everything right now, but who wants to keep hearing about my boobs ;)
Don't know if it is time of months, surgery or due to the reduction, but I have been really emotional lately, but I think in a good way.  I cry like a crazy person and then let it go.  I am still easily stressed, but feel I am still working on my patience.  Plan on revising my goals for the upcoming new year as I have completed a lot of my old ones.  OK tired, and late. Love you all!

j,i,h,g,f,e,d,C

TODAY WAS THE DAY!!!! Today was my breast reduction. Signed in at 5:30 AM. Surgery was at 7:30 AM. The procedure was just over three hours long.  I checked out of the hospital around noon.  I am sore, but there were no muscle or tendons cut through, just tissue, making it a fairly quick out patient procedure. 
There simply aren't words for the tremendous relief I feel at finally having average sized breast.  Already I feel like my posture has improved and wasn't at all surprised when I was told FIVE pounds of tissue was removed.  I went from a size J to a size C and already I am in love.  I have drains for the next couple of days and in a surgical bra for the next week or so, then a sports bra for a week or so, then I finally get to wear a new bra.  You have no idea how excited I am as the last time I was a size C, I was in middle school.
After I am healed and in a regular bra, I will post a picture of my new look. This I knew would help me physically with all the back pain I experienced, but have been surprised already at how much it has helped me mentally and emotionally.  I love my body a little but more now as I no longer feel like it is literally dragging me down.
A special shout out and thanks to my friend who drove me and stayed with me through my procedure and supported me in it all and of course a special thanks to both parents who watched my kids all day, allowing me the change to have this done and rest the way that was needed.  I feel so blessed to have and feel the love and support I received today!

Thank you for this gift

Well as you all know Josh and I are going through a divorce.  Due to many of his choices, the children and I do not always receive the money we are supposed to.  You can imagine the stress this puts on me as Christmas rolled around.  I am very blessed to be living with my parents and all the emotional, physical, and economic support they have offered us, but there are times it is hard to make my budget stretch to provide as best I can for myself and my children.
The bishop from my church became aware of my situation and set something up so that four families helped donate their love, friendship, and money to reaching out to my broken little family as we faced this Christmas under new circumstances.  I have always been one who has a hard time accepting help, but accepted the fellowship for what it was: the true meaning of Christmas.  What a beautiful gift for my children to see how many people loved them and who were willing to give them toys that were important to them.  What a gift to let them see service in action and hopefully recognize we are never meant to be alone.  I hope they see it is okay to accept help when offered to hopefully one day, return it in kind to someone else.
Christmas was truly a blessing this year as the things donated were beautifully wrapped and more then I could give to my children, and even more, it was a blessing to get the gift cards I did to finally be able to afford the things I have been putting off as I just didn't have the money.  Tomorrow I go in for my reduction and I have a greater sense of comfort knowing I now have a way to buy new bras and clothes that I have made work as long as I can, but just don't fit anymore.  What a beautiful gift for me, to finally feel like I can put myself right and be the beautiful daughter of God I know I am.
There just aren't words enough for these four families who gave us the things were in need of as well as items that will enrich our lives as we start this new year a member shorter, yet stronger.
I try so hard to keep my composure, to fight the tears that always seem to be inside and I know I come off sometimes as aloof and cold. I hope with all of my heart you see the tears of joys this gift has filled me with as I think back on what a blessing this was for us this year.

Chapter Nineteen: Giving Birth

I was nervous and excited as we checked in at the ER.  I kept a rag between my legs the whole time, expecting to just gush at any moment as many women had told me their experiences of doing, and gladly sat down in the wheel chair as we began our trip to labor and delivery. 

After I had my hospital bracelets, a gown on and was in bed, a nurse came in talking how there was a good possibility I had just wet myself and began to explain all the symptoms and experiences I had already though of previous.  I told her I was confidant it was my water and she seemed a little dismissive saying, well we will know for sure if this turns blue.  With that she stuck her fingers and a strip of paper up inside me and I couldn’t help but grin when I saw the now blue strip she held in her hand.  She promptly started bustling around the room explaining why she needed to start an IV and pitocin, which I asked if we could do without, but she insisted it was something I needed.  I allowed her to talk me into it, believing this was what was needed for me and my baby to stay safe.  After half an hour on the pitocin my contractions were still pretty far apart and not progressing my dilation, something they didn’t want to see as they kept talking about infection from having my water leak.  The nurse assured me she needed to turn the pitocin up for my sake.  My contractions grew considerably more painful.  I had a monitor reading my contractions strapped to me and asked if I could lie on my side as it was more comfortable that way, making sure that would not affect the monitor.  The nurse kindly told me I should do what was most comfortable. 

I was worried and caught off guard when suddenly the contractions began coming hard and fast.  I felt I hardly had time to breath before another one was starting all over again.  After about an hour of this I begged for pain pills, which I took and felt absolutely no affect from.  Although this was disappointing, it didn’t surprise me as after the back injury it takes a lot for me to feel any sort of affect and with a little baby inside of me, I would rather feel the pain than shoot any more medications inside of me.  I went through another treacherous hour of agonizing pain, where I literally felt I couldn’t so much as catch my breath between the contractions and was starting to get worried.  The pain in my back was getting worse as I started to have back labor and I felt I was reaching my limit.  It was at this point I asked for an epidural.

Now I had been hesitant about an epidural as they typically go into the spine right where my hardware was at, but having talked to my doctor and the anesthesiologist beforehand and having provided x-rays, it was determined it was worth trying, but there was no guarantee.  Well I was at the point I was ready to try.  A nurse finally came into the room and I broke down crying over yet another contraction about how they were too close together. She looked at the machine and seemed to give me a look.  I rolled onto my back again, hoping she would initiate some sort of relief and I saw her eyebrows go up as the machine started changing.  My contractions were much too close together and more intense than they should have been.  The nurse forgetting the pitocin had been turned up went on and on about the monitor had not read the contractions because I had been on my side. I was upset as I felt as if she were somehow blaming this on me, when I had specifically asked her. I was tired, breathless, in agony and done.  I told her I wanted an epidural and I wanted it now. 

Before the epidural could even be attempted, I had to be given a shot to stop my contractions as I was contracting way too close together to even have it administered.  I remember the irritation I was feeling as I felt as I had just gone through hell because I hadn’t been properly checked on or listened to.  The fact that they insisted I had to be contracting and dilating at a certain speed to then stop the contractions just seemed ridiculous to me.  However, my agitation eased as the contractions slowed and I finally was able to take a breath of air.  Josh was by my side the entire time, holding my hand and talking to me.  He kept me focused and allowed me to compartmentalize the pain.  After several hours, we were well into the night and I was not dilated to a six.

The anesthesiologist came in and was very taciturn and after looking at my x-ray said she didn’t think she could do it.  I was angry now.  I had been to the hospital week before to talk to an anesthesiologist who told me it was possible.  It just seemed like everything on my birthing plan was being tossed out of the window and I was mad.  The nurses had stopped my contractions for this, so I insisted she at least try.  Somewhat begrudgingly, as it seemed to me, she attempted to give me an epidural.  After about twenty minutes it was clear it was not going to work.  I was at a six and I would have to make it to ten all natural.  After the ordeal I had been through I started to doubt my resolve as the pain in my back was more intense than anything I had ever experienced before.  I feared.  I feared how the pain was going to only increase when I already felt like I was close to my breaking point.  I wanted what was best for my son though, so I was ready to keep trying.  The nurse again turned up the pitocin as the shot had stopped my contractions completely and I argued once again that I did not want to go through what I had just been through.  She reassured me it was just to get me going and this time I insisted I lie on my back although it made my back labor hurt worse as seemed to feel every surging muscle push against the bed I lie on.  To make matters worse, the sweet little baby in my belly began going into distress that every time I contracted his heart rate would drop to very low levels.  In order to stimulate the baby Josh’s new task was to deeply massage my belly with every contraction. Pain.  So much pain.

I endured for several more hours as Josh fed me ice chips telling me I could do this, I was beautiful, I was strong.  I tried to focus on the blessing of this baby.  The blessing I had my husband here for this miracle.  I had this beautiful even that for so long was such an impossibility. However my back felt as if it were deteriorating and the pain I felt was more intense than any of the back pain I had after the accident.  This baby and my body were banging me up from the inside out and I knew I had hit my limit.  Several times I felt the creeping black, on the verge of passing out from the intensity of not only the labor pain, but the accompanying back pain.  I told Josh I needed a C-section.  Josh tried to talk me out of it, as I had told him previous the importance of a pushing the baby through the birth canal, but I let him know I had nothing left.  This felt like it was literally killing me and I needed a C-section now.  Josh, being very aware of my pretty large pain threshold began to understand the magnitude of what I was saying and went to find a nurse.  After checking me she declared I was 8cm and coaxed me saying I was close, I could finish this out.  This time I refused to be talked into something different.  I wanted a C-section and she needed to go and get the doctor now.  She agreed that she would do so and said the doctor lived close so he should be in shortly.

It was over an hour before the doctor arrived at the hospital.  Another hour of vomiting due to the intensity of the pain and crying to Josh that I just couldn’t do anymore.  Josh soothed and talked and comforted as much as he could, but his words meant little as I wanted to punch him every time he started pushing on my belly for the sake of our son every time I was hurting the most.  When the doctor finally made it in to check on me, I had dilated to a nine and he said he would not do a C-section as by the time they had me prepped I would already be pushing; which meant once again, I did not get what I wanted and felt I needed.  Another very slow hour of pain went by before I was finally relieved with the news that I was at a ten and we could start pushing.

I felt awkward as a nurse grabbed one leg and Josh grabbed the other and was told to push.  I argued that I didn’t feel like I needed to, but the nurse insisted I try.  I pushed a couple times, but it felt wrong and insisted I wasn’t ready.  As soon as the nurse left the room though, my body finally felt the urge and began pushing.  The nurse came back in and was worried at how far apart my contractions were.  Insisting that if they remained this far apart I would literally be pushing for hours on end, endangering myself and the baby.  The doctor was called in and upping the pitocin was discussed again, but denied as it was very clearly putting the baby in distress.  In the end it was decided that for the baby’s health, I needed to have an emergency C-section.  The news was shocking and concerning for many reasons.  I was terrified my baby was having to fight so hard to enter this world.  Throughout my entire pregnancy I feared the loss of my baby and now, more than ever I felt like this miracle was going to be ripped away from me.  I was also concerned as I was going to have to be put under for the C-section since epidurals were not an option for me.  This meant I was at greater risk, but it also meant I would not be aware or coherent when my baby was born and that was an experience I was remiss to have to give up when I fought so hard to dilate all the way to a ten.  However, if it meant the safety of my child, then it was the only option that was right.  I started being prepped for surgery, being told to fight the urge to push.  I was scared.  Josh was really scared as his blank, white face gripped my hand.  This wasn’t how we saw this playing out at all, but it was such a comfort to know I wasn’t doing this alone.  I knew how blessed I was to have my soldier home for this as I had no idea how I would have survived it all without his love and devotion at my side.

Finally I was wheeled into surgery.  I remember the mask being placed on my mouth and counting backwards.  I woke to lights moving above my head. I was being moved. My son.  Was my baby okay? Yes. Your husband is with him now.  Yes? My baby is okay? Yes.  Where is he? Being weighed. Can I hold him? When they are done.

Grogginess and sluggishness still clung to me.  Josh came in the room, which still spun a little.  He assured me our baby boy was okay.  He was beautiful.  He was perfect.  My heart was breaking that I still had not seen or held my baby.  I wanted my baby.  I needed my baby.  As if my thoughts or medicated mumblings were heard I realized my beautiful Dorian was being placed in my arms. He was so little; although, I was assured that his seven pounds and 10 ounces weren’t exactly small. 

My world stopped as I held my son in my arms for the first time.  Everything I had worked and hoped for was now here.  Years of prayers, medication and herbal supplements and I now held this beautiful pink boy that was a part of me.  It amazed me as I realized I was now a mom.  MOM.  In my hands I help this sweet and perfect creature who needed my care and protection.  I knew then and there I would do all that I could for this sweet little blessing.  I would do all.  I would be the best mom I could be for this angel sucking on my breast.  I am proud and nothing in the world could ever rob me of the elation I had in that moment. 

I look up and see a smile stretching from ear to ear on Josh and I feel so united and in love. We made this miracle together.  He gave me this beautiful gift.  The whole room was love and excitement and I knew without a doubt this would forever be one of the brightest days of my life. This was what I wanted my forever to be.

The exhaustion of my night of laboring and pushing began to become apparent to my body, but I was only willing to sleep when the burse came in insisting they needed Dorian back to finish their tests and confirm he was healthy in every aspect.  I held tightly onto Josh’s hand as they took my child from me and smiled again at him in happiness.  We were both exhausted, but smiling fools as the smell of my newborn son lingered on me.

The day passed as Josh and I both napped off and on, welcoming family as they came to partake in our glad addition.  I was sore from the emergency C-section but grateful in the end both baby and I were healthy and happy.  I remember asking how may staples I had put in me to close the incision and was disappointed when my all time total came to 99.  As silly as it sounds, since I had been cut into once again, I had hoped to at least make it an even 100.  Josh laughed at my silliness and we cooed and awed as we spent every second we could with this sweet little babe.

Night time was fast approaching and Josh asked if he could go home and sleep.  Fear struck me.  I had a hard time sitting up to feed, how was I supposed to pick my child up out of his little crib?  Here it was the very first night and I had to try and be a mom all on my own? I was exhausted too, but this should come naturally to me right?  I knew if I asked Josh to stay he would, but I also knew if he was too tired him being here wouldn’t help either of us.  I agreed, but lost a bit of courage as he walked out the door.  Dorian was happily napping, so I decided to follow suit.  After about an hour, I heard his newborn whimper indicating he was needing something.  Fear gripped me at first as the pain stabbed through my incision, but my baby needed me, so I stood quickly walking over to my son and picking him up.  I got back in bed, another difficult and painful process, and tried to get him to eat and was discouraged when he wouldn’t latch.  I began to doubt myself.  Maybe I wasn’t feeding him right.  Maybe he wasn’t hungry and I just didn’t know what he wanted.  Maybe, maybe, maybe ran through my head as his whimpering cry turned into more of a scream.  I ambled out of bed once again to change his diaper, upsetting him only more.  I then began to pace the room, bouncing and singing which seemed to work, until I stopped.  So, exhausted, worn and sore as I was, I bounced and sang for close to two hours until I was hoarse and dead on my feet.  Still he cried.  I felt like I was already failing as a mom as I had no clue what this beautiful and very loud baby needed.  I was panicking and feeling a little dismayed and bitter that Josh left me to learn this all on my own.  I could barely even make it to my bed.  My eyes were burning, my baby was screaming and I knew I was bleeding.  I tried once more to try and feed my son, but again he refused my nipple.  In despair and ready to lose it, I called the nursery asking if they would come take my son.  I felt defeated.  I felt failure.  I felt pain, both physically and emotionally because I did not know how to care for my son.  How was I going to do this?  How was I going to raise this child when I knew Josh left to return to Afghanistan in just over a week, when obviously I didn’t know how?  The nurse came in and collected Dorian.  I told her I thought he was hungry and she said she would feed him, but the nursery would not keep him longer than two hours.  Two hours was enough for me.  I passed out instantly and what felt like only five minutes passed and before I knew it they were returning my beautiful boy to me again.  He had been fed and was now calmly sleeping. We slept together for about an hour when he woke again.  Again I pulled myself out of bed and sang and bounced until I could do it no longer.  I tried again to feed him, but he still refused. I eventually got him back to sleep and slept for only a couple of minutes when Josh returned to the room with breakfast.  Finally, relief swept over me and I fell fast asleep.

I was woken up when a nurse insisted I feed my child.  Thoughts of last night flooded my mind as I described how my son would not eat off of me.  The nurse gladly called lactation down and helped me get my son to latch onto my nipple.  It all seemed so simple, but last night had proved otherwise.  Josh didn’t ask how my night was, so I didn’t tell him as I was embarrassed and ashamed, feeling again as if I was a failure. 

Later the doctor came in to check my incision and scolded me over the fact I had already managed to pop out five staples.  He discussed having to re-staple me, but in the end decided to use glue and steristrips to ensure I remained closed. I knew without a doubt I had lost them during my rough night, but once again held my tongue and promised to try and be easier and slower with my movements.

I slept most the day, waking to feed, cuddle and visit, but the time came for us to be released and while I was excited to bring my baby home, I was fearful again at all my inadequacies as a new mother.   I remembered the moment I first held my little bundle in my arms and remembered again I would do everything in my power to love and protect this child, giving myself comfort that there was no need to fear when I already knew from my rough night, his needs would ALWAYS come first. As we collected our things I looked around the room and smiled.  Josh and I had been such a little family for so long, and now, we would always have this.  We left the hospital together, a family of three.

Chapter Eighteen: Blessings and Answered Prayers

That's right! I am trying to work on my memoir again.  here is the last finished chapter for those who want to refresh themselves with where we are in the story.  If you are new.  Fell free to look back at old blog posts to read from the beginning.

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 anyone except one or two people in town. On top of that, 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 learn 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, which 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 due to my husband’s absence.

I was still only averaging a call a week from Josh, 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 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 tears 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 his injury 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 he had to go through all that he 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, that 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 airport.  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.

Official

Insurance has officially approved the breast reduction!!!!!!!! my pre-op appointment is tomorrow and I plan on filing the divorce paperwork Thursday! Finally it is here, the waiting is over, it is time to start over and move on!

Lookin' Good

You should read this: http://shine.yahoo.com/healthy-living/4-reasons-running-best-weight-loss-160900106.html

Well I have gone from 190 to 162, and once I get rid of the monster boobs, then I will be in the 150s, a goal I didn't even think I could accomplish within the year and here I am hitting the mark early (fanfare).  I feel good about what I am looking like and who I am becoming. It is good to sweat off the girl that was holding me back.

Feeling GOOD

I was really concerned about the holiday season as now my family went from four to three and despite al the heartache, you can't help but think of the person who is missing and all the good times had in the past. And while I do have moments of reverie, it has been a lot easier than I thought and I feel a large part is due to this:
About two weeks ago I joined an online dating site.  I joined the one I did as you chose for what purpose you want to meet other LDS singles, by being specific about what you are looking for.  some of the choices include: friendship, pen pal, travel partner, etc.  So on my profile I have made it perfectly clear 1. I am still in the middle of a divorce and 2. I have two very small children. 
To be honest I didn't expect much to come from it as I decided I didn't feel comfortable seeking anyone out myself.  If someone was truly seeking what I was looking for: friendship and just someone to hang out and do things with, then they could approach me without there being any confusion about intensions.  I was actually really surprised by how many people reached out to me and while I have come across several with soiled intentions, I have come to know one or two people who I can see a genuine friendship with.  Not only this, but many of the people I communicate with have gone through extremely similar situations as mine.  In a weird way, it has almost become a little bit like a support group. 
For so long I have just felt trapped.  Stuck in some sort of eternal limbo and it was wearing me down to nothing.  Now that I am finding myself and hope to file for divorce this coming week I can see just how I am moving on, even if there are days or nights I still feel stuck in the past. 
I feel like for the first time I can accept compliments without feeling the need to deflect them.  I can rely on myself and no longer turn to meaningless relationships to seek fulfillment.  I am becoming proud of what I am, and am making friends that understand, support, and build me up.  Although I have not started this new chapter, no novel.  I have the new one purchased and ready as soon as I reach the last page of this one.

Christmas cake

Well I was hired by the same sweet woman to make and decorate a cake for her Christmas party. Top layer is white cake with raspberry filling and the bottom is chocolate with raspberry filling.
This is what I created:

From: Mom

I am currently working on wrapping all the Christmas present I have, presents I began collecting starting the day after Christmas last year, which helps make it affordable as well as fun as I have many small present that the children get to open slowly over the month.  Anyway, I am working on getting them wrapped and it feel weird to me when I only write my name (Mom) on it as to who it is from and it breaks my heart.  To be honest, I have always been the one to plan, shop, wrap, decorate, encourage, etc but Josh was always there in the background and always got credit.  It is a new experience claiming the work and the joy on their faces all for myself: an accomplishment of my own.
It is so easy still to see all the ways I am failing as a parent, but this, giving them a Christmas as if nothing changed, watching the way they learn and play and encouraging such in the things they receive is such a blessing to me and I am grateful I have been able to pull this all off despite the stress, time, lack of money etc. 
God is good.

Latest Cake

So a friend hired me to make a cake for her dad's 60th birthday.  The theme she gave me was dishing and outdoors.  This is what I made:

Letter of Gratitude

So a friend from church gave me some advice on how to deal with/ process some of the emotions I am going through.  She suggested I write a mean angry letter with all the things I feel and think in order to get all the mean and negative out; then I burn it or rip it up.  I am to then follow up with a letter about all the things I am grateful for that I received from him, so I can at least acknowledge it wasn't all wasted time and to be grateful for the things I have. 
To be honest I don't have the desire to write the angry one anymore.  At the moment I don't feel the need to be angry and hold onto it, so maybe if it comes up again, I will do it then, but I really liked the idea of the gratitude letter.  Difficult, for sure, but beneficial for me in the end, so her it is:

Dear Joshua,

I can honestly say you are the first and only man I have ever loved.  Other boys I dated were distractions, and when I met you, you lit me on fire.  You taught me what love felt like and although I had talked about growing up single and independent, the feeling you gave me changed my mind, opening me up to a world of new possibilities.
You were the first person to ever make me feel like I was truly desired or even understood.  You loved my failures and praised my accomplishments, making me feel, even through my depression, that I was enough.
you were my first for just about everything and you were patient and made sure I was comfortable as I began to open up and learn things with you as my teacher.  You never seemed to judge me and made me feel powerful in the process.
You used to go out of your way to do things for me and ensure my happiness, once again making me feel valuable and special, sacrificing time and money to be with me and do for me.
You worked throughout our marriage, giving me the opportunity to finish my degree and support us throughout the years, eventually allowing me to be a stay at home mom: the one and only goal I had for years and wanted to be.
You used to study with me and read all my papers even though I know you had no care or concern in what I was doing; you still did it for me, helping me grow as I reached for my degree.
I am thankful, so very thankful that you took me to the temple to be sealed so that I always have the blessings and comfort of those covenants for myself and for my children.
I am thankful that you were patient and aware of my tender, broken, sore back and would always be willing to rub it when asked or when sore, which was often.
I am thankful you gave me the two greatest miracles I could ever hope to be rewarded with in this life and this alone made our entire time together worth it.  You helped make me a mom.
Believe me I am sad when I acknowledge the list of things I am ungrateful for in the course of our relationship far exceeds this list, but these are the things I hold dear.  These are the things I hope to remember you by and these are the things I hope to share with the children so that they can get see there is more to "dad" than someone who comes and goes.
I gave you my heart and I am thankful I am getting it back and piecing it together so that I can start a new list of thankfuls with someone new.

CSE

Well, it has happened.  Josh's child support checks have started bouncing, which means I am now going through another very long and tedious process (which of course I am doing all on my own) of getting a case with Child Service Enforcement.  Basically they will open a case, decide what Josh owes me for child support and will take it directly out of his paycheck.  Sad as always that it has come to this and frustrating that it is yet another item on my already large list of to do, but I am working on getting it done so we actually have the money that is owed to us first before it is spent on his mistress. 
Although this was severely frustrating and worrying, it did not send me in a fit of rage the way thing pertaining to Josh once did.  It annoys me how once again, I am the only responsible party and the only one even trying to take care of our children.  As of right now Josh is not worth my anger.  I just don't care to care about him anymore and it feels pretty good to finally see the "love" that was between us although real on my side, was still hindering and very hurtful and it feels good not having that in my life even though his actions still drag me down from time to time.
I have finished the very in-depth application and now just have to compile all the documents needed to take it in and hand deliver it as stated.  Hoping to have this step done by next week.
*deep sigh*
so because of the breast reduction, LASIK, and dental appointments I have close to two or three appointments a week for the next several weeks.  It is exhausting and exciting all at the same time.  Still going to the gym and starting to wonder how I ever lived my life without it.  I have been stuck at 164/165 for close to three weeks now, but also am not pushing as hard as I was with all the appointments, holidays and divorce stuff I am dealing with.  Still a little frustrating though, but I am toning up and feeling more confident and feeling better about myself and it has been years since I have felt and looked this good.  I hate that it took so much negative to finally propel me into the action of taking care of myself, but I am slowly starting to see how I feel into the role of a victim unexpectedly over the years and it is empowering to recognize and overcome it.

Spalding

For those of you who have read my memoir, you might remember the birds I purchased after I finished physical therapy after my car accident. I bought them as they were very symbolic.  They stood for something.  It was a symbol of flying on, hope, beauty, life, etc.  Over the years three of the four bird died and Spalding, the last one standing has lived in solitude for the last four years.  Because of this, he was me.  He was my fighter, my friend, my bird.  He moved from my bedroom into my very first apartment with Josh.  He moved into the first house we purchased.  He moved to Pennsylvania and then back to Colorado to Georgia to Tennessee and then back to Colorado again.  This bird may have been in a cage, but he saw the country.  He kept me company when Josh was deployed and would sing to me when I cried.  He was around when both my babies were born and it has been joy watching my children get so excited about this sweet little bird that lives in mommy’s room.

I am sure you all know where this is going.  Last night when I went to dress for the gym, I noticed him in his food dish, which is unusual.  I went to shake him out so I could add more seed, but he didn’t move.  My heart fell as something else I loved had been stripped from me.

I went in and shared the news with my mom as she understood exactly what his death meant to me.  As always, my mommy knew the best things to say as she said Spalding was always something symbolic to me and she didn’t find it coincidental that his chapter ended the same time my marriage has.  Spalding was my symbol for starting over, which I did, but that chapter is over and his passing is indication that this chapter of my life is over too and it is time to start over again.

I recounted this conversation to a friend when sharing the news with her.  She said she agreed and then asked what my new symbol for starting over was.  I was at a loss.  Then she piped in, “you. You are your symbol with all the changes you are making FOR you.  YOU!” So I am the symbol of what I stand for and what I am and hope for and wish to be.  I am my own symbol for starting over (AGAIN).

pics

So a lot has been going on and I haven't had the time? am not ready to sit down and write about, but it will come soon so tonight as I still need to go shower after my workout will post new pics I am starting to be proud of as the new me emerges :)