Ode to my kidney:

Righty, oh Righty... I have so much to say.

My whole life, its been only us, but it feels so new today.

You scared us a bit with your large little figure.

But, the CT scan shows youre just an overachiever.

I've spent my whole life thinking that there was a lefty,

I can only imagine. Your feeling of responsibility must have been so hefty.

But instead of shriviling in your pity filled gloom

You decided to get ripped and force the rest of me to make room.

So, you are healthy and thriving and strong the doc's say

There's a tiny bit of fluid, but come on , you try to be a lone kidney for a day.

I guess I just want to aknowledge your hard work

And let you know that I will calm down soon so you won't go berzerk.

But, I do have one tiny favor to ask..

Its really really small, so dont take me to task.

I have this thing...this little old thing

The docs say its ok and its something we can swing.

I would like to run the marathon. Its 4 days away

So, how about we do this thing, whatdya say?

I promise to drink lots of water with glee

So, just make sure you do your job and filter that pee.

And when it is over, I promise you one thing

I will sit my butt down on a bench or a swing.

Or a chair or a couch or a bed or a table

Heck, Ill sit my butt down on some hay in a stable.

I promise to rest and let you get some zzz's when its done

But until then, do me a solid and stay on top of your function?

Right kidney, my kidney, my dear old new friend

Although I miss lefty, it is you on which I will always depend.

So, let's cheers to this newfound friendship, but before I bid adiou

You mind giving my damn uterus a pep-talk too?

Someone Owns Your Garage. Oh, And You're Missing A Kidney. So, You Have That Going For You.

There have been many moments in my life where I have wanted to run away.

I remember when my brother Sean and I decided that it would be better to run away from home than to stay in such a terrible place where they made you eat beans and rinse your plate before you put it in the dishwasher.

So, using our amazing courage and strong sense of street wits... We took off... To the basement... Until we heard mom yell for everyone to come to the table for tacos... with no beans... which then, I grabbed my plastic bag filled with dolls and a water spray bottle (the necessity for running away) and headed upstairs wondering how my family had been handling our traumatic exit for the past five minutes. It really must have been difficult for them considering they said nothing... too painful to relive I guess.

More recently, after each miscarriage and at every baby shower in between, I have felt a strong urge to run away. This time though, I wanted to run not from the awful house rules that my mother insisted we follow, but from my present reality. I wanted to escape into a world filled with fort building and make believe and piggy banks filled with pennies and tootsie roll wrappers (I cant be the only one who thought it was fun to flatten crushed up candy wrappers and put them in anything available as a kid).

Even closer to the current date and time, we had a wonderful deal going on. That deal being the selling and closing of our house. Most of you heard us talk about how quickly it happened and the hustle and bustle of packing and cleaning and preparing and house hunting and blah blah blah. In fact, today, we were supposed to close. Actually, right about now. This past weekend, we were supposed to move out. Our house was (and still is) completely packed. We got our P.O. Box for the forwarding address, the bills have been cancelled, the storage unit rented, the moving truck ready and then we find out THIS nugget of truth.

You dont own your garage. In fact, you dont own 1/4 of your yard. And crazy enough, you never have. Years before you bought your house, someone made a huge error and only transferred a portion of the property to the new owners circa 2000. And long story short, somebody else, somebody slightly evil bought that forgotten piece of land for a small price knowing that someone will have to buy it back from her, at which point she will want a really big price.

So, I have found myself wanting to run away again. And this time, from my own house. No rules or evil mothers to make you clean up after yourself. I want to run away from the fact that no matter which way you spin it, we are going to be in a pretty large amount of debt in order to pay this woman for the land that WE LIVE ON. Thank GOD the buyers are being so patient and letting us try and figure this out, so we can still close on the house and move in the near future. It's just now, we get to pay a shady woman for our garage and a portion of our kitchen and then live with my mother so we can pay off the debt we will incure and also save back up for the down payment we lose since all of our money will now go to her...and lawyer fees... Yes, running away has been on my mind.

And yesterday, I got some more news that made me want to run away. Except this time, I want to unzip my skin and escape my body. Run as far away as my little exposed skeleton and muscle will allow.

A. You have a slightly sick right kidney and B. You seem to be missing your left kidney.

Yes. You heard me right. Missing. Gone. Never been. Apparently, I was born without a left kidney. Who does that? Who just doesnt HAVE a kidney. Me, I guess. Is it weird that even though I have never had one, I suddenly miss it.

I have a CAT scan soon to see just how sick my right kidney is...hopefully, it is just "needs some chicken soup and a good night sleep" sick so we can get back to normal...which is a debateable term in the Zibell house.

I find out Monday if I can actually run away. Meaning, run in the marathon that I have spent the last 5 months preparing for. Apparantly, running for 5 hours at a time isnt the best thing for your body....and maybe not so great when you have one kidney that isnt up to par, persay. But, my doctor will tell me Monday. And until then, I am pretending that none of this is happening...because, well, I just dont want to go there yet.

The irony of all of this is that my first instinct when the going gets....strange...and bad...and frustrating... is to run is now the one thing that I may no longer be allowed to do.

So. If you see me in the near future tearing down our garage (because hey, if I can't have it...neither can this mean old lady), or if you see a jar at a gas station for a fundraiser that says "Segway for Stephanie!", please know that these may be my new versions of "running away"... and don't be alarmed, just make me some tacos with no beans, help me build my fort and offer me a piggy back ride....for 26.2 miles. I promise, it won't be that bad.

Hitting THE Wall.

I have heard about this "wall" that runners hit. A point in their race where they feel like they can't go on any further. I didn't really understand this wall.... mainly because I had never had one...

Fast Forward. Me. laying flat on the floor of my bedroom. My face landing on a pair of jogging pants(ironic). Crying. Well, sobbing. Ok, wailing.

"I don't want to run anymore"

Scott...my confused for the moment husband...sits next to me and tries to hide his smile and act very concerned about my current state...

"Sweetie...you signed up for a marathon... and you just ran 15 miles! You can't stop now"

The wailing continued for about 35 seconds. Then, after a few moments of listening to him trying to stifle his laughter, I start to laugh....and cry....but more so laugh. I imagine this moment will be re-lived in the Zibell house... except it will be with our oneday 4 year old child who is crying over a missing button on a favorite stuffed animal or a lollipop that fell on the floor and shattered. And this time, Scott will be calming down the appropriately aged person. (Unless, I lose my mind and train for another marathon...which in that case, I will definetely be in a corner somewhere wailing)

Rewind. 3 1/2 hours earlier. And the wall has been hit. And man, I totalled that bad boy. I was not even TWO MILES into a FIFTEEN MILE run and I was already done. over it. tired. physically worn out. mentally gone.

It was the worst 3 hours of my life. AND YES. It took 3 HOURS! That is how bad it was. Last week, I ran 14 in 2:22. And this week, I added not only a mile but almost 40 minutes to the run. Em to the barrassing.

Lindsay, my faithful running partner and I, tried everything we could to get over it as she, too, was not wanting to keep going. We changed things up and started listening to music for the first 5 miles instead of the last. We tried to talk about things that would take up a lot of time and hopefully distract us, like wondering if hell was a marathon race that never ended. But nothing. Two days ago, I was running a 9 minute mile. And today. I could hardly get to 12 minutes. I'm not kidding. It was so very bad.

It was like my body was not my own. I could contort my face and strain with the best of 'em and my body would react by slowing down instead of moving faster. I couldn't find a rythym and felt like I was running for the first time. I haven't been out of breath running in a long time unless I am doing sprints and I couldnt catch my breath. The normal self-talk I do was backfiring left and right because all of the sudden I had a new voice in my head cussing out the inspiring voice. And she was mean.

I wish I could tell you that I won. That I overcame the wall and bounded like a gazelle to the finish line. But, no. I jogged...if you can call walking with a slight hop jogging...to the end with a pained look on my face and an even more pained body for spending the last 3 hours in awful running form.

And afterwards, I walked through the door of my house, dropped my half frozen Gatorade on the floor and crawled to my bedroom where the carpet welcomed me. And wept in self-pity and agony. like a baby. IT. WAS. PATHETIC.

And I have a 16 mile run in 5 days. And I have 5 today. And 7 on Wednesday. And 5 again on Thursday.

So. Today, I need to make a quick list of why I am running. And maybe this will help. If it does not help...then, I may need to pay one of you to get all Tanya Harding on me. Go for the shins.

Why I Run:
For Jennifer Aniston. Well, for Jennifer Aniston's stomach. Actually, because of Jennifer Aniston's stomach. This feels like it is getting creepy. I just want to have a stomach like hers.
For my three little ones. I want to make them proud.
For me. Because I love the space and the thinking time and the music and the empowerment and the challenge.


Ok. I can do this. I just need a little more gusto. A little more Gatorade. And a LOT more carbs.

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.