Tuesday, January 13, 2015


2014 was supposed to be the year.  Some of my passwords have even been "baby2014" for years now.  2014 was going to be my year.  Then my grandma died, I got shingles, I blew my face out, and then S... We made a memory jar at the beginning of the year to put good memories in and read them on NYE.  I ended up having a seizure on NYE, so we had to cancel our plans with our friends.  Spencer woke me up at 11:00 and we watched the ball drop.  I wanted to take the jar and throw it, "watching it shatter like my dreams."  (I am so dramatic.)  But Spencer insisted that we read them.  It was true that most of them had to do with S, but there were a lot of other good ones too:
  • We put our papers in
  • The Aggies (Seahawks) won the Superbowl
  • We went ice-skating
  • We got a call from our adoption case worker on Valentines Day
  • I made a walking dead cake, a top hat cake, a rose cake, a china cake, an armadillo cake, and planned my first official client birthday party in March and turned 30
  • We had our home study and my MIL couldn't open the door because of the child locks, so hilarious!!
  • We were approved!
  • We participated in an adoption carnival fundraiser
  • Spencer got an awesome promotion
2015 will have it's ups and downs, just like every other year.  I'm making a memory jar for this year too, and hoping that it will be "the year."  I'm still waiting for the motivation/guidance to apply with another agency.  I'd better do it fast, though, if it is to be "the year." ;)  

Things are still really hard.  My baby brother turned 28 on Sunday, so we went up to Logan to get him a birthday gift and have a date night.  We also wanted to get some bricks from the Toaster, the church we went to together when we were engaged.  I'm still trying to think of something cool to do with them and am welcome to suggestions!

We decided to get him some Aggie gear.  One whole wall of the store was baby stuff.  One. Whole. Wall.  I steered clear, but when there are only two walls...well.  I swallowed the lump in my throat, telling myself, "I'm not pregnant anymore," and as I said the words the panic came.  

Previously, upon experiences like this, I might tear up a little or feel the familiar pang in my heart, but now it's different.  I can almost feel my heart breaking itself.  I can barely breathe.  It feels like there is an elephant standing on my chest and if I try to take a breath my heart will finally tear itself apart, making that one last final rip. It feels like I could drown.  In words, in blood, in sweat, in tears.  

I'm trying.  I'm trying so hard.  I'm clawing my way through my days and each day I get a little further than I did the last.  Nighttime is the hardest.  It's when the elephant comes back.  I know someday the elephant will let me train him, eventually.  I know I will have my baby someday.  Maybe sooner than I realize. But until then, this elephant is a mean one.

My friend's sister recently had to deliver her stillborn baby boy and bury him.  I do not have her strength.  Give me a baby doll and stick me in a padded cell.  I can't imagine her elephant.  This business of being mothers is so difficult.  There are so many girls with so many elephants.  

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