Mood: proud, grateful, blessed
Today, Jeff picked Malcolm up from school. While I'm moving 100 times more and better than I was anticipating after the ACL reconstruction, I'm still not ready to take Malcolm to and from school yet. Jeff walked in carrying the mail and Malcolm had his backpack.
Jeff got Malcolm a snack and returned to work. Malcolm asked if he could watch cartoons. I said yes, but first he had to read a book that he had brought home from school. I asked him to read it to Jeff and I. The last time he brought a book home, I helped him through it once and then he read it back to us.
Not today. Today, Malcolm sat down, opened the book and stole my heart once again. Malcolm read the book "I Like" to us making only one mistake. I wanted to cry tears of joy, but I didn't want to confuse Malcolm at all. So we gave major high-fives and told him how immensely proud of him we are. This is the first time he's read us a book all by himself. And I fell in love all over again with this kid and his father.
When I was dating, I decided I did not want to date a man with children. I didn't want the baby mama drama and I, selfishly, wanted to be the center of attention. Instead of sticking to my rule, I fell in love with Jeff. Partly because of what an amazing father he is.
Today while Malcolm read to us, I sat next to him in awe. Moments like this remind me that sure, not everything is perfect. Jeff and I are still working towards our own place and towards paying off chemo and hospital, dental and now ACL surgery bills. Yet, in the little family that consists of myself, Jeff, Malcolm, Zooey and Yoda, we truly do have everything. I am constantly reminded of the millions of reasons that I love these boys and today, I could not be any prouder.
Malcolm, I am so impressed with how intelligent, articulate and kind you are. Jeff, I do not even have words to adequately express my love, admiration and respect that I have for you. I never imagined this much happiness in my life from two males that are insanely stubborn and would live on planet Cybertron if they could. Yet here I am. In love. All over again. On a Tuesday afternoon.
Showing posts with label husband. Show all posts
Showing posts with label husband. Show all posts
2014/09/21
To My Husband on His 35th Birthday
Mood: grateful, in love
Jeff,
So, it's your birthday. And while I didn't forget it this year (or last year for that matter!), my knee managed to steal a lot of the thunder and fun from your birthday this year. Sorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry.
Since we can't go out for your birthday, and I can't make you a cake on the actual day this year (but I will make one this week for you!), I figured I'd do what I can to acknowledge the day you were born. I won't sing to you, because that's painful for all involved, and I can't get up and do a dance. My talent is in words and since that is all I have to offer today, here goes:
I never imagined myself married to a person as incredible as you. Laughter has always been an important part of my life because if you can't have a bit of fun and laugh, then really, what have you got? And as we went into the surgery center this week or the doctor's office just yesterday, we heard several times how much fun it looks like we're having. Which is true. Nobody wants an ACL surgery or a biopsy or an orchiectomy, but we got through every single one smiling and laughing an making the people around us do the same.
You make every single day of my life fun. Honestly, even the day I had surgery was a fun day because I spent it with you.
It's not all just laughter and fun though, you love me in a way that I never thought possible for me. You leave me amazing little notes that make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. You provide this family with everything and you work beyond hard to do so, yet you still find time to come home and play with Malcolm or help me fold the laundry. You give all of yourself to this family, and on your birthday this year you spent time doing all the tasks I cannot. You strive every day to be a better husband, a better father and a better man. You inspire me to do the same and to constantly better myself for my own as well as my family's benefit.
I could never have imagined having such a wonderful person in my life and I am constantly asking what on earth I did in my life to deserve you. I hope you know how much you are loved, appreciated and needed by our family. I know our first three anniversaries, and as such the time immediately before your birthday, have not been easy or fun. We've spent the last two undergoing major medical procedures.
Yet, I cannot help but remain optimistic. I know that you deserve so much more and infinite happiness. And I know that as long as we remain strong, keep laughing and have each other, things can only go up from here. I cannot wait to see what life has in store for us even if life's track record is pretty shitty at the moment. And I cannot wait to see where we are next year on your birthday. While we probably won't be sipping Bambarra in the Bahamas next year, I know we will be laughing and in love and next year, you won't have to fold an ass ton of laundry on your birthday. Promise.
I love you. More than any amount or combination of words could ever convey.
Happy birthday, husband.
Love,
Your Wifey
Jeff,
So, it's your birthday. And while I didn't forget it this year (or last year for that matter!), my knee managed to steal a lot of the thunder and fun from your birthday this year. Sorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry.
Since we can't go out for your birthday, and I can't make you a cake on the actual day this year (but I will make one this week for you!), I figured I'd do what I can to acknowledge the day you were born. I won't sing to you, because that's painful for all involved, and I can't get up and do a dance. My talent is in words and since that is all I have to offer today, here goes:
I never imagined myself married to a person as incredible as you. Laughter has always been an important part of my life because if you can't have a bit of fun and laugh, then really, what have you got? And as we went into the surgery center this week or the doctor's office just yesterday, we heard several times how much fun it looks like we're having. Which is true. Nobody wants an ACL surgery or a biopsy or an orchiectomy, but we got through every single one smiling and laughing an making the people around us do the same.
You make every single day of my life fun. Honestly, even the day I had surgery was a fun day because I spent it with you.
It's not all just laughter and fun though, you love me in a way that I never thought possible for me. You leave me amazing little notes that make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. You provide this family with everything and you work beyond hard to do so, yet you still find time to come home and play with Malcolm or help me fold the laundry. You give all of yourself to this family, and on your birthday this year you spent time doing all the tasks I cannot. You strive every day to be a better husband, a better father and a better man. You inspire me to do the same and to constantly better myself for my own as well as my family's benefit.
I could never have imagined having such a wonderful person in my life and I am constantly asking what on earth I did in my life to deserve you. I hope you know how much you are loved, appreciated and needed by our family. I know our first three anniversaries, and as such the time immediately before your birthday, have not been easy or fun. We've spent the last two undergoing major medical procedures.
Yet, I cannot help but remain optimistic. I know that you deserve so much more and infinite happiness. And I know that as long as we remain strong, keep laughing and have each other, things can only go up from here. I cannot wait to see what life has in store for us even if life's track record is pretty shitty at the moment. And I cannot wait to see where we are next year on your birthday. While we probably won't be sipping Bambarra in the Bahamas next year, I know we will be laughing and in love and next year, you won't have to fold an ass ton of laundry on your birthday. Promise.
I love you. More than any amount or combination of words could ever convey.
Happy birthday, husband.
Love,
Your Wifey
2014/03/17
To My Husband
Mood: in love, grateful
Jeff,
Three years ago today I got ready for what was to be my very last first date. I spent nearly three hours getting ready: picking out the perfect outfit, finding something green to wear for St. Patrick's Day and reading through all of the text messages we had sent each other.
I drove, a mix of nerves and excitement rushing through me.
And when I got to you, I became even more nervous (which I thought impossible) and more excited. As I watched you walk toward me holding a beautiful bouquet of pink roses, I thought, some day I'm going to walk towards him holding a bouquet of pink roses.
And six months after that night, I did just that.
Three years ago, I had no idea what the future had in store for us, and I never would have imagined that we would have faced half of what we have together. But I hope you know that everything we have gone through as left me feeling more in love, more confident in our relationship and more like I am home.
I know there are days where we challenge, infuriate and annoy each other, and I know those days will never end.
I also know that despite all of the illness and the hard times, there is nowhere I would rather be and no one I would rather be with. You are an amazing husband and father. You make me laugh each and every day, and what is a life without laughter?
Three years ago today, I sat in a car talking about nothing, everything and zombies for nearly three hours with you. Though our lives have been touched by loss and cancer, there are so many things that have not changed since that night, after all, we spent a good deal of last night rehashing the new Walking Dead episode. And you know what? I could not be happier.
I look forward to every day we spend together. I love to read in bed with you at night, or talk about the most random things we can think up. I strive to be a better wife and mother every day. I know there are happier, healthier days ahead for us and I cannot wait to see where we are together in another three years. I love you.
Your Wife,
Ashley
Jeff,
Three years ago today I got ready for what was to be my very last first date. I spent nearly three hours getting ready: picking out the perfect outfit, finding something green to wear for St. Patrick's Day and reading through all of the text messages we had sent each other.
I drove, a mix of nerves and excitement rushing through me.
And when I got to you, I became even more nervous (which I thought impossible) and more excited. As I watched you walk toward me holding a beautiful bouquet of pink roses, I thought, some day I'm going to walk towards him holding a bouquet of pink roses.
And six months after that night, I did just that.
Three years ago, I had no idea what the future had in store for us, and I never would have imagined that we would have faced half of what we have together. But I hope you know that everything we have gone through as left me feeling more in love, more confident in our relationship and more like I am home.
I know there are days where we challenge, infuriate and annoy each other, and I know those days will never end.
I also know that despite all of the illness and the hard times, there is nowhere I would rather be and no one I would rather be with. You are an amazing husband and father. You make me laugh each and every day, and what is a life without laughter?
Three years ago today, I sat in a car talking about nothing, everything and zombies for nearly three hours with you. Though our lives have been touched by loss and cancer, there are so many things that have not changed since that night, after all, we spent a good deal of last night rehashing the new Walking Dead episode. And you know what? I could not be happier.
I look forward to every day we spend together. I love to read in bed with you at night, or talk about the most random things we can think up. I strive to be a better wife and mother every day. I know there are happier, healthier days ahead for us and I cannot wait to see where we are together in another three years. I love you.
Your Wife,
Ashley
2013/12/06
On Marriage and Depression
Mood: depressed
Jeff and I had our share of hardships during our first year of marriage. We struggled, just like any other couple, to figure out how to make things work. There were nights where we weren't sure it would work. I remember before our wedding, thinking to myself, that I didn't believe anyone when they said a) the first year of marriage is the hardest and b) being married is a completely different ballgame than dating or being engaged.
I cannot put my finger on what makes marriage so different from being engaged, but, trust me if you aren't married, being married is 100% completely and absolutely different than being engaged or dating.
The change sneaks up on you. You don't realize it's coming, you don't even necessarily feel it coming. You go to bed one night and you wake up and BAM! Marriage hits you in the face.
I tried, so hard, to be the wife that I thought Jeff wanted. And the stepmother that Malcolm wanted (or didn't want...but he didn't have a choice). Some days, I still do this. The thing about pretending, or trying to be the perfect wife who works and cooks and does laundry and watches sports (to be fair it's only basketball) and is still up for sex whenever, is that it. is. so. exhausting. Because that is not me. Singularly, all of these things bring me tremendous joy. I love cooking for Jeff and Malcolm, every single night I really do love this. It only ever feels like a chore if I am sick and Jeff is always more than willing to step in. I hate laundry. No, I hate folding laundry. There are more times than I'd care to admit that Jeff ends up folding laundry I have left clean for two days or so. I love watching basketball with Jeff because it is the one sport I understand and actually enjoy following. I love sex (sorry Mom and Dad....), but let's be honest, there are just days where the only thing I want touching me in bed are the blankets and a book.
So, when I found myself exhausted and with no energy left for me, I did not quite know what to do. Because unlike single life, you don't get to just head to your apartment and hop in your pretty pink bed and relax and binge eat pizza while watching "Will and Grace" or "The Golden Girls" to recharge. Or do nothing more than drink a bottle of wine on a Sunday afternoon to old Disney movies with a ton of beauty magazines splayed on the bed around you. I became upset that not only was I not the perfect wife, I was not even close and I knew that in neglecting myself I was actually becoming quite depressed, more so than I had been in many years.
I was first diagnosed with depression at age 10. I took my first dose of Prozac at age 10. And it is something that to this day, to this second, I struggle with. If you have never been depressed or experienced it, I truly don't know how to help you understand. Depression, like marriage, kind of just hits you over the head one morning and all of a sudden every single thing that you thought you knew, well, it's wrong. And nothing seems to mean the same thing that it used to. For me, depression is coupled with anxiety, which means that not only do I not experience happiness, but I then freak out about why I can't just be happy. And leaving the house, which is hard enough to do when you feel that every single thing is without purpose so why get groceries, becomes even harder when you are convinced that something horrific is about to happen.
Today, as I showered, I realized that the depression that started during our first year of marriage has not yet lifted. There are moments of extreme joy and months where I can leave the house just fine, but there are also dark and endless days where it physically pains me to shower and start the car to take Malcolm to school. The thing that hit me most this morning as I lathered up my body wash was that, in trying so hard to be the wife that I thought Jeff wanted, I lost everything about the woman he fell in love with. The confident (most of the time), career loving woman who laughed at everything has morphed into some sad, fat woman.
Admittedly, I do not know how to get this woman back. But I'm at least aware that I want to. And that is progress for me. I'm thankful for a husband who has been patient and tried to learn how to handle someone with chronic, severe depression. And today, I want not to be the wife I THINK he wants, but the woman that I know he loved.
Jeff and I had our share of hardships during our first year of marriage. We struggled, just like any other couple, to figure out how to make things work. There were nights where we weren't sure it would work. I remember before our wedding, thinking to myself, that I didn't believe anyone when they said a) the first year of marriage is the hardest and b) being married is a completely different ballgame than dating or being engaged.
I cannot put my finger on what makes marriage so different from being engaged, but, trust me if you aren't married, being married is 100% completely and absolutely different than being engaged or dating.
The change sneaks up on you. You don't realize it's coming, you don't even necessarily feel it coming. You go to bed one night and you wake up and BAM! Marriage hits you in the face.
I tried, so hard, to be the wife that I thought Jeff wanted. And the stepmother that Malcolm wanted (or didn't want...but he didn't have a choice). Some days, I still do this. The thing about pretending, or trying to be the perfect wife who works and cooks and does laundry and watches sports (to be fair it's only basketball) and is still up for sex whenever, is that it. is. so. exhausting. Because that is not me. Singularly, all of these things bring me tremendous joy. I love cooking for Jeff and Malcolm, every single night I really do love this. It only ever feels like a chore if I am sick and Jeff is always more than willing to step in. I hate laundry. No, I hate folding laundry. There are more times than I'd care to admit that Jeff ends up folding laundry I have left clean for two days or so. I love watching basketball with Jeff because it is the one sport I understand and actually enjoy following. I love sex (sorry Mom and Dad....), but let's be honest, there are just days where the only thing I want touching me in bed are the blankets and a book.
So, when I found myself exhausted and with no energy left for me, I did not quite know what to do. Because unlike single life, you don't get to just head to your apartment and hop in your pretty pink bed and relax and binge eat pizza while watching "Will and Grace" or "The Golden Girls" to recharge. Or do nothing more than drink a bottle of wine on a Sunday afternoon to old Disney movies with a ton of beauty magazines splayed on the bed around you. I became upset that not only was I not the perfect wife, I was not even close and I knew that in neglecting myself I was actually becoming quite depressed, more so than I had been in many years.
I was first diagnosed with depression at age 10. I took my first dose of Prozac at age 10. And it is something that to this day, to this second, I struggle with. If you have never been depressed or experienced it, I truly don't know how to help you understand. Depression, like marriage, kind of just hits you over the head one morning and all of a sudden every single thing that you thought you knew, well, it's wrong. And nothing seems to mean the same thing that it used to. For me, depression is coupled with anxiety, which means that not only do I not experience happiness, but I then freak out about why I can't just be happy. And leaving the house, which is hard enough to do when you feel that every single thing is without purpose so why get groceries, becomes even harder when you are convinced that something horrific is about to happen.
Today, as I showered, I realized that the depression that started during our first year of marriage has not yet lifted. There are moments of extreme joy and months where I can leave the house just fine, but there are also dark and endless days where it physically pains me to shower and start the car to take Malcolm to school. The thing that hit me most this morning as I lathered up my body wash was that, in trying so hard to be the wife that I thought Jeff wanted, I lost everything about the woman he fell in love with. The confident (most of the time), career loving woman who laughed at everything has morphed into some sad, fat woman.
Admittedly, I do not know how to get this woman back. But I'm at least aware that I want to. And that is progress for me. I'm thankful for a husband who has been patient and tried to learn how to handle someone with chronic, severe depression. And today, I want not to be the wife I THINK he wants, but the woman that I know he loved.
2013/11/26
Black and White
Mood: thankful
My most hated nickname from my family is Drama Queen. I HATE that nickname more than any of the others, and my dad has an affinity for calling me Poopstain so I think that is saying quite a lot. The reason that I hate it is because, well, it's true. And I hate this about myself. I live my life in extremes, in black or white. I am forever disappointed that life is a series of confusing, convoluted, nebulous events rather than concrete absolutes
Today is one of those days where I am just so disgusted by myself and my need for things to be 100% one way or the other. I really do wish that I could change, but time and again I find myself disappointed over unclear or indirect answers.
Today Jeff, Malcolm and I headed to the oncologist for his post chemotherapy CT scan. A little over three hours after arriving at the hospital we arrived at our moment of truth. Were we facing a happy, healthy holiday season? Or another battle for Jeff's life?
I wanted so, so badly to hear that Jeff is 100% in remission and is healthy and has kicked cancer's ass. I really did want to hear that.
And, for the most part, that is what we heard. Thank God that Jeff is healthy! The oncologist declared Jeff to be in remission, but, there are still spots visible on the CT scan. They do not appear cancerous, and it is unlikely that these spots are, however the oncologist just is not sure what they are. He says that he does not believe them to be cancer. A needle biopsy is out of the question due to the position of these spots; they are located too close to blood vessels. If a biopsy is to be done it would be invasive surgery removing the mass and a chunk of lung.
So, while we got tremendous news today, is yet one more shade of gray in a world that I so wish was black and white. The poetic justice of the CT scan images is too much, really. It is the white and black that are normal. The gray masses are the unknown, the threats, the unanswered questions.
I am truly thankful that Jeff is healthy and the smile on his face once he heard the news...I haven't seen one like that in months. I cannot say how relieved I am to know that all of his heartache and physical pain from chemotherapy has resulted in his health once again. Yet, I cannot get these masses off of my mind. I know I am in for a long holiday season because I am a drama queen and I worry about everything. Cancer continues to humble me and I continue to learn and grow because of it.
Now we play a waiting game again, and on top of being dramatic I am eternally impatient. In January Jeff returns to the oncologist for another CT scan and more blood work. If the masses are gone, we are totally in the clear. If they are not, we are facing a bone marrow transplant.
Thursday, when we sit down to eat I know I will not be without worry or anxiety, because that is just who I am. But, I will be thankful that my husband is alive. I will be thankful that Malcolm has a father with many years of life and love ahead of him. And I will be thankful to bear witness that God has carried us through this.
My most hated nickname from my family is Drama Queen. I HATE that nickname more than any of the others, and my dad has an affinity for calling me Poopstain so I think that is saying quite a lot. The reason that I hate it is because, well, it's true. And I hate this about myself. I live my life in extremes, in black or white. I am forever disappointed that life is a series of confusing, convoluted, nebulous events rather than concrete absolutes
Today is one of those days where I am just so disgusted by myself and my need for things to be 100% one way or the other. I really do wish that I could change, but time and again I find myself disappointed over unclear or indirect answers.
Today Jeff, Malcolm and I headed to the oncologist for his post chemotherapy CT scan. A little over three hours after arriving at the hospital we arrived at our moment of truth. Were we facing a happy, healthy holiday season? Or another battle for Jeff's life?
I wanted so, so badly to hear that Jeff is 100% in remission and is healthy and has kicked cancer's ass. I really did want to hear that.
And, for the most part, that is what we heard. Thank God that Jeff is healthy! The oncologist declared Jeff to be in remission, but, there are still spots visible on the CT scan. They do not appear cancerous, and it is unlikely that these spots are, however the oncologist just is not sure what they are. He says that he does not believe them to be cancer. A needle biopsy is out of the question due to the position of these spots; they are located too close to blood vessels. If a biopsy is to be done it would be invasive surgery removing the mass and a chunk of lung.
So, while we got tremendous news today, is yet one more shade of gray in a world that I so wish was black and white. The poetic justice of the CT scan images is too much, really. It is the white and black that are normal. The gray masses are the unknown, the threats, the unanswered questions.
I am truly thankful that Jeff is healthy and the smile on his face once he heard the news...I haven't seen one like that in months. I cannot say how relieved I am to know that all of his heartache and physical pain from chemotherapy has resulted in his health once again. Yet, I cannot get these masses off of my mind. I know I am in for a long holiday season because I am a drama queen and I worry about everything. Cancer continues to humble me and I continue to learn and grow because of it.
Now we play a waiting game again, and on top of being dramatic I am eternally impatient. In January Jeff returns to the oncologist for another CT scan and more blood work. If the masses are gone, we are totally in the clear. If they are not, we are facing a bone marrow transplant.
Thursday, when we sit down to eat I know I will not be without worry or anxiety, because that is just who I am. But, I will be thankful that my husband is alive. I will be thankful that Malcolm has a father with many years of life and love ahead of him. And I will be thankful to bear witness that God has carried us through this.
2013/10/11
Win Some, Lose Way More
Mood: defeated
I've always tried to be kind. To live my life in a way that showed compassion for others. To imagine other's lives and try to see things that are kept hidden. One of my very favorite quotes is "be kind to everyone you meet, for everyone is fighting their own battles." I love that quote because it is true. And because sometimes, we all need a gentle reminder of that.
Jeff was admitted to the hospital on Monday night. Tuesday morning Malcolm and I went over to the hospital around 9. Just before 11, I took Malcolm back home, got him lunch and took him to school before stopping to grab some lunch for myself to take back to the hospital. Panera sounded good, so in I went. I ordered behind some well-dressed gentleman and his fiancee, but my order was prepared before theirs. As I stepped forward to grab my bag he turned to this beautiful woman with the perfect hair and makeup and Gucci purse and said, "I'm so tired of people being too lazy to dress themselves."
In another lifetime I would have slunk out of the Panera and berated myself for looking like such a hot mess in my yoga pants and band t-shirt. But not in this lifetime. Instead I turned and looked him directly in the eye and said, "Sir, actually, I just didn't think that I needed to be business casual to go and sit with my husband who is unconscious in the hospital." And then I smiled.
That shut him right up. Which was my intention.
But, it's still bothered me all week. Partly because HOW DARE HE? And, in part, because I did look like a hot damn mess. In college, the one time where it is acceptable to go everywhere in sweats, I didn't. I did not attend a single undergraduate course in anything less than jeans with my hair and makeup done. I was also so self conscious that I would have never been seen without makeup except by my roommates, and only then because it's pretty unavoidable.
The older I get, and the more comfortable I am with myself, the more I realize that I don't need to please everyone. And that trying to do so just ends with me upset and feeling defeated.
The thing is, I already feel defeated this week. It has kicked my ass. I have spent more time in the car than I have sleeping and I am beyond hormonal. I am trying so hard to be the caring spouse, the fun and educational stepmom, the daughter, trying to be a friend. I feel like I haven't done a single one of those roles justice this week. I have failed in every single way I could this week.
Here's the thing though; in the same lifetime that would have found me leaving Panera silently I would spend all weekend beating myself up and hating myself. And sure, I'll probably do some of that. It's just in my nature. But, I will also try again. I'll get some sleep and I'll tend to Jeff. I'll recharge myself so when we get Malcolm back on Sunday night I'm ready to practice handwriting and play with his superheros. I will rise again.
They say cancer is a family disease, and I couldn't agree more. It touches every single aspect of life and affects all interpersonal relationships. It's brutal and it's scary, it's humbling and hard, but it has already taught me how much stronger I am than I think. And that, despite my previous opinion of myself, I AM a fighter. I will be knocked down on my feet 1,000 more times before this is done but guess what? I'll get up 1,001. And that is a beautiful lesson.
To all those who have reached out after my last post, please be patient I promise I have read your messages. And I cannot express my gratitude. This weekend I will be answering messages, this week was just too crazy for anything more than this generic thank you. But there are people who have reached out and touched my heart and I will be forever changed because of the kindness shown to me.
Thank you.
From the bottom of my heart.
Thank you.
If you are able, please consider donating to my husband's fundraiser, or spread the word if you are unable to give financially.
https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/8t73/jeff-lilland-s-testicular-cancer-fund
I've always tried to be kind. To live my life in a way that showed compassion for others. To imagine other's lives and try to see things that are kept hidden. One of my very favorite quotes is "be kind to everyone you meet, for everyone is fighting their own battles." I love that quote because it is true. And because sometimes, we all need a gentle reminder of that.
Jeff was admitted to the hospital on Monday night. Tuesday morning Malcolm and I went over to the hospital around 9. Just before 11, I took Malcolm back home, got him lunch and took him to school before stopping to grab some lunch for myself to take back to the hospital. Panera sounded good, so in I went. I ordered behind some well-dressed gentleman and his fiancee, but my order was prepared before theirs. As I stepped forward to grab my bag he turned to this beautiful woman with the perfect hair and makeup and Gucci purse and said, "I'm so tired of people being too lazy to dress themselves."
In another lifetime I would have slunk out of the Panera and berated myself for looking like such a hot mess in my yoga pants and band t-shirt. But not in this lifetime. Instead I turned and looked him directly in the eye and said, "Sir, actually, I just didn't think that I needed to be business casual to go and sit with my husband who is unconscious in the hospital." And then I smiled.
That shut him right up. Which was my intention.
But, it's still bothered me all week. Partly because HOW DARE HE? And, in part, because I did look like a hot damn mess. In college, the one time where it is acceptable to go everywhere in sweats, I didn't. I did not attend a single undergraduate course in anything less than jeans with my hair and makeup done. I was also so self conscious that I would have never been seen without makeup except by my roommates, and only then because it's pretty unavoidable.
The older I get, and the more comfortable I am with myself, the more I realize that I don't need to please everyone. And that trying to do so just ends with me upset and feeling defeated.
The thing is, I already feel defeated this week. It has kicked my ass. I have spent more time in the car than I have sleeping and I am beyond hormonal. I am trying so hard to be the caring spouse, the fun and educational stepmom, the daughter, trying to be a friend. I feel like I haven't done a single one of those roles justice this week. I have failed in every single way I could this week.
Here's the thing though; in the same lifetime that would have found me leaving Panera silently I would spend all weekend beating myself up and hating myself. And sure, I'll probably do some of that. It's just in my nature. But, I will also try again. I'll get some sleep and I'll tend to Jeff. I'll recharge myself so when we get Malcolm back on Sunday night I'm ready to practice handwriting and play with his superheros. I will rise again.
They say cancer is a family disease, and I couldn't agree more. It touches every single aspect of life and affects all interpersonal relationships. It's brutal and it's scary, it's humbling and hard, but it has already taught me how much stronger I am than I think. And that, despite my previous opinion of myself, I AM a fighter. I will be knocked down on my feet 1,000 more times before this is done but guess what? I'll get up 1,001. And that is a beautiful lesson.
To all those who have reached out after my last post, please be patient I promise I have read your messages. And I cannot express my gratitude. This weekend I will be answering messages, this week was just too crazy for anything more than this generic thank you. But there are people who have reached out and touched my heart and I will be forever changed because of the kindness shown to me.
Thank you.
From the bottom of my heart.
Thank you.
If you are able, please consider donating to my husband's fundraiser, or spread the word if you are unable to give financially.
https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/8t73/jeff-lilland-s-testicular-cancer-fund
2013/10/07
Are You There God? It's Me, Ashley.
Mood: scared, exhausted
When we got the news that Jeff's cancer had returned and that he would need three months of chemotherapy, I made a promise to myself that I was going to blog my way through the experience. And so, I write tonight. Bear with me. I am running on 5 hours of sleep and a day from hell. As I started this post I got angry at myself for not writing more of this journey. But, it occurred to me that we have only gotten through one full 5 day cycle of chemo. He has about 8 more to go. It's been just over a week....
That week has felt like a million years. I'm positive that I have aged at least 20 years.
Jeff has tolerated the chemo fairly well, and at the end of his third day we were actually pretty hopeful that he'd get through this without much discomfort and pain. The end of his third day was two days before my last post. Perhaps we got too excited too quick, or perhaps we were just incredibly naive about what this process really is.
The thing is, you really don't know much about chemo and cancer and IVs and pills until you are forced to know. I've always valued knowledge and learning and books but I find, as I sit here too scared to sleep, crying for my husband, for Malcolm, for myself and the loss of some imaginary sense of innocence, that there really is truth to the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing.
I know now, that cancer and chemo seem to be one step forward and three miles back.
I spent all of last night and this morning trapped in my head and hating myself. I got my period for the first time in a year and I hated that it's more confirmation that I can't have a child and that I was even thinking about given our current situation. I hated how fat I have gotten and that I haven't done a damn thing about it. I hated that I have no "best" friends in Iowa and that I'm too scared to get close enough to people to make any. I hated that sometimes I feel like I have no best friend at all. I hated that my sister is too far away and I haven't spoken to my brother in a year and that my mom could do nothing more than listen to me sob over the phone. I hated that Malcolm saw me cry and that he kissed my stomach to make me feel better and all I could do was cry more.
I hated so, so much today.
Jeff was running a fever all day. I hated watching him try to fight it. I hated that he seemed to be unable to do so.
He has been admitted to the hospital with the fever and a low white blood cell count. And I sit on the couch, alone, crying. And scared. The one thing I did know going into this battle is that it is very rarely cancer that takes a patient. It is an illness or infection that they just can't fight. And I am trying so, so hard to KNOW that Jeff is not going to go due to an illness...but I also told myself he wouldn't get this bad. I told myself the cancer was gone after his surgery in April. I seem adept at lying to myself.
And while I have no idea what will happen later tonight or tomorrow morning or the next day, I do know that I don't hate the fact that Jeff is in the hospital. I don't hate that I can't breath because my throat is so tight from choking on tears. I don't hate that Malcolm left the hospital telling me how much he was going to miss Daddy tonight. I don't hate any of that because I am just so aware of what I do have. I am alive. I have Malcolm to talk to, even if it's sad and scary sometimes. And I have a husband I love that I get to see tomorrow morning. And I have a Pomeranian cuddled on my lap, licking away the salty tears.
I have a great iTunes playlist going. I have a pink glittery cup holding my water. And I have people reading this. This might not get read by many people, I don't know. But if it does, I hope it gives you some hope. Or a bit of happiness. Life is scary. As much as we learn and plan and love and think, so much is out of our control. Sometimes it's important to remember that. And to stop fighting for control for a moment and to just be. And to allow what will happen to happen.
And if God is reading this,
Help.
Sincerely,
Ashley
When we got the news that Jeff's cancer had returned and that he would need three months of chemotherapy, I made a promise to myself that I was going to blog my way through the experience. And so, I write tonight. Bear with me. I am running on 5 hours of sleep and a day from hell. As I started this post I got angry at myself for not writing more of this journey. But, it occurred to me that we have only gotten through one full 5 day cycle of chemo. He has about 8 more to go. It's been just over a week....
That week has felt like a million years. I'm positive that I have aged at least 20 years.
Jeff has tolerated the chemo fairly well, and at the end of his third day we were actually pretty hopeful that he'd get through this without much discomfort and pain. The end of his third day was two days before my last post. Perhaps we got too excited too quick, or perhaps we were just incredibly naive about what this process really is.
The thing is, you really don't know much about chemo and cancer and IVs and pills until you are forced to know. I've always valued knowledge and learning and books but I find, as I sit here too scared to sleep, crying for my husband, for Malcolm, for myself and the loss of some imaginary sense of innocence, that there really is truth to the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing.
I know now, that cancer and chemo seem to be one step forward and three miles back.
I spent all of last night and this morning trapped in my head and hating myself. I got my period for the first time in a year and I hated that it's more confirmation that I can't have a child and that I was even thinking about given our current situation. I hated how fat I have gotten and that I haven't done a damn thing about it. I hated that I have no "best" friends in Iowa and that I'm too scared to get close enough to people to make any. I hated that sometimes I feel like I have no best friend at all. I hated that my sister is too far away and I haven't spoken to my brother in a year and that my mom could do nothing more than listen to me sob over the phone. I hated that Malcolm saw me cry and that he kissed my stomach to make me feel better and all I could do was cry more.
I hated so, so much today.
Jeff was running a fever all day. I hated watching him try to fight it. I hated that he seemed to be unable to do so.
He has been admitted to the hospital with the fever and a low white blood cell count. And I sit on the couch, alone, crying. And scared. The one thing I did know going into this battle is that it is very rarely cancer that takes a patient. It is an illness or infection that they just can't fight. And I am trying so, so hard to KNOW that Jeff is not going to go due to an illness...but I also told myself he wouldn't get this bad. I told myself the cancer was gone after his surgery in April. I seem adept at lying to myself.
And while I have no idea what will happen later tonight or tomorrow morning or the next day, I do know that I don't hate the fact that Jeff is in the hospital. I don't hate that I can't breath because my throat is so tight from choking on tears. I don't hate that Malcolm left the hospital telling me how much he was going to miss Daddy tonight. I don't hate any of that because I am just so aware of what I do have. I am alive. I have Malcolm to talk to, even if it's sad and scary sometimes. And I have a husband I love that I get to see tomorrow morning. And I have a Pomeranian cuddled on my lap, licking away the salty tears.
I have a great iTunes playlist going. I have a pink glittery cup holding my water. And I have people reading this. This might not get read by many people, I don't know. But if it does, I hope it gives you some hope. Or a bit of happiness. Life is scary. As much as we learn and plan and love and think, so much is out of our control. Sometimes it's important to remember that. And to stop fighting for control for a moment and to just be. And to allow what will happen to happen.
And if God is reading this,
Help.
Sincerely,
Ashley
2013/09/29
And it Begins
Mood: scared, sad
On Friday Jeff finished his first week of chemotherapy. We got to the hospital at 5am on Wednesday for his port insertion surgery. We left the hospital at 4pm after his 4.5 hours of chemo. 11 hours at the hospital, no matter how pleasant the staff (they are incredible) or how great it is to have your own room with a bed for the chemo (seriously that is sooooooo nice), sucks. 11 hours at the hospital sucks.
Thursday and Friday were, time wise, much easier. Only about 2.5 hours per day at the hospital and Jeff was able to sleep through the majority of his treatments.
We saw his oncologist on Friday and he gave us some good news; if Jeff hadn't gotten physically ill from the chemo yet, he probably would be spared the violent vomiting.
We got pretty excited as Jeff hates vomiting and historically I have a tendency to be a sympathetic puker. If I don't get sick I spend a few hours feeling nauseous at the very least.
We knew going into the weekend that these days would be when Jeff would most likely be at his most fatigued. And that's been very true. My husband can barely take a 5 minute shower without passing out from exhaustion. He cannot hold the comics he bought in anticipation of a ton of bed rest for more than 3 minutes and can't focus on the words or pictures for that long. He can't sit up. It is so painful to watch as he lies lifeless on the couch, this man who usually has a problem sitting still. It is painful to watch tears fall down his face when he can't hold a toy to play with his son. And it is most painful to be 100% helpless to make him any better. All I can do is watch and take care of him the best I am able.
Today, I managed to sleep in after a sleepless night. I got up, checked on Jeff and drank some coffee. He got in the shower and I thought about going for a walk with Zooey. I decided it would be best to wait and make sure he had everything he might need before I left the house, so I chose to go after he was out of the shower.
He got out and could not walk. He fell to the couch and asked for one of his anti-nausea pills, but it was too late.
As he ran to the bathroom I lost hope once again. I rubbed his back as he got sick and grabbed his special mouthwash, a pill and his Sprite. I massaged his shoulders while he could barely manage to hold his head up as he was sick. And my soul was ripped apart.
That's the thing about cancer. It takes away all happiness and hope at the very sneakiest of times. I knew that we had a long road ahead of us. And I knew that things would likely get worse than they had been this week. But I had faith that Jeff might escape with some shred of dignity. And that I might escape with hope.
Cancer strips the humanity of those who deal directly with the disease. Jeff is reduced to a person that I no longer know. His sense of humor and laugh, his energetic demeanor....they are hidden within, forced to take a backseat to this illness. My outgoing personality has retreated, and now I live in fear. Fear that this disease could win. Fear that Malcolm will have to watch this happen to his daddy and fear that I can do NOTHING to help. I have zero control and power and I am afraid.
I have become, in sorts, a robot. Waking each morning at 1am to check on Jeff and getting up later to take care of Jeff, the dogs and Malcolm. Then we go to chemo and I sit and watch as medicine pours into Jeff, draining him of all the life I am used to.
I know we are far from alone in this, and I am very aware that we are lucky. We have an excellent prognosis and only 3 months of this to deal with. I get that. I think that prior to treatment I told myself how lucky we were and I expected that to help with all of the negative side effects. The fact is, this sucks. While we are lucky, it does not change the fact that Jeff is sick. Very sick. And I cannot help. We are wading out way through this hell and hopefully, we will see a light at the end that helps keep us going.
To those who are offering support, financial, religious, spiritual, physical....whatever....we thank you. From the very bottom of our hearts and souls there is nothing we could do to ever repay the kindness and gratitude we have been shown. The John Stoddard Cancer center is amazing and our families have been a constant source of support in every sense of the word.
As we face the next few months, unsure of what will happen financially or physically, we know we have each other. And that we have an amazing group of family and friends that have reached out to let us know just how loved and cared for we are. Thank you. It seems like hardly enough to say, but it is all we have for now.
I'm watching Jeff sleep now. The dogs are curled on him as if their presence might protect him for future pain and sickness. Zooey sits in my lap, my constant companion. I sit here, praying for hope and some sense of peace, even if it is fleeting. I pray for an answer to our financial situation. And I pray, most of all, for the health of my husband. That he not suffer and that he returns to himself as quickly as possible.
And to my husband, who I am sure will read this when he wakes....Do not feel guilty or badly because you are not able to function as you once could. Do not feel uneasy that you need help and to be taken care of now. We all love you. And we all support you in this fight. And if I could, I would fight this for you. But as I cannot...I will sit by your side and bring you water and pills and rub your back when you are sick. And I will watch you sleep with a smile on my face knowing that one day, we will look back on this and remember just how fortunate we are to have our lives and our health for many, many years to come.
On Friday Jeff finished his first week of chemotherapy. We got to the hospital at 5am on Wednesday for his port insertion surgery. We left the hospital at 4pm after his 4.5 hours of chemo. 11 hours at the hospital, no matter how pleasant the staff (they are incredible) or how great it is to have your own room with a bed for the chemo (seriously that is sooooooo nice), sucks. 11 hours at the hospital sucks.
Thursday and Friday were, time wise, much easier. Only about 2.5 hours per day at the hospital and Jeff was able to sleep through the majority of his treatments.
We saw his oncologist on Friday and he gave us some good news; if Jeff hadn't gotten physically ill from the chemo yet, he probably would be spared the violent vomiting.
We got pretty excited as Jeff hates vomiting and historically I have a tendency to be a sympathetic puker. If I don't get sick I spend a few hours feeling nauseous at the very least.
We knew going into the weekend that these days would be when Jeff would most likely be at his most fatigued. And that's been very true. My husband can barely take a 5 minute shower without passing out from exhaustion. He cannot hold the comics he bought in anticipation of a ton of bed rest for more than 3 minutes and can't focus on the words or pictures for that long. He can't sit up. It is so painful to watch as he lies lifeless on the couch, this man who usually has a problem sitting still. It is painful to watch tears fall down his face when he can't hold a toy to play with his son. And it is most painful to be 100% helpless to make him any better. All I can do is watch and take care of him the best I am able.
Today, I managed to sleep in after a sleepless night. I got up, checked on Jeff and drank some coffee. He got in the shower and I thought about going for a walk with Zooey. I decided it would be best to wait and make sure he had everything he might need before I left the house, so I chose to go after he was out of the shower.
He got out and could not walk. He fell to the couch and asked for one of his anti-nausea pills, but it was too late.
As he ran to the bathroom I lost hope once again. I rubbed his back as he got sick and grabbed his special mouthwash, a pill and his Sprite. I massaged his shoulders while he could barely manage to hold his head up as he was sick. And my soul was ripped apart.
That's the thing about cancer. It takes away all happiness and hope at the very sneakiest of times. I knew that we had a long road ahead of us. And I knew that things would likely get worse than they had been this week. But I had faith that Jeff might escape with some shred of dignity. And that I might escape with hope.
Cancer strips the humanity of those who deal directly with the disease. Jeff is reduced to a person that I no longer know. His sense of humor and laugh, his energetic demeanor....they are hidden within, forced to take a backseat to this illness. My outgoing personality has retreated, and now I live in fear. Fear that this disease could win. Fear that Malcolm will have to watch this happen to his daddy and fear that I can do NOTHING to help. I have zero control and power and I am afraid.
I have become, in sorts, a robot. Waking each morning at 1am to check on Jeff and getting up later to take care of Jeff, the dogs and Malcolm. Then we go to chemo and I sit and watch as medicine pours into Jeff, draining him of all the life I am used to.
I know we are far from alone in this, and I am very aware that we are lucky. We have an excellent prognosis and only 3 months of this to deal with. I get that. I think that prior to treatment I told myself how lucky we were and I expected that to help with all of the negative side effects. The fact is, this sucks. While we are lucky, it does not change the fact that Jeff is sick. Very sick. And I cannot help. We are wading out way through this hell and hopefully, we will see a light at the end that helps keep us going.
To those who are offering support, financial, religious, spiritual, physical....whatever....we thank you. From the very bottom of our hearts and souls there is nothing we could do to ever repay the kindness and gratitude we have been shown. The John Stoddard Cancer center is amazing and our families have been a constant source of support in every sense of the word.
As we face the next few months, unsure of what will happen financially or physically, we know we have each other. And that we have an amazing group of family and friends that have reached out to let us know just how loved and cared for we are. Thank you. It seems like hardly enough to say, but it is all we have for now.
I'm watching Jeff sleep now. The dogs are curled on him as if their presence might protect him for future pain and sickness. Zooey sits in my lap, my constant companion. I sit here, praying for hope and some sense of peace, even if it is fleeting. I pray for an answer to our financial situation. And I pray, most of all, for the health of my husband. That he not suffer and that he returns to himself as quickly as possible.
And to my husband, who I am sure will read this when he wakes....Do not feel guilty or badly because you are not able to function as you once could. Do not feel uneasy that you need help and to be taken care of now. We all love you. And we all support you in this fight. And if I could, I would fight this for you. But as I cannot...I will sit by your side and bring you water and pills and rub your back when you are sick. And I will watch you sleep with a smile on my face knowing that one day, we will look back on this and remember just how fortunate we are to have our lives and our health for many, many years to come.
2013/09/20
Storms
Mood: numb
It's been dark on and off all day and I have been patiently waiting for a thunderstorm.
The timing of the ominous thunder and lighting and dark sky is truly impressive. Really, very poetic. Sixteen minutes ago my husband called me from work. He never calls, we just text all day.
His cancer is back. The mass in his lung is cancerous.
And the heavens have opened up in response.
As I watch the trees whip back and forth and the rain pound the street outside, all I can think is that the current climate inside is what I should feel like on the inside.
But I don't. Where there should be tears, my face is dry. The sobs are not coming, but instead are stuck in my throat. I feel nothing. I want to feel pain or anger or hope, anything. But all I can manage is staring out the window in complete and utter shock. I am sure the tears will come, just as the rain is now. I know I will be angry as I watch my husband fight for his life. But right now, I feel nothing. My hands shake and my heart feels as heavy as the tree braving the storm outside, but I am numb. I am without words. I am without feeling.
I am not, however, without love. I am not without hope.
As Malcolm bounces on the couch next to me the knowledge that we must tell him how sick Daddy is soon weighs heavily upon me. But no, I am not without hope. He will have to watch as his Daddy fights and is sick and ceases to be the Daddy he is used to. But Jeff will recover. And Malcolm will bounce back. They're both resilient.
And I? I will stand with them. I will hold Jeff's hand and stroke his head and drive him to and from the hospital. I will play with Malcolm and get him to and from school and make cupcakes for Jeff's birthday on Saturday.
I will hope. And I will love. And I know that we will all be alright. The storm will pass, just as the one outside will as well. And when it has passed, there will be a rainbow and sunshine and a brighter tomorrow.
(I wrote this last night....update.....today we will go to the oncologist and discuss his treatment. We are all as okay as possible, and Malcolm is still blissfully unaware that there is anything wrong with his Daddy. The storm last night ended up being a small tornado in Ankeny....there are trees uprooted and split directly in two. The cupcakes I made are bright and colorful and cheerful and today we will all enjoy one together and celebrate Jeff's birthday. And next year, when I make Jeff birthday cupcakes again, we will celebrate the bravery, strength and courgae of Jeff and this small family in the face of cancer.)
It's been dark on and off all day and I have been patiently waiting for a thunderstorm.
The timing of the ominous thunder and lighting and dark sky is truly impressive. Really, very poetic. Sixteen minutes ago my husband called me from work. He never calls, we just text all day.
His cancer is back. The mass in his lung is cancerous.
And the heavens have opened up in response.
As I watch the trees whip back and forth and the rain pound the street outside, all I can think is that the current climate inside is what I should feel like on the inside.
But I don't. Where there should be tears, my face is dry. The sobs are not coming, but instead are stuck in my throat. I feel nothing. I want to feel pain or anger or hope, anything. But all I can manage is staring out the window in complete and utter shock. I am sure the tears will come, just as the rain is now. I know I will be angry as I watch my husband fight for his life. But right now, I feel nothing. My hands shake and my heart feels as heavy as the tree braving the storm outside, but I am numb. I am without words. I am without feeling.
I am not, however, without love. I am not without hope.
As Malcolm bounces on the couch next to me the knowledge that we must tell him how sick Daddy is soon weighs heavily upon me. But no, I am not without hope. He will have to watch as his Daddy fights and is sick and ceases to be the Daddy he is used to. But Jeff will recover. And Malcolm will bounce back. They're both resilient.
And I? I will stand with them. I will hold Jeff's hand and stroke his head and drive him to and from the hospital. I will play with Malcolm and get him to and from school and make cupcakes for Jeff's birthday on Saturday.
I will hope. And I will love. And I know that we will all be alright. The storm will pass, just as the one outside will as well. And when it has passed, there will be a rainbow and sunshine and a brighter tomorrow.
(I wrote this last night....update.....today we will go to the oncologist and discuss his treatment. We are all as okay as possible, and Malcolm is still blissfully unaware that there is anything wrong with his Daddy. The storm last night ended up being a small tornado in Ankeny....there are trees uprooted and split directly in two. The cupcakes I made are bright and colorful and cheerful and today we will all enjoy one together and celebrate Jeff's birthday. And next year, when I make Jeff birthday cupcakes again, we will celebrate the bravery, strength and courgae of Jeff and this small family in the face of cancer.)
2013/09/16
To My Husband, on the Eve of our Anniversary
Mood: thankful, in love
Dear Jeff -
Tonight, we sit in anticipation of the anniversary of our wedding day. Two years ago, we stood for a chilly run-through of our wedding. As my dad and I made our way to the spot where we were to say "I do," I remember him making me laugh because I was so afraid I would cry. While I was a girl that planned a million weddings, I'm not sure I ever truly saw myself as a bride. And in that moment, in my sweater and Uggs as we practiced the walk that would make me your wife, I felt happier and more beautiful than I can remember. Surrounded by family and friends, Malcolm running all over the place and screaming happily into the microphone, that night in totality was one of the best nights of my entire life.
As we laid in bed, too excited to sleep, I remember wishing that this feeling would never end. The excitment, the happy anxiety.
And today, the night before the 2nd anniversary of our wedding, it has faded. All things do. And it is currently replaced with a terrifying anxiety. Tomorrow we will go to a procedure that will give us answers as to the status of your health. I cannot hold your hand through it, but know I will be with you throughout. Tonight, I want you to know that I never imagined marriage would be like this. I knew it would be work and I knew not everything can be happy and sunshine.
We've had our share of horrendous fights and moments that made me fear for our future. And we've fought a battle for your health together. I never in a million years would have guessed that before we made it to our two year anniversary, we would be facing a cancer battle.
But we did. And if cancer is what we're looking at once more, we'll fight it together. I do not have any magic words that will make you less anxious or that make tongight less scary or painful. But I do have a hand for you to hold and a shoulder for you to cry on and a lap where you can rest your head when you are tired. Know that I love you, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
ySo, Yes, the magic of our wedding has faded. The flowers are long dead, the candles melted to nothingness and the dress hanging usless in a closet. And while we don't get to drink from our beautiful, Swaroski crystal flutes on our second anniversary since you will barely be in any shape to move, there is no place I would rather be than supporting you through this.
I love you. You have been a constant source of support and I hope that you think the same of me. I know our marriage isn't what either of us expected, maybe not even what we wanted. But it's what we have and we work together each day to make it better. We grow stronger and I love you more each day.
So tonight, as we wait with anxiety high and Malcolm plays, know I am thinking of all that has lead up to this moment. And that even during our darkest days, there is no one else I would rather wake up with tomorrow. Even when tomorrow means treaking to the hospital for a 5 hour wait as you undergo a procedure that determines your fate. I love you.
Your wife,
Ashley
Tonight, we sit in anticipation of the anniversary of our wedding day. Two years ago, we stood for a chilly run-through of our wedding. As my dad and I made our way to the spot where we were to say "I do," I remember him making me laugh because I was so afraid I would cry. While I was a girl that planned a million weddings, I'm not sure I ever truly saw myself as a bride. And in that moment, in my sweater and Uggs as we practiced the walk that would make me your wife, I felt happier and more beautiful than I can remember. Surrounded by family and friends, Malcolm running all over the place and screaming happily into the microphone, that night in totality was one of the best nights of my entire life.
As we laid in bed, too excited to sleep, I remember wishing that this feeling would never end. The excitment, the happy anxiety.
And today, the night before the 2nd anniversary of our wedding, it has faded. All things do. And it is currently replaced with a terrifying anxiety. Tomorrow we will go to a procedure that will give us answers as to the status of your health. I cannot hold your hand through it, but know I will be with you throughout. Tonight, I want you to know that I never imagined marriage would be like this. I knew it would be work and I knew not everything can be happy and sunshine.
We've had our share of horrendous fights and moments that made me fear for our future. And we've fought a battle for your health together. I never in a million years would have guessed that before we made it to our two year anniversary, we would be facing a cancer battle.
But we did. And if cancer is what we're looking at once more, we'll fight it together. I do not have any magic words that will make you less anxious or that make tongight less scary or painful. But I do have a hand for you to hold and a shoulder for you to cry on and a lap where you can rest your head when you are tired. Know that I love you, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
ySo, Yes, the magic of our wedding has faded. The flowers are long dead, the candles melted to nothingness and the dress hanging usless in a closet. And while we don't get to drink from our beautiful, Swaroski crystal flutes on our second anniversary since you will barely be in any shape to move, there is no place I would rather be than supporting you through this.
I love you. You have been a constant source of support and I hope that you think the same of me. I know our marriage isn't what either of us expected, maybe not even what we wanted. But it's what we have and we work together each day to make it better. We grow stronger and I love you more each day.
So tonight, as we wait with anxiety high and Malcolm plays, know I am thinking of all that has lead up to this moment. And that even during our darkest days, there is no one else I would rather wake up with tomorrow. Even when tomorrow means treaking to the hospital for a 5 hour wait as you undergo a procedure that determines your fate. I love you.
Your wife,
Ashley
2013/09/13
The Day of No Complaining
Mood: thankful
Okay guys. Here's the deal. I spend way too much time on Pinterest. Seriously. It's probably not healthy. I currently work writing keyword content articles which requires me to spend a good chunk of my day in front of the computer, clicking between research and writing tabs. And, of course, Pinterest.
So this morning before I started writing I spent some time browsing looking for nail art I'll never be able to recreate, hairstyles I can't pull off and outfits that look good only on skinny, fit women. I'm seriously addicted, you guys. But I also love looking at the quotes and humor sections just for little pick me ups. Today I happened upon a pin that essentially said:
SPEND ONE DAY NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT A THING AND WATCH YOUR LIFE IMPROVE
I liked it and moved on with my day. Opened my writing tabs, started researching articles on Las Vegas. And yet this pin stuck with me. As I was reading about the luxurious hotels and spa amenities I started to think, ugh...why do I have to write an article about how to score deals on these awesome hotels when Jeff and I won't be able to take a vacation for...um....25 years or so. Maybe then we'll have enough money for a vacation.
And then I got kinda salty. I mean, our 2 year anniversary is on Tuesday. Our plan was to do what we did last year, spend a night in Omaha eating the best sushi ever and hanging out at the lounge where we very first discussed getting married. But. Um. This year. We'll be spending our anniversary in a hospital. And the weekend recovering.
I started to get annoyed and I took a break from research for a minute. As I tabbed to Pinterest I thought about the pin I had read and my mood instantly changed.
And I made myself a promise. I am going to spend all day without complaining one, single time. And then, I'm going to do it again tomorrow. And the next day.
I complain a lot. And I think I probably do it more than I'm aware because I complain all day about really little things. I have a headache, the dogs are annoying, I can't find anything to eat (which really means there's plenty but I don't feel like making anything...) and the list goes on. And over the course of the day that wears on me. And it's got to wear on Jeff who hears it all day.
So today, on Friday the 13th of September 2013 I am going to spend a full day not complaining about a thing. Nothing. Instead I'm going to keep my mouth shut if I have something negative to say and think positive thoughts when I start to feel annoyed or scared or anxious.
Jeff and I are in a very scary place now. Physically as we worry about Jeff's health and financially as Jeff works incredibly hard to keep the family afloat. But focusing on that only paralyzes me. It makes me unable to concentrate on the good that is in my life. It stops me from being able to write and earn money and it stops me from enjoying the happy moments that occur each day.
And even though everything outside of me says right now, things just SUCK for Jeff and I, internally I feel completely calm and at peace. And rather than freak out about that calm, I'm going to embrace it. I'm going to laugh with Jeff and watch horrendously crappy TV all weekend as I write. I'm going to make inappropriate jokes with him and eat supper with him and kiss him and remember that there is so, so much good in our lives. We love each other. We support each other. We have an amazing son who learns new things every single day and loves everything about his life. I'm taking a page from his book and stopping to wonder at things and smile and laugh.
And I'm not complaining. I'm going to just spend at least this one day free from the negativity in my own head. And hopefully, that does improve my outlook. And thus our lives.
Okay guys. Here's the deal. I spend way too much time on Pinterest. Seriously. It's probably not healthy. I currently work writing keyword content articles which requires me to spend a good chunk of my day in front of the computer, clicking between research and writing tabs. And, of course, Pinterest.
So this morning before I started writing I spent some time browsing looking for nail art I'll never be able to recreate, hairstyles I can't pull off and outfits that look good only on skinny, fit women. I'm seriously addicted, you guys. But I also love looking at the quotes and humor sections just for little pick me ups. Today I happened upon a pin that essentially said:
SPEND ONE DAY NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT A THING AND WATCH YOUR LIFE IMPROVE
I liked it and moved on with my day. Opened my writing tabs, started researching articles on Las Vegas. And yet this pin stuck with me. As I was reading about the luxurious hotels and spa amenities I started to think, ugh...why do I have to write an article about how to score deals on these awesome hotels when Jeff and I won't be able to take a vacation for...um....25 years or so. Maybe then we'll have enough money for a vacation.
And then I got kinda salty. I mean, our 2 year anniversary is on Tuesday. Our plan was to do what we did last year, spend a night in Omaha eating the best sushi ever and hanging out at the lounge where we very first discussed getting married. But. Um. This year. We'll be spending our anniversary in a hospital. And the weekend recovering.
I started to get annoyed and I took a break from research for a minute. As I tabbed to Pinterest I thought about the pin I had read and my mood instantly changed.
And I made myself a promise. I am going to spend all day without complaining one, single time. And then, I'm going to do it again tomorrow. And the next day.
I complain a lot. And I think I probably do it more than I'm aware because I complain all day about really little things. I have a headache, the dogs are annoying, I can't find anything to eat (which really means there's plenty but I don't feel like making anything...) and the list goes on. And over the course of the day that wears on me. And it's got to wear on Jeff who hears it all day.
So today, on Friday the 13th of September 2013 I am going to spend a full day not complaining about a thing. Nothing. Instead I'm going to keep my mouth shut if I have something negative to say and think positive thoughts when I start to feel annoyed or scared or anxious.
Jeff and I are in a very scary place now. Physically as we worry about Jeff's health and financially as Jeff works incredibly hard to keep the family afloat. But focusing on that only paralyzes me. It makes me unable to concentrate on the good that is in my life. It stops me from being able to write and earn money and it stops me from enjoying the happy moments that occur each day.
And even though everything outside of me says right now, things just SUCK for Jeff and I, internally I feel completely calm and at peace. And rather than freak out about that calm, I'm going to embrace it. I'm going to laugh with Jeff and watch horrendously crappy TV all weekend as I write. I'm going to make inappropriate jokes with him and eat supper with him and kiss him and remember that there is so, so much good in our lives. We love each other. We support each other. We have an amazing son who learns new things every single day and loves everything about his life. I'm taking a page from his book and stopping to wonder at things and smile and laugh.
And I'm not complaining. I'm going to just spend at least this one day free from the negativity in my own head. And hopefully, that does improve my outlook. And thus our lives.
2013/09/09
Cancer: A Lesson in Humility
Mood: humbled
This post has taken me nearly two weeks to write. So bear with me....
I don't know who reads this blog, I suspect my parents. My sister. Maybe my brother. Close friends from the east coast. A few co-workers from Iowa. Other than that, I have no idea. Many of you probably already know then, that my husband Jeff had a brief battle with testicular cancer in April. We got the all clear and he's been having two month check-ups.
His last one was August 30.
I hate going to the cancer center at the hospital. I hate that we have to go. I hate dragging Malcolm along as he sings and chatters and Jeff and clutch to what little sanity we have left before the appointment. I hate the waiting room.
Last time we walked in, sat down and within two minutes watched a woman have a complete breakdown as she left the office. I've never heard wailing and sobbing so loudly in public before. And it's not at all that I was uncomfortable, but I was completely helpless. I don't know what prompted her tears and it really is irrelevant. I wanted to hug her, to tell her she mattered, to do anything that might momentarily relieve the pain in her heart. All I could do was wipe my own eyes and focus on Malcolm reading the story he had picked up from the front of the office. Jeff and I caught each other's eyes and the heartbreak I felt was mirrored.
To get to the office that Jeff's oncologist is in we have to walk past a pediatric cancer office. The first few times we went it was empty. The last two times we've gone, there have been children, younger than Malcolm, and mothers waiting. Each time we walked past that office or we left the cancer center with only a two month check-up appointment and a bill of all clear I realized how immensely lucky we were/are. Sure, we got the news that Jeff did have cancer at this office, but it was out of his body by the time we needed the oncologist. And at least our child was accompanying us because we didn't have a babysitter and not because he needed an appointment.
With each time that we left I got a little more confidence. It was a little easier. We didn't hear bad news. We weren't taking Malcolm. Maybe, just maybe, one brief battle was all we had to endure and we were now impervious to bad news and the devastation that is cancer. After all, Jeff is in his early 30s. I have yet to hit 30. Malcolm is only 4.
That's the thing about cancer, though. It doesn't care how old you are or who you are or where you're from or what you've done. Cancer attacks without rhyme or reason. And that, is a humbling lesson to learn. You grow up knowing of the horror stories or watching them play out. The first funeral I remember attending was for a very good friend in high school who died at the age of 15 after a horrendous battle with leukemia. My grandfather battled cancer for a large part of my adult life. But, you know, it just doesn't happen to you.
Until it does.
On August 30th we found out that there is a mass in Jeff's lung. Testicular cancer typically reappears in the back, according to the oncologist. That doesn't mean it can't come back in the lungs. So, now we wait for his biopsy. I really don't have coherent thoughts on what is happening now. Except that it sucks. And it's scary. And I hate it. And, I know better than to expect that nothing is wrong because I've learned this year, if nothing else, that nobody is immune to anything. Cancer sucks.
And it can happen to those you love the very most. Those that you've pledged to spend the rest of your life with....and only had 2 years with. It happens. And it sucks.
As we wait, I guess I'll try and keep calm. And laugh as much as possible. And enjoy every second of health that Jeff has at the moment. If the mass is cancerous he's looking at a three month round of chemo. So. I'll take deep breaths when I need to and cry when I have to and laugh every second that I can. And I'll remember above all else to count every blessing I have instead of focusing on what is going wrong. Because positivity matters.
This post has taken me nearly two weeks to write. So bear with me....
I don't know who reads this blog, I suspect my parents. My sister. Maybe my brother. Close friends from the east coast. A few co-workers from Iowa. Other than that, I have no idea. Many of you probably already know then, that my husband Jeff had a brief battle with testicular cancer in April. We got the all clear and he's been having two month check-ups.
His last one was August 30.
I hate going to the cancer center at the hospital. I hate that we have to go. I hate dragging Malcolm along as he sings and chatters and Jeff and clutch to what little sanity we have left before the appointment. I hate the waiting room.
Last time we walked in, sat down and within two minutes watched a woman have a complete breakdown as she left the office. I've never heard wailing and sobbing so loudly in public before. And it's not at all that I was uncomfortable, but I was completely helpless. I don't know what prompted her tears and it really is irrelevant. I wanted to hug her, to tell her she mattered, to do anything that might momentarily relieve the pain in her heart. All I could do was wipe my own eyes and focus on Malcolm reading the story he had picked up from the front of the office. Jeff and I caught each other's eyes and the heartbreak I felt was mirrored.
To get to the office that Jeff's oncologist is in we have to walk past a pediatric cancer office. The first few times we went it was empty. The last two times we've gone, there have been children, younger than Malcolm, and mothers waiting. Each time we walked past that office or we left the cancer center with only a two month check-up appointment and a bill of all clear I realized how immensely lucky we were/are. Sure, we got the news that Jeff did have cancer at this office, but it was out of his body by the time we needed the oncologist. And at least our child was accompanying us because we didn't have a babysitter and not because he needed an appointment.
With each time that we left I got a little more confidence. It was a little easier. We didn't hear bad news. We weren't taking Malcolm. Maybe, just maybe, one brief battle was all we had to endure and we were now impervious to bad news and the devastation that is cancer. After all, Jeff is in his early 30s. I have yet to hit 30. Malcolm is only 4.
That's the thing about cancer, though. It doesn't care how old you are or who you are or where you're from or what you've done. Cancer attacks without rhyme or reason. And that, is a humbling lesson to learn. You grow up knowing of the horror stories or watching them play out. The first funeral I remember attending was for a very good friend in high school who died at the age of 15 after a horrendous battle with leukemia. My grandfather battled cancer for a large part of my adult life. But, you know, it just doesn't happen to you.
Until it does.
On August 30th we found out that there is a mass in Jeff's lung. Testicular cancer typically reappears in the back, according to the oncologist. That doesn't mean it can't come back in the lungs. So, now we wait for his biopsy. I really don't have coherent thoughts on what is happening now. Except that it sucks. And it's scary. And I hate it. And, I know better than to expect that nothing is wrong because I've learned this year, if nothing else, that nobody is immune to anything. Cancer sucks.
And it can happen to those you love the very most. Those that you've pledged to spend the rest of your life with....and only had 2 years with. It happens. And it sucks.
As we wait, I guess I'll try and keep calm. And laugh as much as possible. And enjoy every second of health that Jeff has at the moment. If the mass is cancerous he's looking at a three month round of chemo. So. I'll take deep breaths when I need to and cry when I have to and laugh every second that I can. And I'll remember above all else to count every blessing I have instead of focusing on what is going wrong. Because positivity matters.
2012/12/26
I Survived Christmas...and the Apocalypse
Mood: hopeful, excited
Well readers, I survived Christmas. And if you're reading this you have also come out alive. To be honest this year was my best Christmas ever. Jeff and Malcolm and I were all supposed to make the trek to Pennsylvania to be with my family for Christmas but we stayed in Iowa instead. Jeff got a new job (YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY) in November and we didn't feel comfortable requesting vacation time that quickly.
So another Christmas in Iowa for me. It was spectacular though. First, even though I miss my family like crazy, I know my parents will agree that not having to travel during the holidays is truly a blessing in itself. Not having to haul Malcolm and his gazillion toys to the east coast and then haul a gazillion and 10 toys back home was quite a relief. Secondly, the amount of time it takes to travel seriously cuts into actually celebrating the holidays. If Jeff and Malcolm and I drive we are looking at 2 days to PA and 2 days back to IA. If we fly then it's 2 days of being at airports and driving. Not a bad deal, but still 2 days that we don't get to spend with friends or family or enjoying the holidays.
Lastly, this is Jeff and I's first Christmas with Malcolm as a married couple. Essentially it was our first Christmas as a family, as last year we celebrated a week later. Sure it's just a day to Malcolm who isn't 4 yet...but it does hold weight for me.
So once the end of the world came and went I started preparing for Christmas 2012...Lilland style. I've never made sugar cookies from scratch before but since Jeff can't have any dairy I had to figure it out. Not so hard...and about 6 dozen cookies later I think I did pretty well. We wrapped gifts, wrote cards, and decided which cookies to leave out for Santa. Jeff and I sat together on Christmas Eve after family members departed for the evening and did nothing. It was perfect.
I woke up before Malcolm or Jeff on Christmas, and the kind of excitement I remember feeling as a kid was present. The pit of your stomach excitement where you can't wait to get started with the day. Trust me, I like to kill as much time in bed under warm covers as possible in the morning, but I couldn't wait to hop out of bed and enjoy the morning. We got Malcolm up and did just that.
The joy of watching a child on Christmas morning is so unlike anything that I have ever experienced. It was the first time in my whole life (I'm sad to admit this) that I truly didn't care at all if there was a single present for me. All I wanted was to watch Malcolm smile and fist pump with joy and continue to say "YESSSSSSSSS" forever. Last year he was still young enough that unwrapping wasn't that fun for him. This year? Oh, he loves it. We opened presents, played with presents, and my mother in law made fresh cinnamon rolls. The only thing that could have made it more perfect would have been to have my family sitting in the same room. Alas, life isn't perfect.
Now that I've survived Christmas I'm finding myself with a renewed joy. With a happier spirit. I'm still working on becoming who I want to be...but I have a better idea. I want to be a better person, for Malcolm. And I think I have a few ideas as to how to better myself.
I pray you all came through the holidays with a spirit of laughter and love. And probably some awesome presents. And if this year sucked, next year will be better! Plus, you survived the end of the world with flying colors so not everything is terrible!
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Well readers, I survived Christmas. And if you're reading this you have also come out alive. To be honest this year was my best Christmas ever. Jeff and Malcolm and I were all supposed to make the trek to Pennsylvania to be with my family for Christmas but we stayed in Iowa instead. Jeff got a new job (YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY) in November and we didn't feel comfortable requesting vacation time that quickly.
So another Christmas in Iowa for me. It was spectacular though. First, even though I miss my family like crazy, I know my parents will agree that not having to travel during the holidays is truly a blessing in itself. Not having to haul Malcolm and his gazillion toys to the east coast and then haul a gazillion and 10 toys back home was quite a relief. Secondly, the amount of time it takes to travel seriously cuts into actually celebrating the holidays. If Jeff and Malcolm and I drive we are looking at 2 days to PA and 2 days back to IA. If we fly then it's 2 days of being at airports and driving. Not a bad deal, but still 2 days that we don't get to spend with friends or family or enjoying the holidays.
Lastly, this is Jeff and I's first Christmas with Malcolm as a married couple. Essentially it was our first Christmas as a family, as last year we celebrated a week later. Sure it's just a day to Malcolm who isn't 4 yet...but it does hold weight for me.
So once the end of the world came and went I started preparing for Christmas 2012...Lilland style. I've never made sugar cookies from scratch before but since Jeff can't have any dairy I had to figure it out. Not so hard...and about 6 dozen cookies later I think I did pretty well. We wrapped gifts, wrote cards, and decided which cookies to leave out for Santa. Jeff and I sat together on Christmas Eve after family members departed for the evening and did nothing. It was perfect.
I woke up before Malcolm or Jeff on Christmas, and the kind of excitement I remember feeling as a kid was present. The pit of your stomach excitement where you can't wait to get started with the day. Trust me, I like to kill as much time in bed under warm covers as possible in the morning, but I couldn't wait to hop out of bed and enjoy the morning. We got Malcolm up and did just that.
The joy of watching a child on Christmas morning is so unlike anything that I have ever experienced. It was the first time in my whole life (I'm sad to admit this) that I truly didn't care at all if there was a single present for me. All I wanted was to watch Malcolm smile and fist pump with joy and continue to say "YESSSSSSSSS" forever. Last year he was still young enough that unwrapping wasn't that fun for him. This year? Oh, he loves it. We opened presents, played with presents, and my mother in law made fresh cinnamon rolls. The only thing that could have made it more perfect would have been to have my family sitting in the same room. Alas, life isn't perfect.
Now that I've survived Christmas I'm finding myself with a renewed joy. With a happier spirit. I'm still working on becoming who I want to be...but I have a better idea. I want to be a better person, for Malcolm. And I think I have a few ideas as to how to better myself.
I pray you all came through the holidays with a spirit of laughter and love. And probably some awesome presents. And if this year sucked, next year will be better! Plus, you survived the end of the world with flying colors so not everything is terrible!
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2012/09/17
I (still) Do
Mood: blessed
Jeff -
One year ago I walked down the aisle to your smiling face. I was so sure I would cry. As I stood listening to our prelude music and my father gave me my "something old"
Jeff -
One year ago I walked down the aisle to your smiling face. I was so sure I would cry. As I stood listening to our prelude music and my father gave me my "something old"
(the "it's a girl pin" they received and my hospital bracelet from the day I was born)
I sobbed. I honestly was unsure whether I would even be able to use a steady voice. As I heard "Here Comes My Girl" finish I felt so....right and at peace that I glanced at my dad, saw him smile, and couldn't wait to see your face. I saw you smile, saw Malcolm look at me....and I knew in that instant that my life was forever changed for the better.
I knew on our second date that you were the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Your passion, humor, responsibility, and smile are just a few of the things that cemented this realization.
So here is a brief history of us in photos:
third date...and first picture of us EVER
seconds after getting engaged.
our engagement photography session
mr. and mrs.
annnnnnnnnnnnd.....
me...just a few seconds ago
One year ago today I felt like a princess. And I married you, my prince. We sipped champagne from my dream Swarovski crystal flutes and I danced with you in a beautiful dress as you smiled. Tonight, I'm wearing yoga pants. I have on a t-shirt, no makeup, and glasses. Yet, as we sipped champagne and ate a piece of our wedding cake...I feel the exact same way that I did one year ago today. Like a princess, with you as my prince.
I still have butterflies in my stomach when I think of you. My face still lights up when somebody says your name or you enter a room. So, Jeff, I STILL do. I still promise every single thing that I vowed to keep close to my heart at our wedding...and tonight I promise even more.
We've talked about the common wisdom that the first year of marriage is the hardest. We haven't had the easiest of times every single day, but I find it hard to believe that marriage only gets easier. Because regardless of the fight, the words, the hurt feelings...it's always temporary. And I cannot imagine a life that you are not a part of.
Jeff, I STILL do. I still cannot believe how lucky I am to fall asleep next to you every single night and wake up to you every morning. I thank God each day that you are the one who loves watching stupid tv shows and youtube videos with me. I am thrilled that it's your hand that holds me when I cry, and your voice that soothes me.
I know that life won't always be easy. I know that marriage requires a life of hard and constant work, and sometimes I slack off. But I also know that there is something magical about us, and that you make me want to be a woman that I only dreamed of being before meeting you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for inspiring me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for making me feel like a princess, even when I'm wearing yoga pants. I love you.
2012/09/02
Oh, Baby
Mood: anxious, happy
This may be the most personal post that I have authored to date. It's been a long month being away from the blog. I've wanted to write, but I haven't been able to sit down and write anything coherent. The truth is, I find it hard to write about one thing when in reality I'm thinking about something else. For the past month there has been one thing on my mind and in my heart: babies.
I think it's pretty normal after you've been married for a bit to assume that people are going to ask "soooooo, when are you two having kids?" This question seems to come up a lot. I don't have an answer to it. I wish more than anything in this world that I did, but I just don't.
Anyway. I've been avoiding blogging about having a baby for a whole month. I can't any longer. There is nothing on TV this afternoon and Malcolm is down for a nap. Jeff and I have a thing for Discovery Fit and Health so I flipped to that. On Discovery Fit and Health right now (literally as I type) is a show titled Bio Moms. Naturally I decide to watch. And I was doing fine with the whole show until a birth scene. No, there was nothing ewwwie or gross (since I can be rather squeamis)...it was just utterly heartbreaking.
I can't imagine placing a baby up for adoption and yet that is not why I found my eyes brimming with tears. Rather, my stomach knotted up in pain for the adoptive mother. She was in the birthing suite with the bio mom and as the bio mom screamed in pain, the adoptive mother wept. And I want to cry for her, with her.
Let me state very plainly that I do not want to diminish the role of the birth mother. I do not want to appear callous to the pain that she is suffering, both physical and emotional. But I identify with the adoptive mother. Why? Because that could be me.
Without discussing the level of trying Jeff and I are or are not engaged in....there is a possibility that I may never be a birth mother. I've known this since my sixteenth birthday. Seriously, that's when the OB broke the news to me (uhhh crappy present Dr. H). And at that point in my life it didn't matter. I was 16, I had no boyfriend or sex life...or even the desire to be a mother. I have always been a girly girl (to the extreme) but I never really imagined myself as mother. I played teacher, but I don't remember extensive games of "mother." I liked my American Girl doll because she was pretty and I could change her outfits more than for the fact that I could pretend to be her mommy. So when, at 16, I learned this about myself...it seemed inconsequential.
However, it affected me more than I was willing to admit. I have lived my adult life as if there was an expiration date on my foot regarding my fertility. The age of expiration has come and gone. And now, happily married, I find myself succumbing to the external pressure to have a child. That's out of my control, I know...and I am trying to stay positive. But as that adoptive mother shook with sobs...something in me broke.
Having, or not having a child is such a personal thing. Thus I have stayed away from the topic on this blog as much as possible. But everyday in some form I encounter this question. And the conversation is pretty much always the same.
"So, when are you guys having a child?"
"Oh, we are just adjusting to married life...hopefully some day"
"Well, are you thinking about it" and then there is generally a comment such as "well you know, you're almost 30 and...."
I know that this is never meant as criticism. Nor do people realize that there may be a reason as to why a couple is not having children. These things are so intensely private, especially for one struggling with the knowledge that this conversation may end one day in me having to say "We aren't having a child because I can't."
As I watched this woman...who was unable to conceive...go through this I could not shake the feeling of defeat. To have to stand there watching someone go through labor that they view as an annoyance (the bio mom stated this) when you would have given anything in the world to be the one in that bed....it just broke my heart. Sure there is more to being a mother than carrying and giving birth to a child, but what a distinct honor and blessing it is to be able to do so.
Again, without discussing anything about Jeff and I and where we are...I haven't given up hope that one day when the time is right we will have a child. Until then, I have to continue to believe that we are where we are supposed to be.
This may be the most personal post that I have authored to date. It's been a long month being away from the blog. I've wanted to write, but I haven't been able to sit down and write anything coherent. The truth is, I find it hard to write about one thing when in reality I'm thinking about something else. For the past month there has been one thing on my mind and in my heart: babies.
I think it's pretty normal after you've been married for a bit to assume that people are going to ask "soooooo, when are you two having kids?" This question seems to come up a lot. I don't have an answer to it. I wish more than anything in this world that I did, but I just don't.
Anyway. I've been avoiding blogging about having a baby for a whole month. I can't any longer. There is nothing on TV this afternoon and Malcolm is down for a nap. Jeff and I have a thing for Discovery Fit and Health so I flipped to that. On Discovery Fit and Health right now (literally as I type) is a show titled Bio Moms. Naturally I decide to watch. And I was doing fine with the whole show until a birth scene. No, there was nothing ewwwie or gross (since I can be rather squeamis)...it was just utterly heartbreaking.
I can't imagine placing a baby up for adoption and yet that is not why I found my eyes brimming with tears. Rather, my stomach knotted up in pain for the adoptive mother. She was in the birthing suite with the bio mom and as the bio mom screamed in pain, the adoptive mother wept. And I want to cry for her, with her.
Let me state very plainly that I do not want to diminish the role of the birth mother. I do not want to appear callous to the pain that she is suffering, both physical and emotional. But I identify with the adoptive mother. Why? Because that could be me.
Without discussing the level of trying Jeff and I are or are not engaged in....there is a possibility that I may never be a birth mother. I've known this since my sixteenth birthday. Seriously, that's when the OB broke the news to me (uhhh crappy present Dr. H). And at that point in my life it didn't matter. I was 16, I had no boyfriend or sex life...or even the desire to be a mother. I have always been a girly girl (to the extreme) but I never really imagined myself as mother. I played teacher, but I don't remember extensive games of "mother." I liked my American Girl doll because she was pretty and I could change her outfits more than for the fact that I could pretend to be her mommy. So when, at 16, I learned this about myself...it seemed inconsequential.
However, it affected me more than I was willing to admit. I have lived my adult life as if there was an expiration date on my foot regarding my fertility. The age of expiration has come and gone. And now, happily married, I find myself succumbing to the external pressure to have a child. That's out of my control, I know...and I am trying to stay positive. But as that adoptive mother shook with sobs...something in me broke.
Having, or not having a child is such a personal thing. Thus I have stayed away from the topic on this blog as much as possible. But everyday in some form I encounter this question. And the conversation is pretty much always the same.
"So, when are you guys having a child?"
"Oh, we are just adjusting to married life...hopefully some day"
"Well, are you thinking about it" and then there is generally a comment such as "well you know, you're almost 30 and...."
I know that this is never meant as criticism. Nor do people realize that there may be a reason as to why a couple is not having children. These things are so intensely private, especially for one struggling with the knowledge that this conversation may end one day in me having to say "We aren't having a child because I can't."
As I watched this woman...who was unable to conceive...go through this I could not shake the feeling of defeat. To have to stand there watching someone go through labor that they view as an annoyance (the bio mom stated this) when you would have given anything in the world to be the one in that bed....it just broke my heart. Sure there is more to being a mother than carrying and giving birth to a child, but what a distinct honor and blessing it is to be able to do so.
Again, without discussing anything about Jeff and I and where we are...I haven't given up hope that one day when the time is right we will have a child. Until then, I have to continue to believe that we are where we are supposed to be.
2011/09/09
The Perfection of Imperfection
Mood: it's Friday, Friday...
As you are aware, I am getting married. The wedding is now 8 days away. Right now I'm sitting next to the fiance...talking about how insane this all is...and thinking about all the stuff that needs to be finished in 8 days. Well....7 really. Okay....6 to be perfectly honest. Day 7 is head to the venue and set everything up day.
Since I am currently without a job, I've been doing wedding work during the day. As Jeff usually keeps me company while I'm doing work...it gets kinda lonely when it's just me. So while he and I text I turn on the tv. And I find Bridezillas to be the most motivating wedding show to watch while I'm doing fun and crafty things for the wedding. Though, to be fair, My Big Redneck Wedding is a close second.
Watching the show makes me proud of how very unBridezilla-ish I am. And have been. This morning Jeff was telling me that when he went and purchased my wedding gift the people in the store asked if I was freaking out yet. I'm not. Which he told them.
People keep asking me the same thing. I'm aware that marriage is a HUGE commitment. I understand completely that this is a life changing event and that I will, from September 17th onward, be a wife and (step)mother and always have a companion to stay true to and love and honor and respect. I get it. And I couldn't be more excited.
The thing that makes me so calm and happy and not freaked out...I know this is right. There is not a single atom of me that says "don't do this." I have to admit that I've always had an obsession with weddings. I have been watching Bridezillas since it first premiered (anybody else remember the old beginning with an actual song and human as the bride?). Mom and Caitlyn and I would cram together and watch it...in Mom's bed...in Caitlyn's bed...in the living room. And we would all look at each other and murmur about how that was going to be me. I'm a drama queen. I like attention. And I used to be obsessed with having the perfect wedding.
It's just...it's not me as an actual bride-to-be because I'm just not stressed. Am I a little worried about details? Of course. But they'll get done because I genuinely am having so much fun adding these personal touches to our wedding day. Am I worried about a music malfunction or the wrong color roses? Maybe a little. But overall...there is nothing about this day that will be imperfect...in it's own imperfectly perfect way anyway. Yeah...read that sentence again. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Jeff and I have no pretenses that this is THE be all and end all of days and that it must go PERFECTLY.
The nicest thing we've done...and that I keep reminding myself of every day that I do wedding planning...is to keep this as low-key and simple as possible. The centerpieces are not the focus. The bouquets are not the focus. Hell, even myself and the dress are not the focus. Instead, we want people to walk away from this wedding knowing how deeply we love each other, having had a fun and relaxing day, and knowing that they just witnessed something awesome...true love.
And nothing can ruin the feelings that we have...and the emotions that will be running high on that day.
Even the rain that is now being threatened....that's good luck anyway, right?
Ps.....I'll be starting a new blog once married....follow it here: www.ablilland.blogspot.com
As you are aware, I am getting married. The wedding is now 8 days away. Right now I'm sitting next to the fiance...talking about how insane this all is...and thinking about all the stuff that needs to be finished in 8 days. Well....7 really. Okay....6 to be perfectly honest. Day 7 is head to the venue and set everything up day.
Since I am currently without a job, I've been doing wedding work during the day. As Jeff usually keeps me company while I'm doing work...it gets kinda lonely when it's just me. So while he and I text I turn on the tv. And I find Bridezillas to be the most motivating wedding show to watch while I'm doing fun and crafty things for the wedding. Though, to be fair, My Big Redneck Wedding is a close second.
Watching the show makes me proud of how very unBridezilla-ish I am. And have been. This morning Jeff was telling me that when he went and purchased my wedding gift the people in the store asked if I was freaking out yet. I'm not. Which he told them.
People keep asking me the same thing. I'm aware that marriage is a HUGE commitment. I understand completely that this is a life changing event and that I will, from September 17th onward, be a wife and (step)mother and always have a companion to stay true to and love and honor and respect. I get it. And I couldn't be more excited.
The thing that makes me so calm and happy and not freaked out...I know this is right. There is not a single atom of me that says "don't do this." I have to admit that I've always had an obsession with weddings. I have been watching Bridezillas since it first premiered (anybody else remember the old beginning with an actual song and human as the bride?). Mom and Caitlyn and I would cram together and watch it...in Mom's bed...in Caitlyn's bed...in the living room. And we would all look at each other and murmur about how that was going to be me. I'm a drama queen. I like attention. And I used to be obsessed with having the perfect wedding.
It's just...it's not me as an actual bride-to-be because I'm just not stressed. Am I a little worried about details? Of course. But they'll get done because I genuinely am having so much fun adding these personal touches to our wedding day. Am I worried about a music malfunction or the wrong color roses? Maybe a little. But overall...there is nothing about this day that will be imperfect...in it's own imperfectly perfect way anyway. Yeah...read that sentence again. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Jeff and I have no pretenses that this is THE be all and end all of days and that it must go PERFECTLY.
The nicest thing we've done...and that I keep reminding myself of every day that I do wedding planning...is to keep this as low-key and simple as possible. The centerpieces are not the focus. The bouquets are not the focus. Hell, even myself and the dress are not the focus. Instead, we want people to walk away from this wedding knowing how deeply we love each other, having had a fun and relaxing day, and knowing that they just witnessed something awesome...true love.
And nothing can ruin the feelings that we have...and the emotions that will be running high on that day.
Even the rain that is now being threatened....that's good luck anyway, right?
Ps.....I'll be starting a new blog once married....follow it here: www.ablilland.blogspot.com
2011/06/28
Looking Up
Mood: it's not a dream anymore, it's worth fighting for...
So it's almost July. Weird. Jeff and I survived 3 months. I feel pretty confident we'll survive a bazillion more months (if that's mathematically and physically possible that is). As I was driving into work this morning I was staring at the lake (and watching the road) and I realized that it's been nearly a year since I started this blog. It's absolutely insane how much this blog has changed, how much I have changed, and how much my life has changed. I haven't read the whole blog from start to where it is now yet...but I have read since about January on. That much alone is crazy.
I'm engaged. I'm going to be a (step)mother. I have my own place and am looking for one with the future husband. I've separated from my family enough to start my own. That part is still being worked on...the balance between separation and complete detachment. It's a fine line to walk and since this is the first time the family's had to deal with it...it's messy. And painful. And it sucks.
One thing, though, that hasn't changed is my addiction with A&E and all it's "real life. drama." because I clearly can't get enough of my own real life drama...
I've been obsessed with Intervention for some time now. Years. And while I don't have cable thus don't watch it all the time...I've been known to spend weeks watching it online. Now it's Hoarders. I can't get enough of the show. The really scary thing? I sooooooooooo get the mentality. Let me say that the episodes with food or animal hoarding...that is beyond me. And when there are kids involved I feel physically ill. But the first few episodes of the first season were primarily about stuff. Wanting, needing, getting, and keeping stuff. I get that mentality. If I surround myself with all this shit...nothing else can get in. Nothing else matters. People can't hurt me if they can't get to me. And I mean...physically get to me. The thing is...I've never been a super neat person. I'm organized at work...but the office is in a state of controlled chaos. I know where things are...but to other people it's a mess.
My apartment was clean for a while. Right around my birthday. I did an overhaul. Donated all kinds of stuff...finally had Caitlyn around to go through stuff she left behind. But that was also when Jeff and I were first dating. Since then...the whirlwind romance has had a tornado like effect on the apartment. I've been there for MAYBE 5 nights total in June. Maybe 6 including last night. Between going to PA, being with the fiance and his son, and a brief stay at the grandparents for laundry purposes...I just haven't been there. So it looks...uh...let's just say it could be on an episode of This Person May Become a Hoarder if that show existed. But nobody wants to see that. Just the shit piled up to the ceiling...and it's not there. Yet. Not even to my head. Or shoulders. I feel like that's NOT something to brag about.
As I drove past that lake, and then watched another episode of Hoarders and thought about all that's happened this past year...these past few months...I realized that of course I'm watching and obsessed with the idea of hoarding. My "old" life isn't over...it's just transitioning into this "new" life. And that WILL mean leaving the apartment behind which sadly for me means a TON of work and getting rid of all kinds of shit that for some reason I hold on to.
But it's not just the apartment. Or cleaning my car. It's losing weight all of a sudden (I'm counting calories every meal...thanks iphone apps!). Moving forward with another person. Figuring out new ways to be family and friends since the relationship dynamics changed. I'm clearing out the junk...and making space for the old life to fit into the new one. While I still think it would be easier to bulldoze the apartment...and some parts of my old life in general...I can't. I've never done things the easy way. Ever. I like making things harder for myself. This time it's not about making things more complicated just for fun...it's just that starting a new family and changing major parts of my identifying personality...that can't be done easily. It's a hard process. Will it all be done before the wedding (81 days!!!!!)? Who knows. But I certainly hope so.
There are a lot of things in my life that I don't have control over. Other people would be one. But I can control the apartment. And my health. I think I'm finally through trying to keep people out of my life. I'm getting rid of the physical blocks...and the emotional ones have been crumbling. I hope that I can take this attitude into my "new" family and be the woman I've always wanted to be...and know that I am inside.
2011/04/26
Friday is Forever
Mood: ...we belong together...
It's now Easter Tuesday. Is that even an official way of describing it? I'm not sure. But here we are. Major news friends...and I don't care if I don't have a clue who you are nor you I...if you're reading this you are certainly a friend. At least for the next few paragraphs.
As I wrote previously working in a church during Holy Week....ugh. So, I took Good Friday off....as I take every Friday off...and in addition, I wanted to spend the evening/Saturday with the boyfriend and his awesome son. And in a completely unblasphemous way...it was a great Friday. Jeff proposed. Jeff = the boyfriend....or husband to be rather. Yes...we went from dating...to couple...to in love couple...to engaged in under 2 months. We couldn't be happier.
The picture does not do the ring justice...but I mean...he liked it so he put a ring on it...and you all had to see it.
As I went about my Easter morning (the Sunrise service, the breakfast, the egg hunt/Sunday School lesson, worship...) I couldn't help but think about how far I've come in the past year. I went about my Easter morning in a state or wonder, yes...but with a reflective wonder. I prayed...I rejoiced...I thought...and I spoke. As the day wound down, Jeff and I continued a tradition I had started last year...watching Shaun of the Dead on Easter. This year, though, we started it as OUR tradition...with champagne to celebrate the engagement of course.
Yesterday, as I was trying to take all that has happened in the past 2 months in...I reread the blog I wrote Easter Monday last year (because nothing helps you try to understand two months like adding another 10 months worth of crap to the mix...). I spent Easter completely alone (with the exception of Maddie's company...and her puppy love is exceptional) last year...but this year...I was with a new family, a future husband and a future stepson and I am honestly in awe. I feel so incredibly privileged to be living this life. My nice thing for today? Allowing myself to KNOW that I do deserve all the happiness that has come to me...and the lifetime of awesomeness that awaits Jeff and I.
The title of this blog is the title of my new fav We the Kings song. And it's kind of perfect for the day. I still am not sure, even though I'm staring at the ring, that the hugeness of this situation has hit me yet. Or maybe it has and I'm just so ready to start this new life that it wasn't what I thought it would be. It seems to me though, that very rarely are things what I was anticipating. Last year I blogged about how I was going to leave Iowa with a smile on my face in a short period of time. And at the same holiday this year? I'm keeping Friday in my heart every single day for the rest of my life...and you know...Iowa isn't THAT bad.
I hope you and yours had a happy Easter or passover celebration!
It's now Easter Tuesday. Is that even an official way of describing it? I'm not sure. But here we are. Major news friends...and I don't care if I don't have a clue who you are nor you I...if you're reading this you are certainly a friend. At least for the next few paragraphs.
As I wrote previously working in a church during Holy Week....ugh. So, I took Good Friday off....as I take every Friday off...and in addition, I wanted to spend the evening/Saturday with the boyfriend and his awesome son. And in a completely unblasphemous way...it was a great Friday. Jeff proposed. Jeff = the boyfriend....or husband to be rather. Yes...we went from dating...to couple...to in love couple...to engaged in under 2 months. We couldn't be happier.
The picture does not do the ring justice...but I mean...he liked it so he put a ring on it...and you all had to see it.
As I went about my Easter morning (the Sunrise service, the breakfast, the egg hunt/Sunday School lesson, worship...) I couldn't help but think about how far I've come in the past year. I went about my Easter morning in a state or wonder, yes...but with a reflective wonder. I prayed...I rejoiced...I thought...and I spoke. As the day wound down, Jeff and I continued a tradition I had started last year...watching Shaun of the Dead on Easter. This year, though, we started it as OUR tradition...with champagne to celebrate the engagement of course.
Yesterday, as I was trying to take all that has happened in the past 2 months in...I reread the blog I wrote Easter Monday last year (because nothing helps you try to understand two months like adding another 10 months worth of crap to the mix...). I spent Easter completely alone (with the exception of Maddie's company...and her puppy love is exceptional) last year...but this year...I was with a new family, a future husband and a future stepson and I am honestly in awe. I feel so incredibly privileged to be living this life. My nice thing for today? Allowing myself to KNOW that I do deserve all the happiness that has come to me...and the lifetime of awesomeness that awaits Jeff and I.
The title of this blog is the title of my new fav We the Kings song. And it's kind of perfect for the day. I still am not sure, even though I'm staring at the ring, that the hugeness of this situation has hit me yet. Or maybe it has and I'm just so ready to start this new life that it wasn't what I thought it would be. It seems to me though, that very rarely are things what I was anticipating. Last year I blogged about how I was going to leave Iowa with a smile on my face in a short period of time. And at the same holiday this year? I'm keeping Friday in my heart every single day for the rest of my life...and you know...Iowa isn't THAT bad.
I hope you and yours had a happy Easter or passover celebration!
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