your baby's not cute. stfu.

mother's day. officially, not one of my favorites, thanks to last october.

i am so ready to get the eff out of my own brain. people ask, "how are you? any news?"
i'm thinking, "yes, there's news. i'm pregnant, (with quadruplets!) and i haven't told ANYONE - but i am going to tell you, since you asked."

NO, I'M NOT. 

i mean, people know about "what happened" because i told them. and i do appreciate their checking on us, but i don't necessarily care to discuss how many times a month we are having sex, or just how hard we are trying.
but thanks for comin' out.

_________

over the weekend, i was in kohl's, trying to buy ONE ITEM.

there was a grandmother/mother/toddler trio in front of me.
the cashier was all, "OHHHHHHHHHH WHAT AN ADORABLE BABY!" in this super annoying foreign accent. it sounded just like that painter that samantha dated for ten seconds when she wanted to try being bi ... you know, samantha on sex and the city?
and, she was doing everything slow as molasses.

anyway - they were going ON and fucking ON about how adorrrrrrrrrable the little girl was, and how happy they were that the daughter only lived three hours away because the grandmother just COULD NOT BARE the thought of them being further away.
and the cashier was still goin .... WHAT A PRECIOUS bond between a mother and daughter. truly a blessing. YADA YADA YADA.
i mean, the woman had like three items, and so far, we've been standing there droning on and on for ten minutes.
clearly she needed to peace out from kohl's and get a job writing mother's day cards for hallmark.
the grandmother's eyebrows were abnormally high, and it looked like her smile was permanent - like she was on a combination of percocet and mt. dew through an IV.

the grandmother REPEATEDLY turned around to me smiling, like, "don't you agree?! isn't it a blessing?! aren't my daughter and granddaughter the cutest things you've ever seen in your ENTIRE life?!?! what is wrong with you? tell me how awesome we are!"

i did not smile.
instead, my facial expression was more like, "actually, no. i just want to pay for this one freakin' item. could you please shut the fuck up, pay for your shit, and get the eff outta dodge so i can get away from you, your daughter and your average looking granddaughter? thanks."

i know the woman turned around eagerly awaiting my giddy reply at least three times.

fat chance, grandma.
didn't she know that it was about to be mother's day, and i wanted to be a mother and all that jazz, but instead i had a surgery to cut my baby and one of my fallopian tubes out of me and i didn't have time to listen to their disgusting shit?

wanna buy me?

_________

and on mother's day night i cried.
i cried because i can't truly be happy for people.
i cried because i'm scared my body is broken.
and my mascara ran down to my neck.
and when i cry, my eyes get greener than normal.
and i looked like heath ledger as the joker.
i wish i had taken a picture for y'all.
i don't really like the mascara. it's the first time i've tried it, and i will be going back to my old shit.

then, the next day at the store, my emotions - bitterness, sadness, jealousy, self-pity were still lingering around.
so, i cried some more - seemingly at the drop of a hat - out on the front porch.
warning, crazy female davis at the store.
and my SIL was there to hug me and try to convince me that despite my evil thoughts and crying on a whim, i am not in fact crazy.

cheers! to being frightfully honest on the blog.

did you just call me childless?

so, i've sort of done a 180, since october (of last year). we got pregnant fairly quickly, then found out it was ectopic at 8 weeks, and i had a surgery to remove the pregnancy and my left fallopian tube.
there was no explanation for it, it just happened. but, doctors said everything about me still looked good, and they felt very confident that they'd see me again soon, with a healthy pregnancy.

for the first two months, i was afraid to try again just because i was freaked out about what all my body had gone through.
then, we went back to counting days, stalking my blood sugars, watching everything i ate and drank. i say we, but really it was just me. my husband never put the pressure on me, i did that to myself.

meanwhile, i unfollowed a lot of people on facebook because i was sick of seeing pictures of every time their kid ate a cheerio. i felt like a bitch, but it was what i did to keep myself from being the even more disgusting, pathetic, feeling-sorry-for-myself version of myself that i hated even more that the bitter bitch version of myself.

after losing our baby, i learned of two other couples who were pregnant, and i felt pouty and whiny and jealous. it was weird because while i wasn't mad at God, and i wasn't really even mad at them, i wanted to be mad at something.

my feelings of jealousy turned into feelings of guilt and sorrow, because like ours, those pregnancies did not go as planned.

now ...

i don't know exactly what i feel.

i feel grateful that the Lord only gave me what He knew i could handle.
i feel exhausted - from hearing about babies, seeing babies, thinking of babies, and being asked about babies.
{no disrespect to those who have checked on us, we do appreciate it!}

i'm beginning to feel like actually getting pregnant and having a healthy pregnancy for 9 whole months is about as likely as winning the fucking lottery.
i'm sure that sounds nuts to those of you out there who have kids, and especially to those who had them by accident, or on the first try. and to those of you who wonder what's so difficult about getting knocked up and bringing a baby to term. and those of you who bitch and complain about how annoying your kids are all the time.
i want to slap the ever living shit out of people who make careless, thoughtles comments about how childless people don't get it.
or when people who talk to you about how you need to have tons of kids, when they know you lost one already. like, wtf do they think we are doing? not having sex? that we have no idea where babies come from? that we are intentionally waiting until we are 50 to start trying?
welp, they'd be right about that - childless people don't get it because THEY DON'T HAVE A CHILD.

i can imagine that having a kid, much less more than one will drive you ape. the shit looks exhausting. and, i'm 100% certain that it is. and one day, if we are so blessed to have a child, i will be tired as hell too, and i will probably wish somebody would babysit my kids so i can drink a beer in peace. so sue me.
honestly, i am torn between the perfectionist in me being mad because my body "couldn't handle it". it bailed on me. just screwed me over ...
and on the other hand, i'm thinking, "oh my God, we are never going to be "ready" for this. i'm too selfish. i'm not bringing my kid a special version of everything everywhere we go because i've taught them that they can have it. i'm not going to be nice to people when they deliberately do the opposite to/for my child than what the hell i just got out of my mouth. i'm not taking on a bunch of random clubs and shit i don't want to do because all the other moms are doing it. maybe all this makes me a bad mother. maybe God thinks i am too much of a bitch to be responsible for raising a child."

i feel fine.
i feel totally fine.
to the point that i don't even want to think about the word 'baby'.
i want to drink beer.
i want to drink diet mt. dew.
i want to sleep late.
i want time with my husband.
i know when a baby comes we will never be alone again, whether our child is physically with us in our home or not. 

i can literally name 15 people that i know personally who have recently suffered a loss, or took forever and a day to get pregnant, and quite frankly, it just seems like, why bother to be anal about it and be super careful? it doesn't get you anywhere. what the hell is in the water? i seriously feel like all these older people from generations before think us childless folks are crazy because they had like 5 kids.
well, if y'all figure it out, let us childless folks in on the secret.

all of these thoughts have me pissed off and on the verge of tears at the same time.
but, i'm not going to cry, because what good will that do?
and more importantly, our tub is still dripping, and i don't want to be in tears when the stupid plumbers come back AGAIN.

the biggest bitch of all, is that i would swear to you that i am completely and 100% T-totally FINE.
i have seen others suffer much, much, worse.
but, it is what it is.
and i have been fine. really. almost like i dreamed the shit.
then, BAM! on some days, it just hits me.
AND I HATE IT.
i found a survey that the hospital sent me months ago, and i really wanted to fill it out because the nurses, doctors, and everybody at that hospital were absolutely amazing. a true blessing.
but, of course, as i'm filling it out, it all came flooding back, and here i am typing like a maniac.

so, if you happen to see me having a random meltdown at an inopportune place at an inopportune time,
get over it.

now, i'm off to check out of my own head and into my stephanie plum novels ...

y'all, i'm sick of thinkin

i mean, honestly, i hate it.

but, i have a really hard time turning it off.

i am tired of thinking about:

what my blood sugar is right now.

is it on the way up?

is it on the way down?

i took insulin an hour ago and still haven't eaten anything because the insulin hasn't kicked in yet - why?

what day of "the month" is it?

am i ovulating?

if i did ovulate, where did the egg go?

should i have had that caffeine?

should i have had that beer?

why are all these things such a big deal now, when back in the day people did these things, not even knowing they were bad, and we seem to have more mental, emotional, and developmental problems in children now?

how do people accidentally get pregnant?

is my analyzation more stressful than caffeine and alcohol?

how come the curl in my hair came back and then left again?

why do some become obsessed with church and then start judging people even more than before they knew as much about Jesus?

how come i used to want to blog all the time, and now, not so much?

do i miss teaching? mehh.

what is going to happen to nita nikon in the long run?

should i trust those people in new york who have her?

why do people choose to spend almost every day of the week with someone who drives them nuts and causes them to cuss?

how come people who can't even stand to be alone with their kids have them, and i don't?

why do i whine so much?

how do other people keep on keepin' on when shit gets hard?

why do i cry every time i go to church (and have done so for years)?

how can people pansy ass pussies be mean to animals? 

why do people like/hate someone because they are or are not a specified race, when in fact, they are biracial?

and on that note, why do people only focus on the details that support their argument, and ignore all the ones that don't?

why do people randomly use apostrophes, like they are optional, or just for decoration?

why do i enjoy ignoring capital letters?

why doesn't my pump have an alarm to let me know when it's completely out of insulin?

some people - men especially, it seems, have the ability to just stop thinking.

i would love to be like that.

it's what God says we should do. 

stop analyzing, and instead pray and trust.

i am a lot better than i used to be.

do you analyze?

did you find a cure for it?

how did you turn it off?

i'm sicka y'all's shit! {and a recipe}

did i show y'all that shirt from my MIL?

priceless.

Welp, today, I am here to say, that I AM sick to damn death of y'all's shit, as a matter of fact.

"Y'all" bein the diabeetus and the emotional flare ups post preggo-ness.

WTF? When do I get "me" back? Never apparently.

If you are new around these parts, you may have missed my episode with having an ectopic pregnancy, and then somewhat of a personality disorder thereafter.

I think I'm dealing with being mad at my body in general.

1) I am only twenty-effin-nine. K? So, you little remnants of diabetic neuropathy can suck. it. dry.

 Ya heard? You too, carpal tunnel. Really? Bite me.

I've been diabetic since age 5, and while the road has not been perfect, I have taken 'better care of myself than most'. I give thanks to God for giving me the brains and determination for that, because I certainly don't just pop up willingly at 3am to check my blood and see what's up. I got a BOMB ASS a1c result of 5.8 a few months ago.

That. shit. was. epic.

I worked my imaginary balls off for that prize.

And my reward? The first signs on neuropathy.

2) Since my body also decided to try to grow a baby in my left fallopian tube, which is no longer with us, I am feeling like my pancreas and whatever is responsible for getting the egg to the uterus need to take some classes on how to do their jobs and shit.




{Let's take a time-out to assess how cray-cray-licious I am soundin' right about now.}

I know. It could be worse. I'm not dying. There are other couples out there dealin' with shit, too. I can have kids, supposedly. My a1c is excellent. I might can reverse some of these symptoms with exercise, continued control and acupuncture. Part of my psychosis is the anger/guilt pendulum I am ridin', which contributes to me feelin' like I'm one loose screw away from a total derailment.

But sometimes, Psycho Shug shows up. Because, even though she is not normally hangin' out, chit-chattin', she is lurkin' in my subconcious bein' all negative and shit, makin' me think that just because I haven't gotten pregnant in two months, with one fallopian tube that I am probably never gonna get pregnant. She also be spreadin' rumors about how I'm gonna have all my limbs amputated, and be blind and shit. I'm tellin' y'all, she is one crazzzzzzzy biotch.  



And she never calls ahead. She just shows up. Bitch ain't had no 'raisin's whatsoever.

Anyhoo. Had me a 180 on the hubs. One second, super hype about life, next, cryin' on the couch over some carpal tunnel and the baby I ain't growin.' It's like the pregnancy gave life to an alter ego that is bat cave crazy. What's really nuts is that some days, even though the what-if's, fear and sadness are always in the back of my mind, I almost feel like I dreamed the whole thing. Telling Anj I was pregnant, being pregnant, the bleeding, the trip to the doctor's office to find out it was ectopic, the surgery. Sometimes I stare at my scars in the shower and remind myself that I didn't hallucinate it all.

After my meltdown he suggested I get on blogger and dump this shit out on y'all make myself feel better by writin' my thoughts out. I asked him to fix me a half caffeine-free diet coke/half cherry coke zero. {during a commercial break from the NC Stizzle basketball game, duh}

But -
I cried it out, and now I'm back to either normal, or my state of denial - the cryin' fit/total meltdown lasted a total of 20 minutes, start-to-finish.

To end things on a less whack ass note, we ate some bomb ass soup, and y'all deserve to know about it, especially after sufferin' through that shit up top. Whew.

____________________________________

remember that time we made kale soup?

did you like it?

yeah?

well, you'll looooove this.

it is equally magical.

came from this book from the grandparents for christmas.

__________________________

Sausage & Red Cabbage Soup

Go ahead on and put you on some yoga pants and a hoodie.

It's that kinda party.

Thanks so much for bravin' the crazy train tonight, shugpies.

greetings, 2013

my first thought was, 'nothing super eventful happened in 2012. i mean, nothing worth blogging about anyway.'

but, that's a lie.

every day, every month, every year, is a learning experience, and some things realized, some things lost, some things gained.

in 2012, 

i let go and let God ... move me to somewhere i had major hesitations about at first.

after a bunch of back and forth about jobs and work and what to do,

i just said, 'screw it.'

i'm happy now.

i gave up a job that i thought i'd wanted forever.

i took another job similar to it in a new city.

that job was taken away before my first day of teaching.

a month later i found out i was pregnant.

i felt extreme joy.

and extreme uneasiness and fear.

four weeks after finding out i was pregnant, 

i found out it was ectopic.

i had surgery hours later.

i cried a lot.

i thanked God for getting me through it,

and for giving me a positive prognosis for the future.
 {are y'all sick of reading about the ectopic?
because i'm sick of thinking about it/writing about it,
but it's still a thing in my world right now, so thanks for stickin' around.}

i finally got my a1c below 6.

5.8 !!!!

i thanked God some more.

i learned that there is no such thing as a normal family.

everybody's has got somethin'.

love 'em anyway.

i learned it's okay to do what feels best for your own marriage/family.

even if that means your family and friends don't always get it.

 choose space,

and time with your husband,

if that's what you and your husband want and need.

life's too short to stay busy with stuff that makes you irritated and unhappy.

i saw my husband in a whole new light.

turns out it is possible to wake up everyday and love him more than i did the day before that, 

or the day before that, 

or the day before that.

sometimes yucky times are also times for you to feel someone's love in a different way than you ever have before,
because they have an opportunity to show you that love in a different way than they ever have before.

i feel like i know who i am again.

i haven't felt like this since high school.

maybe this sounds strange to some people.

i learned that caring what people think doesn't change it,

so why waste your energy?

i learned that no matter what you do,

somebody will be judging.

or be pissed.

or irritated.

again, i learned that caring what people think doesn't change it,

so why waste your energy?

i have a lot more free time than i used to.

and although i'm not as busy with stuff stress,

i can think about what's around me.

i can appreciate it.

i can learn to be who i am and say no sometimes.

what i do or don't do for a living is not who i am.

my diabetes is not who i am.

having a baby is not who i am.

thanks to God for seeing things ahead of time.

for setting it up perfectly.

for letting me know i'll be okay.

for giving me the most amazing husband.

a husband i could have never dreamed up.

he's all the things i needed and wanted,

even before i knew it.

here's to 2013,

the next 365 days,

the good,

the bad,

the scary,

the sad,

the frustrating.

may we be blessed enough to grow from it,

and be a little bit more of what God intends us to be.

______________

and the resolutions, well, i just want to get back on the wagon that i fell off of recently:

i need to get back to some form of exercise - loved my daily walks and i let the weather talk me out of it, then holidays came, and now i am totally derailed.

and gluten, been cheatin' like a mo on that.
no bueno.

other than that, i'ma keep livin' how i'm livin'.

new year's eve bonfire tonight, y'all!
whoop! whoop!
remember last year's bonfire/oyster roast?

this year's pics will be sans Nita Nikon, but we will survive.

happy new year's eve, friends!
be safe!

dear ectopic & multiple personalities,

this is about to be one of those blunt posts, so if you're here for humor, today's probably not it. and, i'm acutally writing this on tuesday, but it won't post til friday, so i can assure you that by the time you read this, my mood will have changed.

over the weekend, i kept waiting for my period to come. it was a little late, but i wasn't getting my hopes up because i've learned that getting your hopes up will typically fuck you over backfire. {wait, i shouldn't have said that, i have so much to be grateful for, and the truth is, i have gotten my hopes up in many other areas of my life, and everything did turn out, just fine, in fact. if you are new here and have no idea what i'm talking about, you should read this post first.} it finally showed up on monday, just three days late. good, i thought. that's fine. the surgery was only a couple months ago, it's not like we've been trying for forever. i went on about my day, thankful that my body is regulating itself back out, and that i still have one healthy fallopian tube left. everything is just fine.

then, a friend texted me and told me she was pregnant and sent me a picture of the sonogram.
i told her congratulations, and then i cried for two hours that night, and more into the next day.
i just looked at the text, and that was it. just started crying so hard i could hardly talk. i just showed anj my phone.
anj was sitting there with me, asking me what i was thinking about and then i went through all of it all over again.

i had just spent the previous few days wanting to feel sad, because i didn't really. wondering what is wrong with me that i'm not distraught. i want to just feel terrible about everything that happened for a few days, weeks, whatever, and get it out of my system, and be done with it. but, instead, i feel totally awesome and then out of nowhere, BOOM. tears. tears of anger, rage, guilt, devastation, ... and then i just feel silly for feeling all of it, or any of it, or i don't even know, really.

it's like there are three me's.
me #1 is a bitter, jealous bitch. a bitch who swears that every single female of child bearing age within a 5,000 mile radius is pregnant. a bitch who is sick of facebook, and sick of instagram and the saturation of the free world with pictures of babies.

me #2 HATES me #1. the real, normal, before-the-ectopic me is nothing like me #1. i feel joy for my friends, and grateful that God has blessed them. And I KNOW THAT I WOULD BE THE SAME WAY IF I WERE PREGNANT/HAD A BABY. And they should be happy! That is normal.

me #3 is just guilty. guilty that i have any negative feelings whatsoever. why should i complain? it could have been worse. i could have bled to death. drs could be telling me that i can't have kids at all. even if i can't, i have a wonderful husband. i am so blessed in so many other ways, etc, etc, etc.

i feel like the regular, somewhat sane me is nowhere to be found when these three are around tag-teaming my brain. and i go from me #1 to me #2 to me #3 very rapidly - almost at the same time. they are like triplets who always travel together. rage, hating myself for being an evil bitch, and then just guilty that i'm not grateful enough for what i have already. rinse, repeat.

i am sick of this shit. really, really sick of it. 
nope, i won't be negative and ungrateful. 
i can't decide.
so,

dear the three me's, 

i get that y'all have been through some shit. but i am really over your whole disappear-and-then-pop-up-at-random act. i hate feeling like this. one day i feel one way, and the next day it can be the total opposite. who the hell do y'all think you are, robbing me of feeling happiness for my friends? because i know they would be happy for me if the tables were turned. 
i do NOT appreciate y'all just snatching away my control. control of how i feel and how i react. i am not crazy, and i don't appreciate y'all making me feel like i am.
y'all can pack your shit up and get on back to wherever it is that you were previously hiding, and stay there. 
i miss the normal, old, optimistic me, who is around 99% of the time.
you are not welcome here. 
i don't really know which of you i hate the most. all of you together are an especially ugly combination, given that you switch it up every 2.4 seconds. my husband never knows what to expect. neither do i. 
so, whenever you are done fucking with me, i'd love to get back to being optimistic and happy for my friends without having to go through a range of psycho emotions first. 

thanks!

yours truly,
sane, happy-for-others, not-feeling-sorry-for-myself me

i wasn't going to write this because guilty me was afraid of offending my preggo friend and hurting her feelings. but, sane me texted her and explained myself and warned her of this post so she wouldn't take it the wrong way. i sort of had an epiphany while i was texting her.
i told her: it's hard not having anywhere to place your anger. what happened is no one's fault. not mine, not andrew's, not the doctors', not God's, and not my friends' who are having healthy pregnancies right now.
i guess some say i could be mad at God if i wanted to. i tried to be, but it doesn't work. i cannot be mad at God because HE HAS DONE SO MANY POSITIVE THINGS FOR ME THAT I AM SO UNDESERVING OF. He could have stopped my ectopic. He could have made it a healthy pregnancy. but, i think if you can't learn to trust God ALL the time - through good and bad, you are screwed. God doesn't do halvsies.

and here's what else, ty posted about some chick who was PROUD that she had gotten married young and had all her kids in her early twenties. well, good for you, bitch. aren't you lucky? guess what. YOU didn't do any of that on your own account, God above is the only one who allowed you to have such blessings. i have not read that chick's post, but just the sheer thought of such shit simply enraged me. don't even get me started on people who take credit for everything in their lives with little or no credit given to God for what He has done.

that is all that i am aware that i am feeling right this second.

thanks for letting me vent. :)

now, since i'm definitely not pregnant, i am going to starbuck's to get the biggest pumpkin spice latte they will sell me.

xo

* update: since typing this post tuesday morning, i had a conversation with a new friend on tuesday afternoon and found out that she lost her baby at 22 weeks. twenty-two weeks! can you imagine?!  and now, i'm on the other end of the spectrum again, where i think i should just shut up and get over it because oh my word, it could clearly have been worse. but you know what, she was so positive! and so inspirational! and so full of everything that God stands for. even after all that! just what i needed to hear. :)

thank you ... serious stuff

Sometimes it's really hard to find "peace". But, I think if you look for it, you find a little bit here, and a little bit there. Little pieces of calm. Little reminders that everything's cool. It's gone be aiight.

After all, who ever said life was always peaches & cream?

I just wanted to share a couple of little pieces of sunshine here on the bloggy today. 

The first is the photo above, taken around 7:30 am at my Meemaw's house.

It makes me happy.

The second is the feeling of peace and calm that comes from just being still and listening. Simplicity. God does talk, if we can calm down long enough to listen. 

The photos below are taken at an older church in my hometown. 

To me, there is something serene and comforting about old churches.
Just the people, the hymn books, the Bible and God.

I realize I have spoken more of God lately, likely because of the baby we lost. I also realized I have lost a few followers.  Well, good riddance, sugar pies. I believe that God comes and finds us in His time, whether we are ready or not.  I also believe that He comes around in simple ways to remind us that He's there.
I have to tell y'all what happened to me last week. An unknown number called my cell, and I didn't recognize it, so I ignored it. Figured they'd leave a message if they really knew me and needed to talk to me.  Several hours later, the same number called back. Anj and I were online, trying to look up the number, and all we found was that it was a local wireless number. A few moments later, I realized they'd left a voice mail this time.
Guess who it was.


My surgeon.         Calling to thank me {?!?!?!} for the thank you note I sent to his office. You see, about a week after my surgery, I decided to send the nurses on that hospital floor, and my gynecologists' office a thank you card. Because even though it is "their job" to care for patients physically, they went above and beyond to make sure I was comfortable & felt taken care of, and treated me like a human being with feelings instead of just another "ectopic". I have had doctors in the past who were assholes and should not have been in charge of taking care of a house plant, much less people trying to have a child.
Anyway, in the card, I thanked him and my other doctor {who couldn't do my surgery because he had to fly out of town that night for a conference}, as well as the nurse and the sonogram lady because they were all so warm, and so kind. I never once feared the surgery, and I just felt in my heart that I was in good hands. I told them in the card that I thanked God for putting me under their care, because the whole experience would have been absolutely terrifying had this all happened with my last doctor {whose name sounded very close to Dr. Vulgar Puss - should have been a sign}.
So, he said in the voice mail that he couldn't let it go without calling me to tell me how much the card meant to them, and that it was so heartfelt and sweet, and that he prays that I will have a healthy pregnancy in the very near future, and God bless.
I think God talks to us all in His own special way. We all hear Him differently. But to me, that may as well have been God himself callin to say, "Girrrrl, I got this. You need to just calm down, shug."
Soooo, a couple things:
1) Never underestimate the power of thank you - you never know how it might brighten someone's day, or even mean much, much more to them than you even intended 2) God is bigger than all our problems. He will talk with you if you ask Him to. Try not to give up even though it's hard to understand how God can allow so much pain even though He loves us. 3) Trust your instincts. I never liked my last doctor. He was a dick. He was monotone and sounded just like that dude on the Clear Eyes commercial. I knew when I met these doctors the first time, that I was in good hands, and I am tellin y'all, it made all the difference in how I am coping with what happened.
I would also like to say thank you to those of you who read my blog. I love nothing more than reading your comments, and hearing what you think. My blog is a little different than most blogs in blogland. A lot of my readers are people who are not in my age group, and are people who grew up the way I did, and like me, feel blessed to have grown up in the rural south. I don't really know "what this blog is about". I just write whatever I want. I try not to talk politics, because it's a good way to lose friends.  But, I do talk God, and there won't ever come a time when I refrain from talking about God when I want to. That's what's wrong with the world now. People believe in something in private, but when it comes to standing up for it in public, they are afraid of being judged, or being different than their friends. I'm not being something I'm not to gain followers, or to keep from losing them. That's not why I write, so the button has been deleted. I'm not interested in hosting a give away every week to bribe people into reading my blog, or linking up every other day to pimp myself out. To each his own.
Some posts on the blog are bitch fests, some posts are recaps of something we did, some posts are somethin good I ate that I think y'all should know about. But, it's all me.
So, not sure what deleting the gadget did as far as you readers who were "followers" via the button ... but you can still subscribe via your email address if you'd like.
Thanks for everything shugs!
xo 

dear bobo ...

dear bobo, 

how can i ever thank you enough? after coming home from the hospital, i just knew you'd make me feel so much better. you were as happy as ever to see me, but you didn't jump up. just licked and wagged and walked circles around the room. you know how you do.

you see, humans are great, but they sometimes don't know what to say, or how to act. but it would be weird if they didn't say anything because they know how to talk, you know? with you, it's so much simpler. you know that distracting me and just snuggling up with me is the standard, fail-proof cure-all. 

at first you were a little confused. i guess no one had the decency to explain to you what had happened. but they didn't need to. that next morning, you came into the room where i was sleeping, all happy, and "hey, get outta bed already!" but then, you heard me crying, and immediately, you came around to my side of the bed, got inches from my face, and threw your ball {which i know you love more than life itself} right into my nose, and you said, "here! take my ball! it always makes me feel better!" but, i was insensitive to your offer, and i said, "brody, i don't want your ball!" {sorry, i was a little emotional.} but, you didn't give up, you just came around to the other side of the bed, hopped up on the new comforter {i won't tell} and laid your head on my side while i cried and cried. it was just exactly what i needed.

we played outside some more, throwing the ball, basking in the sunshine. you let me rub your belly. you did awesome tricks for me. but, then, when i was having another down moment, you hopped right up there with me, laying your big ole snuggly self right on my legs, and laid your head on my belly {gently of course}, and stared into my eyes for what seemed like days.

you would've been a great dad, bobo. too bad someone took that option away from you.

but, in the meantime, you have done wonders for me. thanks for cheering me up, and being an awesome nurse when i needed one. 

love, 

me

when the bottom drops out

tuesday before last i was in surgery to remove my ectopic pregnancy.
i feel like a whack job for still writing about this, but then i realize, it's okay that i'm still talking about it, and nobody has to read it if they don't want to.

i have spent 98% of the time since then feeling positive. i truly have. THANK GOD. in my sane mind, i feel hopeful, and doctors say the future looks good.

but then - there is the other 2%. the 2% that i pretty much am scared of. the 2% that just comes around without warning and without my permission. i feel like so many things happened in 8 weeks.

yay! we're pregnant!
omigod, something's not right about this.
honey, it's ectopic.
thank God i'm okay.
i let them take my baby.
you'll be fine! the future is bright!
wait! did i dream this? were we ever pregnant?
i had to let them take my baby. it would've never been a "real" baby anyway.
are we even ready to be parents?
i can't handle any of this.

at first, i was doing really well telling myself that it wasn't really a baby anyway. i mean, it was what, the size of a blueberry?

but then, people say, "i'm so sorry you lost your baby." "your baby's in heaven." etc. etc. etc. clearly, these people aren't to blame for the state of my emotions. and we appreciate each and every single card, text, message, post, comment, phone call. 
every. single. word.

one second, i will be perfectly fine. just like earlier today, when i posted about scar bear. then, i suddenly feel pissed at the world - including the husband i've spent so much time thanking God for. the same husband that i have bragged on because he truly has been amazing. next, i just break down into an uncontrollable sob at the end of dinner.

people have said, "let yourself grieve." "your pain is your pain." "you shouldn't feel guilty for what you feel - whether it's happy or sad."

for a while, i thought, "something is wrong with me, that i'm not more upset ... right?" i was mostly consumed with gratitude to God for saving me, and letting me have another chance at motherhood after this. frankly, i started to feel guilty when people began to share stories much worse than mine. i mean what kind of a pitiful sob story am i? i mean, damn, self, get over you!

but then i think, "wait. what if this isn't it? what if this is just the beginning? what if God is just preparing me for a long, painful road ahead?" and i start to feel like i can't breathe.
then i bounce to, "beth, you are nuts. why do you think that? the doctor said the future's very bright."

y'all. i feel crazy. as. a. bat. cave!

{y'all need to pray for Anj Davis, livin up in here with my crazy ass. never knowin what he's gone get when he comes near me}

i feel like there are multiple people - with multiple personalities - in charge of running my brain and emotions, and they work random shifts of varying lengths, and i never know when the shifts are going to change.

the thing i hate the most is the person who works the bitter shift.
i feel disgusted with myself when i feel envy. i hate, hate, hate bitterness and envy and the nasty thoughts they bring with them. we could get on the "why" train and ride til we run out of tracks, right?

* why are there people throwing their unwanted babies in dumpsters?
* why are there people who are lazy as hell having 6, 7, 8 babies - that they treat like burdens - so they can live off the government for the rest of their lives - and they even have the balls to tell you so!
* why do people who do nothing but fight and yell at their kids seem to be able to get pregnant whenever the hell they want?
* why did i wait until i was 29 to even start trying?
* why are there people in this world insisting on c-sections on a specific day so they can do shit like make some damn daycare cutoff date when there are other people who just want their baby to exist - on any fuckin day?
* why?
* why?
* why?

but if i know anything, i know that God ain't about some "whys". it makes sense to Him, and it may never, ever make sense to me.

but that doesn't mean He doesn't care. and it doesn't mean that He's abandoned us. it's easy to trust God when everything is awesome and going your way. and it's real easy to turn on Him and fend for yourself when He's done things to piss you off or hurt your feelings - or at least allowed them to happen.

anyhoo - i guess this is another stage of the many emotions i am processing right now. and just like that - in the time it took me to type this up, it's over. i feel grateful and optimistic again. it's like the grief has to surface for a few minutes every few days, rear its ugly ass head, pout and cry, and then it can leave. whatever, bitch. i'm about to take some melatonin and get some sleep.

i guess these last few weeks are about as honest and raw as i've ever been on the blog.
thanks for letting me vent. that's my primary purpose in this blog's existence. just to get it out of my system. with this particular situation, i hope, somehow, some way, someone in a situation like mine will be helped - if for no other reason than just to know they're not alone, and that someone else out there has felt what they're feeling. i also hope to share my own faith. without it, i'd be nothing but a pitiful blob of poor ole me and anger. (right now, i'm not to full-blown blob status, i'm just a lil dablet, thank God.)

i've had so many people tell me that i inspire them. that they are encouraged by my optimism. that i'm so strong. i find this to be mind blowing. because i have never thought so. it's more like, i'm in a fog. but i will say that i have prayed and prayed, over the course of my life this basic prayer:

"Dear Lord, please give me whatever be your will, because I know your will is best. Help me to get past what I want, and realize that I never fully know what it is that I'm asking for, and therefore, what you may be protecting me from. Please give me the strength to get through whatever happens, and most importantly, please let me never doubt that you are in control and that I am being taken care of."

this has never failed me. it doesn't mean i don't cry. it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. but, it means that it hurts a little less, and that i have hope and comfort along the way. it means that i know that regardless of what's happening, it's not an accident. God's got it. and it's all part of His divine plan. God is in everything. the support system He's given me with all this is Him at work.

as soon as i started crying tonight, i took a shower, kept crying, and then, got out and immediately wanted the lap top so i could type this out. this blog is like a nice long walk, or a hot bath, or a nice massage. it's my way of addressing whatever it is in my brain at that moment, be it something i think is hilarious, or something that's breaking me that i need to get rid of, this blog is always here.

i've spoken with many women who preferred to keep their stories private, or at least limited to close family. that is just fine. we all deal differently. for me personally, keeping it in is like poison that just eats and eats away at me until i am completely consumed by it. so, thanks again, for letting me ramble, and for actually reading this stuff.

okay, no more philosophical sap fest tonight.

take care friends! i'm about to get my night night on. thanks for listenin to my shit.

love y'all!

My Gnarly Surgery Scar says, "Have a Super Day!"

Sooo, this is gross, kinda, and I don't usually post even remotely gross stuff on the bloggy. But it made me laugh until I was cryin/squeakin/gyratin/snortin, so I'm postin about it. It's really not THAT gross, but if you have a pooh stomach, maybe look at it not super close to a meal time?

That's it. You were warned. Don't keep on readin and then leave some comment about how gross I am because YOU ARE CHOOSING TO KEEP READING. 

Alright ...

Last night upon observing the gnarltastic bruise I got accompanying my incision, I decided that I should share with the fam.

Mama was like: gross

Younger brother Eric was like: haha

Baby brother Mack {shown below} was like: moo. it looks like it's gonna talk!

I'm thinkin, what the hell is wrong with Mack?
But, then I see it! Not a cow, but a magical spotted bear!
And I laughed and laughed and laughed.
Which was causing me pain, so I just firmly held my hand against my guts and laughed some more.

Then I texted it to some other peeps who'd had a bad day, and made them laugh too. Then they showed their husbands. And their husbands laughed.

So, friends, here is my sicktastic scar with mayjah bruisin ... shaped like a widdle bear face, who's sayin, "Hey there, Shug! Cheer up!"

The black part at the top is my pants. This is taken from my point of view, lookin down at my boley holey.

The two lil dots that make the eyes are where some kinda probes were.
The "top" of the incision in the picture (which is really the bottom), is the nose.
And, of course, the boley holey itself is the mouth, which is duh, smiling.

The other two scars are not shown, as so far, they are making no effort to look like an awesome animal figure.

Happy Friday, and happy weekending peeps!

Love,
Shug in Boots & Scar Bear

good shiz, brought to you by Anj Pie & Facebook

Part 1
Anj is one of a kind.

So, feeling good today, peeps. I'm on this nasty cycle of being up half the night, and feelin ragged the next day, so I break down and have a nap, which further whacks me out. Soooo, today, I had me a lil Diet Mt. Dew before lunch, thinkin I could make it over the hump, sans nap, and wow, that shit is laced.

Anyhoo. Went to doctor today for my follow up. Everything looks super. Anj Pie decided to be a doll baby and drive me to my visit because he thinks it's shitty how I abuse my friends to not only do our dishes and bake for us, but then ask them to drive all out of their way to take me to the "vadge doctor" because he is the most awesome husband everrr. Here are several reasons why Anj is awesome. (I know y'all get sick of me talkin about how awesome he is, but I don't give a shit because it's my blog. I know this is a difficult concept for some people to grasp.)

1) When I ask Anj to please come snuggle with me on the couch, what I mean is, my incisions still hurt, so you're not gonna be able to actually lay down with me. But, I still want to be close to you. So, the only way I can think of to get this to work is that you are gonna have to sit at the foot of the couch and prop your head on my ass like it's a pillow, and endure the blows of my post surgery "wind". Oops. Bless his heart. He laid there a good 45 minutes. He told me the truth next time I asked him to come snuggle with me. "Anj, you wanna come snuggle wif me, shug?" "No." "Why not, Anj?" "Because you won't let me really snuggle. You make me sit at the end of the couch with your poots." :(  
*PS, I learned from too much googling that British people who are gassy after surgery say they are feeling "windy". WTF?

2) When I get the giggles ALL THE TIME (now that it hurts to laugh, of course) Anj at least acts like he's not annoyed that I now snort/squeak/gyrate uncontrollably to avoid putting too much pressure on my guts.

3) He makes bomb ass souvlaki with tzatziki sauce. Man!

4) Always bringin the humor at inappropriate times. When we go to the check up, and the doctor asks what questions I have, I ask him when is it safe to start trying again, and B) when is it safe to have sex at all? Even the protected kind, because, duh, a girl is worried about what all that might do to my not healed insides, am I right, or am I right? I mean, I can't even cough or laugh without hurting. Pretty sure I whacked out a muscle reaching the wrong way to turn off the bedside lamp. I mean, damn. I was tryin to save Anj from havin to ask because I know he wanted to know.

Well ... after getting that answered, the doctor asks if there's anything else he can help us with:

ANJ (with his eye roll/flutter): Umm, aren't you going to ask him about going to the bathroom?" (Yay, bladder!)
ME: Oh, yeah, how could I forget?
ANJ: Cause you were too busy thinkin about sex.
 ME: What?! You're the one all worried about it.
DOCTOR: Him and every other man that comes in.

Really? Anj totally threw me under the bus. Made a funny at my expense. In the doctor's office. That's what I get. I'ma let y'all guess ... who is most concerned with when it's okay to have sex again? ...... Right.

I warned Anj that I would blog about this: (Can you even take screenshots on droids? If so, I need to be schooled. In the meantime, I present: a real picture with a real camera)

Seriously.

Anywayz.

Part 2. 
Facebook awesomes for today:

1) A dear sweet friend of mine that I haven't seen in ages sent me a message after reading about my surgery. She said that she read my post last week, but just wasn't sure what to say. She of course mentioned that she was sorry to hear, and wished me well and said many positive, encouraging things regarding the situation. But this part melted my heart, and filled me up with snuggles:

I know we drifted apart but you were/are a very special friend to me. You showed me how to be confident, trust myself, BE myself and I will never forget. I was so shy and you really helped me grow into my self more and that is some thing I will always cherish.

Although this friend was a huge part of my life when we were younger, I'd never really realized how much we helped each other in a yucky time. God gives us what and who we need when we need it. If you have a friend going through a hard time (or even if they're not), you can never go wrong in letting them know what their friendship means to you - even if it's not the kind of friendship where you see or talk to each other often.

2) Another friend of mine posted this as her thought for the day, and I thought it was spot on:

Thought for Thursday--Life isn't fair, but it's still good. Your job won't take care of you when you're sick; your friends and parents will: stay in touch. You don't have to win every argument; agree to disagree. Make peace with your past so you don't screw up your present. Don't compare your life to others'; you have no idea what their journey is all about. Over prepare and then go with the flow. Be eccentric now; don't wait for old age to wear purple. Your children only get one childhood. If we threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's we'd grab ours back. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up, and show up. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.

Tis true, frands! Seems like somebody else's grass is always greener, but you can rest assured they been through some shit too. I love this here bloggy because it's mine and I can just dump my brain out here for the most part. My entry about what happened was mostly a soul-cleansing brain dump. I've read that post 15 times myself, until I sort of become numb to it. It is what it is and what resulted is that I'm ready to go forward. I also feel so much more alive because real shit brings real emotions and real reactions from people who care. Every now and then something happens and you feel really deeply, and you also get really close to God, if you're lucky.

Good comes from everything if you look for it!

Welp, shugs. That's all for today.

Deuces.

Life.

Do you know the first day of your last menstrual period?

You get used to answering this a million times.

When your voice is shaking on the phone to make your first appointment - set for around 7 weeks.

When you call back around week 5 because you had some pain and some spotting.

When you call the weekend on-call number around 7 weeks because you had more pain and more spotting, this time, heavier, with tissue.

Hanging up the phone, and feeling joy because "it doesn't sound like anything to panic about in the first trimester". Then, 30 minutes later, bawling - for the 100th time in the longest 5 weeks of your life because you know that something just is not right.

Finally, appointment day. This day had been prayed over a million and one times. Please, God. Take care of my baby. Take care of me. Take care of my husband. Take care of us. Let us be able to handle whatever it is. I know your plans are best, even when I don't understand them. But, of course, I am secretly longing for God's plans to be my plans. The baby is just fine, I am just fine, everything is just fine.

Hours of googling, sending husband to pharmacy at random hours. It's probably constipation pains. Maybe it's something I ate. Is this safe to take? I've never been in this much pain in my life.

But wait. I do feel better now. Maybe I am okay after all. Yeah, it was probably nothing.

Exhaustion.

By the time the appointment rolled around. I was ready - or as ready as I would ever be. Ready for God to take this child from me if that's what needed to happen. I felt trapped in my own body. Trapped in my own mind. Helpless. I cannot make the bleeding stop. I don't know why I'm hurting. But my levels are going up. I'm so confused.

But that's the thing. When you feel like that, you know. You've done all you can. It was in the Good Lord's hands from the beginning. Period.

So, when the sonogram via my belly revealed that my uterus was empty. We tried to take a look vaginally. Nope. Nothing in there - just a shooting pain to my left ovary.

Again.

"Honey, I have a bad suspicion that this is ectopic."

I just sat there, staring at the screen. Andrew was holding my hand. I felt devastated. And relieved at the same time. I just wanted to escape it. I wanted to just do what I needed to do to fix it, and start over. Later.

Anj is ever the optimist. One of the zillions of reasons why I married him. "We'll get 'em next time."

"I know. We will." I said it, and was trying really hard to fully believe it.

We left the sonogram room and went to the exam room to wait for the doctor. "First of all, let me say that I am so sorry that this is happening." The rest was a blur of a conversation about how this was not my fault. It wasn't my diabetes. (Which has been nearly perfect the whole pregnancy. How ironic that I thought that would be the concern!) It wasn't my thyroid, which is borderline hypo, and the reason I got on low dose thyroid hormone the day after I had a postive test. It was nothing I did or didn't do.

I knew this, and I believed the doctor. This was my one comfort. God is the only one who knows the whys. He is ultimately in control of every single thing on this planet. If I didn't believe this, I would have given up hope on many, many things a long, long time ago.


Am I mad at God?

Absolutely not.

Do I wish I could text Him and ask Him if everything is going to work out in the long run?

Totally.

But, that's where faith and trust come in.

The doctor explained that surgery would be needed in the next few hours. My stomach felt sick because we hadn't told anyone. Not even our mothers. I wanted to be the ever cautious, meticulous control freak that I am, and make sure everything was super and A-okay before doing a big, happy, cutesy reveal at precisely 13 wks.

Welp, what ended up happening was my husband calling my mother to tell her that we went to the gyno with a positive pregnancy test, found out it was ectopic, and I would be in surgery in the next few hours.

*screech*

At this point, I have let out one good cry, over the loss of the thought of my child. For me, the baby didn't feel like "our child" yet. I'm sure this is different for every woman. I was terrified to fall in love with this child because I had horrifying fears through the majority of the pregnancy that something was wrong. Every woman is entitled to her emotions, of which she has no real control over anyway. If I did, I would think logically, relying on the positive words and encouragement of my doctor alone, and calculate exactly how much time should go by before medical data suggests we should try again.

Guess what. Those are nice guidelines. But, God is in control of this. I know that He will give us a child if and exactly when He sees fit. And this is fine with me.


Do I wallow and cry? Yes. Right after feeling all encouraged and grateful that I didn't have a ruptured tube and bleed to death.

The thing no one tells you about pregnancy is that from the very moment you know, and for me, I knew before the test told me so, you feel different. For me, I felt like a mother right away. I felt like God had given me something to take care of, and I was willing to feel or endure whatever I had to in order to take care of this child. But, God decided this wasn't the one. This wasn't the time.

We waited in the exam room with a box of Kleenex while my ovary throbbed and the nurse called the hospital over and over trying to get me admitted. Then, the doctor called them back and asked for a manager to get me pushed through quickly because I was diabetic and I would not be able to eat or drink before or several hours after. Not to mention that we didn't know if the tube had ruptured or not at this point.

My sweet husband just sat there, holding my hand. Asking me what I needed from home, reassuring me that he would be right back to the hospital as fast as he could. Telling me that he would call my mom for me. I felt like I should tell her myself, but I just couldn't get through it without an inaudible meltdown. Thank God for him.

This is what makes husbands blessings. They just pick up where your mind and energy has abandoned you. They just do it for you. When you can't think and you don't know.

Off we went.

Admittance.

Trying, with no success at first (thank you dehydrated veins) to find a good vein for the IV. Blood draws. Weight. Blood sugar. Blood Pressure. times 5. Here's your gown. Here's some antacid and anti-nausea. I started to feel like hell. And panicked because I was just there. In the room. Without Anj. I knew he would be right back - he wanted to go now, and be at the hospital when they took me back in case something happened. I was watching Carrie Underwood's story on VH1 or something and praying to God that they would just hurry up and come get me. I wanted to be done.

 Ready to go?

Anj arrived back with our things in time to walk me down and kiss me good luck. The nurse anesthetist made jokes, gave me the good stuff. We turned the corner, the lights looked bright, and in what seemed like 30 minutes later, I was out of surgery.

Except really, it was 4 hours. The surgery itself did not take 4 hours. This includes recovery/observation. PS - they wanted to give me 15 units of insulin to correct a blood sugar of 289 as I was waking up. My first slurred, half conscious words were, "No. That's way too much. I'll go into a coma. Can I please have my pump back?" Thank sweet Jesus the nurses agreed that whoever suggested that was nuts and just let me in my half drugged state hook my pump back up and deal with it myself.

I was being wheeled down the hallway, trying as hard as I could to keep my eyes open. There was my mama. (Damn, she must've done 120 all the way here! What's that? Four hours have gone by? Oh.) There was my sweet Anj.

The next part was a blur. I remember putting my pump back on. In my muffin top, toward my back side. My stomach looked like a beach ball and it was tight and bright orange. What the hell had happened? I had no idea and didn't really care.

I woke up a couple times in the night to check my blood and make sure it was going down. It was. Good. They kept coming in to take my vitals. They were good. Check. Blood count was good. Check. They wanted me to try to pee, so, at 2am, I felt the urge to call the nurse to come help me pee. My bladder didn't feel full. I don't know why I was trying to pee. Anyway, this little blonde came in. She looked scared to death to be a nurse - like I would have looked if I had gone through with nursing. (Yikes.) She sat me up, helped me to dangle my feet off the edge of the bed, stood me up, and started to walk me to the bathroom.

When I woke up, I was laying sideways on the bed, and now there were three nurses, lifting me back into my original position in the bed. "We'll try that again around 5am, mmk, honey?"

They left, the room was dark. All was quiet. Anj was snuggled in his stiff ass, uncomfortable and super squeaky recliner, and he chuckled to himself and said, "Pass the fuck out. hahaha"

I started to laugh and I could have smacked him it hurt my guts so bad to laugh. But, the laughter was good. Asshole. :) Love you!

A few vital checks, nausea waves and lucid whack ass dreams later, the older nurse who knew what the hell she was doing comes in and sits me up in bed. "This time, we gone let you sit up a bit and give your blood pressure some time to adjust before we take a walk across the room. :) " Yeah. That sounds smart, I decided. An hour and a half later, we turned me sideways and let my legs dangle off the bed for a minute or so. Then, two nurses stood me up.

Every. single. step. was. a. work. out. You okay? Don't close your eyes! Don't look down! Take deep breaths! Nope! Don't look down! Don't close your eyes! Open your eyes! Look up here! You okay?

Finally - we make it to the toilet.

How in the Lord's name am I going to look down long enough to lower myself onto that toilet? This is an impossible task, I thought.

I made it, with lots of black clouds floating around.

You okay? Don't close your eyes! Don't look down! Take deep breaths! Nope! Don't look down! Don't close your eyes! Open your eyes! Look up here! You okay?

Nope. (I seriously kept tellin her I was not, in fact, okay.) Next thing I know, I'm sniffin ammonia while two nurses and Anj Davis hold me up. BETH! BETH! BETH!

"What?!" I snapped. Damn, I'm right here, no need to yell!

I really did try to keep my eyes open, y'all, I swear!

Sooooo, after some chicken broth, sugar free jello, shit tons of Diet Coke, Diet Ginger Ale, eggs, sausage, strawberries and grapes, I started to feel a little more stable, and slowly was able to pee on my own, with an assistant. :) Yay!

This also meant the anesthesia was wearing off and I was ready for some pills.

It is mind blowing what that man did with three tiny incisions. Absolutley amazing. The tube had not ruptured, but they did have to take part of the left one. Both ovaries are in tact, and "the future looks very bright for you".

I can say this: The Lord is good. I could have died. I love every single doctor, nurse, nurse anesthetist, anesthesiologist, nutritionist, and custodian I came in contact with through this whole ordeal. WHAT A BLESSING. I am seriously going to send them a card. Especially the surgeon, my regular gyno, his nurse, and Melissa, my nurse at the hospital. (Is this an awards speech or what? :) )

I basically went home very very thankful and feeling very very blessed to be alive and to have been under the care of people who clearly knew what they were doing. I never once feared the surgery itself.

The next morning, a wave of depression hit. When I allowed myself to think the worst. What if it's ectopic again next time?

What if there's something wrong with the other tube? (Even though the doctor said it's healthy.)

What if I just can't conceive again, period?

What if?

What if?

What if?

Then I tell myself, the Lord is bigger than all that, and your faith should be too. Everyone's story has a different ending, and God has His reasons for all those endings.

But, for now, I am trying very, very hard to think positive. The doctors have given me no reason not to. My God has shown me miracles more than once in this life of mine, my friends. Yes, He has.

Next time, because I do believe there will be a next time, I will share my news earlier. I will allow Andrew and I to be more supported by those who love us. Pain is part of life. I want them to share in our experiences, even when they aren't happy ones. When you have your first tiny glimpse into motherhood, you have a new connection and a new respect for your own mother, your grandmother, your aunts, your mother in law, all mothers. These little glimpses of love in yucky times are gifts from God as well. I feel so much closer to my mother since just day before yesterday when this all started. What a gift. And, you've still gotta find the humor. Even if it involves a bloody panty liner, a gas station, and a dirty old man. Forgive me. Maybe he wasn't dirty. But, the thought that he might've been made us laugh, which was much needed.  I'm sure you've already heard enough about the bloody panty liner, so I will give you a prize by not telling the story in detail.

I also wanted to write this post to hopefully make at least one person feel better by knowing that you aren't the only one. And to tell y'all that without my God, I would NOT be able to deal.

To those who have texted, called, emailed, sent messages,

THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY SOUL FOR YOUR PRAYERS. I know I personally, never know what to say in situations like these. The thing I need right now, is your prayers, for healing and for positive thinking, and that Andrew and I never forget that the good Lord above HAS A PLAN.

And it is a perfect one.

I have seen in a few short days how much we are loved.

WHAT A BLESSING.

I had a wonderful conversation with my brother. That meant the world to me. My mother came to see us as soon as she knew. Others respected our wishes by being with us in prayer, and sent positive texts, messages, cards, etc.

I can say that never once in my life has the good Lord EVER given me something painful to deal with and not given me an abundance of love and support in the form of friends and family. He has NEVER ONCE abandoned me.

I feel that He is closer to me now than ever. If this painful situation brings me closer to Him, and strengthens my relationship with my husband, and our relationship with those we love, then that is a blessing. I also feel that our marriage is even more solid than it was last month. I know my husband is there for me. He is my #1 and I am his. I have always prayed for God to give us a solid foundation, and He is, my friends. My husband is my soul.

So, in closing, we have been through a roller coaster of emotions, from the highest highs when we found out we were expecting, to the depths of despair and anxiety in the unknown, to the devastation of losing this baby, the profound gratitude that my own life was spared and I didn't have more damage than I did.

Our God is a powerful God. He is bigger than ANY circumstance. He ALWAYS knows what He's doing, and only works for the good of those who love Him. We have to remember that our "good" and His may not always look the same, but the difference is, only He knows what lies around the corner. Only He knows what alternative outcome we are being protected from. If you are in despair, whether you are struggling with fertility issues or something different altogether, take it to the Lord in prayer.

Alan Jackson's Precious Memories CD has been invaluable to me during this time. God made us. He knows what we need when we quite frankly, have no idea. I am working very hard and praying very hard for Him to give me the grace to trust Him more and more everyday.

I will never be the same after this experience, but if we don't grow and change, then what is the point of living?

Thank you all again! We cannot thank you enough for your continued prayers. I go to the doctor next week for a post-op follow up visit.

God has a plan.

xo

(Too tired to edit this, so if things don't make sense, let's blame tiredness and pain killers, k? Word.)

*please check out the ectopic pregnancy label for more recent posts on this topic