Toenails are for sissies.

I think about this blog way more than I follow through with writing on it. And when I say I think about this blog, I mean, once every few weeks. It's like journaling. I think I like it more than I actually do. Or maybe I really like it, but somewhere between red sports saturns and executive lady suits, I got old and busy.

Either way. An update for the masses. of four. again, thanks mom, Aunt Wendy, Leah and Scott. This is what family is for.

Let's break it down. shall we? In no specific order.

Running - This has taken over my life. I plan my days around it. My weekends are now boring and early ending. My mornings are filled with stretching and moaning and limping out of bed. BUT! I am in a pair of jeans that I wore for our ENGAGEMENT pictures! circa 2004. And when I say, I am 'in' these jeans, I do mean that they are literally a part of me because they are so tight. I really can't wear them in public yet, because they still push part of my butt up to my shoulder blades. But, they buttoned. And me = happy camper. with a smushed in butt. Im hoping my 16 miler coming up will change the status of these jeans to 'comfortable fit'. Either way, I am that much closer to completing my first and LAST marathon. boo to the yah.

House - We have spent the last three weeks doing EXACTLY what makes me angry at homeowners. Upgrading and beautifying in order to sell. I have joined the group that I stick my tongue out at. But, I must say, our house looks snazzy. AND the best part is Scott and I are still married. And actually going strong. For a couple that can't even 2man-kayak together, we sure did smash our record on teamwork! So, here is to selling that house.... I won't get sentimental yet. Get outta here East Gate Parkway! When it becomes official...this is when I will change my mind and cry and pout and realize the emotional connection that I have. And like in Milo & Otis... the new owners will make me walk away while yelling...Dont look back!!!

Babies - It hits me at very random times...the thought of my three babies. Mile 11 at the RockNRoll Half Marathon. Driving home listening to Run DMC. Watching an episode of Design Star. Really, it is just strange. But, I still think about them every day and I still am motivated to make them proud in whatever I do. As for our future children.... we are tentatively moving forward with adoption. I don't say tentative because we are afraid of adoption. That, we are realy excited about. But, tentative because we have so much filling our days right now and the idea of adopting sounds so big and time consuming and difficult and overwhelming. And, it could fall through. So, for someone who runs and jumps into a pool instead of tiptoes in....I can't get myself to move faster even if I tried.... And I am ok with that. And at the moments when it hits me and I am not ok with that...well, I am running or driving in a car or getting sucked into Design Star. I still want four kids. Can you adopt quadruplets? You think I'm joking. Scott would die. Literally keel over. But, I think we can take it. 4 kids? We have 2 dogs already and Reggie is smart. I bet I could teach him how to change a diaper. And Addie? Well, she would eat a diaper for sure. So, there is the whole cleaning up part. ehhhh....gross.

One day, when I stop hating on my Mac computer...I will post pictures. Scott has a blog. http://www.imaginingwindows.tumblr.com/ and he is artsy. and posts pictures. He is so much cooler than me. Give me a top 40 pop song and Coors Lite in a can and I am happy all day long...

Peace in the middle.

MOMENTOUS OCCASIONS.

I am FINALLY pre-babies weight.

Wait. What?

Let me give you my chubby tubby timeline, as I like to call it..well, I like to call it that now because I have never given it a name until just this second. And let's be honest, it could be better.

May, 08 - ran first half marathon. body = awesome (in my book...again, all up for debate here)
May, 08 - leave for baby makin' cruise. and it worked. the baby was made.
July, 08 - lost our little one. spent the week at home. people brought food.

*time out*

When I say "people brought food", I mean, for ONE meal...we would get an appetizer... bread... entree...dessert...drinks... and sometimes even more. (insert many dang gina's)
I will not embellish each time, but I need to make you aware of this: EVERYTHING was in the comfort food genre and EVERYTHING was portioned for at least four people.

And. I. Ate. Pretty. Much. All. Of. It. I mean, I would leave a brownie for Scott. Sometimes.

*time in*

September 08 - time to get back in the saddle. literally. baby makin' time again. And yes, Scott eggoed my...preggo.. wait, that can't be right... He leggoed my eggo? What is that saying?!? I got pregnant. Man, I thought I could have said that way cooler.

November 18, 08 - lost our second little one. (now it's time to insert explitives..it's ok. we started to)
Spent another week at home. PEOPLE BROUGHT FOOD. And Thanksgiving began.

-Now this is where it gets tricky. Not only was I so angry with my body and felt so much guilt for what my body was doing that I felt the need to destroy it. I also didn't want to talk to a single person. And with the holidays all around me, what better way to avoid conversation than to always have food in my mouth. And naughty naughty food. Because, hey, if my body isn't going to do me any favors, why should I do it any.

I honestly thought that. Self-destruction at its worst. or actually, at its best.

December, 08 - Find out I have a blood disease. Just another confirmation that it is my fault. So, what to do? Besides cry and fight off the urge to sleep all day. Eat, drink and smoke cigarettes. I was seriously having a serious fight with my body. I was like a bully. I just wanted to see it hurt. so sad to look back on. But, my heart was very broken. And sometimes, you break things when you are broken.

Jan, 09 - Realized I had been depressed and just kind of snapped out of it. It was literally like a snap. And all I thought was, "What have I been doing to myself?" But, 20 pounds and a sad liver and black lung later, the damage had been done.

Feb, 09 - I was on a mission to be healthy. So, ran a 10k. Cut the crappy crap and moved forward.

March, 09 - Got pregnant. Started 14 medications including daily shots to the tummy, a strict diet and daily one hour walks and weekly dr. appointments.

June 14, 2009 - Lost our 3rd baby. Found out he was a boy. Named him Will.
You know where I'm going with the whole people bringing food thing...and the emotional eating thing...

June - September 09 - Spent entire summer not talking about it. (the absolutely healthiest thing to do, if you don't mind me lying)

Nov - Dec, 09 - Went on a working out warpath. Who knew how much time I had before the doctor would tell me I wasn't allowed to again (I skipped that...everytime I was pregnant, thought about getting pregnant or for 4 weeks after I had a miscarriage, I wasn't allowed to work out because of the whole blood disease thing)

January, Feb, March, April and May, 10 - Tried unsuccessfully to get pregnant. really? 3 times pregnant on the first go. And now? Notta single hit. Not one swimmer made it to the mothership. so strange. and a WHOLE new set of emotions to deal with. I lost my babies...I wasn't supposed to also have the big "I" stamped across my belly. Infertility was not supposed to be a part of our story too.

May, 10 - Decide it is time. Time to stop. As you can see in a very condensed version, the past two years have been all consuming with baby. And body. And hormones. And doctor appointments. And medical bills. And grieving. And researching. And eating. And tears. And shots. And misplaced anger. And deep deep deep sadness. And more doctor's appointments.

It's time to take a break and take a breath. And explore other options. I refuse to throw my hands up and give up on family. But, I have reached my limit on what my body can handle. It was like it was screaming at me, "I NEED CONSTISTENCY...please" So, I have given in.

_____________________________

You might laugh and say, wow...you wrote all of that to tell us you have lost a few pounds?

All of this weight I have added, I can pinpoint. It's like the credit card debt that never goes away..."it was that one doctor's appointment...remember when the car needed to be towed...school books...that one dinner we had to pay for..."

Those three pounds? Baby number 2. Thanksgiving to Christmas, 08? 7 pounds. Baby number 3? Lost 6 then gained 9. Medication? 6. Every pound had a name. And I am sick of those names.

I want the good memories of these past two years. I want to look at Scott's tattoo and think of our little ones. I dont want to look at my flabby stomach and think of what used to be in there. I want to think about the laughter that occurred when we told our family we were pregnant for the first time. Not the silence that came with sitting on my couch with a tub of ice cream, spoon and glazed over eyes.

So, partly, this has been serious closure for me. Maybe that is why I have been working so dang hard at it. And partly, any mom would understand this...I want them to be proud of me. I don't want to look back and say that this was the point in my life where everything went downhill. I want them to be proud of the decisions that I made and who I chose to be.

So there. Momentous Occasion #1. Here is to many, many more.

I am a 71 year old in a 27 year old body.

So, I'm starting to look at all of the blogs out there and wow. I am ashamed at my lack of web smarts. I dont even know if I could insert a picture. Do you people still use the old copy and paste?

Another reason I am an old soul. I can't have a conversation with anyone in my car if the music is on. Or, if I am anywhere and music is playing for that matter. My desk, my house, a dentist office. It's strange, I know. But, I just can't concentrate.

Anyways, I started training for the Chicago Marathon this week. ouch. And one of my friends who is running it with me wants to document it via blog. Here are our blog name ideas:

For the fear of sausage rolls and the love of ice cream.
Where the world knows no cellulite.
So, I dont have a runners body. awesome.
Why cant our hobby be napping?
We just do this for the friday night pasta dinner.

We'll see. But, I will tell you one thing. My last half marathon, I trained for a few months and didnt lose a pound...all the while watching my younger brother's extra layers slide off of him like butter on a hot knife.

I WANT TO BE THE BUTTER AND HOT KNIFE THIS TIME.

What I Meant to Say Was...

I'm surrounded by love. Yet, I struggle accepting love.

So, when Scott looks at me and says I am sorry. And I look at him and say, I dont believe you. What I mean to say is, I dont believe that I am deserving of somebody to want to be better for me.

When I say, I want to be alone. I mean to say, I need to collapse and I don't want to bother you with my collapsing.

I am realizing more and more how hard it is for me to fully accept love from others.

I notice when I get slightly frustrated when people ask me how I am doing. And I am not frustrated with them. I am frustrated that I need them. I am frustrated that I might have to depend on someone other then myself and God.

I notice when I argue with Scott and he puts his arms around me, I stiffen. Not because I am mad at him. But, because I am trying to push the lump back down my throat and pretend like his love isn't unconditional towards me.

Something inside of me sees love and wants to run in the other direction because love means that you will be inconvenienced. And I, personally, love the inconvenience of it. The "I'm coming over to your house" or the "I need to talk right now". I love to love others. But, I am very uncomfortable with someone, especially Scott at times, loving me. Someone being inconvenienced for me.

I am an independent woman and I have always taken great pride in that. But, the more and more I search, I am seeing that much of my independence is a guard. It keeps you, my family, my friends, my husband from having to take care of me.

It keeps you from having to take care of me. man, there it is. I am afraid that if I ask, you won't want to.

As embarrassing and humiliating as it is for me to even think it. When I say, I'm fine. I'll be fine. I don't need anything. I'm 27 and can take care of myself. I'll get through it. People have it much worse, etc...

What I mean to say is, I want someone to take care of me and I'm afraid that you won't want to.

It's Like Putting An Old Hoodie Back On.

3 interesting things about my new job.

#1 The woman I replaced left behind in her desk 14 different hand lotions and 84 pennies. And apparently about 7 saved steamy messages from several different gentlemen callers. I didnt get to hear them but my boss said she blushed the entire time. dang gina.

#2 When you are re-introduced to old colleagues and they stand to greet you..they ONLY want a handshake, NOT a hug. I did not realize it until after about the 5th really awkward hug. But, really though? When you walk into a room and their face lights up and they stand and come around to the front of their desk to greet you, why would you go that far and NOT hug? You lead people to believe you are planning on hugging! But, no. As, I was going in for the hug, they would either A) stick their outreached hand into my stomach/chest area and I would just kind of hug "around" them. so weird. or B) say "oh, haha, we are hugging" and then I would say "oh, no! we can handshake" and it would be weird, so we would kind of hug. Ugh, I keep replaying it over and over in my head.

#3 I work with Jarrett Payton's wife. Walter Payton's son. Sweet.

That's all for now. I will somehow secretly take pictures of my office so you all (and by you all, I mean my sister in law and mother who will probably be the only ones reading this) can help me decorate (nothing can go on the walls though. boo). Im thinking more white?

peace.

It all started with a doll...

A little stuffed doll with no plastic on its arms or legs. Just a cotton stuffed doll with orange braids made out of thick, coarse yarn. She smelled just like my great grandma, Florence. It was a gift from her. I remember after she passed away, I put this doll in a plastic bag because I wanted to save the smell of her. I hid her in my bedroom closet behind my clothes that were hanging up. And every so often, I would take the doll out and wrap its body around my nose taking in the scent of my great grandma. The smell grew fainter and fainter, until finally, she started to smell just like the rest of my closet.

I'm afraid that one day, I will forget. Right now, the scent is so strong. I can physically feel my heart hurting. I can look at my body and see the product of 3 pregnancies in one year. I can look at my bedroom and recollect every moment. I have baby books and little gifts from people from each announcement of our newest addition. I have ultrasound pictures of each baby but the first. I remember the shirt my husband was wearing the night we first miscarried and the day we found out we had lost our third. I have bruises on my stomach from the daily shots I was taking. The lump in my throat has become my constant companion. I remember ever meal that has been delivered, every gift of sympathy that has been given. But most of all, I remember the connection I had with each baby.

Baby number one, there was an unabandoned excitement..a constant touching of the stomach with happy fingers and huge smiles...there was the nightly prayers for health and its future...there were conversations between Scott and myself about our greatest hopes for this child and our biggest fears for the new territory we would be crossing into called parenthood.

Baby number two, there was a secret and quiet love. The protective yet tentative touch of my hand to my stomach, asking my baby to just quietly and quickly make it through the first trimester. There was not nearly as many prayers, for fear that our expectations would get too high and we would be crushed in the end. But when we prayed, we told the Lord that we accepted whatever path we were heading down. This time, we gave the baby to the Lord before we took it as our own. As afraid as we were of it, we still connected. How could we not? I remember my husband sitting crumbled on the bathroom floor as we lived through another miscarriage crying out to God and asking him, WHY?!? I remember seeing this baby...and I remember the overwhelming amount of love I felt even though as quickly as I said hello, I was saying goodbye.

Baby number three, there was a sense of hope and determination of love. My hands met my stomach with a strong and powerful touch, as if I was trying to protect my little one while begging him to stay strong. Every day, we chose to celebrate the time we had and desperately hoped that this day would not be the last. I remember talking daily to our baby. I remember getting the baby books back out from hiding and reading out loud to my husband as we celebrated the arrival of its fingers, eyelids, ears. I remember laughing the first time we heard the heart beat. I remember walking a little taller knowing that my little guy was as determined as I was.

I don't want to look back and forget. I don't want to lose the scent of my babies. I am so afraid that this will go away. As much as I hate the lump that is always in my throat, I am afraid that one day, it will be gone. That one day, I will forget what it was like to feel what I felt. To see what I saw.

I want to be able to move forward, but I dont want to move on. I want to have a smile on my face and see a bright future, but I dont want to leave this deep sadness, because it is what connects me to my little souls.

I just don't want to let go. I am afraid that one day, I will go into my closet and find the little dolly and it will only remind me of the closet it has sat in for so many years.

Today.

For today, I am starting to blog again. Because, today, I need an outlet. Tomorrow, I might become consumed with cleaning my house or staring at the sky. I might forget about this blog, like I have twice now. But, today, I need it.

I am the proud mother of three tiny babies. Babies that I have met only while in my stomach. Babies that I have touched only through the barrier of skin between us.

Even though I cannot hold them, take them for walks, introduce them to their grandparents, watch them grow...I am still their mother. And I am impatiently waiting to meet them someday.

I have walked through the darkest valley of my life this past year. Scott and I both. The rollercoaster ride of "We're Pregnant!!!" to "We lost the baby..." and back and forth three times. Watching my body change and experiencing morning sickness and exhaustion and having my hormones go wild...and going back to normal...and back again three times. Experiencing pregnancy with the end result being that I am held by my husband instead of holding our newborn. Scott and I feel like we are pros at getting pregnant and at the same time, we are becoming pros at grieving. Two things I wish weren't simultaneous. And every pregnancy, we get just a tad bit further along...9 1/2 weeks..10 1/2 weks...12 weeks...Maybe this time four years down the road, we will be able to finally make it 40 weeks. My calculations could be off...

One day, I am going to finish the book I'm writing. And there, you can read, in detail, the story of our journey. I am not one who faces sad times with a sad disposition. Unfortunately, for some, I handle most things with humor..cynical, sarcastic and sometimes joyful humor.

For now, I think I might just write on this little blog. You might not get me..and if you don't, that's fine. You can stop reading. You might think I am a little off with my understanding of God. That's fine, I probably am. And Im sure you are too. You might think I downplay some of the things that I have gone through or overdramatize other circumstances. Again, to each his own. And this is mine.

Today, I am going to take a shower. Try to eat something. Clean my house that has turned into a walking mold patch. Or at least, attempt to clean my sink. Get dressed. And limit my crying to 4 times. Which means don't watch Oprah, Tyra or google the word babies. Oh, and celebrate that I had 12 wonderful weeks with this last one. It was a wonderful, wonderful time. And I don't regret one moment.