Thursday, January 31, 2008

why call it morning sickness

7 weeks

Why do they call it morning sickness when it lasts all day? Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. I love having morning/noon/night sickness. It makes me feel actually pregnant and reassures me that somebody in there is making him or herself very comfortable. I welcome it with open arms. I am thrilled to be sick.

But going on with my regular scheduled programing of life has been challenging to say the least. Let's start with work. I don't have an office job. I can't be late. I can't just put my head down on my desk for a minute. And I can't run to the bathroom on a whim. I am a first grade teacher, responsible for 22 wild six-year-olds. And they are relentless.

First graders are smelly, loud, sticky and gross. They zap your energy and are needy of your attention at all times. And they don't leave you alone. Ever.

A few teachers are catching on. I'm ok with it. I simply don't have any energy left over to fake feeling good. If they care enough about me to notice how "not myself" I've been looking, I guess they deserve the truth. So when one of them asks me straight up today if I am pregnant again, I tell her yes.

And it actually feels good to say it.

Tomorrow night is bowling night with the staff. I'm on the social committee that's planned the event. But I just don't know if I can do it. I hate missing it. I missed the last big night out due to my miscarriage. Well at least this time I like my reason a lot better. I'm sure it won't be the first sacrifice I make for this baby.

And in that light, I'm happy to make it.

Monday, January 28, 2008

the most beautiful flicker

I never knew a tiny flickering light could be so beautiful. But it is. This tiny flicker is the new heart beating inside of me. And I am instantly in love.

The baby is measuring right on target. It has a heart rate of 126bpm. My anxiety quickly turns to relief and then to pure happiness as I see the numbers on the screen. I am so grateful I've done my homework. I've studied the subject to ad nauseam (as any OCD pregnant woman would) so I know what numbers to look for and I know these are good ones. My knowledge is my power. And today I am strong.

After the high of my appointment wears off, the anxiety settles back in a bit. We still have a long road ahead of us before we are in the clear. (Are we ever really in the clear?) I am already getting nervous for our next appointment.

So instead of trying to force myself to remain calm, I decide to give myself permission to worry. But here's the deal. I only get 15 minutes of worry time each day. If I find myself worrying before my alloted time, I have to just save it. And once my 15 minutes are up, I am done.

I am also giving myself permission to enjoy this pregnancy -- every nauseous minute of it. I am giving myself permission to feel joy without being a prisoner to my worry.

I know it might not look like much but meet my new love.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

1st u/s tomorrow

I will be 6 weeks 3 days. We should be able to see a heartbeat. I am excited, optimistic and very thankful that my husband will be by my side holding my hand.

I definitely feel pregnant now which is a good thing. I feel pretty yucky most of the time and I could sleep forever. My bras no longer fit and the thought of chicken absolutely repulses me. I can't get enough orange juice and I almost broke down in the grocery store today when I couldn't find any clementines. Oh and we went to see Juno today and I cried just about the whole time. I take all of these things as very good signs.

Here's another thing. Yesterday we take a trip to meet Jack, my good friend's new baby. (She, by the way, is doing much better.) I hold Jack for a while and there is no anxiety. Just peacefulness. He is beautiful and you can't not fall in love with him. He is lying in my arms, across my belly, warm with life. And I can feel him connecting with the life inside of me. Our babies will be 8 months apart.

Tomorrow will be a big milestone for us. Last time our baby stopped growing at 6 weeks. We never got to see a heartrate above 78. I am trying to put my fear aside and expect only good things tomorrow. But I can't help remembering what the first ultra-sound was like last time. It was traumatic. I wish I could set it aside. But that experience is part of who I am now.

Tomorrow's experience will add a whole new layer to who I am. And I am hopeful for a good, happy layer.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

the beauty of gagging

6 weeks

An amazing thing happens today. I gag.

Most people wouldn't get so excited about gagging. But me, I am very excited. In my last pregnancy, the idea of morning sickness terrifies me. I hate feeling nauseous. Who doesn't? But this time around, I welcome any signs of healthy pregnancy with open arms, and I literally want to jump for joy with the thought of it.

First graders can be gross. They pick their noses and stick their hands in their pants. They have sticky fingers, bad gas and drippy colds. Sometimes they even puke. But in my ten years of teaching, today is my first real gag.

So yesterday, Lily spills her yogurt on the table during snack time. I give her some wet wipes and paper towels and she cleans it up. Or so I think. Today another little girls tells me she doesn't think Lily got it all. She brings me the plastic crayon bin from the table and the smell hits me first. The crayons are swimming in a lumpy, gooey, day-old puddle of white yogurt.

GAG!!!! The reflex is so fast and furious, I think I scare the little girl. I immediately scan the classroom for the trash can. I am sick! I tell her to dump everything out. Crayons, scissors, pencils, erasers -- everything covered in the smelly white goo. I can't even look. Luckily she is a saint and scrubs the whole bin with soap until all traces of yogurt are gone.

But the nausea is still there. I am so delighted over my new-found pukiness, I decide to reward every table with new fresh crayons.

Call me crazy but I hope I gag again tomorrow.

Monday, January 21, 2008

believe in miracles but don't depend on them

My husband and I spend a weekend away at a Bed & Breakfast in Vermont. It is exactly what we need. We spend a sunny afternoon snowshoeing in the woods. We take a nap with the fireplace going two days in a row. We are treated to hot home-cooked meals. And dessert too. We eat warm cookies right out of the cookie jar. I skip out on skiing but I get to see some old friends while my husband hits the mountain. Though the thermometer is registering single digit temperatures, I am nothing but cozy. It is a perfect weekend.

In the bathroom is a poster listing life's simple pleasures. It lists things like kiss slowly and read a children's book. But there is one that really resonates deep within me.

Believe in miracles but don't depend on them.

I could have used this advice (both ends of it) with my last pregnancy. I remember reading stories -- tears streaming down my face -- of women who had miscarried, feeling strangely envious of their strength. I knew I could never survive that. I was sure of it. Only a few weeks pregnant and already my survival depended on this baby. I knew I would lay down and die if I lost it.

Of course I didn't lay down and die, though. But I felt broken in a way I had never felt before. And when the doctors gave us a 50/50 chance I didn't believe in a miracle either. I gave up. (And I'm not proud of that.)

So here I am two and a half months later -- sitting on a toilet in a B&B in the mountains -- and it clicks. I am carrying a new miracle inside of me. And I believe in it.

I believe it will all work out this time. I believe its little heart will beat strong and it will keep growing bigger. I believe we will actually bring a beautiful healthy baby into the world come September. I believe whole-heartedly in our miracle.

I believe in it but I will not depend on it.

My sense of self and my peace with life and my relationship with my husband will not depend on this baby. I am strong and sturdy. Our marriage is strong and sturdy and it stands on its own. It didn't fall down before and it won't fall down again. I won't fall down either. A baby will bring us more joy than we've ever known and add to who we are in ways I can't even begin to imagine.

But I won't depend on this baby to make me. I am already whole.

Friday, January 18, 2008

5 weeks

I pass a small milestone today. My results from my 3rd blood test come in. The nurse actually congratulates me on the phone. It is one notch more official -- I am really really truly pregnant!

12DPO -- 31
14DPO -- 77
21DPO (today) -- 4500
Progesterone is up from 17 to 37

My husband and I are off for our romantic ski weekend in VT, in which I will not be skiing (or drinking wine for that matter!) I think we'll sip grape juice by the fire and celebrate!

I think I am finally ready to start enjoying this pregnancy.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

trauma in babyville

It's been a traumatic week in babyville. Two of my best friends had babies this week. Michelle, my friend from childhood, lives now in London with her husband. She delivered a baby girl named Zoey Ruth by c-section, six weeks early. My college friend, Megan, gave birth vaginally right here in MA to a 9lb baby boy, John Michael. (Jack) I will post a picture of Jack as soon as I get one. Both babies are healthy and perfect. Their mothers have some healing to do. These two women are connected both by me...and now by their horrific birth stories.

I will spare you the gory details but I will tell you this. There was blood. And lots of it. So much so that they both needed transfusions. They both almost died. They ended up in ICU and didn't even meet their babies until the next day.

Megan told me a few weeks ago that she was scared to death of childbirth. I told her to think of all the millions women who have done it before her. I told her she would be fine.

Only she wasn't fine. She nearly died. And the day that was meant to be the best one of her life turned out also to be the worst. I hate this for her.

And I can't stop thinking about it. I close my eyes and I see all the blood. I imagine the screaming. The pain. The panic. The terror on my friends' faces. I think about their husbands watching helplessly more scared than they've ever been. It raises the hair on my arms. It turns my stomach.

I am terrified of childbirth. I am terrified of being ripped in half. I am terrified of this scene I can't now get out of my head.

And I am terrified of miscarrying again. I am terrified to get my blood test results tomorrow. Terrified for my 1st ultra-sound. Terrified we won't see a heartbeat. Terrified of having to start all over again.

To sum things up, I am terrified of everything it seems. And just praying that my friends heal quickly.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

where is blissfully happy pregnant girl?

4weeks 4days

It's like I keep forgetting that I am pregnant. I find out today that a co-worker, who had a baby last May, is pregnant again and due this June! My initial reaction is bitterness (although I hate to admit that.) How can she have two healthy babies in a row and I can't even have one. And then I remember. Maybe I do have one growing in my belly right this very second. Hello, are you in there????

This idea is entirely abstract to me, much more so than it seemed the first time. I don't feel pregnant. I still feel like the girl who just lost her baby, not the girl who has a new one.

I didn't mean to let my miscarriage define me. I thought getting pregnant again would move me forward from it. I thought I would warp into blissfully happy pregnant girl again.

I don't mean to sound negative. I feel completely blessed and I thank God every day. I really do. But maybe it's harder for me to attach this time knowing how painful it would be to lose it. Or maybe I'm not done mourning what's already been lost. Or maybe I am just too scared to let go of what I know.

...or maybe my hormones are actually doing what they are supposed to and are taking a hold of me.

Monday, January 14, 2008

still waiting

4weeks 3days

You'd think that now that I really know I'm pregnant, the waiting would be over. But it's just the beginning of a whole new kind of waiting. And this kind is even harder.

I am waiting for my next blood test to make sure my numbers are increasingly properly. I am waiting for my first ultra-sound on the 28th. I am waiting to see that heartbeat. Waiting to know my baby is healthy. Waiting to be told good news for once. Waiting for morning sickness hit me (I am actually looking forward to morning sickness!) Waiting to get out of the first trimester. Waiting to tell the world. Waiting to see my belly grow. Waiting to meet our miracle.

In the meantime I'm just trying to take it one day at a time, one milestone at a time.

My 1st trimester milestone list:
  • 5weeks -- 3rd betas
  • 6weeks 3days -- 1st ultrasound
  • 8weeks -- how far I got last time before I discovered something was wrong
  • 9weeks 1day -- my previous miscarriage date
  • 10weeks -- double digits
  • 12weeks -- ultrasound?
  • 13weeks -- graduate to second trimester!

Now the question is, what do I do to pass the time in-between my milestones???

Sunday, January 13, 2008

i'm not telling my mother

Last time we tell our families immediately and many of our friends shortly thereafter. It is such an innocent, celebratory, exciting time. But everything is different this time around, and we are being very selective about who we are telling and when.

We have decided to not tell my mother. Before I go further with this story, please know that I do love my mother dearly. But yes, she can make me crazy.

Today my husband is away again and I spend my morning writing report cards, cleaning the house from top to bottom and taking a long walk. Then it's off to the grocery store. I am still in my sweats (which I wore to bed last night,) my hair is pulled back in a ponytail and I am wearing no make-up. For most people, bumping into your mother under these circumstances would not be a big deal. But you don't know my mother.

I bump into her in the grocery store parking lot. She is with her friend. Before I know it, my grocery plans are tossed out and the three of us are driving to Linens 'N Things to go shopping together. Oh joy. Once in the store my mother looks me up and down and says, "What happened to your face?"

Thanks, mom. Like I hadn't noticed. I calmly tell her that my breakout is from the hormones caused by my miscarriage. She doesn't seem to believe me. Then she decides that this conversation is now open to anything. So she asks, "Are you trying again yet?"

You have got to be kidding me. What business is it of hers? (or her friend's?!?!?!!) Yes, I know I am pregnant again already but what if I wasn't? I feel the need to defend that girl, who just a few days ago, had no idea how long it would take. The girl who successfully dodged this question several times by telling her mother the doctor's orders were to wait a few months. The girl who feels nakedly vulnerable at any mention of pregnancy. But now a few months are over and the question is being spit right back into her face.

Are you trying again yet?

I cringe at the thought of my mother desperately wanting back what she has lost. Why can't she respect what I have lost?

If I tell her now, she will worry and forget that I am worrying too. She will call me every day and demand a health report, not understanding that the stress of giving these daily reports will actually be detrimental to my health. She will fill her calendar with my doctor's appointments, and my cell phone will start ringing before I even have my pants back on. She will tell me to rest more, exercise less, eat more, work less, etc. etc. She will stalk me to no end. She will tell the world even when I ask her not to and then vent to them daily how worried she is about me.

Of course I know she will do all of these things out of love. But it doesn't change the fact that this will drive me absolutely crazy.

So I revert to age fifteen and snap at her, "I don't want to talk about it."

Because I really don't. And the truth is, I don't know if I will for a very very long time.

repeat after me

Here are some mantras I've heard from others who have lost babies and are pregnant again. I will repeat these over and over until I am blue in the face:

1. Today I am pregnant and I love my baby.
2. My past does not dictate my future.
3. There is nothing I can do to prevent a m/c from happening. Worrying myself sick won't prevent a m/c. And if (gods forbid) it were to happen again, I know I will survive.

But please don't test me on that last one...

Friday, January 11, 2008

thank you hormones!

You doubled -- you more than doubled. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!!!!!!!!! I'm actually really pregnant again!!

dear hormones

Dearest Hormones,

I am writing this letter in a request for a small favor from you. In exchange for this favor, I hereby grant you free range over me. In fact, I invite you to invade my body and do as you please. Feel free to bless me with acne, bloat, headaches, exhaustion, sore breasts, hunger, nausea or all of the above. You have my permission to make me feel weepy, cranky, tired and fat. You can stick my face in the toilet and I will not complain.

All I ask from you is growth. Can you give me a double? Or if you really want to show off, go for a triple!!

I appreciate your cooperation.

Yours Truly,

Thursday, January 10, 2008

trying to stay hopeful

Good news: I am definitely pregnant!
Bad news: my numbers are low :(

So here I am, in limbo once again. I promise my husband this morning that I am going to take a whole new approach with this pregnancy. I am going to enjoy it instead of worrying. I am going to allow myself excitement and joy and hope. I am going to expect only good news from every blood test and every ultra-sound.

But then an hour later I get not-so-good news. The results from yesterday's blood test are in. My progesterone is 17 and my hcg is 31. The nurse tries to reassure me that I am not even four weeks pregnant and that could be the reason for the low numbers. But she does say that 31 is not a great number. And these are the words still swimming through my head.

I am immediately in tears. Why is the news never good? I am terrified to be hopeful. I am terrified to love this new baby not knowing if this is one I get to keep.

My blood will be drawn again tomorrow morning and I should have the results by noon. More waiting.

In the meantime I guess I'll just keep peeing on sticks.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

the faintest line

I take a pregnancy test yesterday and it is negative. I am not surprised. It is still early. Taking an early test does two things for me. It helps me accept that this might not be the month for me and softens the blow of the expected arrival of Aunt Flow. It also allows me to remain somewhat hopeful.

But I really don’t think I am pregnant and I make peace with my fate. I accept that God is giving us more time. I do not try to bargain. I do not beg. Instead I think of all the things my husband and I can do together as newlyweds. I call him and tell him I’m ok with not being pregnant this month. And I actually mean it. I go to bed feeling blessed.

I wake up at 5:30am and take my temperature as usual. The number looking back at me from my thermometer shakes me awake. It is way high. This can only mean one thing! I am completely surprised by this -- enough so to run to the bathroom and test again immediately.

At first it looks like another negative. But then I rub my eyes and examine it more closely. Is that a second line? It is the faintest thing I have ever seen, but I think there is actually something there! My husband is still away so it’s just me in my pajamas standing under the bathroom light completely freaking out. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Am I hallucinating? I pull yesterday’s test out of the trash and compare the two. This one definitely has something that the other one doesn’t! I don’t believe it!!

I call my husband on my way to work. It is still early and he is just waking up. He sounds groggy. But happy. Very happy. I am unsure, though, so he is unsure. But we are both excited and hopeful for what lies ahead.

I look at the road in front of me and the sky up above, and I thank God. I am surrounded by a sunrise so beautiful I want to cry. The clouds are thick and puffy and the pinkest of pink. Behind them is a sky I haven’t seen so blue since the day I said I do. The world is covered in pink and blue. I feels like it's made just for me.

I want this moment. I want to keep it. I say good-bye to my husband and tell him I love him. I turn my car around and speed home to get my camera. I add twelve minutes to my commute but I don’t care. The colors are fading fast. I snap this picture right outside our house and only catch the very end of it. Within minutes it's over. The pink turns to white and the blue fades to gray. It looks like an ordinary day.

Only I know it isn't. And that moment is mine to keep.

I pray this baby is ours to keep too.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

do dreams come true?

Don't be confused by my cheesy subject line. I am not referring to the cliche. I am asking this question in the most literal sense of it. And I will have an answer in the next few days.

I've recently heard that dreaming of becoming pregnant is an actual symptom of being pregnant! Which is very exciting to me considering I have had -- not one but TWO -- of these such dreams.

The first dream takes place in my classroom, which is also my bedroom (aren't dreams always that way!??) I tell the kids to hang on a minute so I can use the bathroom (this would never actually happen in real life.) I take my pregnancy test into my master bathroom and then I have to wait the 3 minutes to see if there is a line. I can hear the kids getting wild in my bedroom/classroom, but I can't stop myself from waiting it out in the bathroom. And then...two lines!! I'm pregnant!! I no longer care that the kids are out of control like a pack of wild wolves.

The next dream is a reflection of the amount of time my husband and I have recently devoted to watching episodes of "The Office." We discover this show over Christmas and have watched all four seasons over the past few weeks. I think this equates to about 50 episodes or something.

Anyway, in my dream we work for the same company and are at a big business dinner. The dinner is some sort of cross between a huge company awards party and a convention for women trying to get pregnant. My husband and I are not sitting at the same table but I see him -- dressed in his nicest suit -- from across the room. Right before the dinner, I go to the bathroom and take a pregnancy test. Two lines show up immediately. I am so excited!!!

During the awards ceremony I am congratulated and given flowers for my recent discovery. This is how my husband learns of our news. I try to find his face to see his reaction. I hope he isn't disappointed to not be the first to know. (Last time his best friend's wife saw my post on BOTB before I even had a chance to tell him)

We are also both awarded with big bonuses.

Do you think that's a symptom of a raise?

Saturday, January 5, 2008

trying again

Back at the beginning of this cycle, my husband and I debate whether or not I should chart again. I charted with my first pregnancy and it worked. We got pregnant right away. I know charting again will give us our best chances, but I dread the thought of it. I know it will bring me much anxiety and force a kind of patience on me that, frankly, I don't think I'm designed for.

When I tell people I'm a 1st grade teacher, they tell me I must have the patience of a saint. Do I? I can accomplish the painstaking task of teaching a struggling child how to read. I can manage of group of 22 loud, excited, wild six-year-olds. I can deal with a classroom full of broken-strapped snowpants, wet boots, lost mittens, gluey projects and sticky snacks. I can even handle the occasional tantrum, the inevitable class nose-picker and the annual spontaneous barfing. And yes, I know these things do require great patience.

But...I don't like waiting. And with charting, there is always something to wait for. Waiting for ovulation. Waiting for my temperature to rise. Waiting for my alarm to go off so I can take my temperature again. Waiting for the days to pass. Waiting to test. Waiting for that 2nd line. Have I mentioned I hate waiting?

But my husband and I, with our goal in focus, decide to go for it. I chart. And now here I am, nearing the end of the big dreaded wait. I am on day 27 of my cycle and I have a few more days before I can test. I am filled with nerves, worry and anxiety. And hope. I am also all-consumed by my current phantom symptoms.

1. Extremem exhaustion
Last night I fall asleep on the couch before 10:00 -- in the middle of an episode of The Office!!! (which, by the way, is my new favorite show!)

2. Heightened sense of smell
This morning I have to take out the trash and even put the whole garbage can out on the screen porch to air out because it smells so horribly bad!!!

3. Frequent Urination
Ummm, yeah! This is one I can actually track. I drink the same amount of water at work every day and I take my pee breaks at exactly the same time. (I am such a creature of habit!) Yesterday I cannot finish my water and I bring my kids to lunch 5 minutes early because I am going to BURST if I don't get to the bathroom!

4. Sore breasts
If I sqeeze them hard enough, I think they are! Does that count?

And I am stalking my chart. Maybe if I keep looking at it, I can will myself to be pregnant. Or maybe something will eventually pop right out of the chart screaming, "Congratulations! You're pregnant!!!!"

Here it is, just in case you're interested in joining me with the stalking. I'll keep you posted!

Friday, January 4, 2008

missed abortion

When I receive the bill in the mail for my d&c, the words "missed abortion" jump off the page and stare me down. They taunt me. Abortion?!?! Nothing like throwing salt in the wound. And how the hell could something that traumatic ever be called "missed"? I hate hate hate this term.

I have always been pro-choice. I believe that every woman should be free to make the choice that is right for her. That being said, I've always known that my choice would be life. I've pondered all of the scenarios and asked myself all of the questions.

What if I wasn't married yet?
What if I wasn't ready?
What if the baby was sick?
What if the baby had Downs Syndrome?
What if (god forbid) I were raped?

My answer is always the same. I would not terminate the pregnancy. I would keep the baby. I would choose life.

I think.

Because you can't really make a choice until you have to make a choice. That's the thing about choice. Until you're actually faced with it, it's really just an opinion. And opinions are made to be pondered, debated, changed and discarded. But once it's a choice, it's yours forever.

And what right do we have to make them before we really have to make them?

The choice I am finally faced with is one that I never could have possibly dreamed up. My baby is dying, but not yet dead. I can wait wait wait for her to die or I can let her go right now. If I wait, I am afraid I will die right along with her. I will not know the moment her heart stops beating and so every second of every day I will wonder. And my heart will break a little more every time I wonder until mine is no longer beating either. I will miss my final moment to say good-bye.

I choose to let her go now.

This is the hardest choice I have ever had to make, and it is not what I ever, in a million years, thought I would ever be choosing to do. But the decision is not at all clouded by doubt. It is clear. And I am sure. I make this choice with my heart.

Call it what you will, but I'm the one who knows what it means. And I don't regret it.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

another day in 1st grade

As I've mentioned before, I am a first grade teacher. Every day is full of surprises and there are many many moments that leave me rolling on the floor laughing. Only just in my head. Most of these such moments are created by the children but seem to be made for adults. And since I am usually the only adult in the classroom, the halriousity (is that a word?) of the moment gets wasted on just me. But this one is just too funny to not pass along.

I've mentioned P.J. before. He is a sweet, well-behaved, soft spoken, adorable little boy. He comes from a loving happy family. Today I am teaching a lesson from our social curriculum on feelings. We are discussing sadness, excitement, embarrassment, etc.. The children are sitting on chairs in a big circle on the floor. It is 2:40 on a Thursday. I am ready to be done with the day. P.J. raises his hand.

"I feel embarrassed when my dad shows his private parts at the bus stop."

What the &**%#?!?!?! Did I just hear that right?

Twenty-two heads (including my own) are turned towards him with a big "huh???" The room is silent. I stumble over my words in an attempt to move on as quickly as possible. My face is red. I am continuing the lesson and words keep coming out of my mouth but I have no idea what I am even saying.

I need to talk to the school psychologist ASAP. What kind of sicko is this man?!?!?!? I thought he was such a normal, nice guy. How did I not pick up on this yet? Is P.J. safe in his home? Do I need to report this?

Before I have this man arrested, I decide to pull P.J. aside after the lesson and ask him to tell me more about it. I ask which kids are at his bus stop and he tells me it's just he and his sister.

Phew. At least his dad's not whipping it out for the whole neighborhood to see!

And then P.J., with his head hung low and his sweet little voice clear as day, says this:

"Ya, It's really embarrassing when he shows us his belly button."

I try desperately to suck back the enormous roar of laughter begging to explode from inside my head and wish there were a room full of adults to share this moment with. I explain to him that "private parts" are the parts covered by a bathing suit and that, yes, it must be very embarrassing when your dad gets silly like that.

It's days like this that I love love love my job.

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

welcome 2008!!!

Well I'm a day or so late but I figured it's time to finally welcome in 2008. I've been both ecstatic and reluctant about saying good-bye to 2007. It was a year that changed me in so many ways. It was the year that made me a wife and blessed me with a baby, if only for a moment. 2007 holds both the best moment and the worst moment of all of my 31 years. And now it is all part of my past, tucked away neatly into little corners of my heart.

I bring in 2008 with a new sense of hope for all the freshness and joy it may bring. I look forward to its adventures and look toward its mysteries with both excitement and worry. Will it be the year I come home with a baby in my arms? Will I get pregnant again? Will I lose another? Will I lose anyone else from my life?

My husband does not believe in resolutions. His thought is that resolutions should be on an "always list," and not made on one day in December and then forgotten by the second week of January. He does have a point there. But personally I need an actual annual list to re-direct me and put my focus somewhere positive. So in his honor, I've added a last special resolution to my list.

And here they are, my resolutions for 2008:

1. I will be nicer to myself in all ways. I will take great care of my body and my soul. I will make my health -- both physical and emotional -- my biggest priority. This includes exercise, healthy eating, doctor visits, rest, etc. I will stop being hard on myself about the things I cannot control (i.e. stupid hormone-related break-outs) and the things that might compromise my emotional health (i.e. the stupid number on the scale.)
2. I will keep my friends close
3. I will accept that my body has more wisdom than I will ever know
4. I will be present in my life -- with my students, with my family, with my friends, with my husband, with myself
5. I will not forget about any of the above in the months to come

Happy New Year!