Friday, March 22, 2013

The Thing. Or: where I was.

There is a passage in Time Traveler's Wife that I love. It says,"As I slide into sleep Clare says 'I feel like we're at the top of a roller coaster.' but then I am asleep and I forget to ask her, in the morning, what she means."

In October, time stood still. The days were long. I ran more miles that month than I ever have in my life. The weather was gorgeous. My second Halloween Half Marathon was the culminating event of the month for me. Blissful days, happy days, timeless days. I didn't know it, but looking back, we were on the top of a roller coaster. For a number of years, we had coasted up up up - jobs and moving and blessing after blessing coasted along with us.

But as we know, what goes up must come down. On the bus to the Halloween Half Marathon, Amy and I sat tucked together amongst runners and running paraphernalia. We traveled up the canyon toward the starting line, talking of what we often talk about: my hope for another baby. As the bus turned onto the steep mountain road we would soon run down, I told her that I was close to letting my hopes slip away. My kids were 11 and 7. So many years had passed - a new baby would grow up an only child, something I didn't want. I was over 37 - even if I got pregnant the next day, I would still be 38 before another baby could be born. And I knew Shane was ready to be done - I was just holding on to the hope that one day, he would want another one the same way I did and we could move forward together with the same desire and get pregnant again. I told her it was slipping away, and that I was almost ready to accept it.

You see,  me and Shane had spent almost 8 years in a head-to-head conflict over another child. I knew he didn't want another one and I was not willing to have a child without him wanting as much as I did. But from the moment that I had Ben I knew I wanted to have one more. I wanted to be pregnant again and go through labor. I wanted a girl to round out our family. I guess I shouldn't say conflict - we weren't fighting about a baby - it was more of a running joke - a banter of comments back and forth over the years that did nothing to change either of our minds. I couldn't deal with true conflict - so I instead just put it off put it off put it off always hoping.

The topic of a baby was like a dual dog collar, wrapped around each of our necks. A short leash chained us to that spot. No matter how hard we pulled against it, trying to stand up straight, trying to move out of that place, my hope kept us tethered to the ground. We could walk in circles around our bonds but that got us nowhere. Sitting down wasn't an option - any slack in the chain would have caused us to talk about the situation - which was something I avoided at all costs. Most of the time we pretended it wasn't there, holding steady, neither standing nor sitting, moving or deciding, just circling ourselves and our bonds and waiting for the other to find the key that would release us, like a chained up pittbull on a too-short leash.

Then suddenly, the day after the race the topic of a baby came up and we were catapulted into making the decision, once and for all. It came out of this month of perfection, this time-standing-still moment. Our moment at the top of the roller coaster was over - we were free falling into a searingly painful mutual decision that ultimately took us weeks to make, and then, for me, months to come to terms with.

Did you see Lincoln? That moment in the bedroom when Sally Field is kneeeling in front of Daniel Day Lewis begging him to notice her, to show some emotion, to acknowledge her grief over losing their son. He says to her that just because he didn't show it doesn't mean that it didn't hurt him. There were many, many moments where my marriage had just this sort of disconnect. I kept going over the events that led to our decision but my stake in the decision wasn't in firm ground. I hated the conflict and I hated the loss of hope and I hated that it was making us unhappy but I was stuck in a moment that I couldn't get out of (did you just start singing the U2 song?) In the end, it took us calmly sitting in the kitchen one Thursday night in February for a 15-minute conversation two months after we had decided not to have another baby, rehashing every step we took to making that decision, and then saying together that we weren't going to have another baby. It was the same decision we had made in the car in November, but it had a completely different feel and I had a completely different commitment and stake in the decision.  We made it, even though we knew it hurt both of us. Even though we knew one of us was not getting what they wanted and one of us was. Even though even though even though.

Because really, in the end, even if I had had another baby, I wouldn't have what I my heart wants. A daughter just a few years behind her older brothers. A child who (I wish) was now 4-7 years old, potty trained, with things like croup and roseola and teething and diapers in the past. She would hold my hand and walk with me while the boys and their dad run ahead, farting and laughing and boying ahead of us. Someone who likes pink and plays with dolls and does girl things that I relate to. Someone who holds her father's and brothers' heart in her hands with every smile and cry and blink of her eye.

I realize that is a dream. There is nothing that says that if I had another child, it would be a girl. My mom had one brother. My dad had two brothers. Shane's mom has two brothers and his dad was one of 5 boys. I have one cousin who has 4 daughters, but the rest of my cousins have had more boys than girls. Amy has one daughter. Shane's sister has one daughter and two sons. There seems to be a boy streak that is powerful. My third child would have likely been a beloved blond-haired, blue-eyed boy, just like his brothers. And to have had a child at any time in the past without both of us being in the same place would have been unimaginable for me. I would have gotten what I wanted, but I don't know if it would have made me happy in the end.


Throughout the time that we were deciding (November-January) I was following a challenge that I was given during October's stake conference: to read the Book of Mormon three times in three months. Even as I roll my eyes internally while writing this sentence, I know that my 18 pages a day were a saving grace during this time. Almost as if God's timing was impeccable: He gave me the challenge during beautiful October, when I was still strong, knowing it would be a lifesaver to get me through what He had planned for the coming months. I had a little bit of divine assistance each day. There is a part of me that wonders if that challenge came down just for me. (Geek note: I was super excited at the end of the challenge when my bishop asked me to speak in church about my experience. It was the easiest talk I've ever written. I loved that it so perfectly book-ended our struggle. October: challenge given. November/December/January: reading/deciding/coping. February: Final decision/talk in church. I do love a tidy ending.)

During this time, I learned more about myself than I have ever known. I said things that I never thought I could or would say. I read books and talked to a counselor and had a blessing and wrote in my journal and in my Book of Mormon and in blog posts that I would never publish. I'm pretty sure that all the emotional strain was part of what caused my back injury - a physical reaction to internal strife. (It didn't help the situation, FYI. Not being able to run was an additional burden. But, as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.)

I am glad I am on this side of the roller coaster. I look back on those days and the pain in them is exquisite. They are cold and bleak and I think to myself: it's no wonder it was the coldest January on record. But in the end, we found the key to free ourselves. We are no longer circling our hopes, chained together in a dance of sarcasm and want and hurt and avoidance. We used our God-given agency and made a choice. It wasn't a choice that made either of us completely happy but it was one that we can both live with and move on in our lives with.

I wish this post was more polished but I've had it in my heart for a long time and I finally just had to sit down and write it all out and get it out. I'm okay. One day during it all, Amy said that "hope isn't the thing with feathers - it's the thing with chains." It's true. Endlessly wanting is a special type of hell. I still wish - don't we all wish for something - but I am ready to go on. I love what I have - my husband, my kids, my job, my life - and I am grateful.

Thank you, my wonderful friends, for sticking with me through this post. I love you and I wanted to share this with you. I'm not afraid to admit where I've been and what I've gone through. We all take our turn on the downside of the roller coaster, after all.

Friday, March 15, 2013

10 For Friday


  1. Got a money order. My first! Very special, right?
  2. Wandered around Tai Pan. I put a whole display together of a plate holder with 4 different plates. I wandered the whole crockery department looking for the perfect plate combination. Just as I got it perfect, I decided I didn't really want it after all and left it on the counter. Maybe it will inspire someone else.
  3. Bought flannel for a blanket I'm making for a former Ragnar team member. She is expecting a girl in June and I can't wait to sew it up!
  4. Finished another blanket for my next door neighbor who adopted in November. I've had the flannel since then as well. Sometimes I just can't get motivated.
  5. Meditated. Oprah Winfrey is doing a 21 day meditation program and I thought I would check it out. It was very peaceful. So glad I did it. (I know nothing about meditation, FYI. But it's never too late to try something new. Also, I think what I liked most about it is that I did it in my sunny front room with the blinds turned so I was in the gorgeous sunshine.)
  6. Ran to the junior high. Making strides with my back. I think having a better attitude is helping.
  7. Finished a book.
  8. Wished that my foam roller would come. I ordered one on Tuesday from Amazon. Then my bestie Rebecca gave me a pilates/foam rolling class over FaceTime yesterday. I can't wait for it to come and to start using it. Her class was excellent - my back felt really open in ways I didn't know it could. Win!
  9. Hung upside down on my other neighbor's inversion table. I think if I do that after every run I will be able to create space in my back to ease some of the pain. I'm leaving no stone unturned in this process.
  10. Welcomed three mini-daffodils and 5 purple crocus to the world. I love spring!


What did you do today? Is it sunny where you are?

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Ben's Baptism

On Saturday, Ben was baptized.

That sentence is loaded. It means so many things depending on the angle that I look at it.

On one hand, I did it. I had two kids. Both chose to be baptized at 8. I worried about both of those days for years and years before hand. It is a relief to me. Our family isn't typical (are there really any typical families?) It has never been an assumption for me that my children would be baptized. A fervent hope. I've tried to set a good example and teach them the why's and the what's of the gospel. But 8 is really young. I am very grateful.

On another hand, it's bittersweet. I have two kids and both are older than 8. There aren't anymore children behind them. Age 8 isn't a "young" child. And while I can go to the gym without getting a babysitter or run to the store without kids, it is strange to know that my kids are this big.

But, hands and bittersweetness aside, Saturday was a good day. My nephew Clint baptized and confirmed Ben and did a great job. We had support from friends, family, ward members, and neighbors. The night before I panicked because I hadn't invited a man from our old ward. He was our home teacher for almost 10 years. He stood in the circle for both of my kid's blessings and for Thomas's confirmation. Shane and he were good friends - in fact I joke that Arkin has probably done more for Shane's eternal salvation than anyone else on earth. So I was sad I hadn't invited him. It was a tender mercy when I rounded the corner at the stake center and saw him there, helping to direct the flow of families as they journeyed from baptism to confirmation. I was glad I could ask him to stand in the circle as Ben was confirmed as well. I know it's cheesy, but God really is in the details of our life.I asked Kendell, my brother-in-law, to witness and also stand in the confirmation circle. I found myself down a witness so our current home teacher was able to stand in as well. I feel lucky that I have many people around me who can help. I missed my two nephews Jeff and James who weren't there. And of course, my dad. But he was there, I'm sure of it.

After the baptism, everyone came over for brunch. Despite my unintentionally crunchy breakfast casserolls, all of the food was wonderful. We had fruit and cookies and my mom's pull-a-part rolls and Amy's chocolate cake and juice and strawberries. The kids played Xbox and hotwheels and legos. My little great-nieces posed for me, using the bottom shelf of the bookcase as a bench. I sat on the couch with my sister Suzette and my nieces and my mom chatting. I loved seeing everyone enjoying themselves at my house.

I am so blessed. I feel so lucky to have so many people around me who support my family. It was a good day.

Now, some pictures. Forgive me - many of the group shots caught people mid- bite. It just means the food was goo--ood. 

 My cute family.

 Ben and Clint.







 My sisters and my mom. Love!

 Kaleb and Ben. We've been taking pictures like these since they were born.

 Me and Shelly. I wish she still lived by me!

 Ben and his cousins.

 Me and Vonnay.

 Shane and his mom.

 Shane's favorite ladies.

 Look at these cuties!

 Josie and Oakley.

Luke and Oakley.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Slow spinning redemption.

(Thank you for all your kind words from my last post. You all made me feel so loved.)

I've been having a pity party of one for quite a while, as you all experienced with my last post. I don't like to post when I'm sad. I'm not sad very often. But life happens and it eventually shows you who is boss. Life - 1. Becky - 0. I'll take my losses.

I went running today. I picked a route that is as familiar as my favorite pajama pants. I could do it in my sleep. I debated running on the new trail near my house but running it is a reminder of who I've been since December and not who I normally am, so I didn't run it. My run was fine - not great, not bad, just average. Part of the problem for me is that I generally don't feel pain from my back while I run - I just pay for it afterward. But I talked to the doctor again this week and she assured me I can't do anything to hurt it worse than it already is. I might as well run, right?

So I'm (trying to be) done with the pity party. I've consumed the appetizers, the main course, and had desert with hot chocolate. I'm ready to ditch this awful gloom.

On my run today I listened to this song over and over. I know it isn't fun to read song lyrics, but I'm going to put them out there anyway.

need freedom now  
And 
I need to know how  
To live my life 
as it's meant to be
And 
will 
hold 
on 
hope  
(And I won't let you choke On the noose around your neck)
And 
I'll
 find 
strength 
in 
pain  
And I
 will change my ways

(The Cave, Mumford and Sons.)

And there's this one
 
Hope 
dangles on a string
 like slow spinning redemption  
Winding in and winding out, 
the shine of it has caught my eye  
And roped me in, 
so mesmerizing 
and 
so hypnotizing
I am captivated,
 I am 
Vindicated,
 
(Vindicated, Dashboard Confessional)

Not my words, but they come close to how I am feeling.

And there's this one, that I read last night that gives me comfort that I can do what Amy hoped for me in her lovely post yesterday.

Be Still
and 
Know
that 
I am God.
 
Psalms 46:10

Friday, March 1, 2013

I'm still here. And at least I'm not there anymore.

Every single blog post that is rolling around in my head right now is whiny.

There's the one where I write about the 6 or so miles I ran on the Saturday before Christmas. It was a perfect blue wintery day,  right before my favorite day of the year (Christmas Eve Eve.) I ran the brand new trail by my house with friends. I was averaging a sub-10 minute mile on every run, and I'd been upping my regular-run mileage to 4 miles from 3. My running was strong. I was strong. I was feeling fast and confident and boom! Pride took me down in the form of a stupid Christmas tree and gave me exactly 2 months of feeling like a stranger in my body. I'm getting better, but I'm relying on medication to help me which I didn't want to do.

Then there is my back. I hate that I've spent more time walking at the Olympic Oval than I have running the trails and roads I'm accustomed to. I hate that even walking caused me pain - walking? Seriously? I hate using the elliptical machine or a bike because I know they won't hurt my back. I hate having to stand up at a restaurant in regular intervals because the sitting on the chair is unbearable. I hate standing up from my work chair and waiting 10 seconds for my leg to stop throbbing before I can walk. I hate that the first thought I have in the morning is "What is it going to feel like when I stand up?" The constant worry that I will never feel normal again without taking regular doses of anti-inflammatories. Knowing that even tiny amount of core strengthening exercises are hard and will irritate my back. Whine, whine, whine.

There's also the post that I can't write about. Not because I don't have the words or the desire. I just don't have the guts to put it out there. To admit that since the end of October I've gone through something that I never wanted to go through. Something I was happy to let fade away without any angst or conversation or conflict but that came up anyway. I got through it. I survived. I learned. But I hated it. Mentally I was stuck for 3 months in a conversation held in a car in the parking lot of a grocery store in November. I was stuck stuck stuck and had no idea how to get myself out. I finally did, with help from a lot of people, but it was awful. (Sorry for being vague. I know it's annoying.)

I could write about the personality flaws that I keep learning about. The ones that make me realize how far I am from the person I want to be. They include but are not limited to control issues, the inability to say what I want to say to the person that I need to say it to, letting fear get the best of me, taking the round about way to almost everything, fearing what others will think about my actions more than taking care of myself, feeling like a bad parent....should I keep going?

All I really want to do is sit in my house drinking hot chocolate while watching episodes of The Vampire Diaries on my phone. This fall and resulting winter have led me down paths I never imagined I would walk. Looking back is awful. So all I can do is look forward. To the snow in my back yard finally melting and my tulips blooming and warmer days and runs where I don't think the entire time about the possibility of my back crumpling and then falling in a heap and being unable to get myself home. I never worried about that before.

I want my life back. I want to find my way to where things feel real and safe again.