The time is near...

I'll be 38 weeks tomorrow. It's absolutely crazy to know that Zoe is considered full term and could make her grand entrance at any time. As much as I don't feel like I'm emotionally or mentally ready for her to be here (I'm not sure that I ever will be), I am physically ready. I write this so I don't forget the symptoms I experienced during pregnancy. My gums have been swollen and inflamed and bleed easily since the beginning of my pregnancy all the way through. It is seriously difficult to slowly roll from my left side to my right side over and over throughout the night when it feels like I have a 20 pound bowling ball in my belly. I can't wait to sleep on my stomach and back again. Maybe I should say "lay" since it doesn't sound as though I'll be doing much sleeping after she arrives. Everyone and their mother keeps reminding me how sleep deprived I will be after having a baby. "Sleep lots now since you won't be able to ever again!" As though I can store it up and keep some on reserve... Got it. It's hard to walk or stand for long anymore. My pelvis hurts. I feel like she's just as crunched in my belly, ribs, and pelvis as she does, I'm sure. It's nearly impossible to get comfortable asleep or awake. My feet, ankles, and legs are so swollen and tender to the touch.
My hands swell at night and go numb. It takes 30 minutes to an hour after I wake up to be able to make a fist. I know that the impressive 90 pound weight gain hasn't helped the situation one bit. I feel like such a failure in that regard. Given one chance to give myself an excuse, and I gain 90 pounds of the 120 I lost right back. Perfect. It simply reminds me that I truly need my lap band to be successful at weight loss. My doctor doesn't want me to re-fill my lap band again until I'm done nursing. I really want to make that happen for at least a year, and I don't know if I can wait that long to start losing again. I fear the longer I go with an empty lap band, the more weight I will continue to gain. I'll have to see how nursing goes, and if it truly is a success, perhaps I can do a semi-fill 6 or 8 weeks after I start nursing.

Any day now my life will be forever changed. One minute I'll go from having a baby in my belly to having one in my arms. Suddenly, the most innocent and helpless little person on earth will be completely dependent upon me for everything; even her very life. I'm immensely overwhelmed by that responsibility. The only thing that brings me peace is knowing that millions of people do this every day...

Wow, how times have changed...

My last blog was nearly two years ago. I've never really been good at staying consistent with anything. I tend to be such an open book with the people around me that the need for a journal or emotional release "on paper" is rarely needed. I've never had a problem with crying on one's shoulder or spending hours sharing, analyzing, or disecting every part of my life, thoughts, emotions, or feelings with people that are close to me. I'm pretty lucky to have said people in my life. I'm not the type to tell a complete stranger my life story, but with the one's who know me, they really know me. On a rare occasion, I might meet a stranger whom I feel a connection with and will share intimate details of my life with them, but it's usually very much reciprocated as a result of a common experience or circumstance. People have told me in the past that my being this way is dysfunctional. I've been told that it leaves no mystery and makes me very vulnerable. I can see how one might think that. I've had jaded seasons in life in which I've become closed off to people and/or situations as a reult of being hurt, but at the end of the day, wearing my heart and life on my sleeve is who I am and what I do. It makes me, me. And as the years go by, I'm finding that I'm more and more comfortable with who I am. Take it or leave it.


All that being said, I am overwhelmed by changes in my life currently. I talk and talk and talk and yet I feel no relief. Everything before me is so unknown and I feel like there is no resolution to my problem until those things become known.


2010 was the best year of my life to date. I had lost 120 pounds and was continuing down the scale.




For the first time in my life, I was beginning to know the feeling of being comfortable in my own skin. I felt attractive, vibrant, full of life and energy, for the first time...ever. All of this was made even sweeter by the fact that I had fully recovered from the worst year of my life in 2009. With depression, anxiety, and paralyzing agoraphobia in the rear view mirror, my life had become a celebration. Part of that celebration was meeting and falling in love with a man (for only the second time in my life). I actually had a legitimate boyfriend.




For people who know me, it is understood that this was quite a big deal. Although I had had many "relationships" over the years with men, they were never legitimate and almost always were dysfunctional in some way. But this was very different. I loved this man, and he loved me, and we were equally crazy about each other and excited for the future together. Or so I thought. I met Chris on a free dating website. I will never forget the first time I saw him. We met for our first date at Desert Breeze Park. I showed up with Starbucks and blankets and he had kites, bubbles, and other fun and silly goodies. We sat next to each other on that blanket for hours talking. This was one of those times that we both knew one another's life story before that date was over and there was no judgement- just acceptance of one another, where we had been, where we were going, and who we were. I knew before that date was over that this was going to turn into something real, meaningful, and legitimate. When it got dark, we knew we needed to leave the park, but neither of us were ready to go home. We went to a movie and whispered to each other the whole time-laughing, not paying attention at all. We left the movie having no idea what we had just watched, he kissed me, and we were inseparable from that moment forward. Our relationship was a total whirlwind. We fell in love hard and quickly. Everything moved quickly. Too quickly. But we loved every second of it. We were on a ride and neither of us wanted off. Until I spoke the two words that would forever change the course of both of our lives: "I'm pregnant."

Yes. Those are THREE different tests.


All of a sudden everything came crashing to a hault. It had only been a little over a month. Suddenly, we became keenly aware of how truly immature our relationship was. It had just begun, and although it was great, fantastic even, there were so many things we had yet to discover about one another. We were in no shape or form ready to make any kind of life long commitment, yet that is exactly what we had created. We were shocked, scared, and confused.


My entire life all I've ever wanted is to be a wife and mother. Although this was NEVER the way I would have planned to do this, it seemed as though this just might be something I could look forward to. I was with a man I loved, he loved me, and were going to try to make this work. He knew that abortion was never going to be an option for me. I didn't have it in me to terminate innocent life. We discussed the possibility of adoption, but I just couldn't. I wasn't sixteen. I had recently graduated from college and had a decent job. I had way too much support to even consider anything but keeping the baby and being its mother. At first, Chris was on board. We would constantly discuss baby names and discuss our finances over and over to see how we were going to make this work. At one point he told me he thought it would be a good idea for us to go to Babies R' Us or Target and go look at baby stuff. Although there was definitely some excitement attached to having a baby, neither one of us could eliminate the shock or fear that came with this huge responsibility; especially knowing that we had only been together for a very short time. After time, the stress became overwhelming. Everything was changing all at once and so unbelievably quickly. It felt like a train going downhill, picking up speed, with no ability to stop. We argued. A lot. About everything. I was so unbelievably exhausted with 1st trimester fatigue that I could barely stay awake for more than an hour at a time. I was nauseous, irritable, stressed, and overwhelmed. With time, Chris became more and more distant. I could sense he was completely freaking out. Our communication was failing. Everything started to fall apart. One afternoon on my way home from work, I made my regular "on the way home" call to Chris and without notice, completely unexpected, he dropped the bomb. In short- "I can't do this. I don't want this. I don't want you, and I strongly encourage you to put the baby up for adoption." I knew things had not been good between us for awhile, but looking at the circumstances we were facing, I never expected us to be doing exceptionally well. I saw it as a difficult season that we would pull through together. Well, he did not quite see it that way. He was done. And there was no convincing him otherwise. And I didn't try. I was never going to force a man to love me again. I had done that before. But what about my (our) baby? He said he felt like he had no say in the matter. He said that I was going to do whatever I wanted to do with my body and my baby and he had no say in the matter and was stuck with whatever my decision was. I told him I was keeping the baby and he had 3 choices. He could try to work this out and attempt his best effort at having a family, we could raise the baby broken up and share the responsibility, or he could sign his rights away and walk. He needed to think about it. I told him it was a big decision and that he could take his time to think it through. Suddenly I was single, and having a baby. That was quite a jagged pill to swallow. How had this happened? I went a month without getting an answer. In the meantime I had gone to my first and second dr's appointment, had an ultrasound, and cried many tears grieving the loss of a relationship and a dream. The grief had actually only just begun. I left him alone for the most part but as time was pressing on, I needed to begin to make some big decisions and I needed to know if I should include him in those or not. Finally, I received a text. Wow. A text. Gee thanks. "I think it would be best if I signed away my rights as I'm probably going to be out of a job and moving in the next few months." Why was he going to be out of a job? Where was he going? Did he honestly just have no sense of responsibility for this life he had helped create? Was he genuinely capable of being THAT cold? Man, apparently I had really missed the mark when I thought he was the greatest guy I had met in a really long time. Never in a million years did I think he was capable of doing something like this (even though I knew he had 3 kids before mine- one of which he didn't know, and the other 2 who lived across the country with their mom, his ex-wife of 7 years). Was I so desperate in my search for love and companionship that I had ignored virtually every red flag that came my way? How sad. So, it had been decided. I was doing this completely alone. He was out of the picture. To date, that's the last I've ever heard from him. Today I'm 34 1/2 weeks pregnant and it's crazy to think I've been pregnant for way longer than I was with him.

Someone told me something once that I will never forget. I was reminded that my precious baby was made in love. Chris and I were very much crazy about one another when we conceived. Regardless of what happened later, this baby was made by two consenting people who had a love, respect, and appreciation for one another. There is no mistake in that. And since then, God has continued to knit this baby together in my womb. Carefully and perfectly. He gave my baby FEMALE genitals and my heart is overwhelmed with joy at the thought of having my own precious daughter. My mind is overwhelmed with dreams and fantasies about the life we will share. In the Greek biblical translations, The word "Zoe" is used over and over throughout the pages of the Bible. In every instance it is used to represent the word "life." Life is what I chose. My sweet baby girl's name will be Zoe. Zoe Ann (after my sister and step-dad's mother). Here are some pictures of my sweet Zoe to date:










Isn't she beautiful? I'm definitely beginning to get the excitement bug. I want to meet her. I'm beginning to become undoubtedly uncomfortable as she gets bigger and bigger (overnight some nights, it seems). And as much as I am ready to be done, get her out, and meet her, I can't help but feel like I'm not quite ready for the huge responsibility. Am I ready for sleepless nights, sore nipples, acts of pure selflessness, and a life long commitment? No. But is one ever really ready? I doubt it. I have so many more thoughts, feelings, emotions, and experiences to uncover, but that will happen throughout the future pages of this blog. For now, this is what I have to share. Soul bear, tender bleeding heart, for all to see and know my story.

A trip back home

A few weeks ago I went back home to Utah with my step-dad, sister, and brother to visit family and friends. The last time I was there was in October of 2007 for my grandmother's funeral. I saw literally every single person I wanted to see while I was there. I saw all of my family on my dad's side and my mom's side. One of my best friends Keysha was also there visiting so I got to spend a few days with her. My childhood friend Rebecca lives there now as well so I spent a good portion of a day hanging out with her and her two adorable children. It was great seeing everyone. Here are a few photos from Utah:

At a family gathering, the first thing out of everyone's mouth was "Oh my gosh! You look incredible!" Followed by a question: "How have you lost so much weight?!" I told everyone that I had been cutting portion sizes as well as not eating many carbs, which is a true statement... Anyway, it was great seeing the faces of everyone staring at me in shock. I even saw a few people looking at me and whispering. I wasn't concerned about it because I knew they were commenting on my size in a positive manner for once. However, I have to admit I was a little surprised because it didn't feel as amazing as I had pictured in my mind a million times. Perhaps that's because I'm not at my goal yet. I still have about another 50 pounds to go. Maybe it will feel better or more deserving then. Then again, maybe it won't. 

The next question from everyone was "How is school and work? Aren't you almost done with school?" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I didn't know whether to tell the truth, or sit there with a fake grin on my face and reply that it was all going well. They had no idea about the total mental breakdown I had experienced just a few short months ago. They had no idea that everything in my life had fallen apart; that I had quit my job, dropped out of school, and left my house abandoned to move back in with my parents because of a mental breakdown that left me literally unable to function. How do you explain that to someone, let alone an entire group of people? I decided to be honest with everyone. I explained, in detail, the events of the last few months. I explained how my life had become extremely cluttered with responsibilities, things to do, heartbreak, disappointment, obligations, deadlines, decisions- big decisions regarding my future, etc... The list goes on and on. Anyway, there comes a point in one's life when the body, mind, and spirit says "enough is enough!" So here I am trying to pick up the pieces and figure out where to go from here. They were shocked and saddened, yet joyful to see that I was doing better. Then, like a snowball effect, they all came out of the woodwork. Almost every person shared with me their personal struggle with all things mental. Depression, panic attacks, anxiety, fear, etc. I learned things about my deceased father that helped me immensely to make sense of his suicide. It felt so good to know that I wasn't alone. It felt good, in a way, to know that this was genetic and not something that was simply just wrong with me. But then, I got angry. Really angry. My family has been plagued with this horrendous illness. It has run down the blood line from relative to relative. There's been multiple suicides. People in my family have been dealing with these issues for generations, and it makes me wonder, why us? Why me? It makes me angry, and quite frankly, it makes me afraid for my own future children.

Anyway, overall, I would say all good things came from my trip. Who knows when the next time I go will be, but hopefully I will be in an even better place physically, mentally, and spiritually. 

Do I seriously have a blog?

My life recently fell apart. I went through one of the most difficult seasons of my entire life. As much as I am happy to say that I'm coming out of that season, I feel like a part of me is still there. I'm still fighting, trying my hardest to make this season a thing of the past. I had life all figured out. I knew where I was coming from and where I was going. I had the next stage of my life planned. Everything was clean-cut, planned out, ready to go...and then the rug was yanked right out from under me. Suddenly it feels like I'm starting over. I'm starting life from scratch. I have no choice at this point but to pick up the broken pieces, dust myself off, and try again- all over again. Now, I have no idea where I'm going or why. Honestly, some days I wonder what the point of all of this is. There may be a depressive undertone to some of the blogs I post here, but if that's the case, it's simply because that's where my life is currently. Other blogs might be filled with bliss and a list of victories and accomplishments. The point is that I wanted a safe place to turn to write freely without the worries of having proper grammar or trying to be politically correct in an attempt to avoid offending anyone or push any buttons. All I know is that writing has always been therapeutic for me, and I need healing now more than ever. My life has always been an open book to those around me. So feel free to jump in and journey through this messy, complex, never easy thing called life with me.