Third Time's NOT a charm...

I feel like I’ve let my poor little neglected blog die, it’s been so long since I’ve written anything for myself, and I have a million reasons why I haven’t, but the truth is it doesn’t matter, because I haven’t, and nothing I do today is going to change that.

I feel like I have so many thoughts in my mind that I am trying to sort out, which I am not good at doing in my head, so I need to write.  I need to bleed out my heart and soul so maybe; just maybe, I can have some peace again.

In late October, Chris and I experienced our second miscarriage.  I knew it wasn’t going to be a successful pregnancy, because I just had a feeling.  We didn’t go to the doctor, and we had a miscarriage at home, dealing with all that comes with that.

After this miscarriage, I knew I couldn’t keep teaching in Brush.  I am not going to go into detail about Brush here on my adventure blog, but there was so much happening in our school and district that were against my moral compass, and I really struggled with how much stress I was under, so having that second miscarriage I realized I couldn’t do it anymore.  I resigned. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but it wasn’t going to be working there.  Leaving Brush was not pretty.  Administration retaliated and made life pretty miserable for me and Chris and I have never felt so betrayed in my life.

But as awful as administration was to me in Brush, I had never felt better.  I was relieved to be done with that school and district.  I wasn’t sure what was going to happen in our lives, but I hadn’t felt surer of a decision in my life.  In fact, a week after I was no longer working in Brush, I was offered another job, and I got pregnant again.  We were so excited when we found out in December that I was pregnant, and I was feeling “normal” pregnancy symptoms which was such a relief after everything we have been through in the last year or so with my first miscarriage.  What an exciting time for us and what an amazing year 2015 was going to be. 

Because I started a new job, I didn’t have insurance for the month of January, so while I should have had my first prenatal exam in mid-January, we had to postpone it until February when I would have insurance again.  I tell you what; February 2^nd could not come soon enough!  Chris even had a countdown going… “only ___ more days until baby day!”  

We had an ultrasound appointment first, and I knew as she kept trying to find an ovary that I was having a dejavu of last year.  I could see that there was nothing on the screen, and when she went to go get the doctor I looked at Chris and we both knew: a third miscarriage.  The doctor came in, and made her look at the uterus and sac, looking for signs of a molar pregnancy using simple enough words for me to understand, but now cannot remember what was said (I only remember that Dr. A grabbed/held my foot and I thought it extremely strange and slightly awkward, but how do you say hey dude, I know you’ve been up my junk, but could you please not touch me? That’d be great, thanks. Yea, you just can’t say it.)

After getting into an exam room, Dr. A said it didn’t look like another molar pregnancy and everything looked to be pointing to a “normal” miscarriage and that our best option (after reviewing all the options) would be for “nature to take its course.”  I was surprised at myself when I was able to speak with such conviction, “that’s what we did last time, and I’m not willing to do that again, so I want to schedule a D&C.”  I think I took Dr. A by surprise too, because it took him a minute to respond.  He agreed to schedule the D&C the following Friday but we were going to do a 48 hour blood test and have an appointment the following Monday to go over everything, have another ultra sound to make sure nothing had changed, blah, blah, blah, do you want us to call you with the blood results? {No.} We’ll call you once we schedule the surgery blah, blah, blah, hang on a second and…. I was so excited when I saw you were coming in, this is just so sad, blah, blah, blah.

I looked at Chris, stoic as ever, and grabbed his hand as tears stung the corners of my eyes.  Why are they not letting us leave? I just want to get out of here.  He squeezed my hand and smiled; everything is going to be alright.

We finally got out of the office and got blood drawn.  Two days later, another draw. Thursday, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize, and I was compelled to answer.  “Hi Tiffany, this is Kathleen, Dr. A would like to speak with you, do you have a minute?” “uh, yeah.” “okay, here he is… Hi Tiffany, it’s Dr. A, so we have a problem with your blood results… blah blah blah,  I don’t feel comfortable waiting to do your d&c, we need to do it now…” My head started spinning. This was not the same Dr. A from Monday who thought everything was fine.  This was the urgent Dr. A from last year when we found out about the molar pregnancy. Tears started streaming down my face and I grabbed my stuff and ran, locking myself in my classroom.  I can’t do this again. I called Chris, unable to get out very many intelligible words.  

Friday was a blur of more appointments and more blood draws and more questions to answer. The only thing I remember was in my appointment with Dr. A on Friday, he looked at me and said “You are such a remarkable woman; I feel privileged to be your doctor.”  I think I remember it, because it is the first time someone has ever called me a woman without young in front of it, and I was slightly offended and felt kind of old. 

I am so overwhelmed.  For some reason this time has been harder than before.  I have spent my entire commute some mornings bawling because of how unfair I feel this situation is.  Why did Heavenly Father let the girl who was visibly about 7-8 months pregnant I saw smoking a joint outside of Taco Johns get to have a baby and I can’t? Why do people who can’t even take care of themselves let alone a baby get to have one?  Why… Why… why!!??!!??  I have so many questions and no answers.  Why were my numbers so high? Why was there such urgency in Dr. A’s voice on that phone call? Emotionally I have been a wreck, and last time, I remember feeling so much better and clearer and happy in every way, but this time I still do not feel like myself. I feel… heavy, I guess is the best way to describe it.

It's Working!

I figure I should update on my summer of love project now that we are already a month in (tear! a month of my summer is already gone!) and all I have to say is: it's working!

I feel so much better than I have all year.  A few highlights: I have lost 10 lbs! Now, understand, with how much weight I gained, which was considerable, it definitely does not look like I have lost 10 lbs, but my scale has definitely come down, and I feel it in my running.

My running isn't as far along as I would have hoped, but my endurance is so much better. When I started out, I really couldn't go very far, and I can now go triple what I started out at. (Sorry for the ending in double prepositions, but alas, what can I say, I'm on summer break, at least you get my acknowledgement that I know I shouldn't do it.)  I run on the back road behind our house, which is nice, because I can bring the dogs, but it sucks, because the weeds are thick and it's difficult to run in. Especially with the distance I am wanting to accomplish, I am going to have to find another place. I have a cheap elliptical we bought this winter, but I truly prefer running outside, so a solution is definitely being sought out.

My house is coming along. My in-laws were here for a few days, and they helped with some things on the house (they are seriously great that way, even when I say not to worry about any projects, they always find something to help us out with) Chris built some miniature white picket fences (I've always been in love with white picket fences) to go around my flowers in the front of the house, because we found out that I'm not the only one who loves flowers, Ace does too.  So much in fact that he chews on my rose bushes and digs up my plants. So Chris designed and measured and made these cute little fences for me so I could have some flowers.

And now for a photo update:

Chris's (27th!) birthday: celebrating my love

Midnight, in a box, because she's the cutest, seriously, ever.

Love! He is so good with them!

Namara and her egg.

Piglets? I felt like a super cool aunt this day.

We did some updating in the kitchen. I seriously need to do a post just on our house to show the before and afters so far. Seriously drastic differences!

My flowers and white picket fence! Eeep! :)

My sweet (mostly finished) front porch, and my second picket fence. And my Lillys :)

My morning runs with mister and Pandora (sweet song, eh)

And last, but most importantly, my honey:

And just to show you why Christopher was on my list, this:

Every morning, without fail, Chris texts me. I'm not even kidding you. Every. Single. Morning. 

How did I get so lucky?

The Summer of Love 2014

My good friend and colleague told me recently that she is planning on having this summer to be her summer of love.  (That sentence is really horrible grammar, but I can't figure out how to fix it right now, so you will just have to deal with it.) She is a few years older than me and single and fiercely independent.  She and I are kindred spirits, but that's a post for another day.  Her summer of love is one of finding love and a companion who can walk beside her and support her in her adventures and start a family (see! Kindred spirits!)

I have been thinking on this phrase, and I have decided to adopt it and also make 2014 the summer of love for Tiffany.  How is this possible when I'm already married?? Keep reading! That's why we're here!

After I got pregnant I thought my life was perfect, things were finally falling into place and life was beautiful. When I found out I lost the baby I was devastated. If you've read my blog, you know how I felt. You also know how I felt when I found out I couldn't have children.  What you don't know is that I feel like since December-ish, everything else in my life has fallen apart.

Yes, my husband joined the church and has gained an amazing testimony, he loves me unconditionally and is my rock, he keeps me grounded when all I want to do is sink beneath it. But things have been so hard. Work, church, life, home has been so hard.

I look in the mirror and I don't like what I see.  I have gained a tremendous amount of weight (between pregnancy weight that I didn't lose, birth control weight, and stress weight), I look exhausted, and I just feel unhappy.  I hate feeling the way I do, but I feel like my life is spinning out of control, much like the tornado we had here in Akron earlier this week. I am just struggling, (hence my lack of writing lately) but this post is not about my struggles, it's about how I'm going to change all that, and how I'm going to do that this summer of love.

First and foremost I bought a new pair of shoes.  Now what does a pair of shoes have to do with love? Well we all know a woman's true love is an amazing new pair of shoes, but also, this:

                                                                                  

                                                 

Typically I don't think this is referring to a pair of running shoes, but in my case it does. I've always wanted to run a half marathon, ever since I was in cross country in high school. It's a bucket list item so to speak, and I have wanted to get into running again, but I didn't have a good pair of running shoes (despite what Chris says about the amount of shoes in my closet.) I have been wanting a pair of ASICS, but they are a bit pricey. ASICS are what I wore when I was running daily in high school and no other pair of tennis/running shoe can compare. I've heard Brooks are pretty fantastic too, but they're even more pricey, so I'll stick with ASICS for now. Plus I got a killer Kohls deal on this pair:

In addition to just owning a fabulous pair of new shoes, these shoes will lead me down my path of love. I am planning on running a half-marathon on Labor Day, which gives me all summer to prep my body to do an amazing thing, and doing this amazing thing (I mean running 13 miles is pretty amazing) I can start to love myself again. I am pretty sure by forcing my body (which looks as if the only half marathoning it's capable of is eating) to run a half marathon, I can not only be proud of myself for an accomplishment, but also love my body, because just saying, I will probably lose some weight in the process. Win-Win for loving myself. 

Secondly is to love my Heavenly Father and to love my Savior, Jesus Christ. Now don't get me wrong, I do love my Heavenly Father and my Savior, I just feel as if I don't have a strong enough relationship with them. I've made this comment before, but in our desperate times we have a tendency to do one of two things: cling on to the gospel and it's teachings, or we let it go because we are just so overwhelmed. I have a tendency to do the latter. I've done both, but my tendency is to stop doing everything we are asked to do because it gets too hard to "do it all".  So this summer I want to work on my testimony and loving my Savior and my Heavenly Father. I also want to be ready for my endowment by the end of the summer, because Chris and I are planning on next March making a special trip to Logan to be sealed for time and all eternity (more on that later). I want to be ready now instead of getting there and realizing I am not ready, and I don't want to be the reason Chris doesn't go through the temple when he is ready.

Third. Love my job. This year I have been flying by the seat of my pants. I have struggled this year with so many aspects of my career. In fact, it has brought many conversations at home on whether or not I want to stay in education, or if I want to go get a Master's degree pursuing another career entirely. I want to give it one more shot, so this summer I am planning on going into school once a week. On this weekly trip, I am going to clean and organize my classroom. Clean, uncluttered environments are the only way to learn. I am also going to get my whole school year ready (because they're changing what I'm doing for the third year in a row). I want to get my lessons, activities, handouts, etc. ready for the entire school year. If I get all of this ready this summer, it will take off a lot of stress during the school year, and I can focus on other things, like being:

                       

Fourth: love my home. I will be the first to admit I HATED our house when Chris bought it. Many may even know the story of how I started crying when I first stepped foot in our house. So I was a little bitter for a while, until I realized the power of paint. Holy cow! That made a world of difference! Then we put pictures on the wall of one of the happiest days of my life, (my wedding, duh!) and I started to put a little work and sweat into our house and with help from Chris, my in-laws, and Kale, I felt like we had a home. In fact we were talking about moving a couple weeks ago, and it made me sad, because I really love what we have done to our house. It is far from perfect, but we have put so much time and work into the house that it feels like home. It feels like ours. Holy Mack- sidetracked! Love my home. Still much to do. I don't think a house is a home until there are flowers in the front yard. I am planning on putting some love into the outside of our house now: clean up the yard, plant a garden, plant some flowers, paint the exterior, and truly love what an amazing place we have that we OWN, that we can fix and make better. Sometimes the task is daunting, which makes me have my negative attitude, but I am planning on loving my home and putting all kinds of work into it this summer.

(This is a little preview of something we started, but you see?!?! Flowers! Of course it snowed shortly after I planted them, and they died :( so I will have to replace them)

And last, love my honey. I mean this kind of speaks for itself, cause look at that face:

How can anyone not love that face? I mean seriously, he's the cutest! I hate to admit this, but there are times when I am just mean to him. It is a horrible thing to admit, but I am.  I think because I know he will still love me unconditionally, but that's no excuse. He is more than I ever wanted in a husband (you know those silly checklists we make when we're young? Yea, he's more than that). This summer I am going to work on showing and expressing my love to him in simple, pure ways, so that he knows I don't take him for granted, because my life with him really is my happily ever after:

                          

So that is my plan for the 2014 summer of love.  My summer doesn't officially start for 12 1\2 more days (but who's counting?) but I am going to start working now because it's never too early to start loving yourself. 

Eight Cows

So I'm sure most of you have seen the short film "Jonny Lingo":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pfahoLfrddU

And while it was filmed in 1969, it still speaks to me on so many levels.

I am so lucky to be an 8 cow wife. And I say that not because I want to boast or compare cows, but because I am so grateful.

I think often to my younger years as Muhauna the ugly: all the comments from peers, my parents, my brothers: "you're fat!" "Suck it in..." "You're not the kind of girl someone wants to date" "too bad you weren't born in the 1800s... You would've been super weathy based on your size!" 

There were so many venomous comments that were made to me, that I started to believe all of these things. I believed that I was fat and ugly, and I was undateable.

Until I met Chris...

-He tells me how beautiful I am, every day: when I'm sick, when I chop my hair off, when I have no makeup on, it doesn't matter, I am still beautiful in his eyes.

-He puts my wants and needs first. 

-He works hard for us to have a better life. He works anywhere from 10-18 hour days without extra compensation, driving ~70 miles round trip every day, works on the house whenever he is not at work, and still manages to have a smile on his face.

I never would have seen myself as an 8 (actually it's closer to 30-something) cow wife, but Chris makes sure I am. 

How lucky I am.

Choosing your Family

When I was a senior in high school, I met my uncle chad. He and his wife had moved from Utah to work on the new hospital, and to be honest, I thought they were both weird as heck. Then uncle chad was called to serve in the young mens, and destiny set in.

Through his calling, we got to know each other just by talking, and in reality he took me under his wing and I felt as if I had someone who cared about my well-being.

He became the person I confided in, and the person who I trusted to cry with. He became my uncle chad when our relationship was questioned by others. People would see us talking and hugging and people thought something inappropriate was going on. He was warned to be careful around me, and in fact, told to stop interacting with me, but he ignored them, and "uncle chad" was born. 

When I talk about him I always say uncle chad, and no one questions. Sometimes I feel as if I have to explain that he's not really my uncle, but other times I don't.  I explain my surrogate father: he gave me my first blessing, has the best hugs, listens without judgement, counsels without malice. He became someone who I could trust and love knowing I would never be hurt.

I inherited an amazing family along with uncle chad: I inherited aunt christy, and cousins: Cody, Zach, and Nathaniel.

When I was leaving for college, he and his family were moving back to Utah, fairly close to where I would be attending. I was able to go and visit as I needed, and it was a good escape from the stressors of my life that were happening at the time.

                                       

He drove all the way to CA from UT to celebrate our wedding, without ever meeting Chris.

When Chris chose to get baptized, Uncle Chad drove all the way to CO to support him in his decision.  I wish we would have gotten a photo with everyone, but there was so much going on, we didn't even think about it.

On this last visit we were able to sit and talk about all the different happenings going on in each of our lives. He said that family is important, and he will always be there for me.

This comment has resonated with me, ever since: family. He is family. They are family.

Happy Day!

I posted this picture on Saturday on Facebook, with the caption "Happy Day!":

One of the comments read:

 "What happened?!?! Is this a big day?"

I stared at this comment for close to 20 minutes and pondered it for the next two days. By societal standards this was NOT a big day. No one looking in from the outside would consider this a significant day. But is this a big day? Yes. This day changes how I view my future. It changes how I view my husband. It changes how I view my faith. It changes how I view myself. This day changes everything.

My wonderful husband made the choice to be baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Saturday, my husband was baptized by Elder Empey, a missionary who has been out in the field only 5 short weeks. I remember when they announced in church we were getting a missionary straight out of the MTC and I got the strongest feeling that there was a reason we were getting this new missionary.  Then when I met him, I knew why.  Chris told me after the first time Elder Empey was at our house that you could definitely tell the missionaries who wanted to be out, from the missionaries who felt like they "had" to.  Elder Empey is what I would consider a true to form missionary, who will always hold a special place in my heart.

At Chris's baptism, a member of the bishopric spoke, and he explained how this was a huge step in his life, but the world would not see it that way. That's how I feel right now. I feel as if my world has been turned upside down, but the world around us keeps on moving forward. 

I was thinking about my life I thought Chris and I were going to have, and now I have to rethink our whole future. Now, instead of having my brother bless my babies, my husband will be able to. Instead of having Uncle Chad come baptize my children, my husband will be able to. Instead of prolonging my visit to the temple, my husband now will take me. Instead of going to church alone, my husband will be sitting next to me.  Instead of asking a home teacher for a blessing, my husband will. Instead of holding family prayer alone, my husband will help me. Instead of raising my children alone in the gospel, my husband will help me. 

It's crazy how one small, seemingly insignificant, event can change your life forever. But this event has; my life is forever changed.

Time

Time is a funny thing, isn't it?

I was reading through several of my old posts and i kept thinking, it really wasn't that bad, was it? Did I really feel that horrible? Was I really that far gone? Was that really only 6 months ago?

But looking back, I know that it was that bad, it almost had to be worse than I shared here.

But looking back, at the same time, I wouldn't change anything. I am a strong believer in "things happen for a reason" and "God works in mysterious ways" and a strong believer in answered prayers.

I remember being so very upset at the loss of our first child, but now, I see it as a blessing.  This was the turning point.  This is when I saw a change in my husband, and this is ultimately saw the change in myself, especially now as I look back.

I know I've mentioned it before, but I always said I never wanted to push the church on Chris. I never wanted Chris to learn about the gospel because of my wants, but because of his.

After the roller coaster of our miscarriage, Chris told me on his next weekend off, he would go to church with me. I didn't have much faith in him following through and wasn't sure why he suddenly wanted to come to church with me so I didn't get my hopes up.

Recently, I asked Chris why, not unusual for me, but I really, earnestly wanted to know why he started coming to church with me. He just shrugged and said because, not unusual for him.

But the next weekend off, Chris got ready for church and we went to church together. 

It seems at this point like the rest is history, and I guess it kind of is.

After we got back from California, Chris decided he wanted to start coming to all three meetings, instead of just two (our ward is backwards and does relief society/priesthood first, then Sunday school, then sacrament meeting, and we were just going to Sunday school and sacrament.)

Within two weeks, we had the missionaries over for dinner, and they taught a lesson on prayer, and Chris agreed to have them come and teach him. So for the last four weeks, the missionaries have been coming and teaching lessons and sharing personal testimony to me and my husband. Again, time is such a funny thing, it feels like we've been having the missionaries over a lot longer than this, but alas, I checked my calendar, and 4 weeks is all it's been. 

I have loved watching my husband grow. I have loved reading scriptures together and saying prayers together.  I love hearing my husband answer the missionary questions I didn't think he knew. I have loved every minute of this adventure, as hard as it may have been at times.

I asked Chris, that if I had asked him when we were dating to come to church with me if he would have, and he told me no. I don't know why I was surprised by this answer, but I was.  I think Chris needed time, I think he needed for me to miscarry for him to reevaluate his life and what he wanted out of this life.

I should mention at this time, I too needed to miscarry. I needed to be humbled. I needed to change my less-active status in the church to active.  My family was undergoing some difficult times when Chris and I got engaged, and I struggled with the broken covenants that were occurring. I let it affect my life and take hold of my faith, weakening it, and I became lost in a world that I felt was in turmoil.

On Friday, Valentine's Day, a day I normally am disgusted with and want nothing to do with, my husband set a date for baptism. He explained how he felt this was what he needed to do in his life. I wish I could express in words the feeling in my little living room that evening with the missionaries, but I can't. There are no words. What an amazing feeling, changing forever how I will now view this day. Valentine's Day now holds a very special place in my heart, a day in which true love was expressed in my home in the rawest, truest form imaginable.

Chris and I have had many conversations and discussions about what this means for him, for us. And I have made it clear from day 1, that it needs to be about him, it needs to be for reasons that have nothing to do with me, and it is. His testimony is so simple and strong it could break your legs. 

After the missionaries left on Friday, I hugged my husband and told him, "I'm happy you're getting baptized." 

He replied, "why?" (This is known as payback, for those of you who may not know, those words leave my mouth 1000s of times a day)

As I sat there, I thought of 100 reasons why I'm happy, 99 of them selfish, I told him the 1 reason that is the only reason that matters, "because it's true." And I held him even closer.

 I've been thinking a lot lately about how many times I have stumbled and fallen and taken "time-outs" from the church, but every time I have been in these lowly states of life, I keep coming back to the church. Why would I keep coming back unless it was true? I wouldn't. It is true. I know it is.