Without Borders

With our adoption process in full swing now, I am going to consolidate all of my online writings to one blog from now on..

I will keep this one open and more than likely come back to it after we have completed the adoption...

Don't you worry one bit though...There will still be the usual Steph writings, but we will also be documenting our journey to adoption too...and since adopting a child requires more paperwork than buying a house, car, life insurance policy and Magic Waters pass combined, there is no way I will be able to keep up with two blogs.

By the way, I put the butter in the pantry last night and found it this morning while I was making my lunch. Nice.

So, join me over at http://www.withoutborders.cc/ and sign up to follow that bloggity blog.

Oh, and excuse the mess of it...My little brother, Neil is helping me make it look kind of awesome... but we are both going a little crazy, so we are changing it almost daily. It will look fancy at some point.

But, come on...you have a girl from Beloit trying to make something fancy. That's like telling Milli Vanilli to serenade you...with no accompaniment tape.

Not. Gonna. Happen.


http://www.withoutborders.cc/    (just in case you forgot)

Peace out party peoples.

I Remember This Feeling.

So, I have hit that post pregnancy hormonal phase. Where you feel sort of out of control of your body? It. Is. Crazy.

The only thing is...this time...I have Emara. I get to see and feel the strange changes of post-baby WITH an actual baby. Which changes the entire scenerio.

Lately, because I am experiencing it again, I am recalling so many feelings that I had after each miscarriage. My body was adjusting back...my hormones were raging...but I had no bundle of joy to balance it all out.

For almost three years, my RSVP to a baby shower was always "no". I quietly listened and smiled as friends would share their pregnancy stories or birth stories and then cry on the ride home. I sincerely joined in the chorus of "SO EXCITED" when another friend became pregnant at the same time wondering if I would ever know what that kind of joy really felt like.

I remember being consumed by the thought of my lost babies EVERY single day for months and months. I remember joking with my husband about the what if's of having a child combining my big butt and his long legs...only to breathe a deep sigh afterwards wondering if that would ever even happen. Every pound I gained had a name. I remember talking with friends and pretending to be fine because I couldn't believe that I still wasn't actually fine. "That time of the month" was just another stabbing reminder of what was no longer there.

I say all of this to say. Struggling with infertility...getting pregnant and then losing your baby...can make even the incredibly strong...incredibly fragile.

Something that can be so profoundly joyful to you can remind someone of something deeply heartbreaking to them.

And so, if you are pregnant...or trying to get pregnant...and you have someone in your life who isn't jumping up and down with excitement for you and you don't understand why...

Please give them an extra scoop of grace... We have no idea if today began with a negative pregnancy test... or is a "would have been" due date...

I can never thank my sister-in-law, Leah, enough for her patience with me during her pregnancy with her youngest son. She got pregnant during my time of loss and was so incredibly kind and thoughtful to me. She gave me more grace than I deserved and she chose other friends to talk baby stuff with...for which I am eternally grateful.

And, on the other hand, if you are struggling to get pregnant...or if you have suffered through the loss of your baby...it is so easy to let resentment and bitterness overtake your heart...

Please give yourself and everyone around you an extra scoop of grace too...

For you....I hope you allow yourself the freedom to feel every single feeling you have...to get angry...to be sad...to feel guilt... Just, don't stay in those dark spots for long...work through them... I PROMISE you, you will breathe again..I PROMISE you, you will know joy again. You will come out on the other side and you will be ok.

For others...Believe the best in their intentions..in their words..in their actions... And if something is said that feels insensitive, let grace settle into your heart.

I heard the simplest of sentences at church a few weeks ago and it is something that I have carried with me everyday since.

Choose Love. Choose Kindness. Choose Grace.

This applies to obviously everything in life...but, because my heart is closest to this subject, this is the area that I am reflecting on today.

So, for whatever scenerio may be yours, I hope you can give out some extra grace today...

We all need it and none of us deserve it.

29. The Year That Never Ends...

So, this is it? 29 for life now, right? Is that still the running joke or was that just something I heard my teachers, youth group leaders and YWCA gymnastic instructors say to eachother when I was little?

Either way, 29 is here to stay.

Every year, I come up with something that I want to "add" to my life, not just for that year. Here is a glimpse of my past birthday wishes to myself:

24 yrs - Get a massage for every birthday (best birthday idea EVER..Scott never has to guess and I always get a massage)

25 yrs - Buy expensive shampoo (totally awesome and totally worth it...no matter what my pocketbook says)

26 yrs - Get more pedicures (I am not so good at remembering this one...Scott remembers though...especially when I slice him in the night with my heels that morph into shards of glass in the winter)

27 yrs - Read more books (This was a good one, I must admit. Not only am I more smarter, but I now actually read the "Books You Must Read" section of my People Magazine)

28 yrs - Run a marathon (This one was the best thing I may have ever done mentally and physically...plus...well....it kind of saved my life with the whole finding out I had one kidney thing)

So, now to this year.

I started running out of genius ideas... I am only human... They had to slow down at some point...

So, here is what I have decided.

From my birthday until November 30 (my next kidney function test), I am on a strict no sweets plan. Yep. No Edwards Donuts. No homemade cookies. Nothing. Why? Well, due to the fact that I cannot work out or exert myself because of my current kidney condition, I need something that is mentally difficult that produces physical rewards. And saying no to sweets will be a battle of my brain along with a hopeful notch or two taken off of the ol' belt of glory.

THEN. After my kidney test, if they tell me that I have regained my function (prayers are welcomed and finger/toe crossings are not denied), I will take on a new venture. The world of Pilates.

That's right. Jennifer Aniston. I am coming for your abs. And legs. And arms. And while we are at it, your hair too...and you have pretty eyes...

Where was I?

Oh, yes. Pilates. So, I am preparing myself by ordering DVD's online and trying to touch my toes every now and again...and not just when I am sitting down.

Running is a tough friend to compete with but Pilates does have Jen An. And I think you get to buy a cool mat. Jenny (thats what us friends call her) had one specially made for Oprah with pictures of Prah Prah's dogs (again, us close friends call Oprah this..oh, the three of us) on it. I wouldnt want to smush my dogs, so I would probably get something put on my mat that I wouldn't mind smushing...like bugs. or spiders.

Or a picture of fat lard. Who wouldnt want to smash that crap down? Hence, the whole point of Pilates.

That would be what you call a "full circle" mat, actually. Figuratively smushing lard while literally trying to smush your lard.

Speaking of full circle, this post needs to hurry up and get there, because even I am falling asleep.

29. The year that never ends. Going hand in hand with the post that never ends. It's like a massage minus the massage and adding a yoga mat? Maybe for 29, I should have wished for humor? like the kind Prah Prah has?

I give up.

Wanting What I Can't Have

Just when you think you have something figured out. When you are sure you have it under control.

It knocks on your door with a basketful of homemade cookies and asks to come back inside.

I would like to think that if I say something enough, that I will begin to believe it.

And most times, it works.

I hated running. Talked myself into it. Now, it is my favorite.

I never wanted to work after kids. Talked myself into it. Now, I am thankful for the provision.

Heck, I have even starting turning myself into a mini chef. Talked myself into it. Lord knows I didn't come this way by pure talent...I still don't know how to properly dice veggies. And I don't want to admit how many times I have to google the meanings of directions...sautee this...braise that...puree the other thing... and don't get me started on the different "cuts" of meat. Isn't it all from the same animal? Why does it matter if it is round or flank or rump or prime? And seriously, why do I have so many knife options in my knife block?

Anyways.

I have spent the last year and a half and specifically, the last 9 or so months telling myself that I didn't want anymore kids naturally. Talked myself into the idea of never growing another human life in my belly.

And I could list you so many reasons as to why it wouldn't be the wisest decision to try again.

But, this one is tricky.

Because my head gets it.

But, my heart. No matter how much I talk to it....well, it really wants to let that basketful of homemade cookies in the door. Even if they are potentially toxic cookies.

I wonder if I am just wanting what I can't have. Or if I need to continue the grieving process of letting that dream go. Or if maybe I want to be able to eat extra food with good reason for another 9 month period. Or maybe I need a lesson in believing. Or maybe I am fighting closure because I shouldn't have it yet.

Either way, I have time to figure this all out. Good Lord, its not like Emara is zipping off to college tomorrow...I mean, our adopted child doesnt even have a face yet...

So, I will continue to process with my husband...and my family and friends...and this blog...

And I apologize in advance for my wishy washy thought process.

But, once you get a glimpse of Emara...you kind of want a million more of her.

Love. Me. Sugar.

Unbeknownst to me, I am quite connected to sugar. I mean, connected at the hip..... And thighs, booty and lower back...lovingly referred to as the top of the muffin. Muffin Top.

I have received some news recently about my solitary kidney...the Mighty Righty... and well, it seems that childbirth was its least favorite activity, because 30% of it went ka-poot on me.

Three years ago, I found out that I had a blood clotting disorder. It was more than likely most of the reason I had three miscarriages.

Looking into my family history, if you go back a few generations (from what I know), all of my deceased family members died of some form of cancer. One didn't...and sadly, he was killed.

The odds are not in my favor.

And now, I find out that I have the one kidney thing going for me. And 30% of it said peace out homies.

You know the saying, "You can't put lipstick on a pig?"

My outer body. The lipstick. My inner body. The pig.

I kind of feel like an internal mess. I mean, the outside...well, we all know I would have won had I entered the Winnebago county fair.. With my long legs, ability to do my hair and make-up with finesse and of course, a tiny nose....oh, and sparkling personality. But, the inside? The only contest it would win would be the "Who doesn't want me?" contest featuring my innards and snoop dogg's lungs.

Anyways, I have been thinking very seriously about the fact that there is a lot that I cannot control. And there is a lot that these stupid body issues have already taken from me. Children..The future ability to have lots more children...Running...Family members...

But, I am not going to let the negative side to this junk take over my thoughts and throw me into a hissy fit (no, I will have those privately while staring pathetically at myself in the mirror...I am not that emotionally healthy yet, people)

I cannot control my genetics. I cannot control what I was born with(out). I cannot control what runs in my family and hopefully skips the rest of all of us.

But, I can control how I take care of my body.

And it's about time I stop eating the same french fries that don't change shape or texture when hiding under a car seat for 5 years. Seriously, McDonalds. 5 years. Hi, I would like a cheeseburger with a small "preservatives only".

It's time to pay attention to what I eat. To make wise choices about what I inhale. And to stop feeding the monkey some sugar everytime it dances. (Am I the only one who rewards myself with JUNK food the SECOND I lose ONE pound?)

Scott and I are on a voyage to cut out processed food. So far so good.

Except I am realizing that sugar... Wow... When you aren't eating it? And you are used to...

Well...  It really likes to let you know.

Sleepy. Headache. It's like little angry sugar demons are on the attack. Covering my brain with tiny warm blankets of sleepiness. And taking itty bitty hammers to my forehead.

It sounds surprisingly cute. But nay.

It so isn't.

But, it's ok. It is high time that I take control over one of the few things I can take control of.

So, along with working on actually putting the laundry away after I wash and fold, I will also do my best at taking care of the inside of me. Namely, my gizzards.

(I would like to think the term gizzard refers to the overall inside arena of my organs)

Confessions of a Crazy Lady.

So, a few nights ago, the wicked witch came into my room and waved her wand over my head, sprinkled some crazy juice into my mouth and BAM! I turned into a 5 year old smack dab in the middle of a tantrum.

At least, that is my excuse. Really, I was just a 28 year old full grown woman ACTING like a 5 year old in the middle of a tantrum. And there was no wicked witch to blame. That outburst was all me.

I even said this to my husband, "I don't like you." I mean, let's all point to the girl in the room who needs a nap. Could I have said anything more embarrassing? I don't like you.... I have heard more 4 year olds proclaim that to their mommy's under their breath because their mom wasn't going to cut their pb&j sandwich in half. I almost wish I would have said something worse or more mean...at least it would have meant I was beyond the stage of bedtime pull-ups.

Marriage is difficult...and when you have to deal with baby Steph, it can also be exhausting, I am sure. Marriage is the most rewarding thing, but can be the most frustrating thing at the same time. And, when I get to the bottom of my issues with it, I come to this super annoying conclusion.

I want my husband to do for me what I am not doing for him.

On my drive to work yesterday morning, for some reason, I was picturing myself on a bike ride. And my tire popped. Because I filled it up too much, of course (SIDE NOTE - I am petrified of filling anything up with air for fear of it exploding in my face).  I pictured myself calling Scott and making him drive 20 minutes to come get me and my deflated tire.

And, he totally did it.

Then, as I was marvelling at story-time Scott's quickness to come to my rescue, I thought of what my reaction would have been if his tire had popped on his lovely bike ride.

And, in the middle of watching an Oprah re-run...in my comfy pants and messy hair bun...snacking on dried fruit...ok, oreos...I would answer his call for help...and if I am honest...

be completely annoyed that I had to interupt my uber important activities to go get him.

And OUCH. My daydream instantly became my own personal Dr Phil show.

I am selfish.  Crap.  I mean, really selfish.  I remember hearing Gordy Smith say during a Marriage Matters class that marriage is NOT 50/50. It is each person giving 100. And, man, I struggle with that.

As much as I see marriage as a partnership, I fail to see it as something that I give 100% to no matter what. I want more than I am willing to give. It's not like I keep a tally in my head of how many times I have made him dinner compared to how many times he has or anything like that. That kind of stuff doesn't bother me. But, if I were completely and embarrassingly honest, I spend more time focusing on what he isn't being for me emotionally than what I am not being for him.

I am quick to let him know where he is failing on the emotional attentiveness scale. But, the second he tells me something that bothers him, I have a hard time shutting up and taking it in without thinking of valid reasons as to why I did what I did.

I heard a line in a movie the other night that hit me kind of hard. The wife asked the husband why he did something (that he soo didnt enjoy but she enjoyed)....and he said, "because it matters to you".

And of course, my first thought was, "THERE SCOTT! See?? You should compliment me and my post-baby body that I am not proud of to make me feel better about myself...not because it is true...but, because that matters to me!!! And also, please, for the love of God, TAKE ME TO A MUSICAL!"

When, I should have thought "Steph, even though you don't understand why it is so important to turn every light off in the room when you leave it or close every cabinet door when you are done...do it. Because it matters to your husband. And also, please, for the love of God, stop asking him to TAKE YOU TO A MUSICAL!"

There are a lot of things in life that seem like a constant battle...trusting God with my life and path...believing the best in people...choosing other's needs before your own...

What I am learning though, is it seems like a constant battle...because it IS. And I can't run from it. I can't spend my days imagining and skipping through the fields with a basketfull of flowers and jellybeans.

But, also, I can't go through my days thinking that my marriage could be better if my husband were better. My marriage will be better when I, again, shut up and take inventory of my own crap and start working that stuff out.

Man, for someone who loves to talk, I feel like a lot of my lessons lately have started with the phrase, "shut up..."

This could be a problem for a girl who uses all 297,879 words a day. Plus some.

I Was Blind...Literally...

I started writing a blog about being J-Lo's overweight cousin and my only hope for regaining my ability to wear anything in my closet again was running...and how I feel like running is one of my closest, dearest friends and now, because of my kidney, I can no longer be friends with running.

I really wanted to spend some time complaining about how this wasn't supposed to be my path. How one of my life's goals was to run at least one half marathon a summer...to run the entire 13 Rock N Roll series Half Marathon's. I really wanted to spend some time pouting.

And then, I remembered something that my real-life dear friend, Lennox Barnett, said over the weekend. He was talking about being grateful and about how good God was and said "Guys...I was blind. I was literally blind. And there is no explanation for why I see today. None. And that is why I can't praise God enough..."

I am beyond blessed. I have a house. We have TWO cars. We get to mow our lawn with a motor powered machine that actually self-propels! I have shoes for every season and enough scarves to make a third winter coat (because I already have TWO winter coats). I have water at my disposal WHENEVER I want. I get paid well for the work that I do. I have a job to begin with. We have insurance. Beyond that, we have hospitals and doctors at our disposal.

I have a gorgeous daughter. and three more that probably look a whole lot like her waiting to meet us in heaven.

I can breathe without reminding myself to do so. My heart pumps blood to my body without question. My limbs move and my hair grows and my eyes can see. Heck, my eyes can blink without command and then when I need to command them to, they can blink even more!

I can sing. And sing loudly. And I can hear beautiful melodies and voices and laughter.

I am surrounded by love. By a husband who prays for me and takes care of me. By a family who believes the best in me and accepts all of my very strange and sometimes annoying quirks. By friends who tolerate weird voice messages and strange picture texts and long phone calls and love me without question.

I am not orphaned. I grew up knowing my mom, my dad and my three brothers.

So, if having one kidney is the reason why I can no longer do something that I love. If having a blood disease along with it means that we have absolutely no guarantees when it comes to having more children naturally. If I have to restrict my diet or go on medication or stop doing certain things.

WHO CARES. WHO CARES. WHO CARES.

I have Emara Jane, my miracle baby. And she is more than enough reason to be grateful. I have Scott, who again, more than enough. I have life. I have God. I could go on and on (and probably should on a daily basis).

And, even if all of this is taken away. my child. my husband. my health. my precious running (inserting sarcasm).

God is still good and I still believe in hope. And heaven is still coming.

So, Stephanie, take a big bite of perspective today. And be thankful that you have so much more than you could ever need or want.