Expectation vs. Reality

Sometimes I look at my life and I think "WOW. This has turned out nothing like I expected!". Some days, that's a good thing. Some days that's a bad thing.

I'm coming up on five years since I graduated college, and with that comes a lot of emotions. It's been since I last held a "job", since I was diagnosed with an eating disorder, since I went to treatment for the first time, since I was "supposed" to go to grad school...

I think had you asked the girl in the picture above where she would be in five years, it might involve being a social worker, working in the foster care/adoption field. She might think that she'd be married...maybe just engaged. Possibly a baby. Probably still living in Alabama. She'd probably tell you that she'd be *completely* recovered and have a healthy relationship with food and body image (though she'd probably also tell you that she's weight restored right now and would weigh 115 pounds for the rest of her life, thank you very much...*cough*not happening*cough*).

Last week while visiting my parents, I took my little girl down to that same patch of grass and thought about all of the memories that had happened in that park- and I thought of the picture that I posted above. I thought about what five-year-ago-me might think if she met today-me. I think that she'd laugh. I think that she'd cry (happy and sad cries). Today, I live roughly 830 miles from home. I haven't been to grad school...haven't had another job. I've come to realize that complete recovery from this monster of an eating disorder isn't as easy as I once thought, it's far more ingrained in my brain. Further recovery and pregnancy have brought many more pounds to my body, which messes with my body image, but I am far healthier (and I have an adorable child). But...it's not all sad. I'm happily married to a man that loves me (and my body) more than I could ever imagine. I'm married to the One who makes me laugh and brings me more joy than I thought existed. I'm married to my soulmate, the one who has already in the three short years we have been together, loved me in sickness and health, for better or for worse, and has never left me. I have a daughter who shows me the meaning of wonder on a daily basis, who gives the best slobbery kisses, and who melts my heart when she calls me Mama.

In the end, is it really all that bad that life didn't turn out how I had planned? Is it possible that even though there are still struggles, my life might actually be better than I had planned? 

Jeremiah 29:11 says,

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

I've read this verse for years. I mean, I think it's on every single Christian graduation present out there. It's everywhere. I've always read it looking forward, looking out- but today, I'm reading it backwards, because it has been fulfilled in my life. I've always read it to mean that God has a plan for my future, even when things seem dark at this moment. I've read it that there is a future hope. But today, looking back at the last five years, I feel like I have made it into the hope and future. There were days in the last five years when I prayed that I wouldn't wake up in the morning, I was tired of fighting the battles within. But, God had a plan for my life- a plan wilder and crazier than I could have ever dreamed of. A plan involving a kilt-wearing man showing up at Cici's for a first date and end up in an engagement a month later, a wedding six months later, and a baby a year after that. A plan that would involve not just one move away from Alabama, but two moves in the first two years of our marriage. A plan that showed just how great and mighty God is, that He could use me in my darkest moments, bring light into the darkness, and bring me into a season of hope- a future. Five years ago, I might have read that verse to mean that God had a career or ministry in mind for me- but today, I look at that verse and I see my life. I see that the journey to get to this point may have been very painful, but we (me + God) survived.

So, five-year-ago-me, throw away that color coded Excel spreadsheet plan of your life. God is laughing at you right now, oh ye of little faith. He's got something so much bigger and so much better in store for you- you just wait!

And today-me? You do the same thing. God isn't through with you yet. Are the struggles gone? Is your life over? Then, neither is this journey. You've got another seventy-five years in you at least, I'd guess (my people like living really, really old, okay?)- let God lead the way and see where He takes you. Maybe there's something bigger, just waiting right around the corner.

Easter Sunday 2017

Slowly, but surely, we are adjusting to life in Maryland. Things here are so much different than other places that we've lived (or at least- I remember living). Sometimes it seems like I'm in another culture or country- there doesn't seem to be the same kind of hospitality (in general) that exists in Alabama or Ohio. But, as the weather has gotten nicer and we've met more of our neighbors and started to make friends- I'm beginning to realize that maybe this isn't the worst place we could have gotten stationed, maybe it isn't completely terrible.

This year was S's first "real" Easter. Last year, she was almost a month old when Easter happened, but there wasn't too much celebration because 

a) she wouldn't remember it

b) I was a mom of a newborn

and 

c) she was a month early, so I wasn't prepared to have an Easter basket or dress that I loved.

I know that things like the "perfect first Easter dress" are material and not spiritual and don't really matter, but to a new mom that felt completely overwhelmed and unprepared...sometimes it seemed like the end of the world and that I was probably first in line for the "Worst Mother of the Year" award. In order to compensate for these feelings, I tended to use the line of "She's just a month old and she won't remember it" (which is probably true). I struggled (and still struggle somewhat) with feelings of guilt about the first year of her life, feelings of inadequacy or not being present and active with her enough, and how my mental health was very affected for close a year by pregnancy and postpartum hormones. This isn't to say that everything is perfect now by any means, but I definitely feel more like my pre-pregnancy anxious self than postpartum. :)

All of it to say- I was very excited about getting to celebrate Easter with my little girl this year! :)

On Friday, we had a squadron event at T's work to share some food and fun and meet some of the people that he is going to be working with. They had a small egg hunt for the kids, so S got to hunt for eggs for the first time and once she discovered that she could put them in the basket, and then take them out of the basket, and then repeat over and over again, she was very, very happy. She was even happier when she discovered a chocolate kiss inside one of the eggs and Mommy let her try chocolate candy for the first time. I think we might have a chocolate-loving girl. :) 

Then, on Saturday, we relaxed at home for awhile (my allergies aren't loving Maryland right now) before heading out to pick up S a water table! I've been wanting to get her one for awhile to help encourage her to stand and try to walk around it holding on, and she was so excited to try it out. S loves playing with her ducks in the bathtub, so getting to put on a cute pink tutu swimsuit and splash in the water while playing with rubber ducks was pretty fun for her. One thing that we love about the townhome that we are renting is that it has a fenced backyard with a patio. I can see us spending a lot of time this summer grilling out and playing back here.

And then on Sunday morning, we went to church! T and I hid some Easter eggs (if you call placing them in the middle of the playroom "hiding" them) that were filled with goldfish crackers for S and the puppies to share. She also found her Easter basket, where Mommy and Daddy had given her a new stuffed "lambie" that she absolutely adores. It's super cute and super soft, and to be honest, I really want one, too. :) After finding her goodies, we fixed some pancakes and bacon to eat for breakfast together....and THEN, we went to church.

I love our new church that we've found here. We've only gone three Sundays (since that's how long we've been in town), but it's what we've been missing. We weren't really able to ever find somewhere to call our church "home" in Ohio, so we decided to make it a priority to research places before we moved here to Maryland that we might want to visit. We visited our new church once and decided to end the search because we had found one that we liked. S had two hard Sundays in the nursery, so I decided to keep her with us this week since they might be busier because of Easter. I'm hoping that slowly she will get used to it (though, I'm not sure how that's going to go since they change nursery rooms when they start walking and we'll have to go through this again).

Overall, we had a great Easter weekend and a decent start to our time here in Maryland! Thanks for all of the thoughts and prayers during this time of transition- we're still not fully unpacked and adjusted (and still have more phone calls and address changes and crazy moving stuff to do), but we are well on our way and super thankful to get to be together to celebrate Easter. :)

Please Be Still

Since I began this blog, I got married, got pregnant, moved 9 hours from "home", and had a baby. Just thinking about everything that these last two years has held gets me exhausted, so its no wonder that I haven't posted as frequently in this space as I did in previous writing spaces that I've had. Things were very different back in the days of Diaryland and Xanga and MySpace, and the days of "Not Your Everyday Cinderella"/"Finding Free" (the two names for the blog I authored in my college years). When I began Wiferella, I lived in Alabama and I was preparing for my first PCS with my husband as we looked forward to the Air Force sending us to AFIT at Wright-Patterson AFB in Dayton, Ohio. Now, our eighteen months in Ohio is drawing to a close and we are preparing to make another move- this time to Ft. Meade, Maryland! This time is filled with lots of emotions. For most of my time in Ohio, I've hated being here. I hated it because it wasn't home, it wasn't Alabama, it wasn't comfortable or something familiar that I knew. I just knew that I couldn't wait to leave Ohio- but now that the time is coming...I'm kind of sad. Ohio has become something "known" and Maryland is the new unknown that I am dreading. I wonder if this is just a part of the process of being a military wife- making wherever the Air Force sends us home for the season we are in and embracing what it is in that moment. Maybe one of these days I will get used to the moving and PCSing and uncertainty and unknown, but right now? Right now it feels terrible and awful and I'm internally (and sometimes externally) freaking out.

In these moments, one phrase often comes to mind- "Peace be still." There's a song that came out when I was in high school that runs through my mind and I am drawn back to a much simpler, yet still anxiety-filled season of my life.

Come to Me, you who are weak
Let My strength be yours tonight
Come and rest, let My love be your bed
Let My heart be yours tonight
Peace be still, Peace be still
Please be still and know that I am God
and know that I am God
Come empty cup, let Me fill you up
I'll descend on you like a dove tonight
Lift your head, let your eyes fall into Mine
Let your fear subside tonight
Hallelujah, Hallelujah*

In these moments, it's almost like I can hear God whispering to me to just be still, be still for one moment. I wonder if he ever gets frustrated with my frequent worries about "what is", and then I think of my daughter. S is twelve months old, and she has decided that she no longer needs a nap, even though she really does. She just doesn't want to miss out on anything that is happening in the world around her. So, sometimes she will work herself up to the point of exhaustion and refuse to take a nap. She's crabby. She's crying and whining and I'm starting to get cry-y and whiney and it's super frustrating. She starts to cry a simple cry, but it's a cry that signals to me that she's tired and that if I can just get her to be still for 30 seconds- she'll be out like a rock for 2 hours. So, I lay her on my chest and we snuggle under the blankets and I hold her arms and legs and tell her that everything will be okay, that she is loved, that she is safe, that Mama is right here. I start to sing to her- and just like that- she's out. She just needed to calm down and be still long enough to fall asleep.

I wonder if it's like that with us and God. I mean, every single time I work myself up like this, he works it out in the end and I'm like "why did I freak out over that?" Maybe I just need to stop crawling away from him, stop fighting his hold on me, and lean into him. Maybe I just need to listen to his soothing voice on my life and let him calm my fighting spirit. Maybe he's sitting here, holding me, whispering to me, saying "Please child. Please be still, please be still and know that I am God."

I'm holding on to that image tonight- and in the days of uncertainty to come. Maybe I can't change what it to come, but with God by my side, I can accept the things I cannot change.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Just for today. 

*Song: Peace Be Still by Rush of Fools

Sarah Claire's Birth Story

We had a baby!

Sarah Claire decided to make her entrance into the world about four weeks early, so we've spent the last two weeks snuggling with a cute baby that squeaks and hiccups. I decided it was about time to write out her birth story, but that's where things get interesting. You see, I don't really remember my child's birth thanks to a mixture of preeclampsia and a lovely drug called Magnesium Sulfate (it's not really all that lovely). So, with some help from my husband and looking through pictures that I have no memory of being taken...the birth story.

It all started on a Saturday.

I was having contractions (nothing new about that- I'd been having Braxton Hicks since I was about 6 weeks pregnant) that were starting to pick up in intensity and becoming closer together (about 5 an hour) along with a terrible headache. When I called the birthing center on base where I received my prenatal care, they were a bit worried about the headache, so they told us to come on in and get checked out. While I was there, we ruled out preterm labor, but my blood pressure was on the high side, so I was diagnosed with gestational hypertension and told to come back on Monday for a Non-Stress Test (which come to find out can be pretty stressful).

That Monday, T and I went to base for my NST. We planned on it being a pretty short event- it was supposed to take about 20 minutes, then we would be on our way and I'd hang out on base while T went to class. We joked about the baby deciding to come that day, since it was February 29th and she'd probably like to be dramatic with her entrance. The test went fine, but as I started to get up, I got really dizzy and my headache got worse, so they took me over to Labor and Delivery for observation to see if we could figure things out. We decided it was probably a migraine, probably not preeclampsia, possibly allergies...but they kept me overnight, just in case. I went home, still with a terrible headache that wasn't really controlled by medication, but we thought that the worst of it was over. I was having a bit of anxiety and overwhelmed feelings, so my mom decided that she would come up for a few days and see if a short visit helped these feelings. She got into town on Wednesday night, and that's when things got interesting.

Early Thursday morning, I began experiencing more contractions. I waited a few hours, but they weren't going away, so I decided to wake T and we went in to Labor and Delivery again. I woke my mom and told her that she could just stay home, because I was 99.9% sure that this was a false alarm...but my anxieties just needed to make sure that everything was okay.

It wasn't.

Once again, it wasn't my contractions that were alarming- it was my blood pressure. This time, my blood pressure was in the 160s-180s (we think- I don't actually remember too much from this point onward, so I'm depending on my husband for the details) so I immediately was placed on magnesium, a terrible horrible catheter was inserted (seriously- it was a traumatic experience- it took three people ten minutes to figure out what they were doing), and since I was only 35 weeks 5 days (and shy of the 36 week mark that they require to deliver on base), I was sent downtown to a larger hospital with a NICU. I'm told that I accidentally kicked a full bird colonel when he lightly touched my knee to tell me that it would all be okay and that they'd take great care of me down at Miami Valley- my reflexes were pretty active.

An ambulance ride later (in the snow, of course), we settled in at our new hospital and I was told that not only were they trying to get my blood pressure down- they were also going to start inducing labor and we would not leave the hospital without a baby. I don't think I grasped the seriousness of the situation (and I wouldn't until about a week later when I finally got my wits about me again, got off of magnesium, and talked to my mom about everything). Apparently, I was in the L&D ICU, but I was pretty out of it (as I've mentioned many times). Over the course of three days, I think that we tried just about every single induction method. It was terrible. I felt terrible. Everything hurt and no progress was being made. Finally on Saturday, we started to see little bits of progress and they broke my water. Sometime that day, I got an epidural (which kind of worked, but I still felt things that I wasn't supposed to feel...). I began to get increasingly frustrated and begged for a c-section- I just wanted it to be over, because it was a miserable experience. Over and over again, the doctors and nurses urged me to give it "just a little longer", telling me that a vaginal delivery would be less painful and the recovery would be easier.

And then things began to happen very very fast. 

At one check I was a seven.

Then, things got very very painful and urges to push this baby out right now happened.

Forty minutes after hearing that I was a seven, I was a ten and the baby was coming.

Fifteen minutes and two contractions later at 12:27 AM on March 6th, 2016 (Sunday), our Sarah Claire entered the world.

I was very worried.
Many of the doctors that I had seen had told me that most likely Sarah would be going to the NICU after she was born. She didn't cry as she entered the world and as T would tell you, she looked quite gray and alien-like (I'm sparing you guys the pictures mostly because she's nakkie and I don't think she'd appreciate me showing the internet those things, but also because it's kind of creepy seeing your baby look that drugged up). She was a little slower to "wake up" as I'd been on magnesium for several days, but eventually she gained some color and even scored a 7 on her five minute Apgar. Our 5 lb 11 oz, 36 weeker surprised everyone by not going to the NICU- she actually did much better than her Mommy (who we think hemorrhaged during labor based on blood loss and what the doctors were doing...but I guess I was at a pretty awesome hospital for delivery, because I didn't have to have a blood transfusion and the doctors stayed pretty calm through it all).

 I was kept on magnesium for 24 hours after birth, and then monitored for 24 additional hours to see how my blood pressure did. My mom stayed with me for many of these hours as T was in the midst of finals and final projects (we like to say that Sarah picked the absolute worst week of the semester to come). Even off of the magnesium, I still don't remember much of Sunday or Monday. I was very swollen from all of the fluids, so I was stuck in a hospital gown for much of the time as none of my clothes fit. I remember being weighed on the Sunday morning after I delivered and weighing 189 pounds- I weighed about 180 the week before at my Non-Stress Test- and that was after delivering the baby and all of that jazz. There was that much fluid on me.

Finally, on Tuesday morning, we got to go HOME!

 Of course, the "excitement" doesn't end there.

After one night at home, I was back in the hospital (this time on base). On Wednesday afternoon, I had a blood pressure check (which of course I failed...). Apparently doctors don't like when you are about 4 days postpartum and the upper number is in the 160s and the bottom number is in the 90s-100s. Who knew.

After another night on magnesium (I really really hate that stuff, even if I did kind of save my life) two lasix treatments, and peeing out EIGHT LITERS of fluid overnight...my blood pressure went down (though I'm still on meds for it), I was much much less swollen, and I felt much better (as in, I could walk and wear shoes and pants). We went out to Panera on the way home to celebrate finally being free from the hospital life. As an added bonus, at my next blood pressure check that Friday, not only was my blood pressure good- my weight had decreased to about five pounds short of my prepregnancy weight- yes, apparently fluid can weigh that much.

At two weeks postpartum, I'm feeling pretty good. My mom has gone home, my husband is on break, and my baby girl is pretty awesome (though she'd be more awesome if she'd quit messing up her days and nights). All in all, we are blessed. Things could have gone so much differently- we could be making trips downtown over the break to visit Sarah in the NICU, but instead we get to snuggle her in her arms. Even though preeclampsia wrecked my birth plans and things turned out wildly different than I imagined it would go (and probably scared me off from having any more babies), I survived and didn't suffer too much irreparable damage- my doctor even says I might be off the blood pressure meds by 6 weeks postpartum. Even T got something good out of it all- with all of the waiting at hospitals, he's apparently caught all of the Pokemon- gotta catch em all, I guess. ;)

And that is the story of how Sarah Claire P entered the world. 

(I think)

2015: Year in Review

Yes, I know- it's February. I know that this post comes about a month late (I'm blaming THAT on pregnancy brain), but in an effort to try and maintain some semblance of the blog that I'm imagining in my head that I want this to be, I'm doing my "annual" year-in-review post where I share pictures of the big events from the past year in an attempt to be able to look back later when I'm old and gray and remember the happy memories.

In February, we celebrated our first Valentine's Day, and I spent a few days in the hospital trying to figure out what my body was doing.

In March, we got MARRIED and went on our Honeymoon in Atlanta (speaking of which....did I ever blog THAT either??!).

In April, Easter happened.

I don't think anything happened in May, but lots happened in June!

We put our house on the market (and it still hasn't sold....)

And we took a trip to Texas to visit T's family!

In July, we visited Ohio for the first time and looked for a place to live.

And we adopted Yoda and I turned 25...

And we found out that we were pregnant!

August continued the theme of busy....we MOVED to Ohio!

In September, we visited the Air Force Museum at Wright-Patt...

and then we saw Taylor Swift in Columbus! 

In October, we found out that we were having a baby GIRL!

In November, we decided that pregnancy and one puppy weren't enough...so we added our somewhat-sweet Lucy to the family!

And in December, we celebrated our first married Christmas!

When I look back at all of these pictures, I realize that we had quite the busy year in 2015! Lots of adventures, fun, and laughter...and lots more to come in the rest of 2016! Marriage, travels, a puppy, a pregnancy, a move, another puppy....it was a busy year. If you made it through all of these pictures and ramblings, congrats- it was a lot, even for me! Here's to 2016!

Dear NP, I'm Breaking Up With You

Dear Prenatal Nurse Practitioner that belittles my pains and complaints at every appointment,

I understand that you deal with many pregnant patients day in and day out. I'm trying to see your point of view when you dismiss my nausea (that still hasn't completely gone away at 18 weeks), or my concern with my blood work, or one of fifty other complaints that I brought up at the appointment that you told me was "normal". In your mind, in your training, in your world- it probably is. Those twinges and cramps are just my uterus growing to make room for baby. My excessive tiredness is fine, because once again- I'm growing a baby and in a few months, I'm going to be wishing for these naps. But, can I explain my point of view to you? Can I try to recreate the world in my mind that is the reason that I'm worried about these issues?

My chart should tell you that I have an anxiety disorder- what it doesn't tell you is what that means, or the fact that I've had one since the day I was born. This anxiety monster that lives in my brain makes me assume the worst in every twinge, every symptom. Yes, the rational side of my mind will try and reassure the other side by asking "Self, isn't this a completely normal part of pregnancy?". But, most of the time, I'm too tired to fight, too tired to listen. So, that twinge becomes cramping which leads to a miscarriage which leads to a dead baby. That headache becomes a brain aneurysm. The migraine combined with back pain becomes preeclampsia.

What my chart doesn't tell you is that I know the pain of miscarriage all too well, even though I've never personally had one. You may see that this is my first pregnancy- that much is true. But, I've seen many women that I love suffer through the pain of losing a child. I've loved a child that was carried within someone else's womb, only to have to hear that the child was gone. I've loved children that were born prematurely, that had to spend months and months in the NICU, fighting various complications. Miscarriage and prematurity are a part of a "normal" pregnancy in my mind- thus, I fear them greatly. Even at 18 weeks, I'm still afraid to get too attached to the baby that I'm carrying inside of my, afraid that it could be taken from me at any moment.

What my chart doesn't tell you is that I'm a scared 25 year old newlywed that moved 600 miles from the only home that she's ever really known three months ago, at 7 weeks pregnant. My chart doesn't tell you how hard of a time that I'm having adjusting to life in Ohio. It doesn't tell you how my anxiety makes it hard for me to make friends. It doesn't tell you how much I'm struggling with being a military wife, being thrust into a whole new world. It doesn't tell you about the adjustment issues that I'm having from moving away from the town that I knew as home. It doesn't tell you how hard of a time that I'm having that I can't just go over to my mom and dad's house and ask my mom, "Is this normal?" and hear her tell me honestly a yes or no. It doesn't tell you how hard it is to have to share these pregnancy milestones and first kicks through Facetime, rather than in person. It doesn't tell you about all of the times that I've laid in bed with my husband crying over the fact that I "just wish things could go back to how they were before we moved". I'm new to the military lifestyle- I don't think I really understood what being a military wife was until we PCSed in August.

What can you do? 

You can offer me grace and compassion. I'm begging you to stop just telling me that everything is normal, and show me actual tests and lab work that prove that it's normal. I need to see concrete evidence that everything is normal. The first two doctors that I saw in the ER this pregnancy and the OB in L&D got this- I'm a nervous, anxious first time mom, you can't win me over with false promises- I need evidence, I need proof. I get it- this takes time. But, don't tell me that there's not a way to make this work- I've seen multiple doctors that pressed forward and offered me compassion in these situation and found ways to make it work. The ER doctor that pulled out the ultrasound and showed me that my baby was okay, and explained that his wife was the same way with their first child. The L&D doctor that went through the process of measuring my cervix, even though all signs pointed to everything being "fine"- just to give me some proof that it was indeed "fine". I get that you've had two children- that's great. But, please don't play the role of Super Preggo with me- it's fine if you didn't have issues, or if you pressed through and persevered through them with no worries- that doesn't mean I don't.

(Oh- and you can quit telling me horror stories of babies born to moms that took Zofran. I told you, I've done my research, weighed the risks, and I feel that it is perfectly appropriate- given that the alternative is puking up my guts all the time. Just because you were Super Preggo and you didn't need medication and you were able to go all natural, doesn't mean that I have to or want to.)

That's why I'm breaking up with you, NP. That's why I'm valuing myself and my complaints and standing up to say that enough is enough and asking for a different provider at my next appointment. I was afraid to ask, for fear that you might "get mad at me" or something crazy like that (blame the anxiety disorder). But, when I think about it, I realize that it wouldn't be my problem- that would be on you. I'm standing up with confidence and proclaiming that I'm worth quality prenatal care and I have a right to ask for someone that respects me. I'm realizing that I'm worth it.

1st Trimester Bumpdate

I had really great intentions, really great plans, to blog my pregnancy. 

I mean, I was going to be all about the weekly belly pictures, in the same space, in the same shirt, at the same time each week...but that fell apart fairly quickly. To be completely honest, my 10 week and 11 week bump pictures are from the day before the week switches (Friday)...and well, week 12 is actually from 11 weeks 6 days, but I realized that I never took one for week 12, so it's going to have to work.

I also had great intentions of doing weekly "bumpdates" on the blog with updates on how I'm sleeping/eating/feeling...but to be honest, this pregnancy has been terrible and unenjoyable on the health side, so that didn't really happen. For weeks, I've counted down to the magical "Week 13"- the week when the morning sickness is supposed to subside, when I'm supposed to be happy and energetic, when *I thought* the 2nd Trimester began (it doesn't by the way- that's the END of week 13). To be totally honest, I'm still sick all the time, I sleep like 20 out of 24 hours a day, I'm really only able to keep down potato products, and I still feel terrible 100% of the time. On a frequent basis, I comment to T that if this is how pregnancy goes, this will be our last biological child, and we will be adopting the rest. I am just not made out for this 27/7 sickness. Sorry to be whiney- I know that being pregnant is a blessing, a blessing that I prayed for months about. It is hard sometimes to be thankful in the middle of it all, though. I keep telling myself that it will be worth it, that I'm creating another life, that I should be thankful...but it is rough sometimes. I did think it would be fun to do a bumpdate with the questions that I answered at 6 weeks, but this is really more of a 12 week update. I didn't feel like taking a belly picture or thinking about how I feel today, but today DOES mark 13 weeks! 

Sleep: Sleeping....all the time! As my body is beginning to grow and stretch, sleep is getting more and more uncomfortable. My daily schedule normally involves waking up around 9 for breakfast, napping until 1, eating something for lunch, napping until 4, spending a few minutes with T when he gets home from school, napping until 6, dinner, napping until 9, night snack/time with T, bed by 11. I live the life of a baby or an old person...I'm honestly not even sure who I am anymore. When I have appointments, the schedule changes, but at that point, I'm just even more exhausted because I've missed out on napping.

Nausea Meds: Each time I wake up for a meal/snack, I normally take a Benadryl and a Zofran, and that sometimes helps the nausea. I'm also on Diclegis, which I take at night, but I don't feel like it does anything at all. I've kind of had to come up with my own treatment method- the perinatal center
is fairly confused by my nausea. All signs point towards some type of hypermesis, but since I am able to keep some things down, and I haven't lost the magical amount of weight, and they don't really know how to handle the whole HG thing, I feel pretty alone. Several online forums suggested Benadryl, and that seems to be what handles the nausea best- it's not my doctor's advice, but the NP and midwife *feel* like I should only be on Diclegis (it's a pain in the face to get a Zofran script, I have to get the "deformed baby" talk each time) and I *shouldn't* be nauseous...so Dr. Google it is. I guess that's what I get with free healthcare. Thanks Tricare.

Symptoms: Nausea. Tiredness. Everything hurts because it's being stretched.

Cravings: Waffle Fries from Chickfila are a big one. Potatoes in just about any form- baked, french fries, chips....I can't get enough of salty potatoes.

Gender: It's still to early to find out, but T and I both think it's a boy. I'm starting to have thoughts that it might be a girl though. We are planning on an elective ultrasound at 14-15 weeks to find out the gender- I can't wait!

Maternity clothes: There are a few pairs of pre-preggo pants I can wear unbuttoned with a belly band. I'm about to outgrow my yoga pants, and I didn't even know that was possible. Shirts have to be stretchy or oversized or worn with a belly band, otherwise it's maternity. Dresses...let's not even go there. It's depressing. Only maternity ones fit anymore. It's actually quite humorous. 

Miss anything?: Everything. Sleep. Being able to eat without throwing up. Being able to poop like a normal person. Being able to bend down without a) throwing up or b)getting stuck down there. Being able to go grocery shopping without having to stop to catch my breath, stop because I'm dizzy, or stop to sit down. Being able to go grocery shopping. Having energy.

Best moment this week: Hearing baby's heartbeat at the 12 week checkup at the clinic! 

Looking forward to: Not being sick anymore.

Great. This seems really depressing.
I promise I'm not depressed. Actually, mood wise, I've been the best I've been in awhile thanks to an awesome med change (those are needed every once in awhile!). It's mostly just being sick of being sick. Sick of feeling ignored by my doctors. Sick of being told that I "shouldn't" feel this sick...meh. Hopefully week 13 brings some relief.

The Gift of Struggle

It all started when I was reading through my news app on my phone the other day and I came across this article where Rob Lowe reflected on "the gift of alcoholism" (now is probably the time to fess up and tell you that I have NO IDEA who this Rob Lowe guy is, so if he turns out to be some porn star when you Google him, don't blame me. I warned you!). At first, I was a little setback by him calling alcoholism a gift. I mean, it's a mental illness. It's an addiction. A gift? Doesn't he know how many lives are destroyed by overconsumption of alcohol? But, then I got to the part of the article where they quoted a part of a speech he gave- and suddenly...I understood.

"Being in recovery has given me everything of value that I have in my life," Lowe told the crowd. "Integrity, honesty, fearlessness, faith, a relationship with God, and most of all gratitude. It's given me a beautiful family and an amazing career. I'm under no illusions where I would be without the gift of alcoholism and the chance to recover from it."

It's the same idea that I've been taking about all this time- the idea that sometimes the best things in life come from lessons learned in the darkest night of the soul.

After I read the article, things just kept popping up in my daily life that seemed to reiterate this idea. Multiple articles on gratitude and being grateful seemed to show up on my Facebook newsfeed- people thanking God for "blessings in disguise".  It was then that I realized that I was receiving what many wise Christians in the faith have called a "God wink". There was clearly something that God was trying to teach me through all of this- and I decided that I needed to use the time that I had to think about what lesson he might be trying to teach me in this given moment.

To be completely honest (since I place a high value on being honest on this blog), I've been struggling with antenatal depression throughout (more often than not) this pregnancy. It's something that I just don't hear people talk about- so it brought a fair amount of shame to me. I mean, I've heard of postpartum depression. I knew that based on my history, it was something that I needed to look out for after the baby comes. But antenatal depression? I'd never even heard of that! After all- pregnancy- this is supposed to be an exciting time! I am excited, very excited- after all, this was a very planned and very wanted pregnancy. But since the beginning, I've suffered from extreme, debilitating morning sickness. Some days it is better, some days it is worse. On the days where it is better and I am able to get out of bed for a majority of the day and get stuff done around the house- things are good. I am happy. I am content. But, on the days when the nausea and vomiting is relentless and I've tried every medication that the doctors have prescribed- I can get very very down on myself. When this happens for days on end...it can be quite difficult. Last weekend, we spent Saturday night in the ER getting rehydrated, since I hadn't been able to keep fluids down in 24 hours. Hypermesis has been thrown around, but I don't fall anywhere near the severity for that, so it has kind of been a waiting game, trying to figure out how to make things better. Sometimes, it gets very difficult to celebrate this pregnancy, especially when I remember that I still have 29 weeks left!

I am blessed though, that I have an incredible support system. I have a husband that is willing to drop anything and everything to make sure that I am safe. I have a husband that is willing to call the psychiatrist office for me, make the appointment for me, and bring me to that appointment. When the anxiety and the depression build up, I have a spouse that will step in and meet my needs. T is so supportive about everything- and I'm grateful that I married a man like that. Thanks to the hard work, we were able to meet with a psychiatrist on base this last Monday for a medication adjustment, and other than being very very drowsy all of the time- it seems to be making a difference. The dark thoughts aren't quite as dark anymore, and I'm grateful for that.

Last Friday, I was browsing on Facebook and I came across a blog post that the organization To Write Love on Her Arms posted for Suicide Prevention Week. I'd encourage you all to click over and read the post in it's entirety, but for now, I'm just going to summarize what really stood out to me. The post is about endurance, and what "endure" means. When I think of endurance, I normally think of an athlete or someone running a marathon. I think of them having the strength to make it to the end- on their own, by their own power, without help. But, I'm beginning to realize that maybe it isn't about doing it on our own. The author of the post discusses three definitions of the word "endure":

1. "To suffer patiently"- I tend to get caught up on the word "patience". I am terrible about being patient- I am like a five year old, that desperately wants to grab the marshmallow on the shelf, rather than wait five minutes and get two. At first, I was like- well, there we go. I guess I can never endure anything. But then, I saw the definition of "patience"- it means "bearing pain, being tolerant, and persevering". Well, I am bearing the pain, I'm tolerating it, I'm not acting out or using behaviors. I guess you could even say that I am "persevering". If the act of suffering, the act of putting up with the pain, is a form of being patient- maybe I am a patient person.
2. "To remain in existence"- I am still here. After all of the illness and sickness over the years- I haven't given up. I am still here. Even through this difficult pregnancy- I have made it to eleven and a half weeks- that is a huge accomplishment. I may not be pain free- but I am still existing. 
3. "To undergo a hardship without giving in"- There have been many times over the last eleven weeks that I have felt like resorting back to old behaviors would make things easier to handle. There have been many, many temptations- many, many opportunity to act out without getting caught. But, I haven't. I have stayed on track. I am trying to eat a balanced diet. I am caring for myself. I am not harming myself. I am not giving in to the urges.

When I look at these definitions, I realize that even though I might not be running marathons- I do have endurance. I also realize that endurance is not about surviving until the end under your own power or strength. In order for me to "suffer patiently", "remain in existence", and "undergo hardship without giving in"- I need other people. I need to reach out and ask for help if I need it. Asking for help doesn't put an asterisk next to my name when I finish the race. We need each other. We need community. We need to be able to be open and honest about our struggles, because then we are allowing others to come beside us, be a part of our story, and give and receive gifts. Gifts don't have to be tangible objects. Sometimes they might be a pat on the back, or a warm hug. Sometimes a gift is a kind word of encouragement. Sometimes a gift is someone sitting in silence while you pour your heart out and cry out every tear in your body. Back in the beginning of the post, Rob Lowe said that die to alcoholism, he received the gifts of "integrity, honesty, fearlessness, faith, a relationship with God, and most of all gratitude". In my journey, I have received many gifts as well, but I think that the one that I'm just now open to receiving is gratitude. 

• I am grateful for the Hell that I've been through, because now I can enjoy life that much more. 
• I am grateful that I have discovered my imperfections, because now I can celebrate in being imperfect- and I can allow God and others to step in my life and help me- because I don't have to do this by my own power anymore. 
• I'm grateful for this pregnancy. I'm grateful for the opportunity to carry this child in my womb, for however long God sees fit. I'm grateful that I've gotten to see our precious baby on an ultrasound machine, and I've heard his or her heart pumping away like crazy. I'm grateful that I can receive quality prenatal care from a team of wise doctors, nurses, and midwives. I'm grateful for the invention of medication that can help curb the nausea and stop the vomiting. I'm grateful that my husband hasn't given up or gotten too annoyed by my whining yet. I'm grateful that in two days, I will be twelve weeks pregnant- and I'll only have 28 more weeks to go. :)

Maybe struggle is a gift after all. It helps us realize that we are not alone, that we are not an island. It helps us accept the fact that we are pretty much powerless, and we need others- we need a mighty God in heaven to save us. We need a God that won't just stay up on a big throne up in the sky, but rather one that will come down to Earth and save us from ourselves. We need a God that will run the marathon of life beside us, one that will carry us to the finish line when we are too exhausted to make it any further. Is there darkness in the world? Most definitely. Will I still struggle with antenatal depression after writing this post? Probably. But, what will help us make it through the hard times, what will help me endure this pregnancy is the idea that even in the darkness, there is light. There is a glimmering, sparkling, shimmer that is peeking its way through the cloud. It is a hand that is reaching down from above, saying "Come, my dear child. Come and drink of the living water. I want you to choose life over death. I want to walk beside you all of the days of your life, and when you get tired, too exhausted to walk another step, I will hold you in my arms and carry you the rest of the way- all because I love you this much."

PCSing with an Anxiety Disorder: PreMoving Tips

Part of being married to the military means that every two or three years, our lives will drastically change and we will take part in what is called a PCS, or Permanent Change of Station. I go back and forth on a daily (maybe even hourly) basis on how I feel about this issue. T and I will be PCSing this August to Ohio- a place nine hours away, that until a week ago I had never been. As the date of our departure inched closer and closer, my anxiety went up and up and up. I mean, I already have a diagnosed anxiety disorder. I already have attachment and separation anxiety issues. I already have gone through a massive life change this year (getting married). AND NOW THIS? It's enough to cause a girl to lapse or relapse in recovery, it's enough to cause various different health issues due to stress/anxiety, and it's enough for me to want to just spend my days in bed, in bed, with the lights off, pretending that none of this is really happening. But, in recent weeks, T and I have made some conscious choices to try and make this move a little easier- hey, PCSing with a dependent is something that he's never done either. I thought that today might be a good day to share some of the steps that we've been taking to make this transition go more smoothly.

1. Operation Find A Home: T took permissive TDY so that we could spend 10 days in Ohio searching for a place to live, exploring the city, and getting oriented with our new base. Honestly, I don't know how people do a PCS and wait until they get into town to find a home. That's a super important thing to me, as my home is my "safe place", the place I can retreat to when I feel overwhelmed. The idea of living in an extended stay hotel or on-base lodging for weeks didn't appeal to me or my anxiety. Luckily, I can report that after only a few apartment tours, we found a place to live. Yes, we wanted a house, but we couldn't find one in the area we were looking in for a price comparable to our BAH (basic allowance for housing)- everything was too expensive, if we were looking for something comparable to where we live now. For 18 months while we are at AFIT, I think we can handle the tiny spaces of a two bedroom apartment. We can make it work. Finding a home took a major stressor off of my shoulders.
2. Therapy Plans and Continuation of Care: I'm special. Since I see a therapist and a psychiatrist for mental health issues (i.e. anxiety), I am enrolled in the Exceptional Family Member Program (EFMP for short). Basically, this is just to ensure that the Air Force does not send us somewhere where I cannot receive adequate care. This has been a bit of a learning curve though- most resources out there for the EFMP program are for children with special needs or adults with severe special needs. There isn't much out there for "the girl that's just trying to get a therapy session before January". It doesn't help that we are changing Tricare regions, so I can't get ANY referrals until we actually move up to Ohio and I get reenrolled in the program up North. I've spent hours on the phone with various people (both at our losing and gaining bases) trying to get this figured out. As it is, I normally see a therapist every 1-2 weeks. The idea of going months without therapy is scary. I called both EFMP programs, both Tricares...and nobody had any answers for me except to wait it out. Well, I don't like taking no for an answer, so I kept calling various different places. I finally decided to call up the on-base mental health clinic and ask them what to do...and they figured out a way that since I'm technically in their system due to EFMP (they approved the move), they could bend some things around and I now have an appointment about a week after we move to see a psychologist. Hopefully, from there we can figure out a treatment plan so that I can ensure that I have a provider that will meet my needs and so that maybe I don't have to wait until January to see a psychiatrist to get meds either. Lesson of the day: Keep calling, don't take no for an answer, and if you ask super nicely- sometimes people can make things magically work. :)
3. Lists, Lists, and More Lists: I'm a to-do list person. On my desk, beside my computer, I currently have three pages, front and back of lists and phone numbers, and to-dos. I feel so much less stressed about everything that I have to get done when I have a place that says exactly what I have to get done. The goal isn't to get everything done on these lists today- just sometime before midAugust. :) Progress, not perfection. I do have a couple "dailies" that I'm trying to find a place to fit in my schedule each day- read a chapter of a book, yoga, and journal. This is for my personal sanity and stress relief, not necessarily to get anything done for the move.
4. Cook What You Have: We are currently playing a game called "what can we cook with what is in the fridge, freezer, and pantry?". It means we've had some adventurous meals (I made meatloaf the other night!), but it also means that we will use what we have up, save on grocery bills, and since the moving company won't move our food- it means we won't have to throw it away! Some of the things on our list for the next week or so include: burrito bowls, chicken with whole wheat pasta, chicken stirfry, Hamburger Helper, chicken and rice casserole, and english muffin pizzas! I'm also trying to use up our muffin mix stash that I have by baking muffins for us to grab for breakfast. Our main thing to use up is the meat that we have stored in the freezer- chicken is easy enough for me to cook with, but ground beef is hard for me to come up with ideas for. I mean...tacos...and tacos....and...I don't know. Leave ideas of yummy ground beef recipes in the comments below! :)
5. Capsule Closet: I've been reading online about this concept called a capsule closet for eons. While I was drawn to the idea, I always thought that I had too many different clothes, too many different styles to make it work. But, since changing sizes (yay recovery!), I've cleaned out and simplified my closet and dresser quite a bit. Since we are PCSing soon, I decided to go ahead and pack up most of my clothes (fall/winter and dressier items--all things that I will wear again and that do fit) and try this whole capsule closet thing out for the next month before we move, and for the time after we move until we get unpacked. Who knows...maybe I'll love it and stick with it. For now, it means less clothes and less laundry, so I'm all for that. Look for a post on this project in the coming days..I just have to find a time to write it. :) This whole capsule closet gives me so much less to be anxious about- getting started packing, simplifying, having clothes that fit and that I truly love, and less laundry! I hate laundry. T hates laundry. Thus, we have fifty-bazillion stacks around the house of clean and dirty clothes. 

So, that's what I'm doing to prep my brain for our upcoming move. Honestly, I think most of these tips could be useful for any move, or even just everyday life (hello, capsule closet). Now, it's time to get started on dinner- burrito bowls/tacos tonight. I think I'm going to have to run to the store and grab some Mexican cheese...I feel like my husband wouldn't think tacos were tacos without taco cheese. 

I Never Thought I'd Be a Military Wife

I never thought I'd marry someone in the military. I mean, it just wasn't something I'd ever really thought of. I've had family members serve in various branches of service, my dad was in the air force for a few years, but in all honesty...it wasn't in my plans. It wasn't a part of my picture perfect, color coded, Excel spreadsheet. While my ideas of where I'd live and where I'd start a family varied throughout the years (at one point, I was highly interested in big cities like Atlanta or New York City- because obviously if I was the star broadway actress that I wanted to be in fifth grade, that would be how things went down), when I actually "grew up", I imagined a life and starting a family in my hometown (something I would have NEVER considered in high school- I wanted to get far, far away from there). I imagined a life where we'd have dinner with my parents once a week, and go to church with my family, and go to baseball and football games for my youngest brother. I imagined my kids going to the same elementary school that I did, having the same preschool teachers as my brothers. Keeping things the same seemed safe and comforting. I mean, why would I really want to move away from all of this? If we did move out of the tricounty area, it would obviously be somewhere still in the South, and we'd live there until our kids finished school at least- no moving. While I'd be a stay at home mom, my husband would work a nice, safe, typical, 9-5 job. We'd have weekends together, go to church together. It would all be...comfortable.

But, alas, things changed when I met T. It was September 2014 and we met online and I knew he was in the air force, so I knew that his service would be a part of our relationship. He worked weird hours, but it was fine, because it was still during the day. It was normal, right? We could make this work. And then- things quickly changed. About a week after we started dating, he informed me that he had applied for graduate school and if accepted, he'd be moving to Ohio in August 2015. I was shocked. I mean, how could we do this long distance? I knew he was the one that God had prepared for me, but I was so confused and scared about being in a long distance relationship. Three weeks later, we were engaged to be married, with the intent of being married sometime between January and March- so that we would have been married approximately six months before everything was thrown upside down and we relocated. In January, he learned he had been accepted into AFIT and we would be moving. It was also in January when he went back to working nights. The way his current position works is that he works 3 months days/3 months nights. I hated it when we were dating, but eventually I was able to somewhat adjust my sleep schedule, so I at least go to see him. :) He went back to days in March around the time we got married, and we are still waiting to hear if he will go back to nights in July (it would be hard, since he'd be starting outprocessing stuff at that point). In addition to his crazy schedule, he is literally always on call. Leave is pretty much the only time we are "safe" for him to not get called in. It's only happened a few times, but it really stinks when you are in the middle of a fun date day on a day your husband is off, and he gets a call telling him that they need him to report for duty. Granted, its always been just a little paperwork thing, and he comes home a few hours later, but it stinks to know that you can't go more than a certain distance away without leave.

I was reading an article the other day that was complaining about how military members and their dependents got all sorts of "free" stuff- healthcare (which, I should add- it's required that any full time buisness offer healthcare. Yes, ours is free. But, I can tell you that there is a reason it is free- its a huge hassle, there are multi-week waits to get into see a doctor, EVERYTHING has to be preapproved unless you are dying, and most non-on base doctors that accept Tricare are terrible), the commissary (yes, it's tax free, but I promise that it's not always cheaper), on base rec facilities and work out rooms (okay, that is a pretty nice perk- but I've never used them, so I have nothing to complain about). In response to these complaints from the Washington Post and others, this blog wrote:

Service members, retirees and their families, the tone says, are acting like privileged brats for expecting, accepting and clinging to the benefits which encourage them to stay military or even to join in the first place. In fact, the tone says, it is a waste of tax payer money to meet military personnel needs or even give nice-to-haves in exchange for keeping them around. Service members are overpaid, coddled low-skill workers who should not be given compensation for the inconveniences of military life, but who should still be expected to do their jobs anyway. It’s a tone that says if you had to join the military to make it through life you are, logically, a substandard American worker and you do not warrant compensation in excess or even equal to the civilian market. Civilians are people who have choices and didn’t take the easy out of Uncle Sam. Military are people who are living off the tax payer.

Okay...I get it, we are living off of the tax payer.  But isn't that the point? Aren't presidents and governors and senators and other political people living off of the tax payer? I don't view it like I view Medicaid/Medicare (even though most doctors and pharmacies do!)- how I view it is like this: Service members put their lives on the line every day. They are in control of nothing- a commander can tell you that you are moving to this squadron or this job and all of your hours will change. You can get deployed with very little notice. You have to move every few years. Military members and their dependents give up a lot of things- some have to sacrifice more, due to their assignments. Not all service members are uneducated- to be an officer, you have to have a college degree (I think...don't quote me on this). My husband was enlisted, then he decided to go to the Academy. That's a prep school year, and four years of college-at a service academy. With his degree, he could be doing well in the corporate world (not to say that we aren't doing well, but you know what I mean- it wasn't like he joined the air force because it would be easy and he didn't want to flip burgers). It took hard work and perseverance to get to where he is today. I don't think that any rational person would look at his accomplishments and say that he was a "substandard American worker" or a "overpaid, coddled low-skill worker". I don't think he took the easy way out, I don't think we took the easy way out. The way I see it, not only does he work a high stress job, we also get to PCS (move) every two or three years. This means that our kids will most likely go to at least four to six different schools. This means we will be moving and selling and renting all the time (until he retires, of course). This means that our kids won't be able to grow up down the road from either set of their grandparents. This means that I get to find a new therapist every two years (which is normally a minimum set of time for me to actually get used to one).

So yes, Washington Post writers- you are paying for my "healthcare" and my kids schooling (if we go to DOD schools). Yes, you are funding a commissary and workout facilities. Yes, you are paying for various services to be provided to us on base for free or minimal cost. But really, what would you do without us? What would you do without brave men and women fighting for your freedom to write that article and to say those statements? You get to stay in your comfy little house in your comfortable community while other men and women leave their families for months on end to keep you safe. Sure, you don't have a guaranteed job- but, if you want one...who knows...the military might offer someone was "substandard" and "low skilled" as you a guaranteed job- if you are willing to sacrifice for it.

Sorry for this whiney-MILSO post. I generally try to avoid stuff life this, but today it just bottled up. I don't want to move. I like our house now that it's all prettyfied. I like our town. I like being close to my family. I don't like the idea of having to keep my house super clean so that it can be ready for a showing at any given time. I don't like the idea of moving 9 hours away to a place I've never been. But, I'm doing these hard things anyways. I'm packing up our stuff. I'm researching places to rent. I'm doing everything my mind is telling me that it doesn't want to do- because I love my husband and I promised on our wedding day that I'd "follow and support [him] wherever God…or the United States Air Force…calls [him] to go." The sacrifices that this military wife life requires are worth it, because it keeps our freedoms, our children's freedoms, and our children's children's freedoms alive.

Who is Wiferella?

My name is Lauren. I am a newlywed (see picture above, I'm the one on the right in the pretty dress- my handsome goofball of a husband is on the left). I am married to my very best friend- I may have had to wait twenty four years for him, but he was totally worth the wait. T is a LT in the US Air Force (we shall call him T on here to protect his identity and keep PERSEC and OPSEC and all that fancy military lingo...I don't want no terrorists tracking my man!). We currently live a town near where I grew up (my parents house is 15 minutes down the road), but we are preparing for our first PCS in the fall. To be honest, I'm a little nervous about moving ten hours away from the only home I really know (we moved here when I was four) and yeah...but I said in my vows that I'd follow him wherever God or the US Air Force led us, so I guess that's life as a military wife.

We got married at a small ceremony about three weeks ago. It was simple, but it was totally us and I loved it. I got to walk down the aisle of the church I grew up in, our families were there, and we had pie (it was on Pi Day!). I can't wait to share more about our day, but I'm waiting for our professional pictures to come back before I recap too much of the wedding. Just know that there were super cute tree stump cupcake stands, a zombie cake, and we wrote our own vows. I think that's enough of a sneak peak, for now. 

I'm a self proclaimed theology nut. I got a Bachelor of Arts in Religion at Huntingdon College, which is located in Montgomery, AL. During the course of my college years, I attended three colleges, had five majors, and finally settled where I did. I'm glad I did, because I really enjoyed my major, but there isn't much you can do with a religion degree, I'm not very interested in going to seminary or becoming a pastor, plus throw in the whole "moving every 2-3 years" thing- it's probably just really good prep work for becoming an awesome stay-at-home, homeschool mom. Right now, I'm a "stay-at-home wife"- and it's actually been pretty fun once I got used to it. I do most of the cooking and cleaning, and I get to spend time with my husband on days when he is off (he works a super weird schedule). 

I'm in recovery from an eating disorder, anxiety, depression, and all sorts of other fun stuff. I fight a daily battle to recover from perfectionism. Basically, I have more issues than the DSM-5 can handle and more issues than Vogue. But, on a positive note- things are going really really amazing at the moment. I'm pretty much recovered from the eating disorder, and I can generally manage the rest with meds, therapy, and my amazing support system. Recovery is the hardest thing that I've ever done in my life- but it's also the best thing I've ever done. Deuteronomy 30: 15-16, 19 is one of my favorite sections of scripture. It reads,

See I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. For I command you today to love the Lord your God, to walk in his ways, keep his commands; then you will live and increase, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land you are entering to possess…now choose life.

These verses spoke very clearly to my heart. God wants me to choose life.  If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder or any other mental illness, reach out. I'd be glad to talk, contact me at one of the links at the top of the sidebar. Please know that you are never ever alone in your struggle and God loves you- no matter what!

I think that's all for today. I've got a few errands to one- mainly a trip to the grocery store to get the one item I went to the grocery store for earlier...and then walked off without. Oh- and thank you notes. I don't even want to think about those. Thinking about them makes my hand hurt, but I love the feeling of writing a handwritten, heartfelt thank you note! I can't just write "Thanks for the gift. You are awesome."...I have to launch into some grand explanation of how they've changed my life and how we are going to specifically use their present...I'm probably overanalyzing things, but whatever!