Let's Dance, the Last Dance Tonight

Oh Donna Summer. I didn't really know you until you were regurgitated into a dance mix for So You Think You Can Dance.... One day, my kids are going to talk about my Justin Timberlake like that. Like he hardly existed. So sad.

Tonight is the night. Our last night sleeping in our first home. Hold please, I need to go turn on some sad music to get in the mood here. Carrie Underwood? Check. Take that wheel Jesus.

So, to answer your question, yes. I'm sad. I'm nostalgic. I'm feeling a twinge of regret. So, I am going to do what any normal person would do when they are filled with all of the emotions of saying goodbye to a home that is filled with so many memories.

Rip it to pieces. That's right. It's really the only way I can justify leaving. I mean, it just makes sense.

Now I sound like an unfaithful spouse. And having said that sounds like I went to too much counseling as a child. There may not be a recovery here.

Ok. Alright '0000' East 'Blah' Parkway (to protect it from any funny business tonight of course), here's looking at you...

With your crazy gas stove that blew open the oven door when we turned you on.

And your stupid fake fireplace made of plywood that took up our entire kitchen and not even my dog believed was real.

With your stairs that made you swear off high heels.

And your gold fans that took me to the 70's.

And how about your glass door that just invited Peeping Toms to join us for dinner.

And let's not forget that annoying chipmunk that lives behind your front steps.

I'm happy to be leaving you, you lame...stupid...awful....

Well, we did replace that stove for a shiny new white one that purrs like a kitty. And we tore down that fireplace and people stopped pointing and laughing.. That railing we installed did change my thoughts on high heels...And we did replace those gold fans with ones that even Pottery Barn would be happy to invite over for dinner...And we got a new door and that glass door is in a better place now hopefully being what it was created to be. a window.... and Chip, well you are the world's friendliest chipmunk.

Well, crap.

That didn't work.

Fine.

I am going to miss you home. There. I said it. You are too darn cute to not miss. It's like Michelle from Full House.

So, lets have that Last Dance, whatd'ya say?

I suddenly have the urge to find a corner of a wall, wrap my arms...along it... and slow dance the night away.

Don't judge.

The Other You.

We are going to have a child soon. A beautiful little boy or maybe girl from a country far away. Ethiopia to be exact.

We are just starting the process...raising money...filling out applications...researching and more researching....reading books....

And my mind is constantly filled with thoughts about our child. What will he/she look like? Boy? Girl? Newborn? 1 year old?

And as much as I am picturing taking this little child for walks...watching them grow up... playing and dancing in the living room to cartoons...snuggling during the winter months and running through hoses in the summer...hearing the soft breathing of a napping infant.... I have become even more overwhelmed with this:

This baby will come into the world grieving. Losing the one thing it has been so intimately connected with for its entire existence. It's mother.

I know that at some point, Scott and I will be the only scent that this child knows. the only voices that bring security. the only heartbeats they will hear. But when our little first one comes into the world, it will only have had one heartbeat...one voice...one scent... and it wont be ours. and it will be gone.

There is something so beautiful about adoption. but there is something so tragic.

We are adopting not to fill our need to be parents. We are adopting not to complete the family circle that we long for. No. I am realizing that more and more how incredibly selfish that is.

There is a child who has a mother that does not want them. There is a child who has lost both parents to death, disease or poverty. A child who has cousins running around somewhere in the world and aunt's and uncle's and grandma's and grandpa's who share their smile, their laugh, their quirks, their bloodline. Who they will never meet.

I understand grief. I do not understand rejection. I do not understand loneliness.

So, as the reality of adoption is setting in, I am completely sobered. The feeling of responsibility is heavy on my heart. This child needs love and we will give that unconditionally. This child needs security and we will provide that. But, this child will need to heal. And this is the part that I am praying the Lord shows us how to handle.

You.

I remember asking you to write letters with me to our 3 babies when we took a trip to the Dells. And you layed there on the blanket at the park in Devil's Lake. uncomfortable. wanting to be somewhere else. not because you didn't want to acknowledge them or face what we were facing. but because you and I grieve so differently. and this was a part of my grieving and not yours. but you wrote. and you let me cry. and you folded up those letters into a little envelope and let me have them.

I remember laying on the bathroom floor during our second miscarriage completely broken. a mess. i couldnt breathe enough to calm down. and you held me. the strength that you put around me. the shirt you let me soak with my tears as you soaked mine with yours.

I remember reading an email of thanks that you sent out to our friends. you wrote with a vulnerability that i didnt have the courage to write with. your words were so raw and so humble and so honest. i remember you taking my breath away. and i remember thinking, i love this man.

I remember watching you play football when we went camping right after we lost Will. I was so angry with you for making me leave the security of our dark and sad home. I wasn't ready to look anyone in the eye. wasnt ready to smile. but, we went. and i watched you play football and caught glimpses of joy in your face. caught you laughing as you dropped a ball. caught you smiling at me with a sheepish grin when you threw a perfect spiral. you reminded me that we would be ok without saying one word.

I have seen a side to you that I'm not sure I would have seen had we not lost. I have seen a depth of sadness in your eyes. I have heard desperation in your voice. I have felt the ache of emptiness in the air around you.

But, I have seen love that I could never explain. I have seen humility that still brings me to tears. I have seen a strength that I dont even think you knew that you had. I have understood the meaning of hope.

And I have been loved. truly loved by a man who had nothing to give. and yet, still gave me everything.

I know working really hard and succeeding at work... spending time with wonderful friends and family... playing weekly softball and having game nights...going on late night dates and sleeping in.... taking our dogs to the park and enjoying the sun on vacations.... this all just fills the time for you...

Because I know that as much as you love being an uncle and a great friend and an awesome son, you just want to be a dad. And although there has been no loss lately... there has still been no gain.

And I just wanted you to know that our time will come. And in the meantime, I am really sorry that you have to wait.

I think it could be incredibly cheesy and horribly lame. But, if you could put aside the late 1990's associations with this word, I am going to ask that you would...

Because I want to tell you. that you.

are my hero. and we are going to be ok.
because I have you. and you have me.

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.