Changes

I can't begin to grasp the amount of change that has occurred in my life over the past four years. The end of what I thought was a forever relationship. The beginning of what is my true forever marriage. Moving. Leaving my dream job. Experiencing my husband becoming my best friend. Financial hardship. Not being able to have a baby. A new job. And now, more changes are headed in our direction.

Last week, after waiting one month for a cyst on my ovary to clear up on its own, and spending another month taking a Progestin to shrink that stubborn cyst, I went in to see what was going on in the incubator. My cyst shrunk. A lot. Down by 60%, and the overall volume down even more. But I also found out it's probably not a cyst. It's probably an endometrioma. And for the first time, there is a fibroid camping out on my uterine wall. Which scares the living crap out of me. I have never had these before. I have had cysts that have come and gone. My uterus has been pretty normal. All of a sudden, my sloughed-off endometrial cells are making themselves at home in parts of my body where they shouldn't be. Scary. I didn't know much about Endometriosis until last week. I wish I had never even heard of this, because it adds another lovely wrench to this already hellish struggle. What I do know is that Endo is thought to be influenced greatly by stress, inflammation and weight gain. Well, I just hit the danged triple jackpot. 

I.am.so.tired.of.my.stupid.body.not.doing.what.it.is.designed.to.do. But this is likely of my own doing.

I looked back over 9 months of uterine scans and procedures. I have never had this happen before. The only thing that has changed in my life is, well, everything. I went back to work and I stopped eating well. I stopped sleeping well. I worked almost every weekend until 1 AM. I developed a persistent twitch in my left eye. I worked most weeknights nights until 9 or 10. I didn't exercise. I replaced water intake with Cherry Coke. I frequented more drive-thru lines than I could ever care to admit. Hell, I even ate more than one gas-station hot dog wrapped in a croissant drenched in nacho cheese. I ate roller food. From a gas station. The shame is more than I can bear. Those of you that know me and the extreme love for the gastronomic arts, this is a level to which I never imagined I could descend. For the past six months, ,my life became 100% about the 27 sweet, amazing, wonderful, squirrely, energetic and challenging kids that I teach. Doing what is best for them, every moment of each day. And I sacrificed doing anything for me. I wasn't the picture of health or fitness before going back to work full-time, but I certainly was not in the ultimate pits of having let everything that is important just fall to the side. 

I had to choose. The sweet, smiling faces. The moment that a kid truly grasps a concept. The sticky-finger hugs. The crazy ebb and flow of the day. I love it. But I love my future family more. 

The seed of change was planted in my mind about six weeks ago, but at 6:20 AM on Thursday, when my doctor looked at me and told me that next month, after another four weeks of Progestin, regardless of the size of the endometrioma, we would restart my fertility drugs and push through for an IUI, I knew what I had to do. His exact words were, "I need you to do whatever you can to get as healthy as possible in the next four weeks." It hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt like the wind was knocked out of me. I am doing ZERO healthy things in my life. I am dumping money and time and emotion into a pursuit of having a baby, and I am doing ZERO healthy things to support that effort. Reality is a bitter slap in the face. 

I won't be returning to full-time teaching in the fall. I may do some part-time specialized instruction that would be less stressful and demanding. I am not yet sure what the right choice is. I need to work in some capacity because it is good and healthy to have a focus and to be productive. I just can't do 75 hour weeks and extra classes for certification and little sleep and no room in my heart for anything but these wonderful 27 kids. My husband needs my heart. I need my heart. My future children need my heart. I thought about just scaling back. I am a person that puts excess into everything I do. My work process is frenetic. I can't give any less than everything. I need to give my everything to becoming a mom, in whatever way that comes to me.

I really don't know what the road ahead holds for me, but I do know that for the first time in months, I feel a measure of peace. Changes. Time to embrace the change that is coming, and commit to the changes that I need to make in my own life. Freaking gas station hot dogs... 

The Flyer Comet

When I was twelve, the scariest thing in the world to me was the roller coaster at our local, historic amusement park. The star attraction at Whalom Park was The Flyer Comet, a classic wooden coaster, perched on the shore of a lake in central Massachusetts, and by the time I was old enough to ride it's rickety tracks and dilapidated cart train, had been in operation for nearly 60 years. The Flyer Comet was a hallmark of New England culture, and the fact that the entire structure shook as you whooshed around the curves, and that the paint flaked off in sheets as metal wheels clacked over the worn track wasn't enough to deter thrill-seekers from riding the ancient attraction. The scariest part of riding the Flyer Comet was a section they called "the black hole," which was a covered portion of track built over a steep drop (often rumored to cover faulty portions of the structure). For a few seconds, the darkness enveloped you, your heart raced, stomach churned, and mind spiraled, before you shot out the other side into brilliant sunlight over deep blue water, arms raised to touch the sky with outstretched fingertips, heart full of exultant joy and body buzzing with adrenaline. 

I feel like I am stuck on the Flyer Comet, trapped in the "black hole," and I can't get off the ride. 

In the past ten days, I have walked away from a full-time teaching opportunity less than a week before school started, created a new plan for employment wholly dependent on substitute teaching jobs, and found out that our problems having a baby may be more serious than we initially thought. I am spiraling, sometimes it feels like without direction, but banking on that moment of shooting out of the "black hole," hands raised joyously toward the heavens, lungs bursting and heart soaring as light overcomes darkness and hope fills my soul. 

For the first time on my life, I am running on nothing but faith. There is something exhilarating and liberating about turning control over to God and opening yourself to His goodness and glory to satisfy every possible need. There is something awesome and humbling about knowing that after doing everything in your power to satisfy your temporal and eternal needs, it will never be enough without His grace. So while I am terrified and stuck on what seems like an endless trip through the "black hole," I know with a faith that burns hotter than any earthly flame, that if we live our faith daily, commit ourselves to Him, see the needed specialists to help us have a baby, and work our hardest to meet our financial needs, He will help us achieve our eternal and paramount goal of a family. There is no way to meet that goal running on our old plan of working 65-70 hours a week teaching and commuting. So we have a new plan. 

The new plan is this-give it our all. Keep our heads up. Be flexible. Be receptive to the Holy Spirit. Move forward with faith. Steel ourselves. And wait for the sun to come back.

We need to find out if I have a misshapen uterus that could challenge carrying a healthy baby to term. We need to find out if I am able to ovulate at all. We are at a point of moving beyond the help that my OBGYN can give us. We are upping the ante. We have our first reproductive endocrinologist appointment on October 8th.  We need to find a way to meet our financial obligations on a reduced income. But I know that he will help us to do all of those things, because more than anything else, He wants us to have a family and to know the full spectrum of experience that raising children will bring us. And He and BJ and I will do whatever we need to do and are inspired to do to make that happen. 

I have a feeling the Flyer Comet and I have a few more rounds to go, but the moment of transformation from inky darkness to brilliant light will make every second of the experience worthwhile. 

So we soar on through the darkness just before dawn. Heads up. Hearts full of love. Hands stretched to the sky. 

Running Faster Than I Have Strength after Justin Bieber and Naked Emperors

I am an exercise in extremes. 

I tend to run faster than I have strength, or not run at all.

Not literally. I hate running. I am pretty sure that long, long ago, some sadistic person told everyone in his kingdom over and over again that running was the best thing in the world, and after repeating the lie enough times, people began to believe it. Sort of an, "Emperor's New Clothes" deal. Or the whole obsession with Justin Bieber. Or the inexplicable resurgence in high-waisted, acid wash jeans. Hey, DJ Tanner called and is pleading for you to never, ever consider buying those again, no matter how many pairs of Keds you want to pair them with.

Why, world? Why?

Oh, DJ, I love you, but not your acid wash jeans

I have a feeling I am one following this fool far too often...

Running. Shudder.

So not literal running. Just the way we have to run through life. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I'll thank my husband for that.

Last week, husband came home from work, and announced, "I'm going to run for three hours on Saturday." After I picked my jaw up from the floor, I tried to force my mind to construct a coherent response. You see, my husband is a person who can run a sub-8 minute mile with no training. He just gets up, runs and keeps running until he is tired. I have no doubt that he could probably go out, and through sheer determination, run marathon distance. Of course, I would be visiting him in the hospital after as he recovered from the experience, but he could probably make that distance. 

Our conversation went down the road of, "people who run marathon distance train for that. They eat well. They don't guzzle Mountain Dew by the gallon. You could make that distance, but the price you would pay for being physically unprepared wouldn't be worth it." Cute husband definitely was not happy that I was such a buzzkill. I definitely was. I felt like I squashed his joy, hopes and dreams, but avoiding an ambulance transport and ER bill was definitely worth it to me. He relented, has been eating wonderfully to properly fuel his body, and this weekend, went out to run 11 sub-8 minute miles, no sweat. 

I can learn some lessons from him.

I'm an all or nothing person. I am 100% committed, or I am just not present. I am out, hiking the mountains and being a total dominating beast, or I am at home, glued to the couch, more episodes of The West Wing in my "recently viewed" section of Netflix than should ever be viewed by any person that is not bedridden. I am either committed to the point of being obsessive in my work or church commitments, or I am completely checked out. The Justin Biebers and DJ Tanners  and naked emperors follow me around and yell to me, "run faster, try to catch us as we flitter around with our ribbon dancers and Skip-its! We're so cool and so is all of our stuff!" And I either run desperately to catch them, or just sit down on the sidewalk and draw pictures in the dirt.

It's time to reexamine the balance of priorities in my life. Where am I running faster than I have strength, and where am I not running at all? I have a feeling this is a challenge many people are facing. 

I think sometimes, I am doing the two simultaneously. I throw myself headlong into a commitment, becoming obsessively busy for the sake of appearing busy, while I am in fact moving nowhere and accomplishing very little that matters. I know that challenges with fertility have exacerbated this to an extreme for me. I think, "If I just throw myself into something and dedicate to it 100%, I will automatically be successful at everything! I'll be blessed for my industriousness and hard work. If I just do everything perfectly, I will be perfect." And all of a sudden, I am working very hard, but doing very little of value.

I would be better served by following the admonition to not run faster than I have strength, but to simply run. To set realistic goals and accomplish them. Not to run a marathon three days from now (sorry, BJ), but to run further than I did yesterday. And to always, always run with meaning and heart. 

I am going to follow the example of my husband (post-reality check provided by his loving wife)-I will fill my life with the things that will fuel my body, mind and soul properly. I will go out and try my best, pushing myself healthily, but not to an extreme. I will balance my commitments and time to make them meaningful  purposeful and beneficial. 

It is an experiment in self, but one that I know will yield wonderful results in all areas of my life, and one free from the Justin Biebers, DJ Tanners in acid wash jeans and Keds, and naked emperors that have previously taunted me from the sidelines as I run.