tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58440546920065272212024-03-19T08:38:34.460-02:00Love Always Hopes: The Adventures of Mr. Superman and Mrs. S.<center><b><i>Honest. Quirky. Sarcastic. These Are Our Bits of Life </i></b></center>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.comBlogger616125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-90892355592459268182015-11-11T04:08:00.001-02:002015-11-11T04:08:44.907-02:00Thank You. (Originally posted 11-11-11<div class="separator" style="text-align: start; clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXj1_xfNjF4yUlmJ9dt84zOGJHq4XFeN2hhPcnrwSfx1n6q5GoQLegRnj1RISm1O_gqHOzkjvC_b3u0kok-ly4rZOfVjsHbY4H3pOg-hQDmwrn6xxq_zOegmw5CM_R5mR45dC3b553v6q/s1600/VeteransDay71.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font color="#000000"><img border="0" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXj1_xfNjF4yUlmJ9dt84zOGJHq4XFeN2hhPcnrwSfx1n6q5GoQLegRnj1RISm1O_gqHOzkjvC_b3u0kok-ly4rZOfVjsHbY4H3pOg-hQDmwrn6xxq_zOegmw5CM_R5mR45dC3b553v6q/s400/VeteransDay71.jpg" width="400"></font></a></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>Here I am, another military spouse, writing another post about Veteran's Day on my little old blog. There are a million things I could say, a couple dozen videos I could post, and quotes coming out the wazoo that I could share with you. Instead, I'll keep it fairly simple. <br><br>This Veteran's Day, I am even more grateful than usual that my very own veteran husband is home safe and sound on American soil.<br><br>No one can really, truly understand the sacrifices of veterans, except for them. I try my best as a wife to do what I <i><b>can</b></i> do, and that is show my gratitude. Honestly, that is the best thing in the world ANYONE can do.<br><br>No matter what your political affiliations and regardless of what your views on this decade long war are, the truth remains the same. You are here in America, able to align with the political party of your choice, maintain your points of view on issues, and support whatever and whomever you'd like, <i><b>BECAUSE</b></i> of veterans. You are able to sit at home, drive your car, read what you'd like, and watch what you'd like, <b><i>BECAUSE</i></b> of veterans. You are able to pierce and tattoo your body, cut and color your hair, and wear whatever clothes you choose, <i><b>BECAUSE</b></i> of veterans. You are able to protest on behalf of whichever cause you'd like and yell, kick, and scream to get people's attention for whatever reason, <i><b>BECAUSE</b></i> of veterans.<br><br>Veterans serve this country faithfully, unfailingly, and without complaint. They <b><u>CHOOSE</u></b> to serve because they know it has to be done and they step up. Veterans make everything we have, everything we do, and everything about this country <b><u>POSSIBLE</u></b>.<br><br>Its Veteran's Day so for this one day, why don't we do what we can do, and give them the thing that means most?<br><br><b>Our gratitude and thanks. </b><br><br>Regardless of their age, when they served, or how long they served, they sacrificed for you, me, and millions of others they don't know. Many of these selfless individuals paid for our freedom with their lives. <br><br>So say thank you. And trust me when k say that it means more than we can imagine. <br><br><b>"We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude." <i>---Cynthia Ozick</i></b></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-20568020456961404772015-10-15T19:15:00.000-02:002015-10-15T19:42:33.082-02:00I Am So Glad I Live In A World With Octobers (L.M. Montgomery)<div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">October is a tough month for me. It's 31 days of such immense bittersweetness and is an intricate balancing act of enjoying the wonderful, while also allowing myself to feel the pain and grief it all holds. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Eight years ago, I married the man who saved me. It wasn't a perfect day but it was the start to our lives together and for that, <b><u>I'm inexplicably grateful</u></b>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Six years ago, I was trying desperately to keep my head above water and figure out how to live life every second after being brutally sexually assaulted. I didn't really believe it was possible and yet, <u><b>here I still am</b></u>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Five years ago, I was days away from testifying against the person who raped me in an Article 32 Hearing. My husband was 8,000 miles away in Afghanistan and every single day, I lived for those few minutes that I got to see his pixelized face and hear his voice through the static. I didn't care about how imperfect or unclear it all was because in those few minutes, I wasn't having to pretend I was happy or okay, <b><u>I actually, <i>genuinely</i> was</u></b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Two years ago, on this exact day, I was not only dealing with the regular ups and downs that the month of October holds for me, I was mourning the loss of our fourth Angel Baby whose due date had been October 15th, 2013. They never made it into my arms and I was bitter but </span><b style="font-family: inherit;"><u>I was alive to feel that bitterness, which is a wonderful thing</u></b><span style="font-family: inherit;">. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One year ago, I was with the love of my life, driving down the Pacific Coast Highway in Northern California, visiting and exploring some of our favorite beaches. We went completely unplugged for the bulk of the day, enjoyed the radio silence, and gave credence and respect to the day in the most beautiful, peaceful, acknowledging way we could. One month prior, we had lost our baby girl Kay, our fifth Angel Baby who had Trisomy 21. <b><u>It was our hardest loss yet but we had each other</u></b>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Even through all of the loss and sadness, October still holds a spark of </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">magic</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> for me. There always has been. It's all much more than any words are able to do the feeling justice. The wind brings a newness to the air. It's crisp and sharp but also calming and gentle. Somehow, all of the falling leaves and dying foliage smell sweet and spark the feeling of being alive. These 31 days hold so much nostalgia and wonderment from my childhood and as I've gotten older, have grown to hold a lot of harsh, unexpected cruelty. It seems odd to long for this time of year when I know exactly what memories and emotions I'll be flooded with and yet, every single year, I do just that. It's irreconcilable but also, </span><i style="font-family: inherit;"><b>not</b></i><span style="font-family: inherit;">. </span></div>
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I don't believe October will ever become easy for me nor will it ever lose its magic. It's something that like all other things in life, will always require balance. There is no good without bad, no joy without sadness and no strength without pain and suffering. Without experiencing terrible loss and loneliness and isolation, it wouldn't be possible for me to feel the Heaven that is the love in my life.<br />
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Every October there is one day set apart from all the others where I feel the bereavement more keenly while at the same time, feeling more bolstered and supported. It's another balancing act that is hard to get a firm understanding of but nevertheless, <b><i>is</i></b>.<br />
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I miss every single one of my babies with all that I am. There isn't a second that ticks by that I don't long for them and feel the immeasurable emptiness each one of them has left in my heart. Each day, I wonder about who they would have been and every day, I love them with my Mama's broken heart. Every October 15th, I feel and experience and exist in this reality on a deeper level than any other day. Why? I don't quite know. Perhaps it's the fact that there are countless others feeling, experiencing, and existing in this same reality on this same deeper level, and ACKNOWLEDGING it.<br />
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Another year has dragged on and flown by. Once again, it's National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Please take a moment to send up a prayer and put out some light for every Baby lost too soon, every Father who didn't get to see their child grow up, and every Mother who has lost a piece of her heart. You may think it doesn't affect you or that it doesn't matter but you'd be wrong. <b>1 in 4</b> women have suffered through this horror, a lot of them in silence. That means that <b>25% of the women surrounding you</b>, know all too intimately the excruciating pain of losing a child.<br />
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It <i><b>does</b></i> matter.<br />
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1 in 4 isn't just a statistic though.<br />
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1 in 4 is the WOMAN next to you in line.<br />
1 in 4 is your AUNT.<br />
1 in 4 is your COWORKER.<br />
1 in 4 is your NEIGHBOR.<br />
1 in 4 is your SISTER.<br />
1 in 4 is ME.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-49859990583836206842015-10-07T03:38:00.001-02:002015-10-07T03:38:18.567-02:00SIX.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0xUdSvzejc53qAOOHMKsr_uSlp7bpe4V8exBpzohseWPBkXbVpYhmiQ3DstHfqZTkfZDJ7MpVj1503DV1YBfQ3pGa3UrMhufS8HVdV_TTzoUAlCt0pNZlFox7QCbJf-_O1t4Z6xdYMzu/s640/blogger-image--72655828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0xUdSvzejc53qAOOHMKsr_uSlp7bpe4V8exBpzohseWPBkXbVpYhmiQ3DstHfqZTkfZDJ7MpVj1503DV1YBfQ3pGa3UrMhufS8HVdV_TTzoUAlCt0pNZlFox7QCbJf-_O1t4Z6xdYMzu/s640/blogger-image--72655828.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Six years ago, I found myself in a situation that no person ever thinks as something that would or even <i>could</i> happen to them. <div><br></div><div>I was <b>choked</b>. </div><div>I was <b>hit</b>. </div><div>I was <b>scratched</b>. </div><div>I was nearly <b>killed</b>. </div><div>I was <b>raped</b>. </div><div><br></div><div>Six years ago, I became a different person. I had something stolen from me that eternally <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">changed the very essence of who I was. Through violence, terror, and humiliation I was transformed. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Six years ago, t<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">he bleak emptiness that I was left with, seemed impenetrable and my annihilation from any sort of normal existence, inevitable. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Six years ago, I had no idea that life went on. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Six years ago, I was a victim. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Today, I'm a survivor. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZzw3lZJ5yx6tZVQJqPjnrVryGmdD2aXzyfwpd0tp7AOnUOsfLUsRkF8yw5eotO2248uibK1IcNkJq5pTlNmlbOiKBBGgKHic410iy7i2XoQ2QjCS4pyJ38-Qglu8N8x5vJYEaYq5AcaP/s640/blogger-image-1765715862.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">It's messy and exhausting. It's undeniably scary and painful and <i>absolutely</i> inevitable. There's something in knowing the hideous inevitability of life that makes us want to stand up, heads held high, with our heels dug in while at the same time, running to duck for cover with our eyes wide shut. Most of the time, we're okay with all of the shitty sides of life because often, it's all counterbalanced by beauty and love and exhilarating opportunities. <b>Often</b>, but <u>not</u> <b>always</b>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">God! Us humans are such fickle, selfish, and yes, vulnerable, ignorant creatures. Always wanting to be given more for doing less. It's easier to make brash assumptions about random strangers instead of taking a few minutes out of our lives to get to know someone new. Putting out negativity seems to come more naturally than spreading positivity. We are all so stubbornly hellbent when it comes to our hopes and dreams and what we view as the only path that leads to success. We plan and we plan and no matter how many times our plans fail, we never learn. In our minds, no one knows better than us who swim in our own preconceived notions of what our lives are supposed to be like. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I'm 27 years old. I've lived in 4 states and 11 residences since 2007. I've lost 4 jobs and undergone over half a dozen surgeries. I've had 3 organs removed and 5 tumors discovered. I received treatment for those tumors and though it was a success, I now only have about 50% functionality in both of my kidneys combined. I've been brutally raped and nearly killed. I have had to witness my attacker being fully acquitted and all records expunged not once, but <b><i>twice</i></b>. I've had my marriage tested so thoroughly that I didn't see how we could possibly make it out with our love intact. We have encountered infertility and also lost 5 babies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><b><i>FIVE</i></b>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I've been contemplating talking about this almost since Day 1 but I never could quite get myself to follow through. Following through meant cutting already open wounds even further, pouring in salt, and then scrubbing them with steel wool. It meant thinking and feeling and acknowledging excruciating pain. The closer today got, March 26th, the more I felt the need to let it all spill out and the less I was able to shroud and drown everything that's lived inside of me since last September. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">In July when I first began feeling the aches and pains, it was a teensy thought at the back of the furthest reaches of my mind. The longer it went on, the more that teensy thought grew. I only had my husband pick up the tests as a throw away solution that would get those voices and thoughts to shut up. When I sat down to pee on that stick, it never once crossed my mind it would be anything but negative. Before I could rip the toilet paper off of the roll and not even 10 seconds later, there was a bright pink and undeniably present line. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>Positive</b>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Throat closed up, mouth went dry, eyes welled, head spun. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The first three words out of my mouth were not something endearingly sweet that I'd share with my children when they were grown. They were sharp, shocked, only 4 letters long and completely unladylike. I shakily called Mr. Superman's name and when he rounded the corner, I immediately choked out a sob. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>Him:</b> Are you serious?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>Me:</b> (Arms outstretched and stumbling my way to him.) I can't do this again! I can't! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Within a week, I'd already had my first ER visit that resulted in us finally seeing a tiny little sack inside of me. Over the next few weeks, I got sicker and things got scarier. I threw up blood and passed out daily. I drove up to the University hospital every morning where I got hooked up to the machines and received 2 liters of fluid. We held hands so tightly every time they checked for our baby on the ultrasound screen. The love of my life cried when we first saw the heartbeat racing in that babes chest. We soon found ourselves living quite comfortably in our new reality and were excitedly preparing for the baby we'd been dying to have for the last 7 years. I grew plumper and loved to look at my belly in the mirror. Every single second of pain and sickness made me happy. It all meant that a miracle was still living inside of me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">One day in September, I woke up feeling a palpable, heavy presence that I could not shake. I told Mr. Superman I had a bad feeling. I couldn't put my finger on it but something was wrong with that day. He kept telling me to stay positive and have nothing but good juju flowing through me. "<i><b>The baby will come out with a bad attitude if you don't</b></i>", he joked. A couple of hours later, I passed out and hit my belly on the corner of our ottoman on my way down. The pain that followed was pretty intense which meant driving back up to the hospital to get checked out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>NINE HOURS LATER</b>, we were being told that there was no more movement coming from our baby. She wasn't kicking or dancing like she usually did. There was no heartbeat drumming away in her tiny chest. We were left in the room so we could have some privacy and also to discuss how I wanted to 'evacuate the fetus'. Evacuate. Like a damn firedrill. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>TWENTY FOUR HOURS LATER</b>, I was being awoken from surgery and soon thereafter, wheeled out to my car and sent home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b><i>Empty</i></b>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">It wasn't long after losing her that results came back showing she had been Trisomy 21. Downs Syndrome. Ironically (and I wholeheartedly believe divinely), the middle name we had planned on giving her was Kay. She was going to be named after my Aunt Kay who had been a beautiful, loving Downs Syndrome individual. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Hours turned to days turned to weeks and I had been in a constant downward spiral heading into the deepest, darkest, and heaviest of abysses. I wanted to die. I had been so thoroughly broken it's hard to see how my heart kept working. It seems impossible and yet, here I still am. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">In December, I was rushed to the hospital where upon arrival, no vitals could be found. I had been hemorrhaging off and on since our baby girl had been taken from my body and in the last week, I had lost 5 units of blood. I received a transfusion and spent a week in the hospital where I had surgery to clamp off the two main arteries inside of my uterus that were freely bleeding. We were told it was likely this bleed is what had actually caused the death of our baby girl, not the fact that she was Trisomy 21. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Anger, sadness, confusion... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Why? I mean seriously, why?! I don't care if she had been low functioning, all I wanted was her. I'd give anything, <b><i><u>do</u></i></b> anything if I could just have her back. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The thing about life is that it's not fair. It's wholly unpredictable and uncontrollable. No matter how many times this truth gets slammed in our faces, we never learn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Because we're stupid humans. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b><i><u>I had a plan</u></i></b>. It was to get married, go to school, have babies, be happy. Never in a million years did it cross my mind I wouldn't get exactly that. Nobody ever thinks they are going to struggle with infertility let alone lose FIVE babies. It's unimaginable. Unconscionable. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Another thing we humans do is put a label on everything. Every single thing life dishes out is sorted and crammed into cubbies that make everything look prettier and feel cleaner. The damaging thing about this way of thinking is that it separates and alienates us from one another. Those who are going through hell and struggling with life's most recent derailment find themselves feeling heartbreakingly alone and misunderstood. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Miscarriage is one of those things that doesn't fit into a cubby hole. For those who never experience it, it's impossible to understand the grief and pain behind it. Things are said thoughtlessly, carelessly, and ignorantly. Being brushed under the rug is par for the course because who the hell wants to talk about dead babies? Trust me, we <i><b>get</b></i> it. We're <b><i>living</i></b> it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>March 26th, 2015</b>. The birthday she will never have. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The hardest thing about being someone who loves easily and fiercely and unabashedly is being someone who loves easily and fiercely and unabashedly. The best part? Precisely the same thing. Even though somewhere deep inside I know this is true, right now it's all I can do to not shatter into a million little pieces.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I guess instead, I'll just hit the 'Publish' button. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-91913371139438842562014-11-25T07:18:00.001-02:002015-11-25T02:33:13.879-02:00The Girl in the Picture<br>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">It's November again. Another year has passed by in a hazy, reckless, unfathomably painful blur. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Almost every single second, I find myself not only longing for this girl in the picture to exist, but for her to show up, take me by the hand, and lead me to wherever and whatever reality that allows me to be who she is. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Who <b><i>I</i></b> was. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">She'd arrive in a triumphant blaze of assurance and calmness. She would rehook all of the things that have come unhooked and unbreak everything that's been broken. She'd teach me what it really is to feel a hope and a happiness so deep and genuine, that it would be visible when you looked in my eyes. She would tell me exactly how to achieve a contentment and confidence so pure, it could be palpably felt by all who'd come in contact with me. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">A year ago this girl was <b>REAL</b> and even though I know <i>that</i> to be an undeniable truth, this girl seems like such an obscure, abstract, unattainable, impossible concept. It is a dilemma so deeply incomprehensible for me to grasp that I am wholly unable to reconcile myself to it. It's as surreal and far-fetched as time travel or sprouting wings to fly, or princesses in castles, guarded by dragons, being rescued by perfect men they've never met but who somehow, <i>inexplicably</i>, always manages to be their true love. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I'm not some incredibly intelligent person nor am I someone destined for greatness and legacy. I don't know a lot and I'm not sure of most things in this world but I know enough to realize and admit that there is <b>no</b> rewind button and there is <b>no</b> possibility of a Me from the past coming to the Me from now's rescue. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The struggle to exist, to continue to be a reality in this world, is not easy. Life is messy and relentless and painful. It takes and it destroys and it leaves nothing untouched. It's a terrifying dark abyss that we all must dive into, head first, not knowing or being able to see what awaits us at the bottom. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">We humans are an inherently weak and selfish species. We attack our own and stand idly by, as we watch evil happening around us. We are gluttons for punishment, rarely seek out or take advice from others, and have it deeply ingrained into our very beings that 'looking out for number one' is the thing to do. It's in our nature to do whatever it takes to survive and come out on top. As with all things, there is an opposition, a flip side. Even with all of the inferiority and defectiveness that means we're human, we also have the capability to be the very essence of <i><b>good</b></i>. We can love fiercely and form opinions and feel things so intensely we lose all sense of reason. Yes, we humans are a fickle, irreverent bunch but we are also blessed and thankful and unique. The best things about what it is to be human however, are also the things that allow our naivety and foolishness to abound. It is this innocence and ignorance that leads us to accept and believe things blindly, readily. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The notion that if you just carry on in spite of the million and one hurdles thrown in your path, you'll not only be a brave and strong individual worthy of praise, but you'll also have done something that actually matters and is worth remembering, is one of the biggest lies that has arisen and been fostered and preached since the dawn of time. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">There are <b>no</b> right answers. There is <b>no</b> such thing as a period of time that heals. The only certainties in this life, any life really, are <i>pain</i> and <i>guilt</i> and <i>suffering</i> and the fact that there are <b>no</b> magically foolproof formulas to follow in order to achieve the highly coveted and most desired level of achievement. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><b><i>Happiness</i></b>. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Pure, unadulterated, invincible happiness sounds good but it's a lie. A farce. The <i>only</i> thing we can do is breathe in and out and will our hearts to continue pumping our blood through our bodies. I know it's true like I know that the sky is blue and the sun sets in the west. I just really, <b><i>really</i></b> wish that this girl, the one in the photo, could come to me and tell me how to keep doing that. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-20912400847692170012014-10-16T02:35:00.001-02:002014-10-16T02:35:10.909-02:00Another Year Gone. This Day Still Stands.Geez. October 15th.<b> Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day</b>. <div><br></div><div>Well, this day is here yet again. Time is funny like that. No matter how you feel or what is going on in your life that seems so altering and appalling, time still moves. Its an inescapable fact and yet I never find it easier to accept. <div><br></div><div>I spent the day away from all of the attachments we humans have formed to maintain constant connectivity with everyone. I drove South down the Pacific Coast Highway with my incredible husband, exploring some of our favorite beaches and discovering new ones. </div><div><br></div><div>No cell service for 7 hours was blissful. </div><div><br></div><div>No Facebook posts to read or Instagram pictures to scroll through. </div><div><br></div><div>No way for me to give in to my slightly masochistic tendencies by reading articles and blog posts and comments about everyone's angel babies. Trust me, I never stop thinking about those losses. I have far too many of my own to stave off those thoughts and feelings forever, but today it was what I needed. </div><div><br></div><div>I really, truly needed to step away and live in the moment. I needed to be out in this insanely gorgeous world we live in and FEEL something other than the grief and pain and confusion that's been surrounding me.</div></div><div><br></div><div>It's been 5 weeks and 2 days since we found out we had lost our baby and its been 5 weeks and 1 day since that baby was taken from my body. </div><div><br></div><div>Even though stepping away was good, I knew I needed to acknowledge this day and what its for and what it means to countless moms, dads, entire families, and all of the babies we've lost. </div><div><br></div><div>We now have 5 Angel Babies waiting for us. </div><div><br></div><div>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div><br></div><div><b>{{NOTE: Reposted from 10-15-2013}} </b></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Today. October 15th. </span></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">October 15th....</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">It's the middle of the month.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">It's the day after the 14th and the day before the 16th.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">It's 16 days away from Halloween.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">It's right in the middle of Autumn weather coming into full swing.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">There's usually leaves on the ground in different shades of red, orange, and gold. The air is crisp and chilly in the morning and brisk and cold at night. It's cold enough for boots and cardigans but there's no snow sticking to the ground yet.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Pumpkin is <b><i>everywhere</i></b>.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">It's in recipes on blogs and in your Facebook feed. There's countless pictures of pumpkin this or pumpkin that on Instagram. They're in the grocery store, being sold at the stand on the corner, and sitting on your neighbors front porch. Most of the popular pins on Pinterest right now either incorporate or center around this big orange member of the squash family. There are crafts! And decorations! And <b>GOOD LORD</b> it's even in your coffee!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">All of these things are a <i>given</i> when it comes to the general public and what pops in their minds when thinking about October. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Everyone knows when October is. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Everyone is more than familiar with the things that are usually going on in October. To most, <b>October 15th</b> is just another generic day of the week in another month of another year. This year, <b>October 15th</b> happens to be a Tuesday. Last year it was a Monday and back in 2007, on <b>October 15th</b>, I was rushing around tying up loose ends and calming nerves for my wedding that was just four days away.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Do you know what else October 15th is?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">You see, for countless women, October 1st begins the lead up to the one day a year that their pieces of fractured souls and broken hearts are recognized by others rather than themselves alone. Their babies who are now angels are even more present in their hearts and minds today, than they are every other second of every other day because of <b>this</b> day.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">October 15th.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><i>Prayers</i> are said. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><i>Candles</i> are lit. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><i>Hands</i> are held.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><i>Hugs</i> are given. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><i>Memories</i> are reflected upon.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><i>Tears</i> are shed. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">All of this and more for the babies who never got to make it out of the womb, the ones who were stillborn, and the ones who were taken much too soon back to Heaven.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">For most people, October means Autumn has arrived and Halloween, orange and black, witches, pumpkins, and spooky stories are here. For others though, it's something much more and most won't ever know.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Growing up, October was something I anxiously waited for all year. I loved the feelings I got going outside in the mornings and seeing the trees slowly become more bare as the leaves fell. I always went all out on Halloween when it came to my costumes and I looked forward to the neighborhood bonfire we had every year. It was the month that brought my Mama's birthday and on its heels was Thanksgiving. I <u>loved</u> it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">In 2007, October became even more fantastic! The 19th was the day Loverface and I became husband and wife and it was just one more thing to celebrate!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Each passing year since then brought on more and more of life and the struggles that accompany with it. It seemed as if everything kept happening around the same time of the year and it all made me morph into someone who felt increasingly sad and angry as October drew closer. No matter how I have tried, I haven't been able to regain my untainted and unabashed fondness and enthusiasm for October.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">October 4th, 2009 was the day I was raped and nearly killed. It was an inexplicable nightmare and to this day I can't really face the details of it all without flinching away.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">October 19th, 2010 found me 8,000 miles away from my husband. Instead of it being the day we celebrated 3 years of marriage, it was the day that began with me testifying against my rapist in an Article 32 Hearing and ended with me alone at an Urgent Care, being told that I was in the midst of a miscarriage. Our 3rd loss.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">The next year, October 2011 was a bit of an emotional blur. Loverface was on 12 hour night shifts and I was trying desperately to not drown in my grief and anger surrounding the events from the last couple of years. I tried to shove it away and hide it which in the end did nothing but set me up for a much bigger fall. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Last year, we were still settling into our new civilian lives in Salt Lake City, Utah and even though we did get to have a day together to celebrate our 5 year wedding anniversary, I couldn't help but feel utterly <b><i>bitter</i></b>. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b><i>Bitter</i></b> that we had 3 Angel Babies but none here on Earth. <b><i>Bitter</i></b> that after 5 years, we were no closer to our goals and dreams. I was <b><i>angry</i></b> and <b><i>bitter</i></b> that the person who raped me had not only been let off all civilian charges but also all military charges and was free to live his life without a second thought of what he had done to me. I was <b><i>bitter</i></b> that I had received notification that this person wasn't content enough with brutally abusing me but was also attempting to serve me with legal papers, notifying me that I was being sued. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">was </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b>SO. UTTERLY. <i>BITTER</i>.</b></span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b><br></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">The beginning of this year brought with it a <i>change</i>. Our circumstances and environment didn't undergo some magical transformation nor will they anytime in the near future. Regardless, something had clicked. A flip was switched in me and without telling anyone or declaring that it was a New Years Resolution, I made a decision. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I was going to <b><i><u>let it go</u></i></b>. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Everything that I was clinging to that made my life that much more difficult or unhappy was being set free. If I didn't have any control over it, it was gone. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Getting on Facebook and seeing that yet another person, was having yet another baby wasn't going to ruin my week. Of course it would still be difficult and it would still tug at my heart but I wasn't going to be the girl that couldn't paste a smile on her face and say a simple, "Congratulations." </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b><i><u>No more. </u></i></b></span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I wasn't going to fear my attacker. Let his lawyers try to track me down and serve me with papers. I wasn't going to hold onto so much bitterness that I didn't have room for happiness. Thinking about and talking about my attack was still going to be incredibly difficult. It would hurt like hell but all I had control over was continuing to bravely share my story and show others that its possible to pick up the pieces and get back to your life. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b><i><u>Try my best.</u></i></b></span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">This was all something that just kind of occurred to me one day. I don't remember what I was doing or where I was but I remember feeling a sense of <b>excitement</b>, <b>hope</b>, and <b><i>relief</i></b>.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">October was still going to be a month that held a lot of emotion. That was inescapable and even if I could, I wouldn't want to. The best part of human existence is experiencing and feeling. Without the bad there wouldn't be good and vice versa. You can't have all the chocolate without the calories but sometimes, the chocolate is just so damn worth it.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I'd decided and I dove in. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">In February, Loverface and I discovered I was miraculously pregnant. We shared it with the world in hopes of all the extra prayers and good juju would really help that bun stay in my oven. We were very cautiously starting to allow talk of the future and started slipping into, "When"s instead of, "If"s. I was insanely sick and growing at a fast pace. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Then it all happened. Again. Our hopes were dashed, our baby was gone, and we were left empty in every possible way. Regardless of how difficult it was, we pulled ourselves back up and got back into our routines. By July it seemed as if I really had managed to grieve and tuck the heartache away more easily than in the past. It didn't hurt any less and I wasn't any less broken but I was able to handle it better for some reason.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><i>Until today.</i></span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">You see, today is <b>October 15th</b>. </span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">It's National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">It's <b>October 15th</b>.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">It's the day that was supposed to be for our Angel Baby #4.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b>October 15, 2013.</b></span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b><br></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">The due date that never happened.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Today I am feeling broken. The words grief and sadness don't seem anywhere near adequate and the thought that this awful, huge, gaping feeling could be put into words that would come close to describing what it is to hurt like this is incomprehensible.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I have hope that hope will return to me soon and I love that I know what it is to have a man who loves me the way I am loved.</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Its <b>October 15th</b> and I am feeling fractured, hollow, blank....</span><br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">But I know I am blessed.</span></span></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-65228341546353987482014-05-08T19:37:00.000-02:002014-05-08T21:39:46.523-02:00When Dreams {{NIGHTMARES}} Become Reality<div>
Monday night I couldn't sleep.<br>
Not <i>really</i>.<br>
<br>
Every time I closed my eyes, images would begin swirling and as they collided with my exhaustion, reality would drift far enough away for dreams to begin, but not so far that I didn't know I was dreaming. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
I was standing in line at Starbucks when he walked in and called my name. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<b><i>How are you? </i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>You look great!</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>It's been so long...</i></b></div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
My eyes fluttered open, I kicked off the covers and got up to get a glass of water. Settling back into bed, scenes of downtown Tempe began to fill my mind. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
It was a Friday night and we'd just finished dinner at Oregano's. The sounds of people laughing and talking loudly mingled with the smells of food and cigarette smoke that surrounded us. It was exactly like every other night we'd spent walking down Mill Avenue. The only difference was that when we crossed the street, he didn't make it. Once I stepped up onto the curb and turned around, I saw him lying in the street.<br>
<br>
I jerked awake that time and had to take several deep breaths to calm myself. My husband was sleeping soundly next to me and I wished I was too. As I rearranged my pillow, I concentrated on matching my breathing to his, focusing on all things calm.<br>
<br>
There he was again. Standing there in a black t-shirt and jeans, along with his regular black Vans and sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt, the weight of them pulling the neckline down far enough to see the top of a slightly raised pink line down the middle of his chest. I knew it was nearly 6 inches long but that's only because I'd seen it in its entirety. <br>
<br>
<i><b>Hey you!</b></i><br>
<i><b>Are you going to come to the hospital?</b></i><br>
<i><b>The doctors are saying this may be the last surgery I'll ever need. </b></i><br>
<i><b>I'll be fixed!</b></i><br>
<i><b>Please wait there with my mom...</b></i><br>
<br>
This time when I opened my eyes I had to talk myself into believing that the conversation I'd just had with him wasn't real. We'd always hoped one day the doctors would indeed tell him that he only needed one more operation and then his heart would be better but after 9 years of knowing him, I knew it was a long shot.<br>
<br>
This was getting old. I had work in 3 hours and I hadn't managed a stretch of sleep longer than 20 minutes. Sighing in utter frustration I lay my head back down again.<br>
<br>
I was holding his mom's hand while we sat in the freezing cold waiting room. The sterile smell of hospitals had always turned my stomach but combined with my apprehension and terror, the nausea was threatening to overtake me. We'd been waiting only 2 hours. Even still, those 2 hours had felt like 20 and when I looked up and saw the doctor walking towards us, mask pulled down around his neck, scrub cap in hand, and blood on his coat, I knew instantly that something had gone terribly wrong.<br>
<br>
<i><b>He's gone.</b></i><br>
<i><b>We tried everything.</b></i><br>
<i><b>Sometimes this happens.</b></i><br>
<i><b>I'm so sorry for your loss.</b></i><br>
<br>
My eyes flew open and as I realized that my face was indeed wet with real tears, I could still hear his mom screaming.<br>
<br>
<i><b>No! </b></i><br>
<i><b>This can't be happening!</b></i><br>
<i><b>Not my baby!</b></i><br>
<i><b>Please, God, no!</b></i><br>
<i><b><br></b></i>
Seriously?! Why did I keep seeing him? I hadn't talked to him in 6 weeks and yet every time I attempted to get the sleep I so badly needed, there he was. <br>
<br>
Somehow, an hour later when my alarm went off, I dragged myself out of bed and got ready for work. The morning was a rough one. Trying to convince a very cranky and sick 3 year old boy to do the most simple and ordinary tasks was grating on my nerves. My leg got cut by some glass and I got yelled and cursed at by a 70 year old Vietnamese woman. I had forgotten my breakfast at home and hadn't had time for my morning coffee. When my phone buzzed and I saw that I had a new message, I escaped to the bathroom to catch my breath and read the message.<br>
<br>
When I saw the sender's name, my stomach dropped.<br><br></div><div>I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut, forcing my insides into my throat.<br>
<br>
It was from <i><b>her</b></i>.<br>
<b>His mom.</b><br>
<br>
As my eyes flew over the words shining bright on my phone screen, I suddenly felt as if I was being choked. I couldn't breathe. My head was spinning.<br>
<br>
<i><b>He's gone.</b></i><br>
<i><b>I found him this morning.</b></i><br>
<i><b>I looked but I couldn't find a note.</b></i><br>
<i><b>I wish I could say it was an accident.</b></i><br>
<i><b>It wasn't his heart.</b></i><br>
<i><b>The police are still here.</b></i><br>
<i><b>Had he contacted you?</b></i><br>
<i><b>He still talked about you all the time.</b></i><br>
<i><b>I thought maybe you would know...</b></i><br>
<i><b>He loved you.</b></i><br>
<i><b>I'm so sorry.</b></i><br>
<i><b>Where are you?</b></i><br>
<i><b>Can you come?</b></i><br>
<i><b><br></b></i>
This could <span style="font-size: large;"><u>not</u></span> be happening.<br>
This was <span style="font-size: large;"><u>not</u></span> real.<br>
It just could <span style="font-size: large;"><u>not</u></span> be.<br>
<br>
I jumped as I heard the irregular rhythm of a 3 year old fist knocking on the bathroom door...<br>
<br>
The rest of the morning was a blur. Upon arriving back at our apartment after getting L on the bus for school, it all threatened to crash down on me. I couldn't think about anything but the one thing I knew I shouldn't do. It was an incredible struggle. I forced myself to change and work out. The entire time I focused like I've never focused before. It felt impossible to keep going but as I did, the sweat and shortness of breath pushed down the choking sensation from my throat. Afterwards, I showered and got dressed. I had to meet my husband on campus at the Detachment and take photos of him and the other members of next years Wing Staff. I was angry. So very, very angry. The reasons I gave were irrational but I didn't care. I could not talk about it. I would not talk about it. 2 hours later I was back at home and in my room.<br>
<br>
<i><b>You will not cry.</b></i><br>
<i><b>This isn't happening.</b></i><br>
<i><b>Just keep standing and folding laundry.</b></i><br>
<i><b>You will not cry.</b></i><br>
<i><b>This isn't happening.</b></i><br>
<i><b>Just keep standing and folding laundry.</b></i><br>
<br>
I kept repeating those words to myself. The next 2 hours were filled with the mundane tasks of folding, hanging up, and putting away 6 loads of laundry I had been avoiding. I did cry but just a little. Never longer than a minute or 2 and then I'd wipe my face, shake my head, and proceed with what I was doing.<br>
<br>
5:30 PM found me on my bed, hugging a pillow, sobbing uncontrollably. The door opened and I heard my husband's footsteps as he walked around the bed. The mattress shifted as he sat down.<br>
<br>
<i><b>What's going on?</b></i><br>
<i><b>Please tell me what's wrong?</b></i><br>
<i><b>Rachelle you HAVE to talk to me.</b></i><br>
<i><b>I'm going to get some tissue and then you have 2 minutes to tell me.</b></i><br>
<i><b>Please talk to me.</b></i><br>
<i><b>What happened?</b></i><br>
<br>
I didn't want to say it. I didn't think I could even manage saying the words. After fighting it some more, I gave in.<br>
<br><i><b>He's dead. He killed himself this morning.</b></i><br>
<br>
I told him all about it. I sobbed.<br>
<br>
Another good soul has left this Earth and in doing so, he left from my life. No longer do I have the option of checking up on him. There is no possibility of me running into him ever again. I won't ever have a chance to see him smile again or to tell him how proud I am of his sobriety.<br>
<br>
Its completely nonsensical. How is it possible that someone with such a pure heart no longer exists? A heart that had made it through <b>TEN</b> open heart surgeries... How can it be that someone who had been sober and clean for 3 years, who felt like they finally had it figured out, and had a new lease on life, no longer have any life at all?<br>
<br>
There are no words to accurately describe what this feels like. I have an actual physical stabbing pain in my heart. It's been 53 hours since I got the news that he was gone and I still can't believe it.<br>
<br>
Well, that's <i>not</i> true. The tears and the pain and the sleepless nights are proof that a part of me knows and believes. I just wish I didn't. I wish I didn't have to.<br>
<br>I don't want to grasp the reality that the one good person from my past is <b>gone</b>.<br>
<br>
I don't want to understand that the one person from my past that never made me hate myself more than I already did is <b>gone</b>.<br>
<br>
I don't want to know that the person who managed to crack my stone-hard exterior after my best friend killed himself is <b>gone</b>.<br>
<br>
I don't want to believe that one of the best people and men I have ever known is <b>gone</b>.<br>
<br>
Above all else, I don't want to wrap my head around the fact that he's <b>gone</b> because that would mean I'd have to accept and understand that he was hurting <i>so</i> badly and was <i>so</i> blinded by despair and hopelessness and pain, that he felt his only choice was to slip a rope around his neck and before stepping off of the chair he'd planted his feet on, drag a razor blade across his wrists. <br>
<br>
<i><b>Really, truly knowing that would make me hurt more than I can comprehend. </b></i><br>
<br>
It would mean I failed.<br>
<br>
It would mean I failed someone I had once loved and was still very near and dear to my heart.<br>
<br>
It would mean that someone I thought had risen from the blackest and deepest depths of depression and found happiness, wouldn't have and that would mean that the hope his story and life had given me, wasn't ever real to begin with. <br>
<br>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-12293314842052045372013-10-15T22:34:00.000-02:002013-10-15T22:34:56.508-02:00Today. October 15th. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">October 15th....</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It's the middle of the month.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It's the day after the 14th and the day before the 16th.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It's 16 days away from Halloween.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It's right in the middle of Autumn weather coming into full swing.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">There's usually leaves on the ground in different shades of red, orange, and gold. The air is crisp and chilly in the morning and brisk and cold at night. It's cold enough for boots and cardigans but there's no snow sticking to the ground yet.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Pumpkin is <b><i>everywhere</i></b>.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It's in recipes on blogs and in your Facebook feed. There's countless pictures of pumpkin this or pumpkin that on Instagram. They're in the grocery store, being sold at the stand on the corner, and sitting on your neighbors front porch. Most of the popular pins on Pinterest right now either incorporate or center around this big orange member of the squash family. There are crafts! And decorations! And <b>GOOD LORD</b> it's even in your coffee!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">All of these things are a <i>given</i> when it comes to the general public and what pops in their minds when thinking about October. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Everyone knows when October is. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Everyone is more than familiar with the things that are usually going on in October. To most, <b>October 15th</b> is just another generic day of the week in another month of another year. This year, <b>October 15th</b> happens to be a Tuesday. Last year it was a Monday and back in 2007, on <b>October 15th</b>, I was rushing around tying up loose ends and calming nerves for my wedding that was just four days away.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Do you know what else October 15th is?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">You see, for countless women, October 1st begins the lead up to the one day a year that their pieces of fractured souls and broken hearts are recognized by others rather than themselves alone. Their babies who are now angels are even more present in their hearts and minds today, than they are every other second of every other day because of <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">this</span></b> day.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">October 15th.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>Prayers</i> are said. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>Candles</i> are lit. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>Hands</i> are held.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>Hugs</i> are given. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>Memories</i> are reflected upon.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>Tears</i> are shed. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">All of this and more for the babies who never got to make it out of the womb, the ones who were stillborn, and the ones who were taken much too soon back to Heaven.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">For most people, October means Autumn has arrived and Halloween, orange and black, witches, pumpkins, and spooky stories are here. For others though, it's something much more and most won't ever know.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Growing up, October was something I anxiously waited for all year. I loved the feelings I got going outside in the mornings and seeing the trees slowly become more bare as the leaves fell. I always went all out on Halloween when it came to my costumes and I looked forward to the neighborhood bonfire we had every year. It was the month that brought my Mama's birthday and on its heels was Thanksgiving. I <u>loved</u> it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">In 2007, October became even more fantastic! The 19th was the day Loverface and I became husband and wife and it was just one more thing to celebrate!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Each passing year since then brought on more and more of life and the struggles that accompany with it. It seemed as if everything kept happening around the same time of the year and it all made me morph into someone who felt increasingly sad and angry as October drew closer. No matter how I have tried, I haven't been able to regain my untainted and unabashed fondness and enthusiasm for October.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">October 4th, 2009 was the day I was raped and nearly killed. It was an inexplicable nightmare and to this day I can't really face the details of it all without flinching away.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">October 19th, 2010 found me 8,000 miles away from my husband. Instead of it being the day we celebrated 3 years of marriage, it was the day that began with me testifying against my rapist in an Article 32 Hearing and ended with me alone at an Urgent Care, being told that I was in the midst of a miscarriage. Our 3rd loss.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The next year, October 2011 was a bit of an emotional blur. Loverface was on 12 hour night shifts and I was trying desperately to not drown in my grief and anger surrounding the events from the last couple of years. I tried to shove it away and hide it which in the end did nothing but set me up for a much bigger fall. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Last year, we were still settling into our new civilian lives in Salt Lake City, Utah and even though we did get to have a day together to celebrate our 5 year wedding anniversary, I couldn't help but feel utterly <b><i>bitter</i></b>. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><i>Bitter</i></b> that we had 3 Angel Babies but none here on Earth. <b><i>Bitter</i></b> that after 5 years, we were no closer to our goals and dreams. I was <b><i>angry</i></b> and <b><i>bitter</i></b> that the person who raped me had not only been let off all civilian charges but also all military charges and was free to live his life without a second thought of what he had done to me. I was <b><i>bitter</i></b> that I had received notification that this person wasn't content enough with brutally abusing me but was also attempting to serve me with legal papers, notifying me that I was being sued. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">was </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b>SO. UTTERLY. <i>BITTER</i>.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The beginning of this year brought with it a <i>change</i>. Our circumstances and environment didn't undergo some magical transformation nor will they anytime in the near future. Regardless, something had clicked. A flip was switched in me and without telling anyone or declaring that it was a New Years Resolution, I made a decision. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I was going to <b><i><u>let it go</u></i></b>. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Everything that I was clinging to that made my life that much more difficult or unhappy was being set free. If I didn't have any control over it, it was gone. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Getting on Facebook and seeing that yet another person, was having yet another baby wasn't going to ruin my week. Of course it would still be difficult and it would still tug at my heart but I wasn't going to be the girl that couldn't paste a smile on her face and say a simple, "Congratulations." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><i><u>No more. </u></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I wasn't going to fear my attacker. Let his lawyers try to track me down and serve me with papers. I wasn't going to hold onto so much bitterness that I didn't have room for happiness. Thinking about and talking about my attack was still going to be incredibly difficult. It would hurt like hell but all I had control over was continuing to bravely share my story and show others that its possible to pick up the pieces and get back to your life. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><i><u>Try my best.</u></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">This was all something that just kind of occurred to me one day. I don't remember what I was doing or where I was but I remember feeling a sense of <b>excitement</b>, <b>hope</b>, and <b><i>relief</i></b>.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">October was still going to be a month that held a lot of emotion. That was inescapable and even if I could, I wouldn't want to. The best part of human existence is experiencing and feeling. Without the bad there wouldn't be good and vice versa. You can't have all the chocolate without the calories but sometimes, the chocolate is just so damn worth it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I'd decided and I dove in. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">In February, Loverface and I discovered I was miraculously pregnant. We shared it with the world in hopes of all the extra prayers and good juju would really help that bun stay in my oven. We were very cautiously starting to allow talk of the future and started slipping into, "When"s instead of, "If"s. I was insanely sick and growing at a fast pace. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Then it all happened. Again. Our hopes were dashed, our baby was gone, and we were left empty in every possible way. Regardless of how difficult it was, we pulled ourselves back up and got back into our routines. By July it seemed as if I really had managed to grieve and tuck the heartache away more easily than in the past. It didn't hurt any less and I wasn't any less broken but I was able to handle it better for some reason.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>Until today.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">You see, today is <b>October 15th</b>. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It's National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It's <b>October 15th</b>.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It's the day that was supposed to be for our Angel Baby #4.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b>October 15, 2013.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The due date that never happened.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Today I am feeling broken. The words grief and sadness don't seem anywhere near adequate and the thought that this awful, huge, gaping feeling could be put into words that would come close to describing what it is to hurt like this is incomprehensible.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I have hope that hope will return to me soon and I love that I know what it is to have a man who loves me the way I am loved.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Its <b>October 15th</b> and I am feeling fractured, hollow, blank....</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">But I know I am blessed.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-7881754715003809162013-06-07T22:44:00.000-02:002013-06-07T22:44:17.065-02:00We Do It AnywayThere are <i>certain </i>things that Military Significant Others shouldn't do while their Loverface's are gone.<br />
<br />
Whether you're a Newbie and you're going through your first ever Military-related separation or a tried and true Milie Veteran, you <b><i>know </i></b>what I'm talking about. It never matters <b>WHY </b>they're gone, <b>WHERE </b>they are, or <b>HOW LONG </b>you'll be apart. It only matters that they <i>are </i>gone and it's <b><u>always </u></b>tough.<br />
<br />
Some are kind of general things like not watching Military movies that will rip our hearts out and make us sick with worry or watching and reading the news like crazy.<br />
<br />
Examples: <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1591479/" target="_blank">Act of Valor</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120815/?ref_=sr_1" target="_blank">Saving Private Ryan</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0265086/?ref_=sr_1" target="_blank">Black Hawk Down</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0887912/?ref_=sr_2" target="_blank">Hurt Locker</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0418689/?ref_=sr_1" target="_blank">Flags of Our Fathers</a>, and the movie that taunted me during Mr. Superman's first deployment (but I never gave in!), <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1019454/?ref_=sr_1" target="_blank">Taking Chance</a>.<br />
<br />
Other things are more of a gamble and some decide to err on the side of caution. Others, either because their a glutton for punishment or have masochistic tendencies, will forego all instinct to avoid what is the inevitable outcome. Watching movies like <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1702439/?ref_=sr_1" target="_blank">Safe Haven</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0452694/?ref_=sr_1" target="_blank">The Time Traveler's Wife</a>, and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0332280/?ref_=sr_1" target="_blank">The Notebook</a> will have us sobbing and wanting our Boo's back for <i><b>multiple </b></i>reasons.<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>Every. Single. Time.</u></b><br />
<br />
Then there are the things that are more individualized. Things that are going to trigger something inside of us that probably wouldn't do much to another Military SO.<br />
<br />
Some of <i>my </i>triggers?<br />
<br />
Not to let myself sit on the couch for more than two episodes of certain shows otherwise it leads to an all day laziness that melts into self-pity and complete apathy about how long its been since I've eaten, gotten up and pee'd, or showered.<br />
<br />
No looking at photos of us from our <a href="http://simplysteele.blogspot.com/2010/09/mil-spouse-weekly-round-up-1.html" target="_blank">Pre-Deployment Shoot</a>, the pictures taken of us while sitting in the <a href="http://simplysteele.blogspot.com/2010/10/due-to-overwhelming-requests.html" target="_blank">Mobility Bay waiting for that<b> Stupid White Bus</b></a>, or the few snapshots of <a href="http://simplysteele.blogspot.com/2011/08/homecoming-4-12-months-late.html" target="_blank">His Homecoming</a>.<br />
<br />
After nearly four years in this Military World I've learned that it doesn't take longer than .5 seconds of <a href="http://welcomehomeblog.com/2010/06/10/best-of/" target="_blank"><b><i>any </i></b>Military Homecoming video</a> before I've got a puffy face that's covered in snot, tears, and mascara. Almost any <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfHMgvP575E" target="_blank">Music Video that is dedicated to or about our Troops</a> does me in pretty quickly and <b>GOOD LORD</b>, don't even bring up <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmCbiibZvX0" target="_blank">Memorial Videos</a>.<br />
<br />
For me there are also some silly and odd things that set me off.<br />
<br />
If I see a really funny <a href="http://trexmeme.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">TREX MEME</a> or <a href="http://www.grumpycats.com/" target="_blank">Grumpy Cat</a> photo all I want to do is send it to him or show it to him. When I realize a split-second later that its impossible, I hit the Sad Button pretty quickly. <br />
<br />
Thinking about how long its been since he shoved me over in bed because I was all up in his bidness never fails to make me well up and realizing that I haven't seen his razor plugged in to charge or his facial hair in the sink in a long time <b><u>ALWAYS</u></b> sets off a declaration and resolution in my head that I'll never complain about that stuff ever again once he's home.<br />
<br />
If I find myself looking back at old blog posts there is never any doubt that its going to end in tears, my heart throbbing because I miss my Loverface oh so much, and ironically, a new blog post.<br />
<br />
It also means I'm left pining after the man who <i>just isn't here</i> right now because all I need to feel better is a smile and a hug from him.<br />
<br />
All of us Milie's <b>KNOW </b>there are things we shouldn't do while our loved ones are gone.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>But we always do it anyway. </u></b></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-49728736275202214822013-06-04T02:34:00.000-02:002013-06-06T21:01:15.203-02:00Dear Loverface: Just A Few ThingsYou're in the military.<br>
You're also currently gone.<br>
<br>
These two things add up to one very simple, inevitable, and highly unfortunate fact.<br>
<br>
Murphy moved in. <br>
<br>
You know...? The annoying, trouble-causing boyfriend all of us military spouses have move in the minute our Loverface's leave.<div><br></div><div><b>Murphy the Douchebag</b>. <br>
<br>
If you were deployed, I'd be sure to not mention any of Murphy's antics so you could focus on your mission and staying safe but since we haven't talked or directly communicated since the day you left, I feel no guilt or worry about sharing it all here.<br>
<br>
While chopping bell peppers two days after you left, I dropped the knife. It landed directly in the top of my left foot and stood straight up, sticking out of the top before falling over to the side.<br>
<br>
Don't worry! I cleaned up the blood and it didn't stain anything. And it doesn't hurt <i>anymore</i>. </div><div>
<br>
My car got a big scratch down its side by some douche-hole who didn't leave a note. I think that makes 17 times my baby has gotten hit, dinged, and scratched by some elusive, terrible driver who feels no responsibility at all for damaging other people's property. <br>
<br>
I had yet another friend pass away and I couldn't attend the funeral. I'm proud of how well I handled it and kept it together. <br>
<br>
That strict budget and lecture you gave me took a pretty big hit. Now before you go all, <i><b>"Woman, what did I tell you?!"</b></i> on me, read on.<br>
<br>
Jane Austen ran out of food and they no longer make her kind so I had to buy something new. Incidentally, they were out of every size except the jumbo one. Good news is she's set for a while. Yay!<br>
<br>
My car needed an oil change and a new air filter. <br>
<br>
I have been eating pretty healthy since the day you left. That means lots of produce and organic food which isn't cheap. Guess what though! I'm down five pounds! <b>BOOM</b>!<br>
<br>
I had two baby showers to attend and the lingerie shower I threw. All of that was more expensive that I thought. I did have fun though which brought my stress level down on that issue. <br>
<br>
Outside of all things financial, Murphy has messed with me so thoroughly I've just begun to throw up my hands and go on.<br>
<br>
I woke up a week ago after the long Memorial Day weekend, insanely sick out of nowhere. I was pretty irritated because I hadn't been around any sick people or any of the kids at work in like 5 days. I guess me having that whole auto immune blood disease thing joined up with Murphy and decided it had been too long sick I'd been sick. I'm still uber sick and my lungs are pretty full. Yuck! It was totally ironic and true to our form that you somehow <i>knew</i>. I got a letter where you talked about my health and how much it worries you. You sent it off a day after I got sick. Two days after that my uterus and ovaries declared war on me so between that and my lungs, I had to miss 5 days of working out which really disappointed me.<br>
<br>
I had to completely disassemble and clean the vacuum twice in one day just to get one room clean.<br>
<br>
A giant bee somehow got inside and made its way down the hall, into the guest room, and decided to hang out on the bed.<br>
<br>
My bum knee? I twisted it really bad. How did it happen? I was working out and rolled my ankle inwards which made my knee buckle and twist. Nice right? I did drag my butt down to your moms basement and between her, I, and Cass, we got to the box that held all of our knee braces. <br>
<br>
So here we are, a mere 18 days after I walked away from you in the SLC Airport and Murphy is winning. </div><div>
<br>
I'm hoping he quits soon.<br>
<br>
I miss you boo. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-92115905833640036402013-05-21T00:10:00.001-02:002013-05-23T23:02:38.908-02:00Dear Loverface: It Was In The FridgeDear Loverface,<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We're nearly at the end of Day 6. </div>
<div>
I've come to a few conclusions in the last six days. </div>
<div>
Wanna know 'em? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There are 24 hours in the day but when you're gone, it feels like 57.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I work Monday through Thursday and when you're here, that sucks but when you're gone, it feels like its not enough. I would flat out lose my sanity if I didn't have somewhere I HAD to be Monday through Thursday.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Getting emails late on Saturday nights from Mormon strangers are quite possibly the best thing in the world.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicE5h5ej7mX9JBAXnd4mZm8E_PJIWOU0dv2ZJzKzrobl2mV0EMywrleR_REmWUQtMjj_VAAYQ3VswMKG4tWmlXFKh7vioIblgNNWIBgXoPhVRxy6ST0vuZfJOGyfnfg-w4DHqxjRWQARhy/s640/blogger-image-437583427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicE5h5ej7mX9JBAXnd4mZm8E_PJIWOU0dv2ZJzKzrobl2mV0EMywrleR_REmWUQtMjj_VAAYQ3VswMKG4tWmlXFKh7vioIblgNNWIBgXoPhVRxy6ST0vuZfJOGyfnfg-w4DHqxjRWQARhy/s400/blogger-image-437583427.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSxFnnCygZ41oVVgdvT8h7Gx6ElM481tULgeD2sFmqcuTK2Ssf6IMWvAuYxdG2-QsYjDh-8z2Dvd5uAzFXdmof3bxsv0Eh3uEJxgGvcmAoHOv_oGpxWOItjSgfIziv_yJHhstRNxUw91h/s640/blogger-image-631629976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSxFnnCygZ41oVVgdvT8h7Gx6ElM481tULgeD2sFmqcuTK2Ssf6IMWvAuYxdG2-QsYjDh-8z2Dvd5uAzFXdmof3bxsv0Eh3uEJxgGvcmAoHOv_oGpxWOItjSgfIziv_yJHhstRNxUw91h/s400/blogger-image-631629976.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loverface in front row, first on the left.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
It's a good thing you have 3 sisters who not only enjoy things like Les Miserable but that they'll come over on a Saturday night to watch it and end up singing all the songs and crying with me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Having my nightmares and horribly disturbing dreams are never fun. In fact, they always suck and leave me feeling scared and angry but babe, when you're not here, they are pure hell. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Deployment Brain is not only very real but it is misnamed. It doesn't just happen during deployments but it pokes its nasty, unwelcome, life-disrupting head up whenever you're gone.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Proof:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I came home from work, I immediately did the dishes, switched out laundry, put some food in the fridge, and then worked out. Afterwards, I went to take my daily post-workout picture and couldn't find my phone. Now, I know what you're thinking. "Par for the course! Big shocker! Geez honey, really?!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well, just hear me out! </div>
<div>
I remembered bringing it in from the car. </div>
<div>
But that was it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I searched the normal spots. You know, the bed, counter, purse, couch...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Nothing! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I then texted Sammy telling her to call my phone. I know, how did I text right? The iPad, duh. She tried over and over but it kept going straight to voicemail. I knew it had a nearly full battery and yet, nothing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I started to REALLY freak out. Panicked, crying, frantically searching everywhere and hyperventilating.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I searched all the cupboards and drawers, the bed, both bathrooms, the couch, under all the furniture, and pretty much everywhere else about a bajillion times before looking in the.... Fridge. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Guess what? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was in the fridge. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I about died from laughing and chagrin.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now please, come home soon. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-76033168002255734912013-05-18T04:14:00.001-02:002013-05-18T04:14:22.694-02:00Dear Loverface: I Listened To The RainDear Loverface,<div><br></div><div>Today was Day 3.</div><div><br></div><div>It was also Tyler's funeral. That said, you now know how I was feeling all day.</div><div><br></div><div>I miss you. </div><div><br></div><div>So much.</div><div><br></div><div>I decided to step out of myself. It was all I could do.</div><div><br></div><div>I convinced myself to get out of bed. I worked out. I got dressed up and went to the movies with your sisters. I enjoyed it. </div><div><br></div><div>It's been overcast, windy, gloomy, rainy. </div><div><br></div><div>It's been beautiful.</div><div><br></div><div>Driving home at nearly midnight, the rain was coming down hard. I turned my music off and did something that would surprise you. </div><div><br></div><div>I listened.</div><div><br></div><div>No background noise, no distractions, no thoughts beyond the rain and missing you.</div><div><br></div><div>Normally, I'd have the music on but tonight, I didn't. </div><div><br></div><div>I felt clarity and calm.</div><div><br></div><div>All because I listened to the rain. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-59564347781127855592013-05-17T03:59:00.000-02:002013-05-17T03:59:59.996-02:00Dear Loverface: TwoDear Loverface,<br />
<br />
<i>Technically, </i>its May 16th but it was the day of <b>two's</b>.<br />
<br />
Day <b>two </b>that you're gone.<br />
<br />
Day <b>two </b>of me working out. <strike>Go me!</strike><br />
<br />
Day <b>two </b>of me picking off all of my nail polish in anxiety.<br />
<br />
The <b>second </b>time I'm painting my nails.<br />
<br />
Got that? We're up to <b>two </b>manicures.<br />
<br />
Day <b>two </b>of me being ridiculously sore.<br />
<br />
A day where I had <b>two </b>total seconds out of the entire day that I wasn't feeling like I was going to literally die from pain.<br />
<br />
Day <b>two </b>of me realizing that without you here with me, I don't feel human.<br />
<br />
We've been together for almost exactly 3 months shy of 7 years. <b>2</b>,436 days to be exact. I don't know if you know this or not, but that's kind of a long time. You're a numbers guy so I think you oughtta be able to see where I'm coming from with this.<br />
<br />
I don't think it's sad that I feel this way. Not whole without you I mean.<br />
<br />
I think its <i>endearing</i>.<br />
<br />
I think it means something bigger than most people would be able to understand.<br />
<br />
It means God didn't just make you and make me.<br />
It means he made <i><b>us</b></i>.<br />
He made our souls incomplete.<br />
<br />
He meant for us to learn in our first 17 1/2 years of our individual lives that we couldn't do it alone. You without me and me without you was wrong.<br />
<br />
It still is wrong.<br />
<br />
Which is precisely why I don't feel human when you're not here.<br />
<br />
Its beautiful.<br />
Its heartbreaking.<br />
Its raw.<br />
Its incredible.<br />
<br />
And babe, even though there are <b>two </b>of us, and it's you and me, it really comes down to being a thing of <i>one</i>.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Us</u></b>.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-10921034418661320592013-05-16T01:31:00.002-02:002013-05-16T01:31:59.170-02:00Dear Loverface: I'm a WimpDear Loverface,<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We woke up at 0345 this morning. Well, YOU woke up at 0345 while I woke up a little before 0300 needing to pee. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>SO badly. </b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I looked at the time and saw you were going to be up in 45 minutes. I didn't want to wake you up by getting up because I knew you would then look at the time, see you only had 45 minutes left of sleep, and then toss and turn and never really drift back off. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I held it. My pee that is.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Why? Because I love you.<br />
<br />
The alarm went off and we got up. You took your C bags down to the car and then came back up and got your Blues on. I love your Blues. You look so handsome and just seeing you in them makes my heart swell with pride.<br />
<br />
Why? Because I love you.<br />
<br />
We got to the airport and were soon surrounded by almost 2 dozen anxious, fresh and new to the 'shipping out' military world cadets. You didn't roll your eyes too much because you're kind and patient. That always makes me smile. You're a much better person than I. You asked me to go find a luggage tag and even though it took me forever to find one, I didn't complain.<br />
<br />
Why? Because I love you.<br />
<br />
I didn't cry when it was time to say our, "See you later's" because I know it makes it way harder for you to focus on where you're going and why you're going there. I took my quick hug and smooch and walked away.<br />
<br />
Why? Because I love you.<br />
<br />
I got home by 0515, got myself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and dove into the DVR. I cried. And ate another bowl of cereal. And then cried some more. Why?<br />
<br />
Because I'm a wimp. I'm a wimp because I love you.<br />
<br />
Instead of going to sleep like I should've, I sat on the couch and watched episode after episode, pining after my silent phone. Even though I knew you were thousands of feet up in the air, I couldn't turn off my fear that you'd call and I'd somehow miss it. I gripped it like it was a lifeline.<br />
<br />
Why? Because I'm a wimp. And I love you.<br />
<br />
I painted my nails even though I just painted them a few days ago. I got a huge smile and cried some more when you text saying you were at your first stop and some more when you called a few minutes later.<br />
<br />
Why? Mostly because I'm a wimp.<br />
But also because I love you.<br />
<br />
You joked that I should keep track of how many times I paint my nails while you're gone. You know me so well to already know the number is going to be ridiculous. Even though you told me I should because you were making fun of me, I'm going to do it.<br />
<br />
Why? Because I love you.<br />
<br />
I tried to nap like you told me to but kept having weird dreams that I missed your call. I was so scared because that was not only the last phone call I'd get, but the last contact I'd have with you until you call me and tell me you're on your way home. I got butterflies when I saw your name pop up on my phone a while later.<br />
<br />
Why? Because I adore you.<br />
<br />
You were irritated and in a rush. I was yes, devastated that we only got about 15 seconds. I didn't let it leak into my voice though.<br />
<br />
Why? Because I love you.<br />
<br />
I started a workout so I can look awesome when you get back. I went grocery shopping for all things fruits, veggies, and healthy. I didn't even think about how you weren't here to help me get 4 all of the groceries up flights of stairs.<br />
<br />
Babe, I had this 'aha' moment.<br />
<br />
You're super tough because you have NEVER let on how very much it SUCKS to lug groceries up to our apartment. I was dying after bringing the first bags up the first flight of stairs. By the time I got all 3 loads up those four flights, my legs were jelly and I was sweating something awful.<br />
<br />
Why? Because I'm a wimp.<br />
<br />
I hope you are sleeping well after the long day you had today. I hope you know how proud of you I am. I hope you can feel all of my thoughts and love. I hope you believe in yourself the way I believe in you and that you don't doubt your capability of being the very best.<br />
<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
<b><i>Because I love you. </i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-64235383031542494752013-04-07T01:55:00.001-02:002013-04-07T01:55:21.181-02:00When You're A Girl<br />
When you're a girl, you have one week a month that you aren't quite... <i><b>yourself</b></i>.<br />
<br />
Well, if you're <i>lucky </i>it's <u>only</u> one week a month.<br />
<br />
<b>*Cough* I WISH *Cough*</b><br />
<br />
When you're a girl, you'll wake up one morning feeling as if your boobs were hit with 10 lb rubber mallets all night long.<br />
<br />
It <b><u>will</u> </b>get worse and you <b><u>will</u> </b>end up wanting to cut them off because that would feel <b>SO </b>much better. If your Loverface even so much as blinks at The Twins, you can go ahead and swat, bite, punch, or whatever else you feel is necessary to deter him.<br />
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When you're a girl, you'll find yourself eating everything in sight.<br />
<br />
<b>Yes, everything. </b><br />
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See that half eaten pack of 2 month old stale Ritz Crackers sitting on the counter? <b>Yep, eat 'em. </b><br />
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Three king sized packs of Mini Rolos at 7-11 AND a bag of Chex Mix Muddy Buddies? <b>Go for it! </b><br />
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Just got done eating 6 pancakes with Biscoff spread and a quart of strawberries?<b> So what!</b> Grab that orange and plum and dump half a box of granola on it.<br />
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While you're <i>innocently </i>looking in the fridge for something to drink, you see that bag of organic carrot chips and think, "Hey! Healthy snack!" Yeah.... pour half of those suckers into a skillet and dump some olive oil, butter, red pepper, salt, pepper, and cinnamon butter on them. Who are you kidding girlfriend? You <b><i>KNOW </i></b>you didn't intend on putting any of those back in the fridge.<b> Eat the whole pan-full. </b><br />
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Right as you're polishing those beauties off you'll see a commercial for some deep-dish pizza and from the depths within yourself, no not your heart.... Nope lower than your stomach.... Yep! That's your uterus screaming that unless you find a way to have that deep-dish pizza, you won't be getting <i>any </i>relief.<br />
<br />
Ha! Relief! That's your uterus and ovaries attempt at making a<b> <i>not so funny</i>, funny. </b><br />
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No amount of Tylenol, Ibuprofen, Advil, Midol, or <i>ANY </i>medication is going to bring anything even close to resembling that word... Relief. Blech. Its like a curse word. And when you're a girl, you <b>WILL </b>be cursing that word.<br />
<br />
When you're a girl you can be found on the couch with a heating pad inside your pants on<b> both sides</b>. Yep, one is to cradle you're uterus as it thrashes about inside of you and one is to keep your ovaries from breaking out through your back, because contrary to what any doctor tells you, your ovaries <b>are </b>on the inside wielding rusty knives that have been heated in the fiery depths of hell.<br />
<br />
You see, when you're a girl, and when that special time comes along that makes you feel a little <i>off</i>, your ovaries actually aren't quite themselves either. They go from tiny little organs inside your body to red bandanna wearing, knife wielding members of the <strike>Crips</strike> <b>Bloods. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
If you aren't on the couch then you can be found in the bathtub soaking in scalding hot water and praying to Holy JuJu to just let you die already. Not in the bathtub? Well then you're probably on the bed vacillating between the fetal position and thrashing around like the chick from The Last Exorcism.<br />
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Speaking of being posessed, when you're a girl, you'll have pretty much everyone around you, including yourself, that you have been taken over by Satan's Mama. One minute you'll be as happy as the blue birds flying over the bright and shiny rainbow and in a split-second your head will spin 360 degrees around while your eyes go black. You'll feel like pulling your hair out at the sheer stupidity of EVERYONE and EVERYTHING around you. How dare that mother-effing car get in front of you?! And that commercial on the tv... You know, the one about those magical pads and tampons that come in cute wrappers that magically make your period into something that you don't notice and magically turn you into a skinny, unbloated, smiling, happy, flawlessly beautiful chick. Is it TRYING to piss you off?! I swear a man came up with that one. Once your pupils go back to their normal size and you no longer look like Carrie, you'll be in floods of tears. Over what? <b>Nothing</b>. <b>And Everything</b>. And then you won't even know about what and you'll cry even more over that.<br />
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<br />
Its a time of misery.<br />
And despair.<br />
And pain.<br />
And tears.<br />
And realization.<br />
<br />
Yes, realization.<br />
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When you're a girl you realize that as much as it sucks, you're praising Holy JuJu and Mother Earth its us females who deal with it because if it was something a man had to do...<br />
<br />
We'd all die.<br />
Us from insanity and them from us killing them.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-75091912315607777562013-02-20T07:53:00.000-02:002013-02-20T07:53:01.977-02:00Again. <div style="text-align: right;">
And just like that, it's happened again. </div>
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<br /></div>
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It's <b>gone</b>. </div>
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They're <b>gone</b>. </div>
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Our baby is <b>gone</b>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Yes, we were expecting. </div>
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Again.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It was an utter surprise. </div>
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And a miracle. </div>
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Again. </div>
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<br /></div>
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This time, we decided we'd share the news. We made phone calls and announcements. You all know me, it hit Instagram and Facebook and it was good. We figured we couldn't jinx ourselves any worse than my already existing blood disorder and hostile lady bits. We asked for prayers and good juju. </div>
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<br /></div>
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We got much, much more. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Y'all we had thousands of prayers, wishes and thoughts put out into the Universe, a convent of nuns, a bunch of Native Americans dancing around fires, lots of chanting to Mother Earth, and so much love and "Congratulations!" my smile was rarely gone. </div>
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<br /></div>
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There was an abundance of puking and exhaustion and hormones. I had so many cravings my husband learned to just go with it. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<u><b>I loved every.single.second. </b></u></div>
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<br /></div>
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No joke. </div>
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I know that sounds ridiculous but its true. Puking and hormonal roller-coaster riding meant our Sea Monkey was still thankfully intact.</div>
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<br /></div>
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About 6 weeks before we found out my uterus was occupied, I had started to eat oranges. Not just one here and there but 3 or 4 a day. And orange juice was what was always in my cup. It struck me as odd because I'm not the biggest fan of oranges but I wrote it off as a calcium deficiency. The night before we left for one of our many Arizona trips I was pulling our bedroom window blinds down and they fell. They fell and landed on some flowers my Loverface gave me on my birthday and crushed them. I lost it. I mean full blown, all out, bawling, hyperventilating, hysterically crying. I fell to my knees sobbing and couldn't even look him in the eyes because I was so upset at crushing the flowers he gave me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Good Lordy my emotional swinging range was wider than anything else and it swung so fast that it would switch hit 3 times before I could even grasp the first one. After telling Loverface I was pregnant one of the first things he said was,<b> "Now the flowers make sense."</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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This time felt so different than all the others and it wildly gave me hope. I had <b><i>symptoms</i></b>. Not just puking and exhaustion and constantly feeling as if my lower back had been run into with a semi-truck but I had actual outward signs. My belly muscles were sore and taut and it was growing. It was changing and getting big so fast that even over a night's time you could see that our baby was growing.</div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Maybe that's what did it. The bump was the precursor that made my defenses crumble.I could see it so it felt tangible and as if it couldn't turn into the grief we've felt with our last 3 babies.We told people we would let ourselves hope and be excited if I made it to 20 weeks. If we got half-way through the second trimester, we'd buy baby stuff and start on the nursery. If I made it far enough.... Even with us trying to stave off the excitement and planning of the future, it crept in.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Two days ago that "if" was snuffed out. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">It was just a normal day for us. Besides it being a Monday and us not having our normal Monday obligations, things all seemed up to par with what was usual. Mr. Superman awoke around 8:30 and I stumbled out of bed 15 minutes later.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"> He looked up quizzically and said, </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b>"What are you doing up? You should go back to sleep."</b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Yawning<b>,</b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b>"I will but I <i>have </i>to eat. My tummy is just too hungry to be able to get back in bed." </b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">I ate and he got ready to go grocery shopping. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b>"I can come with you."</b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b>"No, you'd be wiped out after 10 minutes."</b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Smiling because we both knew it was true I said,</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b>"Yeah, okay."</b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">He left and after two waffles, a bagel, and 6 bite-size cookies later (my appetite was out of control), I crawled back under my covers. I drifted on and off for 2 hours before finally seceding that deep sleep was not going to come. I got up and did some laundry and cleaning. We decided we'd treat ourselves to a movie so I got ready. Now I know I said the day was normal. It was as far as the general nature of it but I felt odd. The whole day I just felt... <b><i>off</i></b>. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">I was exhausted like every other day. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">I threw up like every other day.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"> My body was sore like every other day. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">It seemed as though it was just like every other day except for the feeling that something was amiss. I couldn't pinpoint it but I felt it.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Within 5 minutes of us leaving for the theater I was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea and broke out into a sweat. It was so peculiar because it wasn't the normal "morning sickness" nausea but more in line with the flu. I told Mr. Superman that I was feeling really sick and thought I should go lie down. Immediately, I felt guilty because it had been my idea for a movie and I had insisted that he purchase tickets online. Purchasing them through this website made them non-refundable. I changed my mind and told him I'd be okay. After sitting in the movie for 15 minutes the icky feeling I had was gone. We enjoyed the movie and stopped off at my in-laws house to see our puppy before going back to our apartment. I was feeling a little crampy but otherwise okay. It didn't last long. As soon as we pulled into our parking lot I knew something was terribly wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">If you've experienced a first trimester miscarriage you know what I mean. I felt the unmistakable wetness. I knew that as soon as I pulled my pants down it would be there.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Blood.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">I rushed into the bathroom and with shaking hands I unbuttoned my jeans. The edges of my mind blurred but the images are clear enough that I know what happened. I pulled my jeans down and with a sickening jolt in my stomach I knew. It was too late. There was too much tissue for it to be just bleeding. That was our baby. My head was spinning and my skin felt on fire. I stifled a sob as I frantically tried to get air. I couldn't breathe and the world felt like it was tilting over. I ripped my jeans and underwear the rest of the way off and balled them up. Kneeling on the bathroom floor I wrapped my sweater around my bottom half and turned the doorknob. With the door opened I called for my husband. My voice wasn't right and I knew he could tell. He came in and the look in his eyes is something I can't forget. Confused and worried he asked, </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b>"What? What is it?"</b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Choking out the words that were muddled by my sobs,</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b>"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"</b></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b>"What is it? What happened? What's wrong?!"</b></span></div>
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<b>"It's gone! Our baby is gone! I'm sorry!"</b></div>
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The cries ripping through my throat and wracking my chest were too much. He was there on the floor next to me, legs sprawled and as he tugged at me, trying to pull me close to him I was pushing away. </div>
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<b>"No! No!"</b></div>
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Timidly he asked,<b> </b></div>
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<b>"How do you know?"</b></div>
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<b>"Because I know what it looks like! It's gone!</b></div>
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No more words. </div>
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Each of us at a loss. </div>
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The only thing louder than his stunned silence was the noise coming from me. </div>
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It was alien.</div>
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Abstract. </div>
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Mutated.</div>
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Silence. </div>
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Hysteria.</div>
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Two things that should not be able to inhabit the same place at the same time.</div>
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<i>And yet...</i></div>
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There was more blood. I could feel it and I knew my sweater wouldn't keep it hidden for long. </div>
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<b>"Get me grocery bags and Clorox wipes!"</b></div>
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A minute later he was back and he set them on the ground. I grabbed them and pushed away. </div>
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<b>"You don't need to see this. Go."</b></div>
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As I closed the door I tried to go numb. If I couldn't feel it then maybe it wouldn't seem as bad as it was. The sobs that had been tearing through me, that I had so futilely tried to stifle were slowing. First, I took the wad of my jeans and tied them in a bag. I then put them in another and then another. I cleaned the toilet and then seeing that my socks were now bloody put them in another sack. I cleaned up the rest of me and the floor, tying everything up in a bag that was inside 6 more. With trembling hands I reached up and opened the door. There he was. Legs still splayed wide with his head tilted far back against the wall. I thrust the bag not containing my jeans at him.</div>
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<b>"Take it. Get it out. I can't have in in here! Get rid of it!"</b></div>
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He stood and a few moments later I heard our front door open and then close. I stood and rushed to grab clean clothes before ducking into our other bathroom. After closing the door I climbed into the shower.</div>
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Freezing water pelted me and then gradually getting warmer before finally settling on nearly scalding. I began to scrub my body so vigorously and harshly it hurt. The pain was a sharp relief. Like feeling the biting stabs of invisible needles that occur when your limbs begin to awaken after having the blood flow cut off. After rinsing and drying myself off, I pulled on the clothes I had grabbed and stepped out into the hallway. I could see him on our bed, head downcast and eyes unfocused. Climbing up next to him I buried my face in his chest.</div>
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<b>"I'm so sorry."</b></div>
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<b>"It's not your fault."</b></div>
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<b>"I'm the one who's broken. It's me. I'm sorry."</b></div>
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<b>"Stop, it's not your fault."</b></div>
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His head was still steadfastly looking down.</div>
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<b>"Then why won't you look at me?"</b></div>
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Nothing. </div>
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No answer. </div>
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No movement.</div>
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Placing my hands on either side of his face I tilted his head up and forced him to look at me.</div>
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<b>"Okay. Please, tell me how you are."</b></div>
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Dejectedly he said, </div>
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<b>"I've been better."</b></div>
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<b>"Yeah? Me too."</b></div>
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<b>........</b></div>
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<b>"You know what? We've also been much, much worse."</b></div>
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Warily he asks,</div>
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<b> "Have we?"</b></div>
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<b>"Yes, we <u><i>have</i></u>. We're going to be okay."</b></div>
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<b>........</b></div>
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<b>"I promise."</b></div>
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In his eyes I see doubt and they are brimming full of too much shininess. Even though I know he isn't blaming me or accusing me, I internally recoil from the inane sense of guilt. </div>
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I had told him I was okay.</div>
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I told him the baby was okay and they were growing. </div>
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I had begun to talk about the future.</div>
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I took so many pictures and constantly shared the progress and news with our friends and family. My walls that I'd built up over the last 6 years had come down and I had told him it was okay. I had insisted he ease his worry. </div>
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In that moment with his eyes trained on mine, I saw that even though he hadn't shared the news online like I had and despite all the times he said he'd be less worried and more hopeful if I made it far enough along, he had, <i><b>in fact</b></i>, allowed himself to kindle the spark of excitement and belief deep within himself that had come to be.</div>
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Here I was making promises I could't guarantee.</div>
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<b><i>Again</i></b>.</div>
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And now...</div>
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Here we are sitting amid the ashes of our dream. </div>
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Our wish isn't coming true.</div>
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October 15th is now going to just be October 15th. </div>
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<b><i>Again</i></b>.</div>
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Here we are faced with the task of coping with something that is impossible to cope with.</div>
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<b><i>Again</i></b>.</div>
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Here we are again.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Empty</b></span>. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-31295013884749838442012-12-14T21:28:00.000-02:002012-12-15T00:35:37.018-02:00Yesterday and Today<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday I had a hard day. My heart hurt and tears were barely held at bay. Thoughts were continuously swirling in my mind and I felt bitter and broken. I spent most of the night lying awake in my soft bed next to my husband whose sound sleep and warm body were my only comforts amidst all of my woes, is me. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Yesterday</b></i>. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's not often that something happens to make me turn truly introspective and feel my core shaken but this morning something did. It's a rare thing to be able to see distress on my husband's face but today, it's there.</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Evil was not only overbearingly present and manifested in that Connecticut school but it was felt in a way that should not be possible. It is felt now and will continue to be felt which means souls will continue to hurt, hearts will continue to break, and pain will continue to resonate so deeply it may feel as if it will never dissipate. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday I felt self pity and jealousy and anger and every other selfish emotion. My unhappiness and discontentment were palpable. <i><b> </b></i></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Yesterday.</b></i> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, Mr. Superman came into wake me up and after giving me a kiss on the cheek he told me about something that immediately knocked me upside the head and shamed me for all of yesterday's thoughts and feelings<i><b> </b></i>and made me feel absolutely pathetic.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"There's been another shooting. This one is bad Chelle. It was kids. A lot of kids. Really young, kindergarten kids. Someone went into this school in Connecticut and shot and killed 26 people. It's making me sick to my stomach."</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My heart sank with every word. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Countless experts in just about everything will be interviewed and talked to and they will all assign reasons and illnesses and excuses as to why this person did what he did. The same conversations will cycle exhaustively never being deterred. No matter what is said and written, they will all be wrong. It's impossible to wrap your head around something like this. People will ask, "Why?" and endlessly attempt to find sense in it all. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They won't find it. There's no sense or understanding to be found. The only things to be found are sadness and pain and heartbreak and anger and despair and suffering.</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And <b>hope.</b> </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, <b>hope. </b></span><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUDLog4NDynfXBrixb2jZ78E9TFLtJjwa2aRKDZLjoxH9JhfkrsMIv_AGXrvW0o4t823fN-4ts8aUqctJdD4rNNApn-oDkFODBg5I5GfW-gNBB2IhXWPcMNpqtMp3NbVd8baXflDadzie/s1600/79305643407707614_qZwskPxd_c.jpg" style="color: #1155cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUDLog4NDynfXBrixb2jZ78E9TFLtJjwa2aRKDZLjoxH9JhfkrsMIv_AGXrvW0o4t823fN-4ts8aUqctJdD4rNNApn-oDkFODBg5I5GfW-gNBB2IhXWPcMNpqtMp3NbVd8baXflDadzie/s400/79305643407707614_qZwskPxd_c.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="400" /></a></b></span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It won't come today. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It won't come tomorrow. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For some it won't even come before the new year.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lovelies, I not only <i>know</i> that it will come but I <i><b>PROMISE</b></i> that hope will be found. </span><br /><div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKlOaiGuTiuxjSQBDAmagZ9NSzS60t3MFPKtZVvhEA-4rnuVDQhsNVP8iLaYoo1OEDqZy8KW0_ZhW1PmElbEj3kEGOXZ-1vo-MI8nts2O9phF_PYE8ljDmN2N83L-NEMBFhmTlUvVmajA/s1600/201606520788484655_PPlHvUnG_c.jpg" style="color: #1155cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKlOaiGuTiuxjSQBDAmagZ9NSzS60t3MFPKtZVvhEA-4rnuVDQhsNVP8iLaYoo1OEDqZy8KW0_ZhW1PmElbEj3kEGOXZ-1vo-MI8nts2O9phF_PYE8ljDmN2N83L-NEMBFhmTlUvVmajA/s400/201606520788484655_PPlHvUnG_c.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday I saw the have-nots and the broken dreams. Yesterday I was blinded by what we don't have and the pain and sadness that comes with that. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday we didn't have babies and it seemed the worst thing in the world. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, there are 20 families who no longer have their babies and it <u><b>is</b></u> the worst thing in the world.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today was another day that proves how completely intertwined and connected we are as human beings. It's absolutely vital we cling to this brotherhood of mankind we all belong to and find within ourselves the patience and love and support God gave each and every one of us.</span><br /><br /><div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKR_aLn8yfNnr8EheYWGDdq3cQhyphenhyphenkVQ5tZ8vTNs6CHYn3h_P-wkbdlpq64nkAu-irCqtOIE_sfjrdMSNDvHaF1gn2oP9occQ7kwN68DE3xihrwv7Qyla9AftTrx5pN3ErsTNb6xO5QhdAP/s1600/844493649609784_dSxIpo0x_c.jpg" style="color: #1155cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKR_aLn8yfNnr8EheYWGDdq3cQhyphenhyphenkVQ5tZ8vTNs6CHYn3h_P-wkbdlpq64nkAu-irCqtOIE_sfjrdMSNDvHaF1gn2oP9occQ7kwN68DE3xihrwv7Qyla9AftTrx5pN3ErsTNb6xO5QhdAP/s400/844493649609784_dSxIpo0x_c.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="315" /></a></span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday was one thing and today is wholly another. </span><br /><br /><div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVguhAjxC1IBFNl8wCT6ZUGCF7hXUOnN5WXD5pzbWhsV2VsCSNdrIQZsZjbG5wxek3xqCU4_qp5Z52mgXC4F2Gpdai6A2nH1HRuiucISIaJyqIJMHHe-uzkh49XeNsWRcylz__m3RNB6-_/s1600/221450506646586560_1nSG6Fe7_c.jpg" style="color: #1155cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVguhAjxC1IBFNl8wCT6ZUGCF7hXUOnN5WXD5pzbWhsV2VsCSNdrIQZsZjbG5wxek3xqCU4_qp5Z52mgXC4F2Gpdai6A2nH1HRuiucISIaJyqIJMHHe-uzkh49XeNsWRcylz__m3RNB6-_/s400/221450506646586560_1nSG6Fe7_c.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today has <i>awakened</i> me. Today has <i>challenged</i> my beliefs. Today has <i>wrought a change</i> so deep its full effects may never be understood. Today has <i>showed me the importance of hope</i>. It's nearly Christmas and for me, the thing I am desperately clinging to is what Christmas holds. Christmas stripped down to the basics and its true meaning is something that is inexplicably perfect.</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas</b> is <i>magical</i>.</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas</b> is <i>love</i>.</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas</b> is <i>promise</i>. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas</b> is <i>hope</i>.</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas</b> is <i>peace</i>.</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas</b> is <i>selfless</i>.</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas</b> is <i>pure</i> and <i>unadulterated</i>. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas</b> is <i>truly what mankind should be.</i> </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I heard the bells on Christmas day<br />Their old familiar carols play,<br />And wild and sweet the words repeat<br />Of peace on earth, good will to men.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>And thought how, as the day had come,<br />The belfries of all Christendom<br />Had rolled along the unbroken song<br />Of peace on earth, good will to men.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Till ringing, singing on its way<br />The world revolved from night to day,<br />A voice, a chime, a chant sublime<br />Of peace on earth, good will to men.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>And in despair I bowed my head<br />“There is no peace on earth,” I said,<br />“For hate is strong and mocks the song<br />Of peace on earth, good will to men.”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:<br />“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;<br />The wrong shall fail, the right prevail<br />With peace on earth, good will to men.”</b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-24756501906208454802012-12-11T05:48:00.001-02:002012-12-11T05:56:19.180-02:00What Would You Do?Choices.<br />
Decisions.<br />
Dilemmas.<br />
Forks in the road.<br />
Crises of faith.<br />
<br />
When I first opened up about being raped here on my blog, I didn't know what to expect. I definitely had fears and maybe a certain level of expectation concerning what people would think once they knew the truth but as far as the reception and reaction and response... No clue. <br />
<br />
When I wrote the truth, I felt sick to my stomach. Tears streamed unbidden down my face and my hands shook so badly it's a wonder how I typed at all. When the moment of truth arrived, when the time came to hit that 'Publish' button, I came unraveled. Who would've thought that such a small, seemingly unextraordinary word could cause panic to rise up so forcefully it felt as though my heart would beat right out of my chest. <br />
<br />
And yet, it did.<br />
<br />
I can't tell you what went through my head once I did click on that button because I have no recollection of doing it. It's not a memory that's hazy around the edges because my emotions clouded it nor is it something I've successfully suppressed into submission.<br />
<br />
It's not there. <br />
Gone.<br />
Perhaps it never was there.<br />
<br />
The thing I do remember is what happened afterwards. I began to receive notifications of comments waiting to be moderated and emails so quickly it made my head spin. To say I felt overwhelmed would be an understatement and to say I was blown away would be borderline indecent.<br />
<br />
I read each and every word as if they were morsels of food and I a starving woman. I couldn't read them fast enough and I clung to those messages like lifelines. They were my lifelines. <br />
<br />
The amount of love and support confused me. I couldn't wrap my head around it all but there it was regardless. <br />
<br />
Bold and clear and unyielding.<br />
<br />
Then something else happened. My heart began to break. Not for myself and what happened to me, but for all of you.<br />
<br />
It's an unfathomable thing, being raped, assaulted, degraded, and abused... It's even harder to open up about it. <br />
<br />
In less than 48 hours I had received no less than 361 responses and 157 of those included secrets and stories of similar horrors. The girl who had been molested by her moms boyfriend while growing up. The woman whose own brother used to beat the hell out of her from the time she was 14 until she had the courage to move out at 18 and her parents who knew about it all but never did a single thing to stop him. The reader whose rapist had been so violent and damaging that she could never be physically intimate with her husband without being in extreme pain and risking tearing. The anonymous message I got telling me about being sodomized by her gym teacher for 3 years straight until she attempted to commit suicide in order to be admitted into a psychiatric hospital where she thought she'd be safe. When she told her therapist about it, she was called a liar and kicked out of the program. <br />
<br />
These are just 4 stories and I got 157. <br />
<br />
ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVEN!<br />
<br />
Sick yet?<br />
<br />
I could have never in a million years guessed that there were SO many people out there like me. Victimized and broken and whose worlds had been torn apart. It brought entirely new meaning and understanding to my belief that its important to be kind because everyone is fighting a battle. <br />
<br />
In the last 3 years I've had ample time to examine what happened to me and attempt to make sense of it all. I've had every single scenario and 'what if?' play in my mind a thousand times over. It'd be more than safe to say that my points of view and perception of just about everything have been and are changed or influenced because I was raped. <br />
<br />
All too often I'm faced with decisions, real and hypothetical, that require me to make choices that don't have one expressly correct answer. <br />
<br />
The most recent of these was while watching a TV show with Mr. Superman. In this particular scenario there was a sex trafficking ring being targeted by the police and a federal agency. The police were ready to bring the entire operation down. The federal agency however forbade it because this sex ring was connected to an Al Qaeda terrorist sleeper cell here in the US and they were not yet ready to infiltrate it and shut it down. There of course was a huge conflict. On the one hand there were the Feds who had the opportunity to apprehend terrorists and stop a possible terrorist attack but there was no guarantee of success. There was also the fact that in order to even have the chance to do this, the sex trafficking would have to be allowed to continue for as long as 12 weeks to a year. On the other hand there were the police who had all of the evidence to bring down the head of the sex trafficking operation and his son and free 19 girls who were beaten and raped dozens of times each day. The arrest and conviction of this man and his son was guaranteed unlike the possible capture of an elusive terrorist. <br />
<br />
Mr. Superman paused the TV and asked, "What would you do? Would you bring down the boss and save the girls or would you knowingly allow that all to continue for the possibility of stopping a terrorist attack and maybe saving a lot more lives?" I didn't hesitate. "I'd save the girls." I made the statement that it may seem irrational because I was biased. "I know, that's why I asked." "But you're biased too", I said. "On both sides. You've got me and you've got your military mindset." "Yeah it's tough. I don't think I could make the decision. It's a tough call."<br />
<br />
In true Hollywood TV style they were able to bring down the sex ring AND capture the terrorist but I've been thinking about it ever since. The thought of America coming under another terrorist attack is terrible. It is. In my mind though, and deep down in my heart, the thought of girls and women being brutalized and raped countless times EVERY SINGLE DAY makes me sick. It immediately brings tears to my eyes and I feel a tangible ache and pain in what I know is my soul. <br />
<br />
Without a doubt...<br />
Without a second of hesitation...<br />
Without blinking...<br />
Without taking pause...<br />
Every single time...<br />
<br />
I'd save the girls.<br />
<br />
What would you do?<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-77368441509778733672012-12-02T06:08:00.000-02:002012-12-02T06:08:31.192-02:00Because Sometimes Its All You Can Do<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-weight: normal;">Comedy is defiance. It’s a snort of contempt in the face of fear and anxiety. And it’s the laughter that allows hope to creep back on the inhale.</i></span></h1>
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~<a href="http://uquoted.com/by-author/will-durst/" style="color: #2e68f0; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: initial;">WILL DURST</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-60562311094262519522012-11-16T05:31:00.000-02:002012-12-15T00:37:24.126-02:00Love Is Love Is Love<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">In my years of blogging and social media, I can't tell you how many posts I've read where the writers prefaced whatever they were going to say with something akin to, "I'll lose friends/readers/followers over this but I don't care, its what I know/believe/will stick with..." I've always been a person who lacks a filter. I'm honest, sometimes brutally so and when it comes to certain things, especially things I'm passionate about, I'm in your face without regret. I don't believe I've ever written something like that before but I'm about to. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">I can, without a single second of hesitation say that because of what I'm about to share, I will lose friends/readers/followers but I cannot say that I do not care. I do care because if you find yourself irritated or disappointed at what you read and you have any thoughts of no longer having an investment in this blog of mine (or my life) then please, PLEASE walk away. I encourage questions and discussions and different opinions and insights but I have absolutely no room in my life for people who I can't take at face value. If in your mind I am any less of a person at the end of this as I am right now but you insist on not sharing that with me, again I say, please, PLEASE walk away. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">It's
one thing to stand up for what you believe is right and a wholly other
to discriminate and say you do so for God. I believe in God. I worship
God. I love God. I know God wants me to strive to be like Him, loving
all and judging none. </span></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 20px;">Love is love is love. </span></b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">Opposing
LGBT Groups and same sex marriage strikes me as belonging to the same
level of hate and bigotry as that regarding biracial relationships and bi-religious
marriages. Hitler's ideas regarding the purity of race were/are seen as hateful, spiteful, derogatory, disgusting, and any other terrible word you can think of. To him and his followers though, they were not only inspired but 1000% justified. During the time of slavery, black people were seen as nothing more than animals and property to be sold and used and dealt with as such. The people who owned slaves and truly believed there was/is a pecking order in race also felt 1000% justified. Any decent human being would agree that Hitler and racists are people who didn't/don't deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of us. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">So why, WHY is there still so much hate regarding certain people?</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">Hate
exists and discrimination occurs because of fear. Fear of change and
fear of new things and things that are different and difficult for those on the
outside to understand. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><u><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">That's it. </span></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><u><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></u></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">Fear. Not anything else. </span><u><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></u></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">It
has nothing to do with loyalty to or belief in God. God loves without
condition and never stops. He never takes pause. I've always believed
that. I'll always believe that. I've always known that but until a couple years ago I didn't truly
grasp what that means to its fullest depths. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">Can I tell you a secret? I used to be <i><b>THAT</b></i> person.
The person who once voted against gay marriage. Why? I had certain
ideas and beliefs drilled into my head that its what God wanted me to
do. So I did. And guess what? I didn't feel like a better person. I
didn't feel like I had done what God wanted me to do. I didn't get a
surge of pride for doing my Christian duty to 'protect' what has become known as
traditional marriage. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">A friend of mine who also happens to
have a blog, wrote <a href="http://technicolorchristine.blogspot.com/2012/08/how-to-be-sort-of-traditional-mormon.html" target="_blank">the BEST post/essay/article/declaration/anything</a> I
have ever read in my entire life, addressing this very thing. Traditional
marriage, defending it, dissecting it, exploring it and Lovelies, its truly and perfectly flawless. She's amazing with all her facts and research and eloquent and graceful writing. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><a href="http://technicolorchristine.blogspot.com/2012/08/how-to-be-sort-of-traditional-mormon.html" target="_blank">How To Be A Sort-of-Traditional Mormon Defending Non-Traditional Marriage</a></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thanks Christine. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I look back now and cringe at what I was always spouting and preaching. I really was just spewing rhetoric without a second thought. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I was right! God only wanted boys and girls to love each other romantically! Love the sinner, hate the sin! </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Nothing</i> could make me doubt and<i> no one </i>could change my mind. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have no idea exactly when my beliefs evolved into what they are now. All I know is somewhere along the way I began to ask myself why it was so important that a man and a woman be the only people allowed to love each other freely and get married. Not just why it was important but why on Earth was it so vitally important to <b>ME</b> that "traditional marriage" be protected. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I found out that it wasn't. Who was I to 'take a stand' and tell people who were no less of a child of God than I that they were wrong to love who they loved and that because they loved a little differently than me, they could not marry the love of their lives? The answer to that question is that I am no one. It's not my place nor will I ever claim that it is again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I look at the people who surround me. My family, my friends, people I work with, people I interact with here in Blog and Social Media Land... and I am in awe. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They are all different. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some are married.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some are single.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some are straight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some are gay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some are Christians.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some are Atheists.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some are boys.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some are girls.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some I adore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some I barely tolerate. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Why am I in awe? Because I know that they belong to God just like me. They are human, just like me. They are capable of incredible things and making mistakes, just like me. They hurt and feel joy, just like me. They cry, laugh, think, live and love, just like me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've thought many, many times what it would feel like to be told that I couldn't do something because of some other circumstance. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">You can't drive an SUV because you have freckles! You can't write a novel because you suck at math! You can't be married to Mr. Superman because he has blue eyes and yours are green!</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Silly right?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ridiculous and absurd?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">No one would ever have the right to make any of this real!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Once upon a time women couldn't vote nor could blacks. Once upon a time it was legal for a husband to rape his wife because it was her duty to have sex with him. Once upon a time marriages were null and void if one of the parties had lost their virginity prior to being married. Once upon a time if you stepped on a crack you could fall and break your mothers back.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;">If it had been illegal for my Catholic Father-In-Law to marry
my Mormon Mother-In-Law, I wouldn't have my incredible husband and therefore would be dead. </span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Lovelies, everyone on this Earth is here because of a loving God. Each and every one of us means the same to Him and each and every one of us deserves everything this life has to offer. What do I think this entails? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To be free to love and be loved by whomever our heart chooses because that's what it boils down to. Our hearts choose. When it comes to who our hearts choose, they beat out the rhythm God intended from the beginning. Wildly, freely, endlessly, and without discrimination or limits. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Love is love is love.</b></span><br />
<br />
To believe otherwise is no honor to God and attempting to justify what is nothing short of discriminatory by saying anything to the contrary makes not only a bigot but a liar also.<br />
<br />
It's not easy being different. I am the only person within my immediate and also within the majority of my extended family that supports same sex marriage. It's tough but I know that its incomparable to what any gay person goes through. Being told you don't have control of your life and your dreams because they're 'non-traditional' is unfathomable to me.<br />
<br />
The day that this world accepts that <b>love is love is love</b> is the day my heart will smile almost as big as God will be. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-61784780333454663692012-11-07T04:18:00.001-02:002012-11-07T04:18:10.993-02:00And That's All I've Got To Say About That<br />
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If Train A left the space station at 56 o'clock with 3 ducks, 85 bottles of mustard, and your grandma on board while traveling at the speed of 2 plucked chickens on steroids...</div>
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<br /></div>
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And Water-Treading Zebra #8 departed the basement at 77:17 PM with a sack of potatoes and 101 Dalmatians while moving at 1/2 the rate of 3 pickles and a leper...</div>
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<br /></div>
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Then purple kiwis hate Garfield and Cher because cats and hippos are identical except for every 5th generations monkeys uncle.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Confused? </div>
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<i><b>Me too</b></i>. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Doesn't make any sense?</div>
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<b><i>I know</i></b>. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Baffled?</div>
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<b><i>I bet</i></b>. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Wondering why anyone in their right mind would ever take any of this to heart and believe its true?</div>
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<b><i>Right there with ya</i></b>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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― Me</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, but expecting different results.” </div>
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― Albert Einstein</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-82688054393372477852012-10-18T17:32:00.001-02:002012-10-19T01:34:25.816-02:00Another Phone Call<b>Life</b>.<br />
<br />
It happens.<br />
<br />
Until a few years ago, I never really knew what that meant.<br />
<br />
I <i>thought </i>I knew. I thought I knew what it meant, what it felt like, what it was.<br />
<br />
I didn't.<br />
I do now though.<br />
Boy, do I know.<br />
<br />
And if there was ever any doubt, I'm constantly reminded. Most of the time, it's me who reminds me but yesterday it happened to come courtesy of a phone call from a certain Air Force Captain. The same Air Force Captain who has been on the other end of several phone calls that reminded me of it.<br />
<br />
<b>Life</b>.<br />
<br />
Three years and 14 days ago, it happened.<br />
<br />
Pain.<br />
Terror.<br />
Humiliation.<br />
Guilt.<br />
Rape.<br />
Life.<br />
<br />
<b><i><a href="http://simplysteele.blogspot.com/p/i-am-rape-survivor.html" target="_blank">Life happened</a>.</i></b><br />
<br />
It's nowhere near anything I ever thought would be a part of my life but on October 4, 2009 it happened and it is now very <u>much</u> a part of my life.<br />
<br />
About eight months after it happened, I received a phone call from the JAX (AF Legal) Captain notifying me that the civilian court in Texas had declined to prosecute. The District Attorney had taken my case before a Grand Jury and despite all of the evidence against him, they returned a No Bill on my attacker. The DA had pulled the Grand Jury and discovered that there were three men who could not and would not be swayed of their opinions. To them, my swollen and bruised neck, the petechiae in my eyes from being choked and suffocated, the bruises in the shape of his hands on my arms and legs, the scratches on my back from his dirty fingernails, the bump on the back of my head were all indicators that I liked rough sex. They had no problem saying that in their minds, this was a case of a young military wife who cheated on her husband and regretted it so she cried rape. There was no indictment issued and he was then free to continue on to the base listed on the orders that had been put on pause when the investigation had begun. He was free as a bird and when he got to Little Rock AFB and his file landed on the Commander's desk, I got this phone call telling me everything.<br />
<br />
In a phone call, it happened. Life. Again. In that phone call I felt all of that pain and terror and humiliation again.<br />
<br />
The beginning of September 2010 brought another phone call. This one was to tell me that the Commander wanted to go forward within the military justice system and convene an Article 32 hearing.<br />
<br />
In a phone call, it happened. Life. Again. In that phone call I felt hope. Life isn't always bad and I was reminded of that.<br />
<br />
A week later Mr. Superman got a phone call. He was being deployed in two weeks.<br />
<br />
In a phone call, it happened. Life. Military life. Again. I felt what I imagine to be the absolutely normal yet no less frightening rush of emotions that any military significant other feels when they hear those words. THE words. <i><b>I'm deploying</b></i>. A split-second later however my heart jumped into my throat and my head started to spin because yet again, I was facing the possibility of facing my attacker alone. All of these thoughts, and feelings, and fears overwhelmed me in a matter of seconds.... all because of a phone call. Again.<br />
<br />
By the end of September my husband was gone and I was living with family in Arizona. The day marking a year since my attack was full of writing depositions, answering questions from lawyers, and praying I got to talk to Mr. Superman who was 8,000 miles away.<br />
<br />
October 19, 2010 was our three year wedding anniversary. It was also the day of the Article 32 hearing. I was berated with questions from all sides. The Prosecution walked me through every single second of that night. THE night. The night it happened.<br />
<br />
Pain.<br />
Terror.<br />
Humiliation.<br />
Guilt.<br />
Rape.<br />
Life.<br />
<br />
I answered the same questions I'd been asked by so many people, so many times. Then I did it all over again with the Defense team. I was slandered. Embarrassed, mortified, terrified, frustrated, exasperated, upset, angry.... these don't even begin to cover what I was feeling. I did it all a third time with the Judge Advocate. Each time I had to use clinical terms and explicit detail sparing nothing. <b>Three times</b>. A few hours later it happened. Life. I had gone to an Urgent Care because of pain I'd been dealing with. It was a miscarriage. <a href="http://simplysteele.blogspot.com/p/our-angel-babies.html" target="_blank">Our third angel baby was gone</a>. I was numb by this point except for a tiny spark of feeling in my heart when the realization hit that I was going to have to tell my husband.<br />
<br />
And just like that it would happen again. Life. Shock and sadness would follow the news I gave my husband. He would be reminded that life happens. No matter what, it happens. There's no stopping it. Even though it was our anniversary and despite him being 8,000 miles away in an active and dangerous war zone, the words I'd say to him would reaffirm the bitter truth of life. All because of a phone call.<br />
<br />
It didn't take long before my phone was ringing and the caller I.D. showed it was the AF Captain. I didn't answer it. I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to face another phone call that would jar me back to the reality of it all. Life. I was sitting in a nail salon with my sister and we both had our feet soaking in mini-jacuzzi tubs. I was going to be flying to Salt Lake City the next day to spend Thanksgiving with Mr. Superman's family and was looking forward to a week of escaping reality. A few minutes after the missed phone call my phone buzzed to let me know I had a voice mail from the Captain. I ignored it. I don't know how many hours it took or if it took a few days but when I finally braced myself and put the phone to my ear, I wasn't prepared for what I heard.<br />
<br />
"Everything has been dismissed. The Judge Advocate didn't feel there was enough to take it any further. As far as his civilian record goes, there is none. His military file shows that while he attended Tech School he was questioned about a SARC case but nothing more. Your request for an extension of the Do Not Contact order or a civilian Restraining Order have both been denied since everything has been dismissed and its now as if none of the investigation or incident ever occurred."<br />
<br />
It happened. With an ignored phone call and a voice mail I was reminded of the cruelty and unfairness of life. Regardless of what we do or don't do, life happens. It always happens.<br />
<br />
The last couple of years have been full of ups and downs when it comes to how I've dealt with and coped with being raped and subsequently having my rapist exonerated twice. There have been days where I felt strong and brave and as if I could see him on the street and be okay. There have been days where I felt like curling up in a ball and crying until my eyes were swollen and my head ached. I've lost count of how many days I have done just that.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I was at work when it happened. Life. I was surrounded by a few coworkers and nine 3 year-olds singing fun songs when my phone began to buzz. Normally, I don't have my phone in my pocket while at work but we had just returned from a field trip and I had taken it with me to take pictures of all the kids. I took it out of my pocket to hit ignore but my heart stopped when I saw the phone number. When I got my iPhone, I never transferred numbers over so even though it didn't have the AF Captain's name on the caller I.D. I knew it was him. I'll always know who it is when a 501 area code is flashing on my phone screen. I jumped up and mumbled that I had to take the phone call. I ducked into a small room/closet at the back of our classroom and with shaking hands answered my phone.<br />
<br />
In that instant it happened. Life. I heard the familiar voice of the Captain and could tell what he was going to say wasn't going to be good news. About ten minutes later I hung up the phone while furiously wiping my eyes and hoping none of the kids would see me crying. I stepped out and ran to the bathroom where I kept telling myself that no matter what, I had to pull it together and push it all aside. Life.<br />
<br />
Here I am 3 years later and because of a phone call I got yesterday I feel just as raw and bruised and angry and terrified and embarrassed as I was the night I was raped.<br />
<br />
Raping me wasn't enough.<br />
<br />
Choking and suffocating me until blood vessels burst in my eyes and I nearly passed out wasn't enough.<br />
<br />
Raping me again wasn't enough.<br />
<br />
Slamming my head into a concrete wall wasn't enough.<br />
<br />
Bruising, restraining, and hitting me weren't enough.<br />
<br />
Slandering and humiliating me weren't enough.<br />
<br />
Making sure I felt like I wasn't worth anything wasn't enough.<br />
<br />
Getting to walk away free, twice, with no consequences and as if he didn't nearly kill me wasn't enough. <br />
<br />
This person who took something away from me with no repercussions now has FIVE different attorneys assembling against me and looking for me so they can serve me with papers to let me know he is now suing me for defamation.<br />
<br />
The Captain was calling me to let me know. Even though he was legally not supposed to contact me again after everything was dismissed, he did. And just like that, with a phone call this Air Force Captain reminded me that it happens.<br />
<br />
Life.<br />
<br />
No matter how many times we have been knocked down or disappointed, it happens. In spite of how we choose to deal with the past, it happens. Regardless of how good we are doing in our lives and how happy we are feeling, it happens. There is never any slowing it down or stopping it in its tracks.<br />
<br />
Life.<br />
<br />
It always happens.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-33125080603135704932012-09-29T19:30:00.001-02:002012-09-29T19:30:47.450-02:00He Still Gets MeOnce upon a time there was this poor little blog. Its blogger was a total slacker and it often sat for weeks with no new posts. <br />
<br />
Yeah, yeah that's me.<br />
Slacker status over here.<br />
<br />
Here I am once again about to blog about superficial, mundane, surface stuff. Its all I can do right now which I think is good enough. <br />
<br />
Our new life here is insane.<br />
It's different but we are still so unsettled we haven't even been able to to have everything sink in yet.<br />
<br />
Even though we got here in July and had the keys to our apartment about a week later, we didn't start living here at our apartment until two weeks ago. My in-laws went out of the country and we house sat for them. We were finally able to move into (as in actually start sleeping at) our place the night before I started work. Yeah, crazy timing I know. I got hired on at my job about 10 days after we got here but since its a State job I wasn't <b><i>officially</i></b> in the computer systems until much later, delaying my start date. <br />
<br />
So we have been living here in our tiny little Salt Lake City apartment but I still have boxes full of stuff, our balcony is full of boxes we no longer have a garage for, there is tape on walls waiting to be painted, furniture half-way refinished, bags full of clothes and things needing to be sent to D.I. (Utah's version of Goodwill), and everything is a MESS. <br />
<br />
Here's a few pictures though.<br />
<br />
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The first wall I got fully completed. Right behind our sectional! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_pBL6jlnNvnbs8r1MJ_42NdIllpZysdOOSs00yKYggDzNTE-dEdjs_vPxn9EzZmO_IdOxF8GnFc9L3hz6Qla2fQFsABPh34xR-0b6cNYuGVCNNRXnGtp8u2CdbAeDQS6uKDM5hmbbmON/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_pBL6jlnNvnbs8r1MJ_42NdIllpZysdOOSs00yKYggDzNTE-dEdjs_vPxn9EzZmO_IdOxF8GnFc9L3hz6Qla2fQFsABPh34xR-0b6cNYuGVCNNRXnGtp8u2CdbAeDQS6uKDM5hmbbmON/s400/photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Our tiny hallway is halfway finished. One side has the chevron painted while the other is just taped off. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpPXnWKPohmRrRquBlYWVhxkSIXk_bYatcY8r_ujoJx0SFy-GdO2iSzD46BSY3jX9tdGexY8IOINHeM9cUMTUq9mUFkgA6Dfau3WEnOE3EzPUMZ95qkGlHxEsvmbYEdoksMoGobrnQOLa/s1600/photo_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpPXnWKPohmRrRquBlYWVhxkSIXk_bYatcY8r_ujoJx0SFy-GdO2iSzD46BSY3jX9tdGexY8IOINHeM9cUMTUq9mUFkgA6Dfau3WEnOE3EzPUMZ95qkGlHxEsvmbYEdoksMoGobrnQOLa/s400/photo_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is the before, during, and after of my 4$ D.I. find! My new desk chair!</div>
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That fabulous fabric? Totally scored that from my MIL's craft room and she scored it from Colorado like 15 years ago. LOVE it!</div>
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Now this is directly across from our sectional. That's <a href="http://simplysteele.blogspot.com/2012/05/i-call-do-over-goodwill-dresser-to-tv.html" target="_blank">the dresser Mr. Superman got me for my birthday this year and I LOVED refinishing it</a>. I did a <a href="http://simplysteele.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-call-do-over-its-all-in-details.html" target="_blank">mini-makeover on that lamp </a>and I still love it but I just didn't like it in that corner. I'm really trying to have balance between all of my bright, colorful decor and my vintage, antique, eclectic pieces. I'm also having to just do what I can with what I already have. The lamp I have there now is a lamp we got five years ago for our wedding. It has modern lines Mr. Superman loves (the opposite type of design I'm into) but I like it a lot more now. I just taped it off and did a coat of paint I already had. Voila!</div>
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This ugly wicker chest of drawers? I've had it for 6 1/2 years. When I went away to college I inherited all sorts of ugly, unwanted, really old furniture from people. This, <b><i>I think</i></b>, came from my SIL's grandma. I've kept it around for years with every single move just because it was great for storing things. I decided to throw some of the same yellow paint I used for the lamp shade on it and it's now residing in the corner by our desk. Eh, it'll do for now. </div>
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Our bedroom is my labor of love. I didn't redesign anything from what I had in Georgia because I already love it so much. It's got a vintage/antique French theme going on. The square footage of the master bedroom here is SO much smaller than the square footage in Georgia so its been a little tricky. It's still very much an ongoing project and I have yet to finish painting the edges and refinishing the antique vanity I scored almost two years ago but I will. Someday, it'll all be done and perfect. <br />
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<br />So that's it so far. I have SO much left to do including finishing everything that is only half done AND all of the stuff I haven't even started. I've got the guest bedroom, both bathrooms, the kitchen, and the laundry room/closet. After all of that I have a giant list of little things like replacing all of the door hardware, outlet and light switch covers, installing shelving into the closets, stenciling and painting the inside of the closets, replacing the light fixtures, installing custom molding around the bathroom mirrors...<br />
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I could go on and on but instead, I'll wrap it up.<br />
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I just had to share this last picture.<br />
Every Thursday I get to see Mr. Superman in ABU's and guess what?<br />
It still gets me.<br />
<br />
Everything in our lives has changed.<br />
Everything is different. <br />
We moved.<br />
He got discharged.<br />
I'm working.<br />
Our puppy lives with my MIL.<br />
<br />
Everything has changed except once a week, I get to see something that makes my heart smile and gives me the reminder of why we are doing all of this. It reminds me that in three years we will once again be an Active Duty family. Every week I get to see my Loverface in uniform and it still gets me.<br />
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He still gets me. <br />
Right now, that's enough.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-38774748023291182932012-09-01T02:13:00.000-02:002012-09-01T15:15:15.365-02:00Numbers<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">June 17th- August 31st: 77 days</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1 </span></b>best friend pregnant</div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> best friend having a girl<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1 </span></b>nursery designed and finished<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>1</b></span> best friend's hubby home from Korea early<br />
<b style="font-size: x-large;">1</b> extremely relieved best friend<br />
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<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">3 </span>houses packed </div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">3 </span></b>times we've moved<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1 </span></b>honorable discharge<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2 </span></b>very sad goodbyes<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">40 </span></b>days since I last blogged<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">44</span></b> days since I blogged about REAL stuff and my REAL feelings<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">11 </span></b>followers lost<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">9 </span></b>followers gained<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
We drove across<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">9 </span></b>states<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>39 </b></span>hours<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">2,200 </span></b>miles<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>3 </b></span>hotels<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1 </span></b>car purchased<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">2 </span></b>vehicles now owned outright<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">4 </span></b>inches cut off my hair<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">2 </span></b>hair colorings and root touch ups<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">3rd </span></b>floor walk up<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">4 </span></b>flights of stairs<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">912 </span></b>square feet<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">2 </span></b>bedrooms<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">2 </span></b>bathrooms<br />
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<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">1 </span>apartment mostly painted<br />
<b style="font-size: x-large;">1 </b>apartment partially decorated<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">1 </span></b>apartment still not unpacked<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> trip to Arizona<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> Pops </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> Mama</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> sister</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> brother in-law </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">4</span></b> brothers</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">3</span></b> sisters-in law</div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">12 </span></b>nieces and nephews<br />
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<b>hugged and kissed</b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1 </span></b>new niece met and cuddled<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> nephew & <b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> new niece missed<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2</b></span> parents became empty nesters<br />
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<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">1 </span>baby brother brought back to Utah<br />
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<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">1</span> baby brother dropped off and moved into his college dorm at BYU<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1 </span></b>big sister turned into a worry-wart sap<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2 </b></span>job interviews</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2 </span></b>job offers made</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2 </span></b>job offers accepted</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> Sports Filmer</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> Para-Professional Educator for The Utah Schools For the Deaf and Blind</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1</span></b> full time college student</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1 </span></b>ROTC Cadet</div>
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<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">1 </span>USAF Inactive Reservist </div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">1 </b>new life in Utah</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Its totally cray cray!</span></b></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844054692006527221.post-82496412979821217072012-07-23T01:39:00.000-02:002012-07-23T01:39:19.081-02:00The One Worth Sharing<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Unless you live under a rock you've no doubt heard and read all about a certain mass shooting. I've held my tongue up until now. </span></span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I saw <span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://aminiatureclaypot.wordpress.com/2012/07/20/so-you-still-think-god-is-a-merciful-god/" target="_blank">THIS</a></span> article earlier tonight and was compelled to share. </span></span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
haven't said anything about the tragedy in Colorado on any sort of
social media platform for multiple reasons. I haven't even discussed it
with anyone other than my husband and my best friend. I read parts of
some of those first articles that broke the sad news and I've seen
HUNDREDS of comments and opinions from others. This is the first thing I
have read all the way through and felt was actual</span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="font-family: inherit;">ly worth sharing. This woman was there with her two teenage daughters and I absolutely love what she says. </span><br /> <br /> "God is always good. Man is not. Don’t get the two confused."<br /> <br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I can't tell you how many times I've doubted God. His power, His love,
His existence... I don't think you can go through life and NOT question
or doubt but then you get terrible things thrown into your life and its
that much more difficult to be 100% sure. </span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /> <br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I will NOT get into
any sort of discussion or debate about religion or politics or anyone's
opinion about what happened, what this man chose to do, or WHY he CHOSE
to do it. I don't care about sharing a screenshot of some guy's status
begging an actor to go visit the surviving victims in the hospital or
talking about gun control. This woman's words touched me and I felt the
need to pass them along.</span></span></span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span></span></h6>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07873052963009039201noreply@blogger.com1