Thursday, December 18, 2014

Before you speak, ask yourself: is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve upon the silence? --Shirdi Sai Baba

I've been sad, mostly missing last year's Christmas season with the kids. I keep telling myself not to worry, the littles are a letter and a phone call away, and that I should focus on my new little life and the simple Christmas I am having this year. However, during this time of year it is particularly good to be young and even though Juliet (my friends' almost two year old) provides a level of joy in my life, I am left feeling empty, not having nearly enough little loves in my life.

I hope that Kieran, Liam, and Violet know that I try to make all our memories special. In my absence, they remember, and are reminded with each of my visits, how much I love them, and how special our time together is, and how special they are.

Speaking of visits, I don't know if I want to go to Salt Lake City for a visit in February. It seems too soon, and the idea is painful. I am finally feeling the last several months there, and I am unsure of these original plans. There is always the option of asking Jess to come here instead, but it is hard with her job pinning down any dates...and, I want to see the kids, and the Utah moms, and my Old Navy family.

We'll see.

In the meantime, Bradford and I have been together for 6 months. The 6 best months I have ever experienced while simultaneously feeling other big things.

There are a number of incredible things about our relationship, but some of them are as simple as we never tire of one another. I am sometimes surprised by the ease and brevity of our conversations, to the rich, deep significance of our words to one another, especially when we are snuggled up to one another. I relish every moment we have together, and whenever we are back together again I can't wait to tell him the things that happened in his absence.

Our incredibleness together makes me feel so grateful at my decision to not force a relationship in Salt Lake that wasn't working, and to wait for a partner that is my best friend. I feel we are both so well suited for one another based upon the fact that we both know who we are, what we want, what our worth is to ourselves, and our worth coming into a functional relationship. Plus, I can tell him literally, anything.

Lately, I have been feeling less than stellar about myself. I have the tendency to have questionably low self-esteem at times. The other day I was mentally beating myself up; feeling like I wasn't good enough to be in my relationship, for a variety of reasons. I explained to Bradford that I wished he had met me 18 to 24 months ago-- that I felt like I really had things together, personally, at work, health wise, in my home, and I felt proud. 

The conversation that proceeded left me feeling light in my heart, blessed, and grateful at my decision in agreeing to pursue a relationship with one another. 

Sometimes, it feels strange to feel so strongly, and flamboyantly in love, when at the start of the year I was with someone else. Then I realize that feeling is only there because of the fear of what others may say, or think. But, I have noticed that anyone that matters, anyone close to me-- loves me happy. 

For the most part, I recognize happiness, even in the haze of sorted grief. And, I am excited to see what the future holds as we build each other and our lives up together. I am excited to be with him as I continue on my journey, and I am certain that the last six months has set the pace to something great. 

Monday, December 1, 2014

Cary Elwes, The Uncontrollable Nuisance of Pre-Winter Blues, and a Million Other Little Tales...

To say I've been trying to write a blog post for a while is a little bit of an understatement.

Well, here's an obligatory run-down:

I've been working as a hostess at a local restaurant for about a month now, it is a few miles away from my apartment in West Eugene, and I love it. It's been a welcome change of pass working in a kitchen-- it's fast-paced, fun, and food is involved. It's amazing feeling so good at the end of each of my shifts. Not to mention a serious, much needed blessing.

Things have been great on a personal level as well, I moved from my roommates home into a small two bedroom apartment. I miss being close to my roommates, but feel so blessed to have me, and Gabriel set-up and comfy and cozy on our own. We have Bradford, my boyfriend, and Schrödinger, his cat-- and all of us together make up the cutest nerd family. It's crazy how quickly things became delightfully domestic.

With Bradford's support I've been looking into finishing my degree, and maybe taking part in the Culinary Arts and Hospitality Management Program at Lane Community College-- it's a big decision, and I am trying not to take it lightly, I've followed through with filing my FAFSA paperwork and applying to Lane. I am hoping that with a little work, and organization I can hammer out the details, and make a good decision, before further putting the two of us into debt.

I am taking a break from Facebook-- much like my needed break last year. I feel that even though there are so many blessings in my life currently, there is no denying that I am finally dealing with the grief I put on hold in the Spring-- I was extremely depressed during that time, but the random mishaps that led to sudden changes in my life made me put that depression on hold and get myself in a more healthy and safe situation. Now, I am back to dealing with feeling all the hurt and grief I feel for having two losses back-to-back, dealing with the ugly hard side of PCOS, dealing with the hurt feelings I have from being ostracized, and hurt by a loved one, dealing with the repercussions of staying in a relationship with a mentally unwell partner for so long, and dealing with some hard rage that has settled in my gut.

I have started taking steps in the direction of wellness, but it takes a lot of patience, time, work, and want. So, Facebook is gone, until I am feeling better.

Moreover, my Utah family has also disassociated themselves from my ex. I am grateful for that for a variety of reasons, unfortunately, that decision also briefly put me in a spot. However, I feel like I handled it as appropriately as one can, I ended up needing to tell his family some of the things my ex told my best friend, because there was a health/safety concern, after involving them, we asked for no further contact from them. Endings are sad, but this was very necessary. I am mostly sad, because I really liked my ex's sisters.

On a completely joyful, happy note on the 4th of December I am meeting Cary Elwes. I am stoked.

In the meantime, I am working on a new set of goals for 2015, and I am working my ass off to complete my one big goal of 2014 (my new year's resolutions fell to the waste-side). I want to be back under 200lbs, after both the pregnancies PCOS does what it does, and my weight became uncontrollable. I hit back up to 230 at one point-- despite working very hard to maintain health. I am currently back at 215.2lbs. I generally tell people that health isn't a number on a scale, and that is very true, but I also know that my current weight isn't healthy. My short term goal has been to be back under 200lbs, and my long-term goal has been to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight, which was 185.

Once I've reached those goals I'll reassess. I also have other goals, but soon enough I know I am gonna reach this goal. And, I am so grateful that I am finishing 2014 so strong.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Keeping Up With Sari...

I've been trying to write this for quite sometime, but just haven't had it in me to blog. Here's a general catch-up and a general purging of feelings.

Since my last blog entry I started dating someone, seriously. He is wonderful. Bradford is genuine, as genuine as people say I am. He is kind, thoughtful, sweet, and attentive. We are good, and everyday the last 4 months, the amount of time we've been dating, I've been grateful that his friendship, and love are there and present.

I thought my next relationship wouldn't be for sometime, and I am amazed, daily, by the amount of appreciation I have coming into this relationship. Bradford is amazing, and I deserve amazing.

Plus, there is no better feeling than being in love.

Anyways, today, for the first time in a long while, I had to go into Urgent Care, because of not being able to get my daily pain (increased because of my current cycle) under control. And, because of the pain I am in, I am in a very dark place.

I find myself slipping into sadness as I let some of my past creep in-- so, naturally, being in pain, and letting past situations eat at me, has me constantly thinking dark thoughts about the ectopic pregnancy, I find myself miserably upset about my past losses (most likely, because I had to give my medical history this morning at Urgent Care), and then I really find myself questioning certain situations, and throwing a pity-party for myself. Don't get me wrong-- my feelings are valid, and the negative feelings, and being upset towards people during that time isn't wrong, but the dwelling on it is a pisser.

So, today, I say fuck it. I am tired of being strong all the time. I have daily pain. I hurt every single day, because of PCOS. I have endometrial issues, and have days where I can't fucking get out of bed. I have been having these issues for so long, that I do not remember how it feels to be 'normal' anymore. My pain is so bad, that it leads to other struggles-- when my pain is worse (like days like today), I can't stop crying, I get panicky more easily, and my irritability gets so bad, I hate being me, and I feel sorry for my loved ones.

Today, I wish so bad, that I could rewind to August 2013. I wish I had never experienced all the loss-- the hormone imbalance getting shitty again, the weight gain, the hardship, or working so hard, and not getting results. I know this part, losing weight, takes time, but I am so frustrated. I had been doing so well, and all of that work feels gone.

Today, in my misery I am allowing this sadness, and I am making plans to get myself feeling better, after my day of really good crying. My plans will be me refocusing and being grateful:
1) Thanks to my amazing boyfriend, I have a camera I get to use again.
2) Soon, we'll be in our new place, which means we won't be commuting 2 hours a day anymore, I'll be hooping in my own space, and at the new apartment complex I'll have access to really good indoor hooping space with really high ceilings.
3) I am going to be reminding myself that how others treat me is their path; how I react is mine.
4) I am going to count my blessings, and be glad I have two of the world best kitties. Let's hear it for Schrodinger, and Gabriel.
5) I've been keeping up on working out, and I am really proud of the fact, that I am still practicing good, consistent, healthy choices.

Also, I am so glad that I have so many amazing things going on in my life. I know they are present, and I know my incredible support in my loved ones is in play. It's also okay to admit to have bad days, feel this too, and recognize that it's okay to admit that I have these pain issues, and sometimes I need extra support. Everyone needs extra love sometimes, and I do too.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

"I like you so much I'm gonna take you behind a middle school and get you pregnant."

So, I've been postponing an update for sometime now, because I recently experienced a little negative backlash, like people do when they live openly, and share things online. I have quite a thick skin after so many years of blogging, and because I truly believe that getting upset over something someone has said online is ridiculous.

Anyways, to touch slightly on base it felt like this individual was trying to flame me because I use MFP, and the fact that I still weight myself versus me preaching just being healthy.

I am guilty of using MyFitnessPal-- it has helped me a lot while learning about nutrition. I absolutely do weigh myself from time-to-time, but that varies.

I think sexy happens at any size, I feel great at my current size, but also feel great knowing that I am almost back to the weight I felt my best at. I've worked for that. I am not fat-shaming anyone, because I am still fat. I am just a healthy, fat person (yeah they exist), that happens to be a sexy beast as well.

I do not think of this blog as a 'weight loss blog.' It's not. It may have started that way many, many moons ago. But, things evolve. I evolve. This blog has evolved. This blog is about me. Pure and simple. It's hoopy, and whimsical, and sometimes pure none-sense, but hey, that's me.

Now that we've got that out of the way, I need to sit down, write some goals and start reaching them. Since being back in Oregon I've been dealing with things the best way I know how; one thing at a time. I've been sad off and on, but for the most part things have been wonderful.

Today I wrote the kids a letter, and I was able to babysit for Skye and Keith. I recently found out that I was being under paid at my new store, and I'll be getting back pay very shortly. I've been able to get on Public Assistance, which was needed and I am grateful. I've been biking a lot (in the last week and half I've laid down 85 miles according to Runtastic). My skin is sun-kissed. I look happy and healthy. I've been honest with myself as far as where I am at, I am still dating, and I'm enjoying being single.

I am allowing myself to have silly crushes when appropriate, and brushing off dudes that are douche-bags. I just wanna smile, have a great summer with my friends, occasionally flirt with people, feel good on my own, hoop dance, and set into the rhythm of my new life.

I am happy with writing, taping hoops, working my day job, and being proud of doing things on my own for myself. It's kinda cool realizing my own awesomeness (in a totally non-self-centered sorta way, right?).

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

You know you're actively dating in Eugene, Oregon when a story on each of your dates starts out 'I was frying balls when...'

Blackberry. Soon. 
I've been meaning to update since I got here, but it's hard-- I've been super busy, we don't have internet yet, and I am trying to get myself set-up at work. Currently, I am at Skye and Keith's house, watching their sweet baby (she's asleep), and using their internet.

Things have been really good. I am soaking up everything about being here. When it's rainy and overcast I go out and I ride my bike-- it feels like a privilege after spending so much time in SLC (I miss the kids and Jess more than anything in this world). I literally feel my lungs cleaning themselves out, and getting healthy. I am working hard, hula hooping tons, taping hoops, being social, feeling grateful, trying to be more and more creative, and feeling/getting healthier and healthier.

I've had a couple people ask me out, and have had a couple repeat dates. I am not necessarily looking for a relationship, just embracing all the new experiences waiting around the corner. Plus, I date well, and so far I am only pseudo interested in one person-- ie, I think this guy is cool enough to at least be friends with, so even if nothing romantic happens I want to continue facebook stalking him at the very least. What? That's normal. I even asked him to accompany me to watch lesbians knock one another over on skates (ie, its the last Roller Derby bout of the season, and I wanna scream my head off for Stormy), sadly that won't work out, but good on me for asking someone out.

Moving on, tomorrow is my thirtieth birthday. New decade.

I am getting really excited. We are going to have a BBQ at Skye and Keith's house, and then go out for Karaoke. I have Kris, Tara, and Dawn coming down from Portland. I have Ryan. I have Stormy. This year there won't be an entire guest list of no-shows to my party, and I am determined to have a beautiful day-- if anything else I'll have a fuckin' awesome party. I just won't have Jess and the kids. And, that stinks. 

But, that's the trade off to living in heaven. I am lacking my soul-mate, and my kids. It's a tough flip of the coin, but the deeper into settling the more I hate Utah even more. This entire experience has taught me so much, and for that I am super grateful. Just moving back home has reminded me that I am enough. I am strong. I have confidence. I am funny. I have friends. I have a job I am good at. I am loving working Buckleberry Hoops as much as I have been (a lot of trade work, which is fuckin' awesome, btw). And, I deserve all the good things that have been happening the last few weeks.

Anyways, I should probably wrap this up. I am waiting on Stormy to pick me up before going to the photo shoot Skye is having for 2015 Babes of the Northwest calendar.

Here are a few of the pictures Skye has done for me since I've been home. I am goofy, beautiful, and I love these: 

Thursday, May 8, 2014

(5/8) Take courage and leap; your sense of time is perfect

So, it looks like this will be my last blog entry for a little bit of time-- my new place in Eugene won't have the interwebs set-up until June, and I thought it best to mention my absences now since I've slowly, but surely have been gaining a blog audience.

How do I sum up my emotions about tomorrow? At this time I have more apprehension than excitement in me. I'm scared, I'm nervous, angry, and wanting to do unkind things to others-- for example I have to beat back the urge to give my two-cents to busy-body, asshole with no boundaries a piece of my mind. Yesterday when I was done with my last shift at the Sugarhouse Old Navy it was difficult not to tell the lead cashier (who has been nothing but nasty, and god-awful since Beth and I's transfer) how excited I am that I won't have to see her anymore.

I guess revenge to anyone that's made my life difficult in anyway while going through the ectopic pregnancy, or during the break-up of my engagement deserve a giant 'fuck you.' But, I'm not acting on that, and still trying to focus on good things, to keep my mind from drifting to a dark place.

I am just so grateful I had my last appointment with Jenny (Jenny Patterson Vasquez) on Tuesday. It was hilarious (as I often get funnier when I am really, really sad or upset), and satisfying. I was able to go over my feelings over someone close to me's involvement in an incident that occurred a couple weeks ago and I was able to get my heart to a forgiving accepting place (though we did spend two sessions discussing said incident), and we exchanged information to keep in contact.

I think the 5 to 6 weeks of therapy I had was probably the greatest gift I could give myself. Talking to her weekly helped let go of the suicidal thoughts, she gave me tools for dealing with BPD and understood/supported my decision of not having my mother be apart of my life, she made me feel so good about the tools I've gained through the life changes and how I implement them, and she made me feel like I was more in control of my emotions and how I react to them-- though whenever I expressed any negativity (like my revenge thing) she understood it all together and told me on more than one occasion that she was impressed with my self-control (trust me in the last few weeks I've wanted to do a few rotten things as a reaction to how I was feeling, but I didn't act on these things, because I'm 30, not 10).

Never-the-less, when she would tell me how impressed she was by my inability to act on these horrid whims it was like scoring points. I am not my mother. I am me, and love, kindness, and caring are always going to win.

She made me feel strong. We shortly touched base on our last visit that I am in a tough spot, currently. Marc is coming down from his weird episode, and has been sober for nearly three weeks. I told her that it's hard, because Marc so much wants to work things out, and I've told him numerous times I would love that too...however, I just feel too much stuff has happened, and the important thing for us to do now is focus on ourselves individually.

I told Jenny that even though I have forgiven Marc, I don't want to forget the things that have happened between us.

Thursday, April 24, 2014

A Heart Can Be Broken But It Still Keeps Beating


There are lots of silver linings to look forward to, but I also feel a lot of sadness, and stress. We already passed the day we had been planning to be our wedding day, and I survived.

Seriously, work and being busy has been my saving grace. Outside of that, I think therapy is really working it's magic. I hope I'm able to continue seeing someone once I am settled in my new place, new store location, and new life.

I've been trying to deal with one feeling at a time, and counter the negative with really uplifting positive thoughts. In the meanwhile, during my appointment before last, Jenny gave me a little bit of homework-- she told me to look into the book Stop Walking On Eggshells, which I've already started, and to start showing the same compassion I show others to myself.

So, today, I had my last massage with my favorite masseuse (Fallon)-- it was amazing. We met at an outside location away from the clinic I originally met her, it was an hour and a half of pure bless, and afterward she asked me to do something else kind for myself, and then she gifted me the massage asking me to take the money I would have spent on the session towards my birthday night, and the promise I'll text her.

Fallon also told me that I was looking really good. She said I looked radiant, healthy, glowing, and more happy. That really warmed my heart, especially since I've been feeling kinda negative. With all the hormone changes I've had fluctuating weight changes-- nothing I know is forever, but in the midst of moving, putting all the exercise things in boxes to be shipped, and working all the time, I've been mostly trying to eat (mostly) okay, and just be forgiving of myself and keep trucking towards my fast approaching move date.

In the meantime, I've been thinking the kindest, most compassionate thing I can do for myself at this time is start making, and reaching goals. I haven't done that since we confirmed our last loss, and I think the best way to move forward is to find normality in what my new life is going to be like.

So, until now, and the end of May I am setting the following goals for myself:
75 miles, or as many miles as possible in the next 38 days
Login to MFP, keep track of food diary
Participate in Paced breathing exercises 5 days a week
Commute by bicycle as much as possible
Get 8 hours of sleep a night
Read a book
Be positive at work, smile more, slow down breathing
4x exercise a week
Re-focus on drinking as much water as possible throughout the day

I know some of these goals I've made, and reached before in the past, and I realize that a lot of these things I do near daily as part of my lifestyle-- but, I put them on my goals list, because I want to make certain things a priority. I am out of practice, and need to get back to basics.

Plus, my sleep, keeping hydrated, working out, and monitoring my food intake and ensuring I am eating good foods are all things that I have control over, and I like taking power of the things I can control right now. It makes me feel better, and reminds me that I have power over my emotions, the way I react to them, and how I conduct myself.

I want to be happy. Even though things are still rocky here and there, I think I make that choice daily. I choose to smile, laugh and be happy.

When things are rough, I look at pictures of Jess and the kids, and my heart lightens. I get texts of love, encouragement and support every single day from Stormy, my sister's fast approaching wedding date keeps making my eyes grow light with happy anticipation, and I have so may wonderful outlets. I am blown away by all the wonderful people in my life currently-- my co-workers, Skye, the kids (I miss them so much. Working as often as I've been working the last couple weeks has made it impossible to spend time with them. But I get them a few nights to myself in a week), my wonderful mom, Deana, my dad-- the list goes on and on.

Now, all I need to do is get through the next 14 days.

I can do this.

Friday, April 11, 2014

"I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear." --Martin Luther King Jr

So, things are going.

It's hard, everything in my life is hard. Don't get me wrong, I am mostly happy, but I think that's due to how I admit how difficult things are and then I'm seemingly able to deal with whatever is challenging me in that moment, deal with it, and move on.

I think the bestie said it best yesterday when she was comparing my depression in March to the depression I felt after losing Cash in 2009. Marc's final decision woke me up, and I snapped out of it. I'm still dealing with the back-lashes of being in deep depression for so long, but for the most part I am handling it in very healthy ways; sleeping enough, eating good foods, packing, being constructive, I am setting aside time every night to practice paced breathing, I am selling things, going to therapy consistently, and making a decision as to where I want to start my new chapter of life.

I am Oregon bound.

I have a few Lestat quotes that I keep in my back pocket (damn you, Anne Rice, you brilliant bastard), and one keeps circling around in my brain from QotD, I think:

"It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give us a greater luster to our colors, a richer resonance to our words. That is if it doesn't destroy us, if it doesn't burn away the optimism and the spirit, the capacity for vision." 

This situation, though sad, I have decided to not let it ruin me. This will not burn away my optimism, I'll keep on my journey towards always wanting to be a better version of myself than I was the day before, and my spirit will only be stronger.

I feel with everything that has gone on, and with all the growing I've done, that being completely devastated over someone who chose not to be with me feels silly. The fact that Marc can look me in the eye after a planned pregnancy, knowing that I am not done miscarrying (my hCG levels are nearly to zero-- Dr. Nance is saying one more week!) dump me, then ask me back with tears in his eyes, as his phone is in his hand receiving texts from girls he has met online, speaks volumes of his mental state, and the type of human he is choosing to be. Coming to the realization doesn't remove my sadness. I am just dealing with it one step at a time, one day at a time.

Marc and I have decided to consciously separate, meaning since I won't be completely out of our home until May 7th (and will be officially in Eugene May 9th), and he has agreed since he was the one who mainly wanted this pregnancy (and I have been unable to work the month of March) that he will help me relocate. He even agreed to certain things during a mediation the bestie held for us.

In the meantime, it's been hard and sad being here in our home still. I want to deal with everything properly, and pack things, and leave with my job intact-- but, having Marc behave the way he did/does, decide things the way he did, and then be completely miserable, because I'm unwavering in my own personal decisions hurts us both. And, makes me anxious, which can lead to poor decision making.

That's why I've been getting so much out of therapy. I feel as I make my decisions, and have so much time to discuss stuff with Jenny I have felt like I've been making the best choices I can make. It is hard turning off the part of my brain that says 'we' to 'me,' but I'm doing it. With every choice I am making I know I am deciding what will make me happier in the long-run.

Everything I have built here, everything that I have here, and everything I have become can easily transfer over to my hometown. I came for family love and support and I can still have that with my Utah family while I'm in Oregon.

I am scared, and I was preparing on moving back in 2016-- with Marc. But, I know in my heart that I can be happy, on my own, with myself.

It's a new decade (I'll be thirty on May 29th), a new city, a new life, a new me, and a new chapter.

I've decided the best way to celebrate is to make this the best summer, ever-- I am planning a lot of Oregon Adventures. 

I am trying to get excited, get things done, be happy, take care of myself, allow myself to be vulnerable, and deal with sadness. I think I'm doing okay-- I'm just putting one foot in front of the other.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

I am tenacious. Bitch.

I currently have a blog in my drafts entitled "The One With Two Steaks and an Eggplant" that I was writing for my friend, Beth, but I felt this was more pressing to get to.

Here's a conversation I had at work today:

Jenn: "How's your baby?"
Sari: "My pregnancy ended up being ectopic. I haven't really worked this last month, because of the cancer medication I was being injected with..."
Jenn: "Oh my god, Sari. How are you and your fiance handling all this?" 
Sari: "Not well. We broke up."

Marc and I are no longer together. We are both dealing with this the best way we know how. We both love eachother, and I know we are both hurting. And, before I start this (and pretty much air our laundry publicly and embarrassingly) I want to mention that I don't think Marc is a bad guy. It is just clear to me that we aren't meant to be long-term, I guess.

I know I made the right choice in sticking by this decision. I just feel that I deserve better than being dumped like trash when he decides he doesn't need his medication, and I don't want to sign up for a lifetime of repeating drama.

I have been through this before with him. He dumped me, and left me with no place to go the day after Christmas in 2011, out of nowhere. Nine days later he was committed. While in the hospital a lot of things bubbled to the surface, and I forgave him.

I forgave the cheating (with multiple partners, of both sexes, unprotected while he was still sleeping with me), the lying, and decided that I wasn't going to throw away my relationship, because I had some experience first hand in 2005 how it feels to be very, very manic. I knew in my heart that something was off, and when he was placed in the hospital due to abusing his Adderall during a pretty severe manic episode-- I stayed as faithful, and stubborn as possible.

Marc would never hurt me while in his right mind.

I cleaned his house after he spent seven days straight awake-- doing Lord only knows what, and pissing on the walls, I went and got his car and brought it back to his place, helped take care of d'Art and Fitzwilliam, and tried to be supportive and loving to him, and his family. I did all this, because I had known for months that there was something wrong and I couldn't put my finger on it. I decided to forgive him even after he told his sister I gave him cocaine (which I've never even have touched in my life), and made up a butt-ton of crazy stories.

He has a selective memory of the things that happened during that time (and has a pretty selective memory of the things going on presently), but he was so bad his parents told me at one point that he would have to be placed in a 'home'...and once he was released from the hospital he was like a scared, rabid animal.

But, Marc did what he does that makes me attracted to him in the first place. He worked hard on changing his situation, because he was unhappy. It was a slow process, but he worked hard-- for the first few months after being out of the hospital the cocktail of medication he was on made him sleep all the time, and gain weight, but after a while that tapered off, and his doctor had him on something that was working well.

I stayed his friend, and we worked really hard to repair the things that went on between us. When we got back together I made it abundantly clear that I wasn't going to be one of those couples that break up a million times, and get back together a million times. It's pathetic, white-trash, and not something I am interested in doing the rest of my life.

The 29th of March was the day we officially broke up. I begged him, not to stay with me, but to give it a week before making a decision that would potentially change both of our lives, forever. At first he agreed that he wanted to wait a week before making any permanent decisions. But, then he told me four times in a row that he couldn't be with someone he felt was 'abusive.'

After the fourth confirmation that he no-longer wanted to be together I got up and I called my parents. Eight hours later, he changed his mind-- saying; "third times a charm..." But, like Marc pointed out, he knows how I am once I set my mind to something, and I make a decision.

And, now I feel ashamed of the things I put up with just to hear someone tell me that he loves me.

Even with the medication things weren't perfect-- Marc has been caught several times trying to meet up with people, either on Craigslist, or on gay local websites. He took private pictures that I posed for, for him, and took those naked pictures and put them online without my consent, or knowledge.

And, the worst part was taking himself off his medication without anyone's knowledge in November, continuing to take his mother's money she was giving us for his prescription, and then deciding to tell me after the fact.

I got him to go in to see a doctor, and his doctor said he was willing to see how he would do without the medication, and it's become abundantly clear to me that he is not doing well.

A few days prior to our breakup I started having a really bad, sinking feeling. I couldn't put my finger on it, and since I've pretty much been bed ridden for the month of March I just continued trying to express my feelings to Marc, to facebook, hell to anyone who would fucking listen (I should have just called Jess from the get-go).

During this miscarriage, and the experience of having an ectopic pregnancy Marc was really distant (he tried couple times to be comforting, but this was pretty short-lived. I just kept trying to look on the positive side of things). I chalked it up to him grieving. But, when I told him that I felt so depressed that I was having suicidal thoughts, and that I felt lonely, and like I needed him, he told me that I had become too sad for him to be around. He made me walk home from most of my appointments at the U (I could have gotten on the bus, but after each of my appointments, I was bawling, and crying on in front of strangers on public transportation is NOT my idea of a good time), and started staying up all night, maybe only getting four hours of sleep a night.

And, the catalyst that set it all off? On Thursday morning (the 27th), it was my second day back to work, and I asked Marc if he could give me a ride that morning to Old Navy, he told me no, saying he had a meeting and that he was anxious to get to work early before the meeting. That evening I ended up finding out that he ran off to have coffee with a girl that Jess is good friends with, and once more he also told me that he was staying up all night talking to her.

When I told him I found it weird that he was hiding this new friendship, that turned into me trying to 'control' who he can be friends with-- throwing the fact that I don't let him hang out with his friend Tom in my face, and that he was unaware that he couldn't have friends. Tom is an old friend of his that was convicted for child pornography, and I have fought him tooth and nail to not have him in our home, because 1) that's gross, 2) I was raped repeatedly as a child by an older cousin, and I don't want convicted sex felons around me, and 3) Kieran, Liam, and Violet are in our home a lot, and I would kill Tom (even though I don't know him) before he would be allowed to so much as look at those kids.

And as far as his new friend, Darcy, I found it odd that he couldn't take me to work, or be there for me in during my sad and dark time, but he had the time to invest with her.

Our fight that night consisted of some pretty epic screaming from me. He basically was live-tweeting our argument to Darcy while it was going on in front of me, instead of actually speaking to me. He started telling people that I hit him-- his mom, his sisters, my best friend, her husband, and Lord knows who else. Which has been incredibly triggering, because of my past abuse I endured from Josh beating me, raping me, controlling me, telling me I am not lovable, and from the things I experienced from my biological mother's mental health.

I sob every time I think of laying my hands on him, because I don't have that in me (regardless of the raging part of me that's from Springfield), and I know he's saying those things, because he is going through some pretty heavy shit, but to me it is inexcusable.

When I spoke to my dad about this particular part of our fight my Pops told me not to let Marc define me. I am not, nor will I ever be my mother, and I will never be in a million years be anything like Josh. And, I am not abusive.

Now, it's the hard part. I kept feeling with this miscarriage that things couldn't get worse-- but, they did. However, it's my experience once you've hit rock bottom there is nowhere else to go but up..."and still I rise."

I made a doctor's appointment with a therapist named Jenny Vasquez for Friday to get me support for my grief. And, because I have no money because I have been spending my money on an elopement that's never going to happen, my friend, Samantha, found someone to buy my hoopcamp ticket off of me. I put my elliptical on KSL, I've been staying the last few night's at Jess' just because a baby can heal a broken heart, and children's laughter is like medicine to sadness. I have to sell a bunch of my things, because I don't have the means to keep them, and I am trying to figure out what my next move will be.

I can stay in Utah near my kids, and my Jess and Ian, or I can move back home. I have Noni offering to open her home to me, and I have a friend from High School that offered me a spare room in his home.

I know Utah isn't my forever home-- I've always known that, and part of me wanting to move back to Oregon so bad is because I dislike so many things here, and when I got pregnant last Fall I physically ached at the idea of raising a child here. I wanted to move to Oregon with Marc, because I felt like that was the place for us, and our someday family. Plus, I love it there. It is beautiful, clean, mysterious, has great greens, and my roots feel embedded there.

In the same breath, I don't want to see my mom in Oregon, ever. All of my family is now scattered everywhere (a sister and niece in Montana, a brother and sister-in-law in North Dakota, three sisters in Illinois, and my parents, grandma, and two of my brothers are in South Carolina), and the main reason to stay here is Jessie and the kids.

The idea of losing three kids again kills me (it makes me think of not seeing, or speaking to Alex, Ryan, or Nicole), and in the five years I've had The Compound as my home I have really felt like it was MY HOME too. A place where I can totally be myself, and everyone still loves me. A place where I feel valued, and like I'm part of a family.

In the meantime, I've been watching this a lot and it helps tremendously each time I see it. As Momma-Deana said once; "Preach it, Meada!"

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

And the wounded skies above say it's much, much too late

Well, here it goes.

The truth is this page has been pulled up in a window for days sitting blank (and I'm starting it (finally) on 3/24-- hopefully it doesn't take me too long to publish)'s like I knew, subconsciously, that I needed to wait and sort things out before writing this.

Things got rough. Things got sad. Shit fell apart. We had a series of bad news-- finding out we had to do another round of methotrexate, followed up by the news that Marc was unable to get the time we requested off for our trip approved. Then we had to make the decision to postpone the day we wanted to get married.

I was already facing depression, and then all of a sudden, it felt like things were snowballing down on me-- I am trying to mend a fight between my sister and I, but things are kinda slow-going there. I've been overly hard on myself about weight I've put on during my short pregnancy, even though I've been told it's not my fault, it's a hormone issue and I need to see an endocrinologist. My parents are in the middle of moving across the country, and I find myself not wanting to burden them, followed up by an argument with the person I feel the closest to last week. And, even though I have had people offer to help me if I need anything I don't know what I need, so how do I vocalize something that's unknown?

In short, when you have a mood disorder, and suffer from anxiety and panic, and you're already drowning in the blackness that depression pulls you into it doesn't take much to tip you over that precious precipice of feeling like you're surviving to feeling like you want it all to end.

And then, a girl I haven't seen in twelve years saved my life with a random note. I reached out for help, and at first didn't get what I needed, a second reach, and Marc caught me.

I'm not sharing this to scare anyone, or to gain attention. I don't feel like I need to be on suicide watch, and I'm not trying to cause anyone to worry-- I feel quite certain, that if I've found myself in this sad situation, of hopelessness, and loss then maybe instead of ignoring it I should deal with it, share my experience, and be honest with myself, and my little world.

I felt desperate. And, in my desperate, dark moment I received a note from a girl I haven't seen since June 2002, when I graduated from High School. Kaitlin Hamlin (now Anderson, because we are grown-ups, and what-not), and I were in a class together called College Now: Writing 121. That year was a very difficult year of my high school career, because of a variety of home problems, stemming from my mother's poor health, and being diagnosed with cancer at the beginning of the year, and dealing with treatments all the way until my graduation.

This is what Kaitlin sent me:
"I've been sharing a memory a day. You are today, Sarah. Let me pain the picture: Writing 121, with Strauder-Bubala. There were a lot for people in this class including my best friend. Out of many things, I remember first becoming aware of you. You, Sarah, were a very kind, compassionate soul, and I was drawn to your nurturing disposition. But more than that I remember your passion. You were very upset that you weren't going to be able to take a class at LCC, or at Thurston for LCC, I don't remember the details. All I remember is going home and begging my parents to give you the money. The next day they sent the money with me to give to Mrs S.B., to give to you anonymously. I am telling you this 14 years later to let you know that your unwavering passion for many things is an inspiration. It is not just an inspiration today, this year, or even this decade. It has been evident since the day I met you. I hope nothing, but the best for you in your journey, Sarah. Continue to share your story, you have no idea how far your words reach."

Her words reminded me that I matter. My voice matters, my story matters, and the hurt I'm feeling matters. That no person, in the entire world, is capable of flawlessly handling every punch thrown at them. And, I decided after reading Kaitlin's message to stop pretending like everything is fine, when everything was/is not fine (I'm working on things to get myself to a good place). 

I read somewhere online something about it being okay to fall apart for a little while; "you don't always have to pretend to be strong, and there is no need to constantly prove that everything is going well." I needed to be reminded that I shouldn't be concerned with what other people are thinking either, because I had convinced myself somewhere along the way that when I am suffering from depression somehow I would slip-back into old habits, and undo the good I've done from the last few years...that somehow showing that I'm so sad that it was crushing my spirit would make me seem weak.

I reminded myself to cry, that it was healthy to shed the tears-- I'd been trying to hide away my pain, but really by not recognizing my feelings I was punishing myself, and dragging people down to be miserable around me.

The fortunate news is I have done so much work over the last several years, and I can show emotions, because I currently have no one in my life that is going to judge me harshly for doing so. 

I've undergone major life changes to help make my life better including taking steps to help handle my panic attacks; practicing weight management, eating well, supplementing, sleeping regularly (that's a big priority for me these days), I've cut down drastically on dairy in my diet, avoid processed foods and have completely eliminated gluten from my life, I quit smoking cigarettes (I can't even remember my last one, that's how long it's been), and I workout regularly and include yoga in my Hoop Practice time. 

I am so grateful for those changes that I've made slowly, but surely over the years, because it is a reminder of how strong I am during this sad time-- and, look how far I've come.

Since the passing of the suicidal thoughts, and the blinding rage I have experienced with my depression the last few weeks, I've slowly been able to get back into the fold of things-- I had my first full-shift (even though I requested a lite week, I don't want to short-change the steps I'm taking to get into my old schedule of working) on Sunday. It was really hard in some aspects-- hCG still makes me overly emotional, and I found myself wanting to cry a lot, but when I clocked out just after 2:30 on Sunday afternoon I felt proud that I decided to stick with my day despite starting the day being sick, being a tiny-bit late (I HATE being late to work), and having high emotions.

Completing my first day back to work made me feel good enough to try and go hangout with a bunch of ON co-workers from The Gateway that Sunday evening as well. That was also an experience in itself. I had many mishaps on the way from my house to West Jordan, and having a panic attack on an interstate running through Utah is really not my idea of fun, but once I got there I felt safe for the first time in along while. 

I probably over-shared, cursed too much, was overly vulgar, and inappropriate-- but, hell I needed that freeing experience of having face time with real people, being honest about my feelings, and only getting hugs in return. Seeing my Old Navy Gateway Family gave me the courage to ask for some company on Monday. I may have baked a loaf of bread and offered it to whatever facebook friend wanted it. Beth rode her bike over, ate food with me, shared some stuff going on with her, walked me to the store so I didn't have to go alone, and made sure to give me a couple of really good hugs while she was over. 

In the meantime, I've been taking time to do stress-relieving breathing exercises everyday, along with trying to be active (as much as medically possible) without over-doing it, I've been trying to get outside and in the sun when possible, and have been walking to the store a little more often. Marc has been doing a pretty good job of caring for me-- once I expressed how lonely I have been feeling, and just how bad my depression had gotten he made it a point to crawl in bed beside me a little more often, and kiss and hold me during those times. While he holds me he whispers sweet things in my ear and makes me feel completly engulfed by his love. This practice is taking the edge off of the daily hurt.

I am also working on my daily things I normally do, and I feel that's starting to lighten up my spirit. Today was my 115th day of logging into MyFitnessPal in a row, and I also celebrated a 3.6lbs drop from my last (home) weigh-in (last week). Since I don't weigh myself during pregnancy I am going to start weighing myself weekly on Tuesday mornings. I've also started working on knocking off one of my resolutions-- I bought my Hoop Camp Ticket for this year.

Other than that, I'm trying to just keep at it, and get myself happy again (I'm closer each day). I am trying to vocalize my needs as they become apparent, but am still struggling with actually asking for help. Marc, and I are hoping to reschedule our Oregon trip for May (that's also when we'll move our elopement day-- here's to May 15th, the same day Monica and Chandler got married), and we've decided to try and swing sending me to Oregon for a long weekend in April still. 

So, since I haven't been working as much, due to my medical stuff, I've been wrapping hula hoops. It's my hopes to sell eight to help get me there (I desperately need a break, and would also like to get some wedding planning done while visiting on said weekend and get ink with Mild Bill in Eugene at Indelible Ink Tattoo), and I'm encouraging SLC locals to spread the news that I have kid hoops on sale $10 to $15, and adult hoops on sale ranging from $20 to $30. I've sold two since announcing this on facebook.

In conclusion, this blog may seem overly loaded with a harsh load of truth, and randomness, but I am grateful. Grateful for Kaitlin who took the time to share a memory of me with me one morning, because those words carried the stregth I needed to help myself. And, I am grateful for Marc for being so incredible, and encouraging. It is a blessing to have a partner that puts my needs up there with his own (and vice-versa). And, most importantly, I am grateful to be me.

It has been the greatest challenge really getting to know myself, like myself, and reconize my own value. If success is a battle between you, and yourself alone then I totally got this battle.

On the Left: My sister and I. On the Right: Our mini-me, my neice, Zoey.

Monday, March 17, 2014

You can dance your way there from Old Zealand.

Well, I am going to try to keep this as upbeat as possible, but first a small update; I'm doing alright. I was scheduled to work Sunday morning, but I'm glad I stuck with my doctor's note, as I am still very sore, not feeling that great, and I'm still in bed sleeping tons.

However, I am hoping/making it a goal to call work either Tuesday, or Wednesday letting them know that I'm feeling alright, tell them I'm available if people need to call in (I might be able to cover shifts, people can ask!), and hopefully pick up a couple of my 'normal' shifts for next week (ie, I'm going to ask if I can do signange on Thursday, and Sunday, and maybe work a retail shift).

It's hard, with the upcoming trip, and eloping, I want to work, because I WANT money. At the same time, I don't want to over-do things, strain myself, or make it so I miss out on my trip, or more work, because I emotionally/physically pushed myself too soon.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and really hope that I'll be back to work for at least 2 1/2 weeks before we leave for Oregon.

We have 23 days until vacation.

I've been having a hard time because there are certain healthy foods I'm avoiding due to the methotrexate injections-- I've also been avoiding most of my supplements. In short, I'm really looking forward to full-blown healthy habits.
It's hard avoiding 'healthy' things...
When I start feeling better, I'm going to kick so much ass. I think once I'm not as sore, and tired I'll be able to slowly start some cardio-- mixed with being able to continue supplementing and eating greens I think I'll feel better. I just have to wait until my hCG level is back to zero. Dr. Nance texted to say to do my next draw on Wednesday.

In the meantime, everyday I try to pull myself together from the sheer excitement of the upcoming trip. Things are really starting to shape up for it. Wedding stuff is coming along nicely. I'm organized, and I think we are doing a good job of budgeting, and getting assistance from friends. We are going to try and make our Beach Day be at Tillamook Cheese Factory so we can do the tour, and have lunch on the coast, we are going to do OMSI, and a night in Portland. I have a list of thing we are going to order right before the end of the month-- and, I've been organizing the trip, and house prep from the comforts of my bed.
Wedding stuff-- ready to go!
Kitty assistant 
The operating center
Writing out phone numbers, and 'Things to Remember' for when we're are gone
I'm also getting together a kid friendly 'to do' list, so that the kids can earn extra money in my absence.
March has been filling up and has been really hard. Plus, I am missing working
Our April is looking busy, and fun!
I'm excited.
Some more exciting news consists of me starting the Hooping With Kids Teacher Training Course, and I am also planning on purchasing my Hoopcamp ticket in 9 days. I kinda put my New Year Resolutions on hold due to the elopement, and the pregnancy. I'll be on Marc's insurance after our trip-- and I'll be seeing an endocrinologiest specialist, but we are going to hold trying for a baby until at least October.

I am going to be focusing on hooping, getting my Teacher's certification for Hooping With Kids, knocking out some of my Resolutions, and goals, I plan on visiting my parents very soon in South Carolina-- and my biggest focus is going to be going toward gearing up towards leaving.

Friday, March 14, 2014

As it turns out, ectopic pregnancies aren't an urban legend...

On Monday when we were listing to Fleetwood Mac Radio on Pandora "Never Going Back Again" came on, and I cradled Violet and sang it to her. It ended up staying with me all of Monday, and then carried me the last few days.

It's weird how comforting Lindsay's short song is, and how soothing his voice is in my head:

She broke down and let me in
Made me see where I've been
Been down one time
Been down two times
I'm never going back again
You don't know what it means to win
Come down and see me again
Been down one time
Been down two times
I'm never going back again

I needed to do something with my grief-- as all I was doing was a lot of sitting around, as I waited for test results to come back. I got video footage three times, once while I was smoking, breathing, and trying to pull my shit together, then a video of me writing where I finally just let my shit go and sobbed, and finally a video of me dancing to the song with my hoop.

I put the song on repeat off of my little lap top, and danced to it twice. It was my first time picking up my hoop and REALLY hooping, in nearly three weeks. I really like what I caught on camera-- raw emotions as I cried, and hooped. I couldn't cut any of it, so instead I sped it up 2x, and left the drops, and imperfections.

If I left the video as is, without speeding up any of it, or cutting anything down(the crying, smoking, or dancing), there is about thirty minutes you're watching in a 2:17 period of time. 

Anyways, I guess I should go over the experience of the last few days.

My pregnancy for sure is/was ectopic. An Ectopic Pregnancy is a pregnancy that occurs outside the womb (uterus). It is life-threatening to the mother.

It was really hard going from a happy-high of our 'miracle' positive pregnancy test on Marc's birthday, to the slow realization (on my own) that this pregnancy was also not healthy, to our final diagnoses.

Everything that can be said about this situation seems trite, cliche, and not that comforting at this point. I've told myself to be grateful that it was so early on, to be grateful we caught it before a rupture, be grateful that my fallopian tubes 'look clean,' and, my personal favorite, be grateful I'm even capable of getting pregnant. Really, none of that helps in the least bit.

After about a bizzillion tests (really just a few labs) to determine if I was healthy enough for the medication option to treat this situation it was only a manner of dealing with the headache of my insurance paying for it-- I really enjoyed the part where I was nearly denied being seen, because of random problem with my insurance. It's always magic dealing with something potentially life-threatening, and then denied medical treatment.

To make a long story short, I was healthy enough for the methotrexate, a cancer medication sometimes used in treating abnormally rapid cell growth. And, today, thanks to WebMD, I was able to find some less-scary reading material about using Methotrexate for Ectopic Pregnancy.

The injection was given to me in two doses on Wednesday. Thursday, I felt emotional, and sore-- I texted Dr. Nance for pain medication. Today, I am incredibly grateful for that insight, because around 11 AM this morning I started bleeding, and now I am in so much pain its nearly blinding.

I am laying on my heating pad, trying to decide if I should go in to the ER, or not. There's always pain with my miscarriages, but I'm still in danger of a rupture (I have no fever) so I have no clue if I'm just working myself up over the pain, or if I legit should go in.

I'm going to eat, take my next pain dose, and talk to Marc/Jess when they get here in the next couple of hours to decide. I figure if I'm rational to make that decision, I'm good to wait and see if I can get this under control myself.

I appreciate the love and support I've been recieving. Jess, Marc, Skye, and Deana have really been there either physically, or by daily texts-- not to mention the love and kindness from friends, and hoopers on facebook, plus counting my blessings for the love and support I get from my work. 

Monday, March 10, 2014


2 weeks ago today, it was Marc's birthday, and we had that magical, baby-high.


Well, today, how the mighty have fallen, and how things have flipped.

Today was filled with words like hCG, blood panel, D&C, methotrexate, ectopic, and Dr. Nance reminding me how important it is that I see an endocrinologist specialist as soon as I'm on Marc's insurance.

I had my mom texting me that she wishes I was on the pill as a way to 'reset' my fertility. I love her, and I wish she was here. But, after all the work I've done since 2007 when I was diagnosed with PCOS, mixed with my bad experiences on the pill, met with the fact that I consciously made the decision to get off of it in the summer of 2008-- I just still don't see how the pill is a useful drug for a person in my situation. I don't ovulate, and it just seems silly to take a drug to keep me from doing something I've been naturally trying to correct.

It feels like a day of deep hurt. I'm sad that we never got to that happy part. The part where we get to tell people, and they are legit excited. The part where we don't feel the extra judgment from Marc's more religious family. The part where I move past the first trimester. The part where at the end of 42 and half weeks (let's be realistic) there is a shrunken version of ourselves, that screams, and feeds a lot.

I dunno.

All I do know is, I'm tired of being told it's just not my time. Going over my history with the nurses, student, and the doctor-- reciting the confirmed pregnancies, and the unconfirmed pregnancies (the ones referred to as a Chemical Pregnancy)-- maybe it's not that it's not my time, maybe no one wants to say the cruel truth; some people aren't meant to be mothers.

I may never be a mother.

My one and only chance at raising kids was spent three years with an abusive drunk. Maybe-- Alex, and Ryan are my miracle, and Spirit, or the Higher Power, or whatever is trying to teach me to be grateful for what I had. Two perfect sons, for a couple of great years.

I just want a baby, I am ready. And, I'm failing us.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

"You delete your snotty comment to me but leave mine."


Today, I pseudo fought with my sister. Which I hate, probably a little more than most people, because she is a bulldozer. And, since I can't seemingly assert myself without coming across as being a bitch (since I never do it, I think it shocks people when I use my voice), I ended up making apologies to her.

Here's the thing, as far as Marc and I's wedding is concerned-- I really don't care what other people think, or want, this isn't about them. This is about us.

The biggest deciding factor as to why we wanted to "elope" is because of that very reason, we wanted this to be about us. However, my sister and I's small conversation, has left me feeling the need to defend our decision, and myself-- if not to her face, to at least put it out there, so I won't carry my anger from today any longer...

My sister decided to send me Urban Dictionary's online definition of 'elope' earlier to try and say that we are not eloping, we are having a very small wedding, and that she was offended by my long list of guests, and the fact that my brothers, her, and my parents had nothing to do with it. Then she decided to degrade me on a public forum by telling me that this proves how much they must mean to me.


Fair enough, I thought the literal definition of elope was to 'run away'-- I could be wrong, and I haven't googled it, but either way I asked Marc's mom's permission to marry him, so right off the bat we're failing with traditional elopement plans with me getting a parent's consent.

We decided to elope a few years ago when we originally were engaged, when Marc and I were struggling because of a bunch of personal things that have to do with his family-- it put a lot of stress on us, and we went from wanting a big ceremony where his siblings stood with him, and mine with me, and our colors were going to be Chakra-inspired, and Jess' kids would have been part of the bridal party, and parents, and pictures, and cake, and etcetera, and etcetera-- to wanting no one there (one person specifically).

We decided we didn't want the stress. We didn't want to deal with having to decide where to do it (Utah, or Oregon), we didn't want to pile debt onto our parents (because we certainly don't have the money flow to chip in), we didn't want to deal with hurt feelings (Marc experienced a lot of hurt feelings due to his siblings weddings, and had a really hard time with the concept that his siblings' weddings were their thing) about who got to do what, or who wanted to be apart of the wedding party, we didn't want to deal with travelers, or trying to find places for people to stay, we didn't want the traditional rehearsal dinner, or people only really showing up to the reception for free food. And, I didn't want to feel like a parade of a who's who from anyone's ward (I'm not trying to be offensive, but that's what Utah gatherings are).

We wanted it to be me, and him, in a beautiful place that we'll always remember, on a spectacular day that would be set in hearts.

We decided to get married on our next trip to Oregon. Our vacation we were already planning. We love going there, as I'm always at my happiest, and Marc gets to enjoy the company outside of just me and sample Northwest Beer, and really experience rain. And, with my dad, Deana, and pretty much all of my family moving this month we saw the perfect opportunity for fairness-- Marc's siblings and parents, and my siblings (with the exception of Andrew), and parents would all be in different states...

As far as our 'long list of guests,' it is me, Marc, our photographer, our friend marrying us, my witness, Marc's witness, and Jess. Jess is the only person who is coming that's unplanned (and that's only because she cried)-- that put's us at 7 people.

We are running away on vacation, and getting married with both sets of parents' fully aware.

There will be pictures for everyone to enjoy after, and I've been blogging about this experience, and posting on facebook about it, because I am excited, and I figured that our family and friends would enjoy the little updates, but instead I've upset my sister.

But, like I said a few blog posts ago, planning our elopement has taught me very quickly how true Skye's words are:

"NO ONE in the world will handle it the way you want them to. No one will care as much as you and even the people you love the most will find a way to make it more difficult for you. It's always the case."

Anyways, I love my sister very much, but my plans weren't made to deliberately leave her out-- our plans were designed to leave out only one person deliberately. And, I commend Amanda for articulating her feelings, but in there she accused me of being snotty, which I feel is a really unfair accusation. On top of calling me a 'dumbass.' Her strong words have left me wanting to hug her to remind her that I love her, and simultaneously slap her around.

Those two huge disparaging remarks has left me feeling relieved at our decision. I just wish our decision wasn't hurting any one's feelings.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Live for something lighter, bigger, and better than you.

"Live for something lighter, bigger, and better than you." --Yogi Teabag
Ever since I got Deana's text yesterday that read; "I think you've been through enough, and it's better to know for sure," all I can hear is her voice asking "Haven't we been through enough?"

As I sit here, writing this, with Marc sleeping soundly to my left I can't help but think that my greatest trauma is my greatest catalyst for change.

Someday, I will be a mother, and if it's not from this pregnancy it will hurt, but I can remember's Marc's promise that we'll be parents someday.

Yesterday, I spent a good three/four hours in the Emergency Room-- on Thursday morning, I had some weird spotting (very little, very light brown), and even though it tempered down I was still having some of the weird spotting when I woke up Friday morning. I don't want to be that woman that freaks out over everything, but at the same time, this isn't my first rodeo. I decided that I couldn't wait until Monday for my appointment with Dr. Nance, and that if I was suffering another loss I wanted to know, and if I wasn't I wanted to be reassured.

When I left, they couldn't tell me if my current pregnancy is viable. When I got home I was readying myself to EMAIL Dr. Nance to alert him of my ER visit, and let him know what labs/test we ran, etcetera, and he called me. I guess, Dr. Lee (the doctor I saw while in the ER), is a friend of his, and notified him that one of his patients was in the ER.

Since Dr. Lee didn't want to give me a transvaginal ultrasound (I wasn't bleeding at the time of my physical), our current plan of goes as follows; keep my Monday Baby Appointment as a follow up. I already had a blood draw for my hGC levels on Tuesday, and we did it again yesterday-- since it was only up 30% instead of 50%, it may be some cause for concern that I'm following in the steps of my previous miscarriages. So, early on Monday I'll be getting more labs done before I go into my appointment in the afternoon.

I did some reading on hCG, and Dr. Nance also explained to me, that we may be fine, but I'm a realist, and I don't know what's worse-- getting my hopes up, or having no hope at all.

"A low hCG level can mean any number of things and should be rechecked within 48-72 hours to see how the level is changing. A low hCG level could indicate:

Like I mentioned in my previous blog-- we are ready for a miracle.

But, I'm prepared for our only miracle to be a Spring Oregon trip, and our elopement.


So, I'm trying desperately to focus on our fast approaching wedding date (April 17th) which is in 40 days. The reason we started trying for a baby before this date is because we figured with my irregular ovulating it would take some time for us to get pregnant-- I kinda wish we thought this through more thoroughly.

Anyways, it's hard to focus on wedding stuff, when pregnancy stuff is on my mind, and vice-versa.

I feel like we've got our shit together for the most part as far as the elopement plans.

I've given up on my original dress I wanted to wear, ordered a different one completely this morning, and I am thinking of ordering a second to help guarantee something will work in my favor.

I think my pintrest wedding board is full of Do It Yourself instructions for Boho Flower Crowns, we are having our friend perform the ceremony, and I ordered spanx, and a nice (more expensive than I've ever paid) bra for my under-dress things. I have my moccasins I plan on wearing on their way (despite Deana not being able to picture it, it's gonna happen), and my friend Heidi is making our 'reception' (if you can call it that) cake, and our cake topper is on it's way (it says; "As You Wish")! I have a list of restaurants I like for dinner after on the 17th-- Excelsior being at the top of that list.

Other than that, Marc is planning on wearing a suit he already owns, and outside of having him try it on, and we'll also most likely get him new shoes, he is taken care of. I need to figure out a bouquet I like, and just start sending crap to Stormy-- as I figure anything I want can be made.

And, most importantly, we have the photographer figured out:
Affordable, professional photographers providing photographic services to all of the Willamette Valley.
Our friends, Skye and Keith, own Radiance Photographics in Eugene. A photographer, a GOOD photographer, was the one thing I didn't want to compromise on-- since we're eloping, and only having a few select people there, I felt it was important to have pictures of the day. Plus, when I was small I use to love looking at my grandma's parents' wedding picture. I want that for my someday great grandchildren.

We are really lucky-- the only thing I didn't want to compromise on, and the one thing we most likely would not be able to afford (at least on such short notice) is the photographer, and Marc's mom told Marc she wanted to help with that. Which, to be completely frank, is a great blessing not only to us, but now I don't have to ask Skye and Keith to work with us on any sort of budget-- we can just pay them, like normal clients.

Anyways, plans are coming together, and I think we are going to have a wonderful day-- April 17th. I've got ribbon, and umbrellas, we got hoops we're bringing, and on top of everything we get to be in Eugene for a week.

It's sad that I look forward to a week on the floor in Eugene so much-- and that was before we started talking about eloping. Now, it has this whole new element of excitement, and joy to it.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Fairest and the best. On-ward and upward ever, Forward and on, and on; Hail to thee, Land of the Heroes, My Oregon.

So, I haven't officially announced it on facebook, in fact, I've only shared this news with a few people, but since our miscarriage we ovulated for the first time on February 6th, and got our first positive pregnancy test on February 24th.

I'm due October 30, 2014

We are really excited, and really scared. We've had too many losses, and there have been a lot of tragic deaths early on this year-- we need a miracle.  I'm currently doing everything I can to keep myself healthy. I'm sleeping on average ten to twelve hours, I'm eating well, reading what I can, I'm doing light cardio daily (and currently avoiding strength training), I have my first Baby Doctor's Appointment on March 10th, and will most likely be getting an early ultrasound this time around to confirm a heart beat as soon as possible.

I've been stressed by the added judgement I'm going to feel from this pregnancy-- last pregnancy EVERYONE I encountered assumed I was having a home birth, and electing Jess to catch. When, in all reality, the idea of home birth doesn't fit me at all-- it stresses me out, thinking of Jess' van being on my small street for that amount of time, having Ellaine next door; monitoring my household activities, moreover, mixed with the idea of people wanting to stop by to see the baby after it's birth. I hate thinking of the traffic, and people being over here.

Also, I'm not STOKED on the idea of doing an early ultrasound, I feel in most cases it's unnecessary, and ultrasounds have been linked to autism. At the same time, I've had so many miscarriages, that I now need/want the visual verification. I'm not stoked on the idea of it, because, again, I already feel judgement, because I lived with a midwife for five years.

Anyways, it's turning me into someone who will only be sharing intimate details about my pregnancy with Marc, and Deana. I've even stopped trying to share things with Jess, and I've only told her things when she's asked (the one time I tried to share with her ended up being a debacle). Or, I'll over-share, and this pregnancy will read like an open book.

Either way, I know I'm going to cut the first person who assumes anything. Planning our elopement, and quickly becoming pregnant has taught me, very quickly, that Skye's words ring with so much truth:

"NO ONE in the world will handle it the way you want them to. No one will care as much as you and even the people you love the most will find a way to make it more difficult for you. It's always the case."

I went in for a blood draw to check my B-HCG and progesterone levels. Outside of that, it's weird how every beat of my heart is telling me to get the fuck out of Utah.

I hate it here, now, for two. I just don't think it's possible to raise a child the way I want to raise it here in Utah. I'll miss the kids, but I'm use to having Jess only a phone call away. I want to raise a healthy child, in the Oregon outdoors.

I'm really taking that idea seriously. That doesn't mean I'm not dealing with February depression, mixed with the intense fear of miscarriage-- I'm making decisions for two, and making the healthiest decisions I can possibly make for myself. I realize that there is room for improvement in my diet, but I'm impressed by the drive I feel in this pregnancy to 'do things right.'

It's like the idea of health starting at home has really wormed it's way into my brain, and I've been trying to make myself my top priority, because when my beautiful, strong, smart son, or daughter is born-- I'm going to be instilling in them what I've been learning the last couple years.

Here's this week's Groceries from WinCo:
Feeling pretty okay with my healthy food choices
I've been reading a lot about the Fertility diet on top of everything.
We've been cooking at home a lot lately, something I'm pretty proud of.
This pregnancy, whether it fails, or not, I'll be practicing what I'm going to teach my baby: Consistency, Persistence, Discipline, Intensity, Patience, Desire, Focus, Faith.

We do need a miracle, but with, or without we're already pretty blessed.