Letting Go of a Dream

About three weeks ago I showered, shaved my legs and gussied myself up like I was getting ready for a third date.

Really I was just heading in for my annual exam.

We're going over my chart from the last couple of years and they ever so nicely pointed out that I've gained about 14 lbs since January.  They (one girl taking notes, the other my dr.) ask what I'm doing differently and I tell them I'm hitting the gym about once a month instead of three times a week.

And I'm still drinking the same amount of beer.

Apparently that combo leads to 14 lbs of weight gain.  Awesome.

Continuing with my chart she asks about my birth control and then says, "Oh, yes.  You've had a tubal ligation.  My favorite form of birth control."

And I say, "yeah, til you want more babies."

Then she lowers my folder and raises her head and says, "You want more babies?"

And I say, "Yeah, yeah I do."  And I went on to tell her about my tubal decision.  My worst decision to date.  (and lemme tell you, I've made a lot of bad decisions in my life.)

She tells me that once a month a fertility specialist from Seattle comes to their office.  That I could meet with him and talk about a reversal.  Would I like to do that?  Would I like to schedule an appointment?

For a brief moment I let myself play with idea of it.  What could it hurt?  Couldn't hurt anymore than I already do, right?

So.  Yes.  Sign me up for that appointment.  Let's have more babies!

And my appointment is October 9th at 9 AM.  I have all my medical records in my car just waiting to be handed over to this fertility specialist to better inform him of whether or not it's even a possibility.

But the thing is, my insurance won't cover a dime of this.  Not one dime.  And the consultation alone is $300.  The procedure is about $10,000.  Who am I to even consider this?!  I thought I'd just go ahead with the consultation.  Why not just find out it's possible or not possible?  But where am I going to just come up with 300 extra dollars?

I'm not.  Not at all.  Even cutting out the coffee (and I'm doing really well about that, btw) I don't have the money for something like this.

So today I let myself cry awhile.  And then I called Jane in Seattle and thanked her for scheduling that appointment for me but that I was going to have to cancel.  And she asked why and I told her and she thanked me for calling.

I'm right back where I was that December morning.  Feeling this weight of sadness.  I had actually started to hope.  I started to dream a little of the possibility.

And it hurts to let go of this dream.

my busy out of my comfort zone week

Whew!

This has been quite the week, friends.  Quite the week indeed.

And we still have a coupla days left.

The girls and I started back to school a couple of weeks ago and it's always my favorite when my mother-in-law asks the girls how school is going and if they're reading a lot and Sugar says, "no.  No we're not."

Awesome.  I'm sure that does her grandma/public school teacher heart a lot of good.

{sigh}

So I guess I'll just go ahead and admit that in the last couple of weeks maybe there hasn't been a ton of reading but yes there has been reading.  There's even been writing.  And holy cow, some math.  School is taking a much different approach this year in our household and so far we've had zero tears and only one bad attitude morning.  This is a miracle, folks, and I wish so much I'd started schooling my big girl this way from the get go.

Anyway, with school being back in session comes the flurry of activities.

Co-Op
Soccer
Choir

and for Josh and me, bible study in a small group.  {shudder}

So I signed Sugar up for soccer and poor Spice was a little too shy to join this year but she's been a trooper watching her sister and cheering her on.  We meet for that twice a week, Tuesday and Wednesday.  We've been doing that for a few weeks now and she's really been enjoying herself.  Last night I was a proud mama when she knocked a kid over and stole the ball from him.  Because last week, someone from the opposing team fell and she stopped what she was doing to make sure that kid was okay.  She's way nicer than me.

This week, on Monday, the girls joined Choir.  Oh, Lord.  Showing up to a church I don't know, filled with people I don't know, with a door God knows where and can I just say that I wanted to throw up.  What is my deal?  I swear the older I get the worse my anxiety is about crap like this.  I try to pretend in front of my girls that I have my shiz together because I do not want them to be anything like me when they are older.  But of course I waited til someone else got out of their car to see where they walked up to because from where I parked I could not see the door.

Door found, all was right in my world.

It's this sweet couple who leads Choir and they just donate their time and their talents to these sweet (assuming they're sweet) homeschooled kiddos.  The woman handed me a letter that says at some point they'll have each child sing in front of them on their own and all I can think about is what songs my girls know by heart.  Hells Bells?  Back in Black?  The soundtrack to Napoleon Dynamite?

You think I'm kidding.

My girls sat through Choir and we got in the van and they promptly told me, "that was sooo boring, Mom."

"But you LOVE to sing!"  I say in my uber convincing voice.

"Uh, yeah.  But to the songs on the radio.  Not that stuff."

Sigh.

Forever making grandmas proud, my girls.

So that was Monday of our week.

Then comes Tuesday.  Tuesday is soccer practice night.  And this Tuesday was the first small group bible study night for Josh and me. I did something I've never done before and I dropped my girl off at practice and entrusted her to the care of my friend Katie to take her home with her after practice because our small group started half way through Sugar's practice.  I may have been slightly sick to my stomach all day for worry about if the people at small group would like me.  And I kept thinking to myself, "do not laugh out loud.  do NOT laugh out loud."  Because I can laugh.  And usually at the most inappropriate times.  And loudly.  I also reminded myself not to talk.  Not to not talk too much, but to just not talk in general.

I mostly succeeded.

I had to talk when it was asked that would the person who brings snack for the night lead in prayer that evening.  I nearly stood up with a good loud, "HELL, NO!" but I kept seated.  Smiled.  And said, "no.  I will feed you, yes.  But I will never lead in prayer and probably just never pray at all."

Like ever, ever.  Amen.

And they didn't kick me out and I had a good time.  But I may have laughed and oops, oh well.  It wasn't ever at an inappropriate time.  Thank God.

What day are we up to?  Yes, Wednesday.  Yesterday.  Man, it feels like that day was so long ago.

Wednesday was just the day before today.  (The day I've been oh so scared of for the last couple of weeks)  Wednesday was Sugar's game and she did great!  Oh!  I forgot to tell you about our dog!

We got a dog.  A 1.5 yr old black lab who apparently is so obsessed with anything round that she absolutely FREAKS OUT.  I took her to soccer yesterday and she went nuts for all the soccer balls!  So Josh had to sit with her in the back she was just so excited and wanted to play with all of them and when there are nine (I think) fields going, that's a lot balls to play with.

So, soccer game was good.

Then I helped finish up some shirts with a friend and then we had dinner and yum.  It was 8 pm and I'd not really eaten all day, so I needed dinner.  I love food.  I came home and put the girls to bed and Josh and I went to bed and I laid there trying not to be nervous for today.  But that didn't work.  I got up around midnight to be sick and then again at 4 to be sick again and decided just to stay up.  Seriously a nervous wreck for today.

Today I had to help lead the homeschool co-op.  All I had to do was read a story to a bunch of 2-5 yr olds and then lead them in some exercises but oh my word I was such a mess with worry.  And now that it's over, I'm like, "really, Sarah?  All that sickness and ridiculousness and being short with your girls this morning over what?  OVER WHAT?"  Because it was fine and it was fun and I really like all those babes and those mamas.

Amber said yay to me for being all 33 and going to small group.  And I told her that I felt 13 and like the odd, ugly girl out showing up and she told me odd was part of my charm.

That's me.  Oddly charming.

I've done really big (to me) things this week.  Big things out of my comfort zone and it's been amazing and good and hard.  And the amazing and good didn't outweigh the hard, these things were really hard for me.  But how can we grow if we're always in our comfort zone, huh?

I learned this week that I can step out.  I can find the front door.  I can read a book to some kiddos.  I can sit in a room with a bunch of other adults without making too big a fool of myself.

And it's been good.

Really, really good.

Sticks and Stones

A couple of weeks was long enough to hold onto these words.

long thread of stitches

Thursday I told you about my hurting heart.  Let's talk about it some.

There were these words, these words typed out in black and white.  But they felt more like red.  They felt like fire.  And knives.  They burned and they cut deep.

It was like someone lives inside this head of mine, knowing every bad thing I think and feel about myself and they said, "yes, you are right.  you are all of these awful, terrible things. plus a few more.  and no one likes you.  they tolerate you."

I read these words, til there were too many tears to see the words.  And then I put them down.  Those 2.5 pages, I put them down.  And I kept saying, "no. no. no."  Then with shaky hands and sobs and snot, I picked them up to continue reading and I hurt so bad.  Hurt like I've never hurt.

Do we even realize the power of our words to other humans?  Do we even realize?

I sat with those pages all day.  Reading them over and over.  And my friend said, "are you going to frame them?  You have to quit reading them."

I wanted an epidural.  An epidural for my heart.

That night I laid in my bed.  The words next to me, tear-stained, and folded on my night stand.  I wanted them close.  And I don't know why.  I was scared that in the night Josh would take them.  He had told me I needed to burn them.  Get rid of them.  And be done.

Not yet.

So I laid there with my head on his chest, his hand on my head in this protective way that he does.  And I couldn't quit murmuring.  There were these song lyrics that kept coming to me and so I would try to sing them, and then prayer and then verses and more lyrics and tears that just fell.

I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up with those pages, those words beside me and in my head but the amazing thing was that they were not in my heart.

I woke up feeling free.  Bruised and hurt, but free.  I would not own these words.  But more importantly, they would not own me.

Thursday was spent just kind of wandering.  Wandering about my house and my daily tasks and the girls just knew somehow that Mama needed to not be needed.  They took care of themselves, bless their hearts.

And my friends, they took care of me.  Bless your hearts.

Thursday morning Beth Moore tweeted, "When someone is cut to pieces, words of compassion and kindness loop together in a long thread of stitches woven by the caring hand of God."

I had friends send texts and emails.  One friend, one so sweet friend, knocked on my door, handed me Starbucks, hugged me and then left.  There was so much compassion and kindness on Thursday that my heart was overwhelmingly full.  I couldn't believe it.  I really could not believe it.

A kind word would come through a text and I would think how I didn't deserve it.

Grace.

The coffee and the hug?  Seriously, I just don't have words for that act of kindness and compassion.

Grace some more.

We went out of town for this Labor Day weekend and when we got home, in my mailbox, you won't believe this, but five letters.

Five.

Full of love.

And happy.

Instead of reading those 2.5 typed pages of hurt, I'm reading handwritten notes on colorful pages with wonderful handwriting.

Salve.

You have been salve to my wounded heart, friends.  I couldn't do these days without you.  These hard, hurting days, you make them doable.

My word how I love each one of you for being a long thread of stitches, for being Jesus to me these days.

Thank you.  Just, thank you.