Friends

Soup for the Soul

When I was lit­tle, I would typ­i­cally spend “sick days” at home with my Dad. Mom would work the day shift, while Dad would work the off shift. Such was the life of a dual-​​income family.

Dur­ing those sick days, I’d typ­i­cally be rel­e­gated to my bed­room to sleep off the ill­ness that would’ve plagued me for a day or two. And if I was lucky, I would be allowed to lie on the fam­ily room couch and watch day­time TV.

The thing I remem­ber most about those sick days was the soup my Dad would make for my lunch. He’d make this chicken noo­dle soup that I absolutely loved. And I knew I’d be feel­ing bet­ter if I’d ask for a sec­ond bowl.

It was a soup that only my Dad could repli­cate, much to my Mom’s cha­grin. Even­tu­ally it became known as “Daddy Soup,” and I’d always request it when­ever I got sick.

It was com­fort food for me; the warmth of the broth sooth­ing my sore throat. The chicken bits pro­vid­ing nour­ish­ment for an oth­er­wise lack­lus­ter appetite. The egg added that made the it taste like egg drop soup with chicken and noo­dles … The “secret ingre­di­ent” that made Dad’s soup unique. All of it just reminded me of home. And of being cared for as a child.

I think about this soup at times when I miss my Dad the most. And I know it’s because I’m miss­ing the com­fort of my child­hood when things seemed so much simpler.

Nowa­days life seems much more com­pli­cated; so much more com­plex. While I know that’s just part of nor­mal life, hav­ing this mem­ory helps remind me that I was loved by my Dad and that I am still loved by those peo­ple who reach out to me … Espe­cially dur­ing this par­tic­u­larly dif­fi­cult time in my life.

I’ll just refer to these reminders as “Daddy Soup for my soul.”

Thanks-​​IF-​​ing

Going through Infer­til­ity has brought me many things in my life; both good and bad. But see­ing that today is Thanks­giv­ing, I thought I’d share with you what I’m actu­ally thank­ful that Infer­til­ity has given me. So here’s my list:

  1. The Weight: With all those pills and shots taken over the years, I can thank IF for all that added weight gain. Of course, it’s also my un-​​doing that I refuse to eat any health­ier or exer­cise any more than needed to get rid of my “not-​​so-​​pregnant” belly! On an upswing? Big­ger boobs. :-P
  2. Speak­ing of shots … oh, those won­der­ful shots! I can thank IF for all the bruised areas on my thighs and abdomen I had when going through those med­icated cycles. It’s not so much that I don’t know how to give a shot — I *am* a Reg­is­tered Nut — I mean Nurse. It’s more the fact that I can proudly poke myself like a human pin cush­ion and not be scared about it any­more. In fact, if I had to do it again … Nah, nevermind.
  3. Speak­ing of nee­dles … I’d like to thank my body for pro­duc­ing enough blood so that those vam­pires — I mean Phle­botomists — can take all the vials of blood they need to run their tests. But I also want to thank those blood-​​suckers — I mean Phle­botomists — for being so kind and patients; espe­cially when I was hav­ing a par­tic­u­larly rough day.
  4. In fact, I’m thank­ful for all those health care work­ers (from the nurses, to the recep­tion­ist … even the Ultra­sound tech) for being so won­der­ful. In the throes of IF, I may have shot imag­i­nary dag­gers at your back or given you dirty looks when you weren’t look­ing … but reflect­ing back on those moments, you have all been so kind to me.
  5. In fact, there have been lots of kind folks out there that I should be thank­ful for. Many of them are you, as read­ers of my hum­ble blog. I’ve “met” the most com­pas­sion­ate women out in the blo­gos­phere that “get me” some­times more than the peo­ple I know IRL (in real life). So to you … my read­ers and com­menters, both past, present and future … I’m grate­ful that you’ve graced my life.
  6. For those folks that I know IRL that have been will­ing to lis­ten to my sto­ries of Infer­til­ity … I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me. For so long, I did not have any­body (but Hubby, of course) to lis­ten to our “War Sto­ries” … so for any­one IRL that has lent me their ears or pro­vided me with the empa­thy I so des­per­ately needed, I am for­ever in you debt.
  7. I’m also indebted to Infer­til­ity for giv­ing me back the gift of writ­ing. It’s some­thing I’ve always loved to do as a young kid, but some­thing that I could never take on as a “career.” So I’m thank­ful for my tiny space in the Cyber­world where I can con­tinue to write (as often or as sel­dom as I’d like) about my world; about my feel­ings. And about my thoughts, as crazy as they can be.
  8. And to be hon­est, if it wasn’t for writ­ing about my Infer­til­ity, I wouldn’t have been able to come to some sort of clo­sure with my Infer­til­ity jour­ney … even if it wasn’t the out­come I expected. So there. I’m thank­ful that writ­ing about IF has opened up a new path to my “new” future.
  9. Not only am I thank­ful for my blog and the abil­ity to write … I will always be thank­ful for those IRL fam­ily and friends that read and acknowl­edge my blog. For the longest time, this blog was the only way that I could tell peo­ple about my Infer­til­ity so that I could “save face” in my cul­ture. Know­ing that I could still tell my story and yet not feel ostra­cized in the pres­ence of my fam­ily and those Fil­ipino fam­ily friends has been an absolute God­send. It has given me strength in the midst of adver­sity.
  10. But the most impor­tant thing I’m grate­ful that Infer­til­ity gave me is my rela­tion­ship with my hus­band. Noth­ing more has tested our wed­ding vows more than Infer­til­ity has. It brings new mean­ing to the words “In sick­ness and in health” and “For bet­ter or worse.” I know many cou­ples that can say the same thing and have gone through adver­si­ties (even those who had gone through other crises other than Infer­til­ity) that know exactly what I mean. My mar­riage is stronger because of Infer­til­ity and my love for Hubby has grown deeper than I ever thought it would. It’s thanks to Infer­til­ity that I know the mean­ing of uncon­di­tional love; one that will last through the test of time … with or with­out chil­dren in our lives.

So those are the things that I’m grate­ful that Infer­til­ity has given me. I’m sure I can come up with more things to be thank­ful about … and not nec­es­sar­ily good things, but I’m try­ing to stay  on the pos­i­tive side these days. So I think I’ll leave those parts out.

How about you, oh IF inter­net peeps? What are you thank­ful that Infer­til­ity has given you?

And for those non-​​IF folks … it is Thanks­giv­ing, after all. Tell me what you’re thank­ful for.

Happy Thanks­giv­ing to All!

 

A Song From My Favorite Band

Day Eleven — A Song From My Favorite Band:

Uhm. Yeah … INXS is my favorite band. Ever. I’d say that it was all because of Michael Hutchence, but then explain to me why I’m still going to see them in con­cert at the end of July? (I. Can’t. Wait !!! )

I don’t know … there’s some­thing about their music that makes me smile. It brings up lots of mem­o­ries for me when­ever I hear one of their songs.

Like when­ever I hear “The One Thing,” I think of buy­ing Star Hits mag­a­zines back in 1983 and watch­ing that video on MTV (again, back when they actu­ally played music videos!) with my cousin.

Or when­ever I hear “What You Need” … I think of every sin­gle cheesy high school dance I had ever gone to.

“Dis­ap­pear” is inher­ently a happy song; both in lyrics and in the music. I’m think­ing that’s why, when the album “X” was released dur­ing my sec­ond year of col­lege, it sud­denly became our dorm room floor’s drink­ing song. Yep; that and the B-52’s “Roam.”

(What is it about rem­i­nisc­ing my col­lege days lately?)

We were SO lucky to meet the band in 1986, before they blew up BIG

This, by no means, is my absolute favorite INXS song. I have waaaay too many favorite INXS songs to choose from. “Dis­ap­pear” just hap­pens to be a great song.

Besides I like this video. And I can no longer find the orig­i­nal “Don’t Change” video … which would oth­er­wise have been posted for today’s song.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

What is with this 30-​​day song chal­lenge?

What was yesterday’s song?

Check out this other INXS post. You won’t regret it.

A Song That Makes Me Fall Asleep

Day Ten — A Song That Makes Me Fall Asleep:

I love the Cocteau Twins. I remem­ber first hear­ing “Carolyn’s Fin­ger” back in the mid-80’s while watch­ing MTV’s “120 Min­utes.”

Remem­ber that show? Back when MTV used to be all about music? Matt Pin­field was the host and that show (which tech­ni­cally started at 12am early Mon­day morn­ing) focused on all the alter­na­tive music bands, play­ing videos and songs you’d never see or hear dur­ing the day­time. Or through­out the week, for that matter.

Read more »

Life In Bullet Points

  • I got a speed­ing ticket this past Sat­ur­day. In the past, speed­ing tick­ets always came at a time in my life when I lit­er­ally needed to “slow down.” Except this time, there’s noth­ing going on in my life that requires me to slow down. So yeah … I’m a lit­tle con­fused.
    .
  • Hubby & I went to see 30 Sec­onds to Mars Sat­ur­day evening at one of the smaller venues in Detroit. Going to see them reminded me of how  much I wanted to be a rock star back in high school.
    .
  • It also reminded me of how old I’m get­ting if I no longer want to be in the gen­eral admis­sion area on the ground floor. You know, where all the crowd-​​surfing hap­pens. And where you could pos­si­bly feel the sweat fly­ing off any of the band mem­bers.
    .
  • Speak­ing of which, Jared Leto has — in my opin­ion — only got­ten hot­ter since his Jor­dan Cata­lano days. And see­ing that he’s actu­ally MY age, I won­der how he still has all the energy to keep the crowd on their feet the whole night long.
    .
  • Met up with a cou­ple of my HS BFF’s on Sun­day morn­ing. It was fun to catch up with them and talk about what we’ve been up to lately.
    .

  • Jor­dan Cata­lano all grown up

    Also got to meet one of my HS besties’ 3-​​yr old son. He reminded me so much of my nephew, Tyler at that age; so pre­co­cious and full of energy. And I loved the fact that he wanted us to go home with him..

     

  • Still work­ing on taxes, as I type. Well, okay … so Hubby’s work­ing on the taxes while I help file things away. Gotta work on a bet­ter sys­tem so that we’re not always doing our taxes at the last pos­si­ble minute. You’d think after 14 years of doing taxes together we’d get our act together.
    .
  • And that’s about all the bul­let points I can come up with for now. Per­haps I’ll write a more proper post before Easter. Until then, this is all I’ve got.

The Whole Nine Yards

Nine days ago, at approx­i­mately 7:30 pm that night, a pretty sig­nif­i­cant hole had formed in my heart. What had been there for the past 38 years of my life was the phys­i­cal pres­ence of my Dad on this world. And even though (by this time) we had been expect­ing his “last breath” for a cou­ple of days, it still didn’t help the sud­den onset of empti­ness I felt in my chest.

I didn’t know what to expect … or how it would feel to lose some­one so sig­nif­i­cant in my life. I didn’t know  that my emo­tions could swing from one spec­trum to another in the blink of an eye. After all, how can I have gone from laugh­ing hys­ter­i­cally about a par­tic­u­larly funny inci­dent involv­ing my Dad … to cry­ing incon­solably about that hole in my heart.

Except now, after nine whole days of gath­er­ing with fam­ily and friends … of pray­ing the tra­di­tional Filipino-​​Catholic Novena fol­low­ing the depar­ture of a loved one … I can finally say that the hole in my heart has begun to fill. And it’s because of all those fam­ily mem­bers and friends that have come out in droves to cel­e­brate my Dad’s life.

Although not quite to back to capac­ity, the empti­ness that once occu­pied that hole is now filled with the mem­o­ries I have of my Dad … of all those spe­cial Daddy-​​Daughter moments. I know that I can look back at those moments and feel my Dad’s pres­ence envelop­ing me.

But more impor­tantly, that hole is now filled with all the sto­ries about my Dad that were shared with me these past two weeks. It’s been filled with the incred­i­ble sup­port I’ve felt from old friends and even older friends … whether it was dri­ving clear across the State just to spend 5 min­utes cry­ing with me min­utes before the Funeral Mass. Or mak­ing an extra trip to Mickey Dee’s to pick up a sweet iced tea and iced latte for me and Hubby. Or even just being there to hug me; know­ing that was exactly what I needed at that moment.

So thank you, all my fam­ily and friends … I hope you know how much every sin­gle kind word** you’ve said and every sin­gle kind ges­ture you’ve done has meant the world to me.

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** Spe­cial thanks to my cousins … from both sides of my fam­ily. You’ve been my my sav­ing grace dur­ing those dark, dark moments.

*** An extra-​​special thanks to my incred­i­bly awe­some hus­band. We joke about me hav­ing a thing for “The Rock” … but rest assured, you are my one and only Rock. You are my con­stant in the midst of chaos.

Unfor­get­table … That’s what you are to me.



Cloaked in Kindness

Pal­lia­tive care (from Latin pal­liare, to cloak) is any form of med­ical care or treat­ment that con­cen­trates on reduc­ing the sever­ity of dis­ease symp­toms, rather than striv­ing to halt, delay, or reverse pro­gres­sion of the dis­ease itself or pro­vide a cure. The goal is to pre­vent and relieve suf­fer­ing and to improve qual­ity of life for peo­ple fac­ing seri­ous, com­plex illness.”

– Def­i­n­i­tion taken from Wikipedia

It’s just after mid­night, early Thurs­day morn­ing. I have to say that I feel like I’ve aged a whole month over the past few days … and prob­a­bly three of those “weeks” were as a result of the last 36 hours.

Meet­ing Emila for the first time … wish it was under bet­ter circumstances

First of all, I swear … I think between Hubby & I, we’ve had a com­bined total of 6 hours of sleep since Sun­day night. Pure exhaus­tion has taken over at this time and auto-​​pilot mode kicked in by Tues­day evening.

First off, it’s a sad state of affairs when … get­ting into our car Tues­day evening for a quick jaunt out of the hos­pi­tal for a much-​​needed shower and some fresh air … I actu­ally com­mented that the car seat had been the most com­fort­able thing I had sat in all day long.

Sec­ondly, squish­ing your­self (well, actu­ally my big bootie) onto a small cush­ioned foot stool just so that I can feel as if I was lay­ing hor­i­zon­tally on a bed is not very com­fort­able. So much for that awe­some full-​​body mas­sage Hubby and I had this past Saturday …

But mostly, I think the sleep depri­va­tion was more because of the con­stant anx­i­ety of hav­ing my Dad in the ICU and not know­ing exactly what could hap­pen next. It was the con­stant worry that Dad’s prog­no­sis was not (ever) going to func­tion­ally improve. It was the fear that we wouldn’t know exactly how my Dad wanted us to pro­ceed in his care … espe­cially because he wasn’t “awake” to tell us. And even moreso, because my Dad did not have any Advanced Direc­tives. He had not writ­ten down any of his wishes for us.

By Tues­day after­noon Mom, Dr. Bro and I had a very frank dis­cus­sion about what we all felt should hap­pen next. We dis­cussed, as his imme­di­ate next of kins, what we all believed Dad would have wanted us to do. The good thing was that he had had the same dis­cus­sion with all of us at one time or another. The sad thing was know­ing that if we respected his wishes, we would run the risk of los­ing him sooner than we were ready to let him go.

Hold­ing Lit­tle Em for the first time

In the end … and after dis­cus­sion with the rest of my Dad’s sib­lings, we decided that we would respect my Dad’s wishes. We would remove the G*d-awful “Breath­ing Tube” and see how he did with­out the res­pi­ra­tor. We would not … other than pro­vide com­fort mea­sures only … per­form any extra­or­di­nary mea­sures to extend his life.

So today, just before noon, we removed the breath­ing tube. And the entire fam­ily stood around him pray­ing … say­ing our good-​​byes to the incred­i­ble man we all loved so fiercely. And we waited … and waited.

And as of right now … we’re con­tin­u­ing to wait. Except we’re no longer in the ICU … we’re in the hospital’s Pal­lia­tive Care/​Hospice floor. Which is where we’ll con­tinue to be until Dad’s finally at rest … where I hope his grand-​​furbaby Rain is wait­ing patiently to cud­dle next to him.

Thank you all for for “cloak­ing” us with your kind prayers and pos­i­tive vibes .. it means the world to me and my family.

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Related Posts:

It’s Hard To Be Brave

No More Rain

Deep Breaths

Up In Smoke

Who’s Your Daddy?

The proud Aun­tie & Uncle … Don’t we ALL look exhausted in this photo?

Light the World, Little Ones

It’s been a crazy-​​hectic few weeks since last post­ing. This new career, though chal­leng­ing and reward­ing, has been push­ing me to exhaustion.

As with any major change in life, my level of stress and anx­i­ety has increased accord­ingly. But what the Type-​​A Reg­is­tered Nurse in me needs to remem­ber is that it’s only nat­ural to feel this way. I just need to remem­ber to breathe and  chan­nel my inner-​​Zen.

I’ve had some blog posts in draft-​​form for quite a while now; includ­ing my expe­ri­ences as a Catholic Infer­tile deal­ing with the options of fam­ily build­ing. Except I don’t feel that it’s pol­ished enough to be pub­lished at the moment.

How­ever, today I wanted to come out of my seclu­sion to remem­ber my nephew, Liam. He was a fighter for the four months of his life. And even though it’s been more than three years now … there isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t some­how enter into my thoughts.

Octo­ber 15th is rec­og­nized as National Preg­nancy and Infant Loss Remem­brance Day. Today is a day to remem­ber those who have suf­fered a mis­car­riage, an ectopic preg­nancy, a still birth, or the loss of an infant.

And today I remem­ber the loss our fam­ily felt three years ago.

But today, I also remem­ber all those friends I’ve met over the many years of blog­ging about my infer­til­ity jour­ney. I remem­ber their loss and heartaches as well.

In fact, I remem­ber all of those who have suf­fered mis­car­riages and still­births on their quest to build their families.

And even though it’s not quite the same … I remem­ber those who have gone through the heartache of a neg­a­tive preg­nancy test, despite know­ing that a beau­ti­ful embryo (or more than one) was implanted into a warm invit­ing womb, with the hopes that their “embies” will con­tinue to grow into reality.

I remem­ber the two beau­ti­ful “would-​​be babies” that I wel­comed into my womb, but — for some rea­son — weren’t meant to stick around.

I remem­ber the one beau­ti­ful “would-​​be baby” that Hubby & I reluc­tantly let go.

So today, I ask that you take a moment to say a lit­tle prayer or send some pos­i­tive karma (or what­ever you’d like to pro­vide) for those who have suf­fered any loss in fam­ily building.

And at 7 pm tonite — if you have a spare moment — light a can­dle to remem­ber those lit­tle ones that may not have grown up to be big babies … but grew into our hearts and our souls.

Light the world, Lit­tle Ones … Light the world.

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Related Posts:

The one where Emily remem­bers

The one where Emily lets go

The Offi­cial National Preg­nancy and
Infancy Loss Remem­brance web­site


Revertigo

There’s this episode of “How I Met Your Mother” that Hubby & I recently watched. It’s the episode in which Robin meets up with her Cana­dian High School boyfriend; a boy who broke her teenage heart in his van after play­ing a gig with his band, The Fore­skins**.  She con­fesses to her friends that the minute she set eyes on him, she sud­denly felt like she was six­teen again; com­plete with the excite­ment and but­ter­flies that a “first love” could only elicit. But not only that, Robin found her­self act­ing exactly like she did at that age. 

Mar­shall, in his wise ways, had devel­oped a term for this type of behav­ior. He called it “Rever­tigo” … a phe­nom­e­non in which a per­son reverts back to his or her for­mer self when around cer­tain indi­vid­u­als from their past. In this episode, he uses Lily as an exam­ple; hav­ing her invite her old high school friend, Michelle, who brings out the “gangsta” in her when­ever they’re together. But once sep­a­rated from one another, they revert back to their nor­mal selves. 

Hubby and I could not stop laugh­ing dur­ing the entire episode.*** It was some­thing that we both know hap­pens to me when I get together with my Cana­dian cousins. When we get together I some­how slip back into this ver­sion of myself that I can only call “The Amer­i­can Cousin” — all brash and out­spo­ken with a hint of arro­gance (not inten­tional, of course). But not only that … for some strange insane rea­son, I also find myself speak­ing in a Cana­dian accent; com­plete with long O’s (as in “sooorry”) and uncon­sciously adding “eh?” to the end of all my sentences. 

Seri­ously. We could be in the heart of the con­ti­nen­tal U.S. and I could sud­denly be mis­taken for a Canadian! 

The thing is, when expe­ri­enc­ing “Rever­tigo,” every fiber of you begins to revert back to that place and time. All the good and the bad. All the excite­ment of being at the age that you were and all the inse­cu­ri­ties you may have expe­ri­enced at that time. 

Proof that I was a GleeK in high school

This Sat­ur­day is my 20th High School Reunion. And while I debated for a ver­rrry long time about whether I’d attend, I finally decided that I would skip out on the fes­tiv­i­ties. I can say that I did it for a num­ber of rea­sons. The eas­i­est being that I didn’t feel like shelling out the money to see peo­ple I really didn’t know that well twenty years ago. Or that I only wanted to see cer­tain peo­ple from my grad­u­at­ing class; ones that I’m not even sure will be in attendance. 

I’ll admit that both of those rea­sons are indeed true; and — in my eyes — valid, as well. But the pri­mary rea­son is this: I’m just not at the best place that I want to be in my life at this exact moment. I don’t (nor will I likely ever have) the chil­dren that I know most of my class­mates already have. I don’t have that beau­ti­fully main­tained home with a well-​​manicured lawn that my sub­ur­ban coun­ter­parts will also likely have. And I cer­tainly don’t have the job /​ degree /​ suc­cess in my life that I thought I’d have by this time in my life. 

But I was also a HS Hot­tie (along with future-​​SIL), too!

And see­ing that this past spring and sum­mer were beyond stress­ful**** I’m feel­ing just a leee­tle inse­cure with myself. 

If the phe­nom­e­non known as “Rever­tigo” is true; then all those inse­cu­ri­ties and lack of self-​​confidence I cur­rently have at this point in my life will be twenty-​​times mag­ni­fied … like every­thing tends to be dur­ing those “puberty years.” 

Oh, I’m not naïve enough to know that my class­mates likely feel the same way about them­selves in some capac­ity or another. If any­thing, I cer­tainly believe that most of us, in our late-​​thirties, feel like we haven’t accom­plished every­thing that we thought we would have over the last twenty years. 

No, really. I sim­ply don’t want to attend for this sim­ple rea­son: I’m try­ing to avoid feel­ing and act­ing as if I’m in high school again. And see­ing that I’ve had a few major curve­balls thrown at me over the past six months, I don’t know if I’d have the strength to com­bat this bout of “Revertigo.” 

Class of 1990

 One more thing and I’ll go back to being a 38 year old Gen-​​X slacker … my lack of desire to attend my high school reunion, by no means indi­cates that I don’t want to see those peo­ple I con­sid­ered close friends dur­ing my teenage years.

The way that I look at it is this: If I hadn’t already found you via Face­book (or any other means of com­mu­ni­ca­tion) … this sim­ply means that you don’t want to be found. And I can respect that need for pri­vacy. And if we were meant to find our way back to one another, then we’ll find each other when the time is right.

To me, friend­ship is all about every day life; and there shouldn’t be a need to make a big for­mal deal about it. 

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Related Posts:  

Emily gets “Don­ald Trump’d” 

Emily gets a phone call 

Emily gets her a$$ “U’Hauled” 

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** “There were four of us. And we didn’t wear any shirts.” At least that’s how the band name was explained. LOL!  

*** Mainly because Robin’s ex-​​boyfriend was played by James Van der Beek of “Dawson’s Creek” fame.  

**** A quick recap:

  • I got fired from the job I moved to Chicago for; the one that I hoped would help heal me gain some of that self-​​confidence that Infer­til­ity robbed me of.
  • I found out that Dr. Bro and Dr. SIL have finally made the deci­sion to (suc­cess­fully) procreate.
  • I recently started and am cur­rently train­ing for a new job that will take my career in a dif­fer­ent direction.
  • And in the midst of job-​​hunting, debated on a move back to Detroit only to decide to stay in Chicago (but move to a smaller apart­ment); much to the cha­grin of fam­ily mem­bers that wanted us to move back “home.”
  • Oh … and being unem­ployed cer­tainly didn’t help our finan­cial sit­u­a­tion, either.

Fickle Facebook

Oh, Face­book … why do you tease me so? You are a fickle friend who loves to simul­ta­ne­ously bring me closer to fam­ily and friends I haven’t seen in ages … and make me feel insanely alone. Espe­cially when see­ing “First Day of School” pics or sta­tus updates from everyone.

Okay, so I exag­ger­ate a bit. What can I say? I was in the Drama Club in high school.

And truth be told, I love see­ing all the cute pic­tures of the kids; espe­cially as I get to see how much big­ger and older they’ve got­ten since the last pic­tures of them were posted.

But yet, there’s the lit­tle part of me that feels those tiny dag­gers stab­bing away at my core. The sad thing is … well, I’m not quite sure if my “core” is my bar­ren uterus. Or my heart.

Bit by bit, those dag­gers are dis­ap­pear­ing from my heart … and I’m feel­ing less envi­ous of those fam­ily & friends who have become par­ents. Rather, I’m begin­ning to be more accept­ing of where I am in my life and which path my life is tak­ing me.

What an enor­mous leap from where I was two years ago, eh?

Any­way, I fig­ured since most peo­ple are post­ing pics of their kids on this first day of school, I should post some of mine. Well, my furba­bies anyway!

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