The roller coaster of life

Since we've made our blog more candid by making it private, I thought it might be a good time (and somewhat therapeutic) to write a little about some of the struggles we've been facing for a year and a half.

I'm a pretty private person, I don't open up to many people and find it difficult to express what's really in my heart. I'm also stubborn and tough, I don't like to admit to struggles. I know all of you love and support us so much, and that's why I'm opening up to tell you some things that are going on. It's been quite a lonely road, and I'm hoping maybe some of you are in the same situation or have been in the past and could offer some hope at this time when everything seems pretty obscure.

Matt and I have been trying to start our family since summer of 2009. Of course since then, it seems nearly every eligible woman in our circle of family and friends has achieved pregnancy. The issue of infertility has touched our lives is such deep ways that it's nearly impossible for me to describe. I never imagined this would happen to us. We started trying with bright eyes and bushy tails, KNOWING it would happen immediately and before Christmas, we'd be planning a nursery room and picking names. Christmas came and went. Each month flew by, each with the same roller coaster of emotion: faith and hope followed by disappointment and helplessness. Another Christmas has since passed along with plenty of expensive procedures, doctors appointments, shots, tests, tears and prayers. I've been through some rough times in my life, but I can honestly say, none of them have been this difficult and long suffering.

Just to ease possible worries, Matt and I are both healthy and otherwise in great condition to conceive. There are no troubles, major or minor, that health professionals can see as obstacles. This is merely a waiting game of patience. We have approached some family members with planned fasts and prayers, using the power of faith to bless our lives- and we have been blessed with a slight shift in perspective. It's clear the Lord has his own time frame which is simply not aligned with what we'd hoped. We know ultimately he knows best, and now pray and fast for peace and perseverance to endure the waiting period.

On an up-side, the rest of our lives are truly blessed. Matt was accepted to the school that was our first choice. My job is fantastic- I have never felt more accepted, appreciated and I truly have been given optimal opportunity to really develop my talents and strengths. I work directly with the CEO, CFO and other higher-ups whom I really admire and respect. I am learning so much and have been given priceless training in my field with a company who are true winners in their industry. I know they will look after me- they are super supportive of my little family and my personal success and are already working on possibly placing me with customers or partners in Pittsburgh or possibly an at-home job. Financially, we've seen miracles among the piling medical bills. We have such wonderful family who are close by and sensitive to our situation. We are trying to focus on these wonderful aspects of our lives and be grateful.

It is truly a roller coaster- Some days we're hopeless not knowing how much longer we can do this and it consumes our day, our week or even our month. But other days I hear stories that make me feel like our struggles are really minuscule, and I try my best to keep my head up. Sometimes I feel the loving arms of my savior, who hates to see me suffer, but knows there is a purpose.

Your love and prayers of peace for Matt and I are needed and appreciated. At this point, we're just trying to get through each disappointment with the best perspective possible that will allow us to maintain peace and gratitude in our lives.

Trying to conceive has become a swing-shift job in which we pay in time, money and tears with no return. It has effected our schedules, social life and our intimate life in ways that I never imagined. I didn't know infertility was this trying, and if you haven't experienced it, you probably don't either. We found a video that really hit home with how we're feeling (click on TEARS AND HOPE below). Our hope is that you'll understand our moods, actions, busy schedules (trying to fit in all the doctor appointments at the right times during the month), and other things that effect our interactions with each of you.

Although hope is hard to find during this time, we find strength to keep going through the love we feel from you!

TEARS AND HOPE

BIRD IN THE BUCKET

There’s a phrase that is now used often in our daily lives that originated from a situation that we encountered at my mom’s house three years ago.

We were still dating. Matt came over to pick me up for some sort of outing and when he arrived, my mom explained the recent events that had transpired as I was down stairs getting ready and missed this narration.

“The dog found a wounded bird huddled up on the side of the house under the wheelbarrow,” She explained, “We put it in a bucket in the garage so the dog couldn’t harass it. I don’t know what to do.”

It always seems that others tend to look to my husband for animal advice. I guess a forest ranger is a good candidate for that kind of information. He also runs a small animal ark at home. When we were dating, he owned lizards and fish and had spent six years at the Forest Service encountering, saving or scraping animals from the road. Animals were his passion and I guess it showed.

“Hm…” he thought, “Maybe I’ll take a look at him.”

As he was in the garage, I came upstairs. Where’d he go? The garage door opened. He raised his eyebrows.

I gave him a hug hello. He said in my ear, “You got a bird in a bucket.”I blushed and reached to cover my nose. Does he mean like a “bat in the cave”?

Matt threw his head back in a laugh and explained to me that what he spoke of was not a theoretical “bird” but an actual one. He held my hand and proceeded to walk me to the garage where he pointed to the poor injured fowl.
The phrase “bird in the bucket” is now used often when alerting each other that there may be a reason to inspect the nasal cavity. It always produces chuckles.

"Broken" English?

It’s been entertaining to watch my sister in law speak English as she learns more and more while she is here in America. If you haven’t heard, she’s from Estonia and traveled here in May of 2003 to go to school and see what kind of education she could get for herself in graphic design. About a year ago, she and my brother got married and we see them often for dinners and family get-togethers.

Kristi already pretty much knew the language when she got here, but there is always room for improvement.

When she first set up a myspace account a few years ago, she added a picture of her sister displaying a quarter size hole in her behind. The caption reads, “Krete broke her pants from too much dancing”.

Matthew and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the use of the word “broke”. It was quite amusing.

Although she does very well, there have been several occasions where my brother RB has needed to correct her on her incomplete understanding of English phrases and words. Like the time that we explained a friend couldn’t meet us for a movie because he was working a graveyard shift. She was shocked and horrified that he worked in a graveyard, especially in the dark! She told us, “I can’t believe they have him out in the dark digging graves!”

I guess it doesn’t stop with Kristi because her sister Krete (broken pants) came to visit from Estonia last summer and we taught her to play some card games. They play many card games in Estonia as well and she was familiar with the traditional face card deck. While playing one of our favorites, Michigan Rummy, she called the “Jack” card “Boy”. We stopped and gave her a curious look and she asked, “That’s not what he is? This older man here is King, so his son is just a boy, no?” We laughed and told her that calling him a boy was just fine by us but in cards he is called, “The Jack”. She looked at us funny and asked if his name was Jack… I guess some things just aren’t very simple to explain, especially when you’ve known some things all your life but don’t know why they are called what they are. Is his name Jack? If not, why do they call him that? Helping someone else understand my own language can be tougher than I thought.

Well, I guess those cute lingual mishaps may always be around to surprise and entertain us. Even though Kristi has been in the country now for 6 years, just last Saturday while dining at Sizzler , she offered us the mint the waitress left on her receipt saying, “Does anyone want this? They always break my mouth.”

We love you Kristi and your charming slip-ups! Thanks for keeping us giggling.

Sheets

Twisty toss VS. Nicely nestled

I like to have my sheets neatly tucked. I love the feeling that I am tucked in a pocket of warm fuzziness where I can safely slumber without having the chill of a foot protruding from the side or bottom of an un-tucked sheet. It also makes it a lot easier to make the bed when you get out. Matt would much rather play blanket twister where all the layers dance all over the bed throughout the night, subjected to your twists and turns and end up wherever. He believes in freeing the legs and toes, letting them protrude out into the cool night air when needed. We’ve struggled to keep half the bed a neatly tucked casserole and the other half a free-love fiesta.

Matt says I’m a sheet stealer. I don’t believe it’s true. I think he has the illusion that his sheets are being stolen but there are plenty to go around. Anyone would get confused when sheets and blankets are swimming all over. Lately Matthew claims our mattress has turned into a “taco” where a crevice left by his body impression is “swallowing him whole” in the night.

So, he sleeps snuggled up next to me on my side of the bed or way over on his side, almost falling off onto the floor to avoid the “taco”. When he chooses the farthest end, I think he gets the notion he has no sheets to sleep with, thus creating a small tug-of-war mid-slumber.

One particular morning, I awoke to a massive un-tucked mess. Still trying to shake the sleepiness, I laid there in the chaos relaxing for a few minutes more. I could feel what seemed to be the entire flat sheet next to my head in a ball. What the heck? How did this happen? This night must have been the ultimate toss and turn. I heard Matt grunt a little. Then he reached over and tugged on the ball of sheets as if I was hogging them all to myself. I pushed the bundle of sheet next to his head.

There, is that what you want? The ball of sheet? Remnants of an un-tucked tango? Have ‘em. I thought to myself.

It seemed to appease him so I got up and started to get ready for the day. About ten minutes later while doing my hair in the bathroom I heard him call out, “What the heck?! How the… Did you see this sheet’s in one big ball by my head?”

“Yeah, you wanted it during the night so I gave it to you.”

Later that day at work, he texted me to say, “I love you because you hand me the ball of sheets when I want them, no questions asked.”

"Candle Farts"

 Free cider and chocolate-sprinkle covered Pretzles at Macey's

I sent Matt into Macey's to return something and waited in the car outside the entrance. He returned with a styrofoam cup and a long chocolate and sprinkle covered pretzel.

"What's that" I asked.

"It was free." He said, handing it over.

I grabbed the pretzel and took a bite. It wasn't that good, so I handed it back to him. A few minutes later, he took a bite. I didn't really notice anything until it seemed like he was examining the pretzel stick. I looked over and asked, "What?"

"What are sprinkles?" He said rhetorically. He paused.

"I mean, what's the point? They aren't even... Good! They aren't even ANYTHING! They taste like wax. That's what they are, they're little wax flakes." He started in while still examining his preztel in mild disgust.

"They ruin things. They're like candle farts."

I had a pretty good laugh at that one. Where does he come up with this stuff?

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!

The I Pod arm band tango

My husband bought me an I Pod for Christmas. He bought one for me last Christmas but I mentioned weeks before the holiday that I didn’t much see a need for an I Pod since I had all my music on Windows Media Player and could burn mixes of CDs when I wanted. I was “old school” and didn’t want to conform to the new way of music.

After Christmas he told me the story of how my comment had caused heartburn as he tried desperately to return the I Pod and find another thoughtful gift. Oops.

Over the next year I started to see how an I Pod would be a useful thing for the gym. I decided that it would motivate me to work out more since I was someone who couldn’t live without music- especially when performing tasks. Also, it would avoid embarrassment when I showed up at the gym with my current portable music device- a Sony Discman purchased by my parents for me in 1996 complete with large foam covered ear muffs- I mean head phones. Do they sell Discmans anymore?

So, I accepted the gift with excitement and anticipation only to be disappointed when I found out how much preparation it required to actually use the thing.

With the I Pod, Matt got me an armband holder thingy- so I could wear it to the gym and get my work out without it bouncing around in my pocket. What a neat little contraption.

Looks can be deceiving.

Our first Gym visit together of the New Year was met with quite a struggle in the car. That damned thing. I thought for sure I was going to throw it out the window. Let me try to explain the I Pod Tango.

You place the I Pod on your arm in the position you want it to be in so you can see the screen. You then wrap one side of the Velcro strap around your arm while holding the actual pocketed I Pod in the place you want it. This requires the use of only one hand. ( trying to use the other creates a strained, awkward, wounded-bird type flapping that is quickly found to be futile). Then, you try to use your other fingers (If you have any left) to reach around the other side to the dangling sister strap. THIS is where the joke’s on you. When you think you’re getting the strap over to the other side to mesh with it’s counterpart, it sticks with a cement hold to any part of Velcro it inadvertently touches. The bond is so great, that it takes a total release of your previous holdings to free the clinch. And… you’re back at square one.

While harassed by this mission to get the two straps together, Matt noticed the fight and said, “What is going on?”

“I can’t get the thing on the thing where it needs to be.”

At which point, Matt burst into laughter. “It can’t be that hard. Just fasten it and then slide it up your arm.”

Feeling sheepish that I hadn’t thought of that, I undid the whole “doing” and tried that option. First try, too small. Second try, way to big. Third try, if.. I… Could… Just wind… this thing up my arm… by twisting it back and forth…. There.

I stared down at the result. Red, sensitive rash all the way up from the elbow, left by the Velcro Indian Burn. The strap was obviously done too small and my arm was bulging from either side like a pastry about to be cut into individual servings with string.

When we arrived, Matt ended the pursuit by strapping it for me.

Thanks a bunch.

I could see it now, every time I wanted to go to the gym sans Matt, I’d have to ask the front desk to fasten my I Pod for me, like asking the baby sitter to tie my shoe.