crawling out.

It feels as if the last almost-four months has been dedicated to sleeping, or laying down wishing I was sleeping.  Also simultaneously wishing my olfactory system no longer worked so I wasn't constantly fighting the feeling of an impending vomit session.  I have really come to believe my highly advanced sense of smell needs to take much of the credit for the non-stop nauseousness as it kicks into overdrive when pregnancy arrives.  Why do I blame my nose?  Because around week 12, I was hit with a nasty sinus infection that lasted a total of around five days.  At that same time, I was tricked into believing the nausea was finally coming to an end.  I couldn't breathe properly whenever I lay down, but I didn't care.  I stuffed tissues up my nose and reveled in the glorious idea I was feeling human again.  Until the sinus infection was over, and suddenly it returned.  It was a mean little trick to play on me, as I felt swept back under into the darkness of exhaustion and nausea that doesn't care if it's morning, afternoon, evening, or waking me in the middle of my sleep as the sun began to rise.

I am slowly crawling out though, with one or two good days each week now.  It isn't consistent, and I can't figure out what causes the temporary relief, but have learned to just take each day as it comes.  {Otherwise I've been found to spend them feeling sorry for myself on those hard days of sickness, asking overly-dramatic and obnoxious questions like, Will this everrrrrrrr ennnnnnnddddd????}

In spite of feeling as though I've lived in a cave, life has carried on.


Before I was sick, there was Valentine's Day:

Beautiful, imaginative, emotional, soft-hearted, constantly singing and dancing Leah turned 5:

We took a real family vacation, with Andrea and her family!

Ben finished his FINAL, LAST EVER class, and celebrated with a nap on the stairs:

I took a quick trip to Vegas and Utah for a siblings weekend:

Then the sickness hit, and the next thing I could remember was my sister and her family visited over Easter weekend.  I was so sick and felt so badly I could barely get out of bed, but did manage one night to get a babysitter, go out to a fancy dinner and REALLY celebrate their company and the end of doctoral classes:

Preschool graduation:

Mother's Day:

Our awesome, energetic Caleb turned 9:

Then finished 3rd grade:

And those are the highlights!  

Ben has been the champion of champions while I've basically checked out of life,

only putting on makeup maybe once per week, and emerging from the house about the same.  

Before he started his new job, he took on kid-duty, grocery shopping,

laundry and cleaning.  Those were a couple of weeks I barely remember, but am so grateful for, 

because I'm sure he remembers them.  

Now he's working in a new job and is gone several nights a week again,

and I say a lot of prayers and honestly?  The kids watch a lot of t.v.  

I'm hoping I'm getting to the end of it though.  First trimesters are rough, what else can I say?

scattered.

It's getting to the point where I'm no fun anymore

I am sorry

I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are

You make it hard

Remember what we've said and done and felt about each other
Oh, babe have mercy
Don't let the past remind us of what we are not now
I am not dreaming

I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are
You make it hard

--"Suite: Judy Blue Eyes"

Crosby, Stills & Nash

aside from ben's school, there have been other difficult things going on in the past couple of months.  writing honestly?  my dad is going through his second divorce.  unlike my parents' divorce seven years ago, this one came as a surprise, and (also unlike the first one) was finished swiftly.  i know that how it appears on the outside isn't necessarily the truth of the inside, but my brother, sister and i were very surprised--and devastated.

after years of my childhood spent in an unwanted front row seat of a somewhat fractured and chaotic marriage, i found myself ready to see both of my parents start over--beginning with a new person, hoping this time would be different.  coming from a fragmented family made me peer through leery eyes as to what this new picture would look like, but i was willing to be open, and try.

what i found on the other side was the gift of getting to know some new really amazing people... most importantly, my stepmom.  brenda has this incredible capacity to immediately love and accept others, without judgment, question, or conditions.  because of her,  i was given the ability to heal pieces of my heart broken long ago, ones i thought could never be healed by another.

though i understood that this decision of divorce was made with a lot of thought and prayer, to hear that she and my dad were no longer going to be together terrified me.  truthfully, it still does.  i don't know what a fractured-family-from-a-fractured-family looks like, and i'm worried.  about my dad, about my siblings, about our relationships with those who have become a significant and important part of our lives for several years.

as i was driving caleb to school this morning, a song from my childhood came on ben's classic rock station on the radio.  i turned it up, yelling back to caleb, "i love this song!"  and started singing along.

immediately i was flooded with happy memories as a kid with my dad in the family car, beating his hands on the steering wheel like it was his own personal drum, belting out harmonies with a smile on his face as he sang these same words.


I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are

Something inside is telling me that I've got your secret
Are you still listening?
Fear is the lock and laughter the key to your heart
And I love you 

in my memory, i could see my young father, probably around the same age as i am now.  he was full of music and corny jokes, even amidst the havoc in his life.  i imagine that he visualized his life in his 60's as a time of stability and calm, watching grandchildren grow as he retired and looked forward to hobbies, traveling, and family barbecues.

right after we learned of the divorce, he spent a couple of weeks with us here.  through him i saw such a strong desire to feel hope again that was palpable.  it was difficult to know how to help or what to say.  i was also working through my own complicated feelings, but because i love him and wanted to be supportive, i tried to put those on the backburner.  i wanted to tell him everything was going to turn out alright for him, but i was no longer sure.  i worried he would sense my hesitancy, so i hugged him and told him how much i loved him, and that he could come back whenever he needed.  as i watched him drive away, i felt hollow.

after dropping caleb off this morning, i sat in the car in our driveway and continued listening to the song that reminded me of my young father.  the tears came, and i let them.  i cried for what has happened, for all he has lost, for his present day that looks so unlike what i'm sure he had idealistically pictured his story to become, for the choices he's made in this life that require him to start over yet again.

Tearing yourself away from me now you are free
And I am crying
This does not mean I don't love you, I do, that's forever
Yes and for always

I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are
And you make it hard


between this and the roller coaster of ben's school situation, the month of january shook me up, leaving me feeling separated and tossed into the wind to be scattered around.  the month of february helped me find and gather my scattered pieces, and march is already helping me to patch myself back together, preparing for wherever the wind tries to carry me next.

the power of words, and muffins.

{this is my friend kelly, who will probably kill me for posting this picture of her cleaning my house.}

“In the end, though, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it's wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices.” 

― Elizabeth Gilbert

what a difference one week can make.

i don't often reach my breaking point.  i'd like to believe it's because my rope has a longer tolerance than most, but unfortunately it's more likely because it's hard for me to recognize my own needs and emotions.  this is something i've been changing for the past 4 years, but sometimes i fall back into old habits of pushing my needs back down and shouldering on through whatever difficulty i'm treading water in, carrying the emotions of others and answering those whose needs feel more urgent than my own.  i have a tendency to shut down and isolate, and though i'm getting better with this, i'm still a work in progress.

after my last post, i realized as the words flew through my fingers without stopping, they were serving two purposes:

1)  to update friends and family.  i'm not great at talking about it unless asked-- it's a complicated situation without a clear answer yet, but i knew there were a few people wondering what was going on with ben's school situation.

2)  to recognize i do actually have a breaking point, and had reached it.

after posting the words, i found myself wanting to take it all back--to say life is fine, and i am fine, and what's going on will be fine.  i felt vulnerable--or embarrassed?  a little?  that i was weaker than i wanted to believe, or wanted others to believe.  i worried i would be perceived as searching for attention, and began to minimize my feelings, questioning why i was having such a hard time with all of it, when i genuinely find so much happiness in my life.

i thought about re-writing, making sure to end it wrapped up in a nice, neat package with an inspirational quote about perseverance or not giving up.  because that is what i actually know, and who i am, most of the time.

instead, i decided to let the words sit where they had been placed, and find peace inside of not always having to be fine.

it's okay to not have to always be okay,  

was the phrase that continually rolled through my mind on wednesday.

and then,

comments and texts in response to my post began showing up... extending love, kindness and validation.  i read them, letting them sink in as i went throughout my day, feeling my weariness lifting.

ben was interviewing in ohio at the time, and would be driving to pennsylvania that night for another interview, not to come home for 3 more days.  a friend of ours had found a family willing to let him stay in their home, which blessing came when we needed it most--checking our bank account daily with the hope of seeing a student loan deposited, and biting my nails off when each day passed without it happening.

he called me on his drive to pennsylvania, telling me of the family he stayed with, who had opened their homes as well as their hearts.  he was given food that lasted him the entire day so he didn't have to spend money we didn't have.  he was taken care of and had been treated as a friend instead of a stranger.

his interview in ohio had gone really well.  at one point, all of those being interviewed were in the same room together, and began talking.  out of the entire group, only ben and one other were married while in school, and ben was the only one with children.  "my wife and i have purposely waited to have kids while i'm doing my dissertation and interviewing--we're too stressed out, " he was told by the other married man.  ben was asked how he was surviving a doctoral program with three children and a wife, while also working for almost the entire 5 years.

"i told them," ben said through the phone, "it was because of my amazing wife."

as he spoke those words, his voice cracked and he began to cry.  and oh boy, nothing makes me cry more than when someone i love is crying.  we both sniffed as he continued to tell me how grateful he is for my support and efforts in this much-longer-than-planned journey of school.  i didn't know how much i needed to hear him say that, but i did.  and let those words sink even further, as more weariness lifted.

the rest of the week was full of family and friends extending more love and kindness.  as hard as it was, i forced myself to accept help, and by friday morning i was feeling much better emotionally, ready to handle life again.  there were dishes and laundry and sweeping to be done.  also?  it was mid-january and my christmas tree was still up, though i had pulled the empty tubs waiting to be filled with holiday decorations out over a week ago.  for some reason i had a mental block about taking it down by myself, but finding a night where both ben and i were together wasn't happening.  i had decided this morning was it, and resolved to take it down alone.

then there was a knock on the door--my dear friend kelly, who showed up with muffins in hand.  "i made extra this morning and thought you might need some," she explained as she and her adorable daughter vi walked into my disorganized home.

three hours later, we hugged before they walked back out.  as i closed the door behind them, i turned around to see an empty and scrubbed kitchen sink, swept kitchen floor, vacuumed living room, and--most importantly--the christmas tree taken down and the holiday tubs filled, ready to be carried into the garage.  we talked as we had worked together, and i realized again how important good friends are when family doesn't live close by.  those three hours may not have been a big deal for her, but i felt overwhelmed with gratitude.

just then, ben called to give me details of his pennsylvania interview.  as i answered i began to cry, explaining what kelly had just done for me, and all of the other kind things that had happened at the hands of others while he had been away.

once the phone call was finished, i sat down in the quiet, thinking back through the past week.  i've heard those who say they cannot see God during their trials, only after they are over--only during the times when things are going smoothly or miracles are taking place can they recognize His goodness and love for them.  yet our trial with ben's school was not over, not by a long shot.  not much of our situation had changed at all, in fact.  we know there are still mountains to climb.  but by allowing myself to not be okay, i allowed others to love and take care of me, and i found God again, through them.

and was (and still am) so, so grateful.

thank you.

north carolina, day 6....on Bakers Mill Road.

we left the beach to head back to durham, and had a few hours before we were meeting others for dinner, so we decided to take a stroll down memory lane and drive past the group home we had once managed.

we passed the Food Lion, where we used to grocery shop with the teenagers, and shopped at the mall where one of the clients ran away from me for a few hours.  that was a terrifying day, let me tell you.  i had to get security involved to help me find her, and was panicking with the thought of the phone call i was going to have to make to her mother, telling her that i couldn't find her 10-year-old daughter.

once she was finally found, she knew she was going to lose all of her privileges when we returned to the home, so i had to endure an hour long temper tantrum, standing among a crowd of strangers all fresh from Christmas, innocently enjoying their day off, while she screamed curse words at me with mucus running down her nose and into her mouth.  as firm as i tried to stand during that afternoon, and as calm as i attempted to look, inside i was shaken.  

we kept driving, passing the elementary school we had visited for reasons no one should ever have to visit an elementary school.  as we turned down Bakers Mill Road, i was brought back to the different life i had lived. i had driven up and down this street more times than i could count, the wheels of the group home van rolling over the pavement as we went to and from one therapy appointment to the next, tensely gripping the steering wheel while taking one of the clients to the hospital, going to church and praying for them to make it through the 3 hours without losing it, on our way to one of the schools to pick up a teenager who was expelled for attempting to kill the vice principal with a stapler {true story}.

we pulled up to the house, which was now just a home for a family.  i wanted to run up the stairs and throw open the front door, inhaling to see if the scent that used to turn my stomach was still there, to see if the piano she had stood and jumped on while screaming the F-word was still there, to look for the patch-jobs on the walls from the multiple holes that had been punched in them were still there, to see if the office door with the glass squares that had been broken while i was just inches away was still there.  i wanted to see if the upstairs bedroom that had become a sanctuary for my then-family of 3 was still Bracing Blue, the color ben and i had loved so much and picked out together.

i wanted to know how life could be lived differently in that home-- without the anxiety, stress and fear i had attached to it.  i wanted this house to lose its power over me.

i held my hand out of the window, taking a picture of the brick and the green with my phone.  as we slowly drove back down the tree-lined street, i thought of the last time i had looked at the house in the rearview mirror, finished with our year contract, already a day behind schedule from a faulty moving company, frantic to get on the road and taste the peace of just our family again.

this time as we drove i only felt content. i knew how much i had changed from those experiences, from that year, and i realized as we turned off of Bakers Mill Road that the memories i had were just that now.  moments of my life, not what defined it.  i had kept the good with me, and left the hard and traumatic within those walls.

the house that was no longer a group home had already lost its power.

we arrived at dinner, meeting up with our bosses, co-workers and friends--part of the small group that helped us to not lose ourselves during those 12 months.  it was so great to get caught up on the changes that had taken place in the 5 years since we'd last seen them.  i remember the loneliness--i had no friends outside of them, no social outlet, aside from them.  i'm grateful for their support, the kind that can only come from someone who has lived that life.  that was the year i started blogging, desperate for a way to reach to the outside world.  

which brings us full circle, i guess....blogging about when i began blogging. it's funny to me how life can do this, showing you shadows of yourself just from a drive down a familiar street and dinner with familiar faces.

our last night in north carolina was a meaningful one for me, and the perfect way to end our visit.

north carolina, day 3. the wedding.

the wedding was beautiful, and fun.... and yes i cried.  i couldn't help it!  the song that played when carmella was walking down the aisle was absolutely beautiful.

also?  i looked like a complete fool walkingslashdancing up the aisle.  we were asked to "get our hips into it" and i tried my hardest to get my groove on, but my attempts were ridiculous, and ben has the video footage to prove it.  oh well.

carmella's husband and all of the family there were so warm and welcoming to us, we felt like we fit right in.  i love that, and made a conscious thought to myself to work harder to be this way with others.  after the wedding everyone danced, and ben and i were no exception.  let me say, we did not have the moves that everyone else seemed to have, and we laughed at ourselves the majority of the time.  but we let go, and it was fabulous.

after the reception, we took off for the beach!



here, are the pictures from the wedding.