So Long, Sweet Summer

For the kiddos and teachers in my district, school begins one week from today. Eek! Where in the world did the summer go?

Though much of my summer was spent watching What Not to Wear twice a day, running through the grass barefoot and eating lunch at 2:00 in the afternoon, I did do a few things...

Hubby and I traveled south to Orlando, Florida for a visit to the Disney World parks and (our fave!) The Wizarding World of Harry Potter... awesome! It was a delayed honeymoon I suppose, and we had a fantastic time. Woot!

My baby sister graduated from high school and will be heading to our city on Sunday for college... yay!

I completely re-did a fancy shmancy chair I bought at the Boy's Ranch last fall for $18.00.



Baked a sweet awesome sweet fourth of July American flag cake!

Spent days with my niece and nephews, hung out with my mom and sister, went for bike rides, traveled to Duluth and husband's cabin, spent time with my parents, did some gardening, caught up with cousins, ate loads of Dairy Queen, became addicted to Pinterest...

We move back to our apartment after spending the summer at my parent's home on Saturday. It'll be a sad day, but I've got a group of 23 kiddos waiting for me to fill their little minds with oodles of third grade knowledge!

So here's to a great summer and looking forward to what might lie ahead... and to staying positive, hopeful and thankful -- even when it might get tough.

Well... shoot, huh?

Those were the words my doctor used when she walked into the exam room and plopped down on her chair yesterday. Only she didn't say "shoot"... if you catch my drift.

And in those three words, she identified my feelings perfectly.

I was in to see if some magic medicine they gave me a few weeks prior did what it was supposed to. Obviously, it didn't.

Trying to figure out this whole "how do we let Megan be a mommy?" thing is exhausting. And frustrating. And depressing. And infuriating. One might think I actually was pregnant with the way I cycle through all of these emotions (and more!) over the course of probably five minutes.

My husband keeps telling me it will work -- something will work. My doctors keep saying that I will be a mommy. But it's so hard not to get dragged down by all of it. Husband can't see why I'm not more optimistic about it all, but it's this perpetual gnawing fear that eats at me that I just might be one of those women who can't have a baby.

It's hard to not be angry and to not have questions. What's wrong with me? Why am I "broken"? Why is this so easy for other women? Why do others who don't even want a baby get pregnant, while someone who does, can't? What if I really can't?

Last week my aunt, cousins, mom, sister and I went to the Minnesota Zoo. Our first stop there was the dolphin training show. The dolphins jumped high out of the water and the trainers threw them little fish as rewards... and all around me sat mommies and daddies with their little ones, oohing and aahing at each trick. And I sat with tears in my eyes, wondering if I would ever have a little one to take.

There are times when I have hope. But there are times when I just want to curl up and cry. And so I do. I'm trying to be mindful of a number of things: that God has a plan, that I've been blessed with a great husband, supportive and loving family, a job and friends that I love. And that, with time, there will be some form of a resolution.

Summer's almost over. My parents both took the day off and we, along with my sister, ate a yummy lunch on the patio while the sun warmed my skin and the wind blew through the cottonwoods and made that same soothing, comforting sound I know so well. It's days like these with people like that that I am hanging on to and keeping in my pocket for the ones ahead when I'm feeling defeated and like there's not much hope. Because remembering them makes me thankful for what I have when I'm being bratty and dramatic about what I don't.

So for the time being, I try to comfort myself. I try to stay positive and shut out those nasty, negative thoughts for at least bits and pieces of the day.

Yes, I will be a mommy. Just not yet.

I haven't left!

Blog friends, don't worry! I haven't left you (again... for the thousandth time)!

I've just been out of town learning how to be a better teacher and was laptopless.

And now I'm spending my time being anxious about waiting for my doctor to call... but that's a whole other story. One where I called her a week ago and she never called me back. And then I called her again... three more times. And left messages... three more times. And still, nothing. And I even called last night to remind her to call me. And still, nothing.

So then I called again this morning, to remind her.

Still nothing.

Ya think I'm a little psycho crazy yet?

I think maybe I'm just needing some communication. Raaar!

Ya think she's trying to avoid my calls?

I think it's time for a new doc.

Heffalump.

Happy Friday!

Happy Long Weekend!

Cheers to a long, gorgeous, summery weekend overflowing with sunshine, family and fun.

We kicked off our weekend early with a few fun surprise visitors... my brother, nephews and niece arrived on my parents' doorstep a little after suppertime! Which means we have my whole family here for the weekend (sans one of my sister-in-laws :(). We've grilled, laughed, picnicked, spent some time at the beach and had ice cream. And I even got to feel my new baby niece move my cute sister-in-law's tummy last night :) God is so good! What a blessing new life is!

On Monday we'll be heading to a nearby relative's house on my mom's side for the annual Fourth of July picnic. I've got a fun baking adventure to attempt for that soiree which I'll share... assuming it turns out how it should :)

Have a happy and safe fourth, everyone!

Makin' My Kid-Self Proud

After a June filled with rain, rain, more rain, and cooler-than-summertime temps, we've finally come into some "dog days of summer" heat the last few days. Yesterday, it was a balmy 90ish degrees with ridiculously high humidity.

Seriously. It was like takeyourbreathaway humidity.

Anyway, in honor of the beautiful weather, I wanted to be in the sun and enjoy it (okay, I admit... and get a little tan). My usual playmates for a weekday would be my mom and my little sister. Unfortunately, my mom was working and my sister was with her friends having a lake day. 'Beach day' was eliminated before it even became an option. So I briefly considered going on a bike ride, but quickly crossed it off my list for obvious reasons. And then I thought about mowing the lawn in my swimsuit (you know, for the good tan!). However, I quickly ruled that out too. I hate the whole sweaty butt thing. You totally know what I mean if you've ever mowed with a riding mower on a hot day... you know, peeling your legs off the warm leather seat and having your rear damp with sweat. I can't be the only one who knows about that, but if I am -- trust me, it's semi-uncomfortable.

So upon opting out of both of those, another lightbulb lit: hubby's family lives on the lake! Why not spend my afternoon just off their dock on a pink floatie, a cherry coke zero in one hand and a People magazine in the other? A perfect mix of cool water and warm rays.

Nah, too far. I didn't feel like driving, even though it's a mere five-ish miles (apparently the lazy bug bit me that day. What can I say, the heat makes me slothy).

After considering this last option, I looked out the sliding doors to my parents' back yard, nearly admitting defeat and staying indoors to do something lame on such a beautiful day (like play the Sims. I know what you're thinking right now... don't be hatin'). But then I saw it standing proudly in the middle of the grassy lawn: a Little Tikes sprinkler.

Perfect.

So I did what I hadn't done in years. I threw on my new summertime swimsuit and quickly hooked up the hose to the round, purple base of the sprinkler. Trotting giddily over to the spicket, I put my hand on the smooth, navy dial and spun it to the left. And a glorious, steady stream of water sprayed out in all directions, immediately cooling my warm skin.

I briefly considered being done at that point, thinking, "Whelp, I got what I wanted: a cool down" and moved just outside of the spray's reach. But a smile spread across my face and my nine-year-old self took over. And in true nine-year-old fashion, I let out a shriek in preparation of feeling the icy droplets on my skin again and ran as fast as my little legs would take me across the wet, slippery grass.

And I did it again. This time, with my hands up in the air.

And again. This time, with a little leap in the middle.

Just how I remember doing it when I was nine.

And then I saw the last thing that would make the equation complete: a playmate.

I was home alone, except for one friend: my dog.


And after pulling her out from under a shady maple tree nearby, she ran through with me, too -- sans the shrill screeches, arms in the air and ballerina leaps.

Eventually she got tired and laid down again beneath that maple, and when I heckled her a little too much, she ran and hid in some bushes.

Making one last ditch effort to con her back into the sprinkler, I yelled "Suitcho'self , dawg! You don't know whatch'o missin'!" and ran back into the line of fire.

She didn't join me again. But I didn't care. Back and forth I went.

In true adult style, I, like my dog, had my fill after a few more minutes. I took one more pass through, promising to make it my best. So with one last high-pitched shriek, I prepared myself for the icy blast of cold water on my face, got a running start and did the best cartwheel I could (which means it definitely looked nothing like a cartwheel at all).

But I can be sure of one thing with those 20 minutes in the sprinkler and that cartwheel: you can bet I made my nine-year-old self proud.

OBSESSED

Now that it's summatime, I am a free woman (whoo for being a teacher!). And since I no longer have 25 little loves in my life, I have to fill the void with something.

And that something, my friends, happens to be a little show they call "What Not to Wear".

It's true: I'm hooked!

And lucky me, it's on not once, but TWICE a day. Mmhmm, at 11:00 and 2:00.

So aside from taking fashion notes from Stacy and Clinton, I'm also plotting my own debut on the show.

I'm thinking the way to go would be to make seasonal sweaters (complete with matching turtlenecks, of course), apple earrings the size of 50-cent pieces, and denim jumpers staples in my wardrobe. I'll also have to let my hair air dry everyday (that would be the real ticket. My new third graders would probably go home and cry each day because they have a swamp monster for a teacher. Whatevs -- it'd be worth it for the $5,000 makeover, right?).

So now I think that's on my summer "to-do" list: make my wardrobe and physical appearance atrocious enough that my friends and family would secretly feel sorry for me and covertly video tape how awful I look in order for me to be on the show.

Excellent.

Honest

I chose the title of today's [long overdue] blog post because that's exactly what this will be. Honest.

I've written a number of entries regarding this, but found it too close for comfort to share. And when you blog, you put pieces of yourself "out there". Once "there", they are free for others to judge, pity or not believe. I simply write this evening for anyone who has gone through something similar. And I write, as always, for myself. Maybe tonight, it will give me some comfort. Maybe tonight, it will give me some sleep.

For the past year, I've been sans my monthly friend. For some, this might elicit a fist pump. Lord knows there have been times when we women wish our monthly gift would just stay away on that summer day when we're going to the beach or on the day you chose to wear khaki pants to work. Unfortunately, I'm not fist pumping.

And I haven't been all along.

No one can quite seem to put their finger on why she's gone. Initially, my doctor, a trainer and a nutritionist all suggested my weight. "Gain 10-15% of your current body weight," they instructed (but NO whipped creme Santas, remember? Because they'll go straight to my rear. HA! I maintained my nasty one-a-day habit and haven't noticed any size change yet...). "And while you're at it," they explained, "why don't you cut back on your weight lifting, too. Just to be sure."

And I did as they said.

I stuffed my face.

Little by little, that little number on the scale increased.

And little by little, my pants got smaller and tighter.

I won't lie: it wasn't fun. In fact, there were days that I looked at myself in my spandexy exercise clothes and saw my tummy spilling a little over the edge of my pants. And days when I was stuffing myself into certain pants. On those days, I felt like Jessica Simpson when she wore those mom jeans, minus the great hair she has... and the multi-millions. Don't remember? Let me jog your memory:

Regardless of how I felt about my changing body on some days, I was happy. I was happy to know that this might get me one step closer to having the choice and the ability to have a baby. I was happy to have gained the weight -- after all, it certainly didn't hurt me to put on a little more.

Unfortunately, nothing happened.

When I saw my doctor in April, she was thrilled with the 12 pound gain and told me I should see my monthly friend soon. But, she put me on some progesterone to hopefully get things started, because sometimes when your body's been out of "whack" for awhile, it takes awhile for the hormones to catch up and I might not see 'results' right away.

Unfortunately, still -- nothing has happened.

I cut back on my workouts more now. No more weight lifting for me :( Only yoga. Which is dandy. But lifting was something I really enjoyed, even if it was just once a week.

So I don't think it's my body weight.

They've done a few blood tests -- everything's normal.

So what now?

Just wait and see, my doctors say.

But I've been patient for a year, waiting to see if she'd arrive. And I'm starting to lose that patience.

It plagues me constantly, wondering what's wrong with my body. I go to sleep at night and the last thing I am thinking are prayers that God will fix it.

And I think that's the hardest part. I've learned it before, but apparently have forgotten in the moments that I can't help but tear up over my hopelessness with the whole thing because it seems like "nothing" is working and "no one" has an answer:

God has a plan.

And even though I don't get it right now and I'm frustrated and sad and tired of waiting and I think it pretty much sucks...

He's got a plan.

One day we'll see it.

And hopefully we'll see it in the smile of a baby girl. Or maybe a baby boy.

Hopefully in little eyes that look just like my husband's.

Or in a peanut-sized little girl, just like me.

Hopefully in four or five or however many little ones the Lord blesses us with.

And I'm not going to lie... hopefully we don't have to wait too long to know what that plan is.

Patience.


So. How's that for honesty?