Friday, May 3, 2013

look at the stars. look how they shine for you.

*I knew I was destined to marry Taylor when Yellow by Coldplay played on the restaurant radio on our first date* 
 
This post is long overdue. I sat down to write last weekend, but something distracted me and I totally blew it off. I have been facing many Goliaths recently that I really had to think about whether writing about it would actually help or add another internal goliath to fight.

I'll cut to the chase. I have been sort of obsessed about getting pregnant again. And every month I change my mind because the thought of getting ill petrifies me.

Something I learned from being sick is how to be proactive and how to be an advocate for myself. If I don't like my circumstances in life, and if it was something I could have controlled, then it's solely my fault. So I have this newfound perspective that I need to push for what I want, every single day. 

Before I can get pregnant, I need to do the following:
1. move out of my house into a cleaner house with A/C
2. pay off bills
3. be free from any obligations that don't comply with being deathly ill
4. become bffs with home health care providers
5. go gluten-free, but gain weight somehow so when I start throwing up I have some reserve specifically for that
6. Line up babysitters and house maids to help with Sawyer and help fold my laundry
7. Get out of my nursery calling
8. find a new home for Hershey dog
9. Line up drivers for me to drive me to hospital to get IV fluid
10. Take a cocktail of supplements 3 mos prior to conceiving to take the edge off of Hyperemesis Gravidarum

This list is slightly overwhelming. But this is just the start of the overall preparation it will take to get through another pregnancy. And when, and if, I survive to month 7, I'll be fat and happy and excited. But the first 6 months will be a cross I will have to bear because no one else can. 

Somewhere in the madness of this crazy last year, my desire for another pregnancy kept me focused on one goal and one goal only: Move out of our house. I have too many aversions associated with this house that even though it's much cleaner and more organized, so much as smelling the brick on our fireplace will send me over the edge. So, I have been very proactively figuring out our next place. But there is so much to consider and sacrifice to upgrade on a modest budget with a husband who has no time to upkeep anything more than maybe shoveling snow during the winter. SO many variables, more so just recently, and it's causing major (more than I anticipated) friction. But I just have to remember that the ultimate goal is to be with my loved ones and be in a clean space where I can easily run from my bed and the toilet easily. 

I am still debating when and if we're ready to try this journey again. But I feel like I need to write about it somewhere, if for no other reason to help me process and sort out my concerns, since every little worry and stress taken care of now will hopefully save me from anxiety attacks down the road. I welcome all good and positive vibes during this time, and I apologize in advance for TMI and over-analyzed posts when others don't necessarily relate. I feel the same way when people talk about sports. Yawwwnnn.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

the peaceful valley

I have memories growing up of my father playing his piano. It wasn't just playing, he was escaping through the music that was so loud it tuned everything else in the house out. As a child, I always knew that was his time. I didn't bug him or ask him to play or ask to sit in his lap. Sometimes I'd go up and stand next to him and watch his fingers pound the yellow-stained keys with his head slightly bowed. I sometimes didn't know whether to stare or keep busy. No one seemed to mind. The music was loud. His notes were perfect. I will never know what went through his head while he played, but I know it was for him.




Sometimes I escape to my computer and play this particular song on full blast. Sometimes Sawyer freaks out that I'm not paying attention to him. Sometimes he lets me just sit and close my eyes. And escape. He finds something else to do so mommy can have a moment with loud music.