Lethargy

When I attended the kickoff meeting for the official 3 day event more than a month ago, I remember being warned that at some point during the course of our training and fundraising, we would be discouraged and want to give up. I scoffed and figured I was SO fired up and SO dedicated that I wouldn't have a problem with my desire.

Turns out I was wrong.

I'm a full month into training now, and the old problems I've had with my left knee has flared and invited my right knee to join the party. I'm walking 18 miles this week-3 miles on Monday, 4 miles on Wednesday, then 6 miles on Friday, followed by another 4 mile walk on Saturday. It's really the back-to-back walks that hurt me the most-those are the ones I aim to complete outside, which means I've started rising well before dawn Friday and Saturday mornings to lace up my Susan G. Komen sneakers and walk the dark streets.

This week has been particularly distressing. I've felt lethargic, achy, worn down, disoriented, and confused the last couple days. I know I'm sleeping enough, I'm eating healthy, and I'm continuing to exercise regularly, but this week it has been so difficult. Last night I woke up half a dozen times because my arms were completely numb and leaden, and I was forced to move around and flex them to try to get them to get some feeling back before I could fall asleep. This afternoon I finally called the doctor because my gut is telling me something is 'off'. The receptionist asked me my address and phone number...both answers I should be able to give without hesitation, but I had to take a moment to really consider both questions before I could rattle off the appropriate sequence of numbers.

I'm sure my family would love me to add that I've also been extremely irritable. Poor kids. Poor husband.

All in all, I'm feeling incredibly discouraged. I quickly discovered that training wouldn't be easy, but I didn't expect it to be this HARD. It's still only walking. I'm a healthy, physically active YOUNG woman who should be able to stand up to this kind of physical exertion, but I'm really struggling. My fundraising isn't doing as well as I had hoped it would be doing, and I'm feeling very defeated.

Tomorrow morning I'm going to see the doctor, and even if he has no answers for me I'm really praying I get my mojo back. I've never been the type of woman to back away from a challenge, but retreat is a tempting possibility in this moment.

Training

I officially started training a week ago, on a snowy Toledo morning. On my way in to the YMCA, I was...less than excited...about the prospect of 3 monotonous miles on Ye Olde Treadmill. Nevertheless, I reminded myself that I made a commitment, and I need to stick with it. How can I expect people I know to donate time, money, goods, and resources to my cause if I'm not willing to put the work in myself? So...off I went.I hopped on the first available treadmill, and ignoring the sounds of my best friends pumping weights in the free weight center across the room, I settled in for the walk. 3 endless, slow miles stretched in front of me.

I may have started to panic just a little bit.

For posterity, I asked a friend to snap some pictures of me on the machine. Day 1, 3 miles!
After a while, the boredom became overwhelming, and I shot up the speed on the treadmill and jogged the second mile. Afterward, my joints and my feet were sore for days, an event I haven't repeated since then for fear of repeating the same pain.
Finally, finally, finally 42 minutes later I was done with my first 3 mile walk. Sweaty, tired, and triumphant.
As I walked through my first mile, I was struck again by what a journey this event is going to be. I imagined the event...walking through streets lined with pink, with survivors and family members on all sides, cheering and supporting us. I teared us as I imagined the emotion of the moment, the emotion I was feeling just training.

This walk is going to be a journey, people. I added up the miles I'll be walking including 24 weeks of training and the event: the number came out to a staggering 645.

Every step I walk in the next 23 weeks is a step toward a world where NOBODY has to deal with the effects of this disease, and I am HONORED to be a part of it.

Please consider donating to my fundraising minimum here.

Hunting

We've spent endless, endless hours online looking at houses in the Columbus area in the last couple of weeks. Like everyone else, we're trying to balance our wants and desires with the more practical matters of location, school district, and oh yeah...budget. Thankfully, there are LOTS of properties listed that meet (most) of our needs and also follow within our price range, and recently we turned to a real estate agent we found through our church to help us with the process. This morning she sent us the first batch of listings she culled for us, and within moments of opening up the MLS search, I found The. One.

THE HOUSE.

The one I haven't been able to stop thinking about all morning. I have looked at houses until my eyeballs have begun to bleed...but NONE of them have gotten me excited like this one.

I'm not even going to post a link to it-because it's THAT fabulous, and I'd be devastated if somebody else found it and snatched it out of my hands before we've had a chance to go see it. The plan yesterday had been to find a weekend in April that we could abandon the kids with friends and spend an epic day looking at real estate in Columbus. This is still likely the plan, but now I'm paranoid that somebody-some JERK-is going to make an offer on MY house before we get there.

I'm doing lots of deep breathing today. I'm trying to be patient and remember that just like every other aspect of this job search and relocation-it will fall into place.

While I'm waiting for it to fall into place, though, nobody better track mud onto MY carpet. The last thing I want to do after we move in is steam clean.

Returned

I haven't blogged in what feels like ages, and honestly am not sure if any of my old readers remain to see my words. I've been lost for the last 30 minutes re-reading old posts and re-living different facets of my life. I think I've missed blogging, and am going to try to step back in and chronicle this crazy life we lead.

The winter here in Toledo this year has been mild in every sense of the word-temperatures hovering in the 30's or 40's most days, with lots of rain and very little snow. Today is the last day of February, and I'm beginning to think we really will escape the winter months without any snow days...a feat I haven't experienced since I moved to Ohio 5 years ago. This will also be our last Toledo winter, as Kevin has received a job offer for a 3 year position in Columbus, Ohio. We're currently in the throes of house hunting and school searching, which is a fun sidelight to the busyness of life.

Perhaps the central focus of my life these days (aside from my husband, the kids, the house, and wiping many many many many things every day) is this:

I've wanted to do this for a long time. A friend mentioned it in passing about a year ago, and I latched onto the idea of walking then and haven't let go. I didn't find out in enough time to participate last August, but this year I have been rabidly excited about experiencing this amazing event. I'm in the throes of fundraising (holy COW that is a lot of money!) and will be starting training next week, an experience I'd dearly like to chronicle here.

All in all, life is so good. The kids are crazy and life keeps my head spinning, but I'm in love with what we're experiencing. I'm in love with my family in a way that makes my heart expand beyond what I thought it was capable. It's impossible NOT to be happy, and I'm so grateful.

Trappings

I stepped into the shower today, and was greeted-not for the first time-by the sight of a moderately sized clump of hair-wet, disgusting, and left in a wad on the small bench in the corner of the shower enclosure.

"Gross." I thought. "Why does he do that? Would it be so difficult to fish the hair out of the drain and then put in the trash, instead of leaving it here for me to find?" I asked myself, irritated. I slid open the shower door and tossed the clump of hair into the toilet, and made a mental note to talk to Kevin about it later. "He should know better." I told myself.

As I slid the shower door re-shut, my mind shot backward. Backward to the days when I exhibited the same sense of irritation about a pair of white, nondescript sweat socks. Always crew length, always slid first off one foot-then the other, and left on the floor in front of my sofa. Endless were the days I nagged about these socks. For years these socks made their nightly appearance on my living room floor, and for years I either cajoled the owner to pick them up or I would begrudgingly gather them myself to be laundered.

Nearly 3 years ago, those socks stopped appearing on my living room floor.

I missed those socks-desperately. I longed for their presence, for the signal they left that there was another person in the house with me-somebody that shared my burdens and my life. I thought endlessly about those white socks, and would have dreams about walking into the living room to see them.

As I lathered my hair today in the shower, I thought about the disgusting clump of hair left in the corner. I thought about the pants that get left on my bedroom floor. I thought about the shoes that litter my bedroom floor. I thought about the countless little things that signal that there is another person in this house with me-somebody to share my burdens and my life.

Instantly, my mood changed from annoyed to grateful. Grateful that this is my life-surrounded by the paraphernalia of a good, gentle man.

I still don't love that there is a clump of hair in my shower every week. I still don't love that I trip over shoes sometimes on my way to the closet. However, instead of getting frustrated and demanding that my standards be met...I choose to be grateful for my life. For the chaos, the mess, the noise, and the love that fills it.

I wasn't always so lucky.

Kid History - Episode 1

Abandonment

Growing up wasn't easy for me. It seems as though growing up isn't really easy for anybody, but it seems to me as an adult that growing up in our family was a little more difficult than it needed to be. I'm not pointing fingers or laying blame, and I'm certainly not going to go into details-but it was rough. I'm blessed to have a good relationship with the members of my family now, but it took some long years to get there.

When I was a teenager, my older brother and I shared a strong bond. I'm sure at least partly based on the difficulties of growing up together, but also because we genuinely enjoyed one another's company. We shared much over the years-joys and tragedies and everything in between. I was 18 when he tragically died, and the grief was overwhelming-something I've written about here before. Ammon and I were newly married when Jeremy died, so it was easy to transfer my intense need for male trust and love to my husband when I lost my beloved older brother.

I mourned Jeremy for a long time-still do, in many ways. Ammon and I built a good life together, and chose to name our oldest son after the brother that had been stolen from me.

Then, another man was stolen from my life.

When Ammon died, everything fell apart for our family. For the first time in my adult life, I was without a strong male influence. My father was living halfway across the country from me, my older brother had been gone for almost 10 years, and now my spouse was out of my life as well.

The recovery I made from that loss has been well documented here, and although there are still wounds from the losses I experienced earlier in life, nothing is as bleak as it once seemed. The kids and I not only learned to survive without a man in our lives, but we thrived. We learned to rely on the people around us when necessary, but also how to fend for ourselves and build a life centered around each other. When Kevin met us, we had finally figured out how to become a family again. Not just a functioning (but broken) puzzle, but actually a family-vibrant, happy, and full of life.

The fact remains, though, that I am a girl with abandonment issues-and it has never been more apparent than every time Kevin packs his single small suitcase to board yet another airplane bound for yet another conference or meeting.

When Kevin and I were dating, we discussed his travel schedule. As an astronomer, he travels a great deal more than most people. In fact, the frequent and extensive travel is one of the perks that drew Kevin to the field in the first place. For years he had enjoyed the luxury of being unattached and free to travel as often and for as long as he or his employer wished. He has an enviable ability to function away from home, and freely admits that although he misses people-he never gets homesick.

The first time Kevin traveled after we met was to Germany-he spent 10 days there, but it was during our intrepid 3 week trip out west so his trip was barely a blip on the separation radar. The second time he traveled was about a month after we got married, and he spent 6 days in Pasadena at a conference. I cried when he left and nearly every day that he was gone-a fact that I hid well from him until about the 4th or 5th day when I ended up sobbing uncontrollably with him on the phone. By the time he returned from that trip, several more trips had been scheduled-roughly one week out of every month for the next several months.

I wish I could say that having Kevin travel has gotten to be old hat for me. I wish I could say that I handle it better these days than I did a few months ago...and maybe I do. Or maybe I don't. I know that the kids handle it better-as I mentioned briefly before, Kadon struggled a great deal with Kevin's first trip, but once he was assured (and shown) that Daddy Always Comes Home, he has handled subsequent separations much more calmly. I wish I could say the same for myself.

Oh, I cope with his trips the best I can. I cope with the long silences- the days that are punctuated by one 90 second phone call in the morning, and a 3 minute one in the evening. I tried requesting more phone time before the last trip, hoping it would help assuage my struggle, but it really didn't-it simply placed additional (and unnecessary) pressure on Kevin and made my disappointment when he wasn't able to carry through more acute. Even as I write this, Kevin is stuck in meetings in Pasadena and I have a slim hope for a short conversation late tonight before he rushes off to his next obligation.

I know I'm painting an unfair picture-I have no doubt that since Kevin and I got married, some of the lustre of traveling has been removed for him. I know that he is happiest ensconced in our home with our family, and the days he is required to be away are taxing on him as well. I know that the days when he IS away and isn't able to have long telephone conversations aren't a result of choice, they're a function of his busy schedule. I know he isn't lounging by the pool-he's stuck in long meetings discussing important matters and meeting with important people. I know that he has to eat, and that a great deal of his job (especially at this point as he tries to make a name for himself) is the ability to network and get to know the more established scientists. Often this involves long, late dinners from which he cannot escape to call home before I go to bed. I know that meetings and conferences are mentally draining for him, and physically exhausting. I know that in his position there is an enormous-HUGE-amount of pressure placed on him, with generally very little recognition. I know that he is hyper-sensitive that within a few short months he will be back on the job market, and everything he does or says at these meetings could either help or hinder his search for his next job. I know that because most of the traveling he has done to date has been to the west coast, the time change is part of the problem-by the time he is through for the evening, it may be only 10 o'clock there, but for me it is 1 am...and I am usually sound asleep. Prudence will often keep him from calling me at that hour, and I recognize it as a kindness.

I could go on and on and on about the logic of his trips, and why communication is necessarily suspended for the length of them. I deeply understand the restraints he is under, and I hate that I add to his burden. I hate that almost always, at least once while he is gone I will end up in tears on the telephone-with Kevin miles away and helpless to do anything. I know every time it happens it breaks his heart, and I hate myself for it. I hate that I cannot control this-this separation anxiety, abandonment issues, or loneliness-whatever name I choose to give it. He tries so hard-and I know that many wives aren't even as lucky as I am-no matter how busy he is, he always calls at least once. Even if it's incredibly short, I know I will hear his voice every day and that he will tell me he loves me. On a grander scale-I know he isn't dead. I know that in a few days, I will see him come through our door again, a luxury that my widowed friends don't get to enjoy.

I have to figure out how to conquer this. I don't know how-the response feels so ingrained and guttural and I'm not optimistic about ridding myself of it, but I owe it to him to try. And if I can't completely obliterate it, I owe it to him to at least be a better actor. He works so hard-and would do anything for our family and the impossible for me. I've ever met a more devoted man, and I am the lucky recipient. I have to stop adding to his burden.

A Fairy Tale

Sick

We've all had the plague this week.

It started on Sunday afternoon, as we lazed about on the sofa spending time together. Kadon came down with a fever, and acted sleepy and sick. We canceled our dinner plans with friends and settled in for the night, dosing him with ibuprofen before bed and hoping for the best. My Monday morning, Kevin and I were both sick. The symptoms of the household have ranged from fevers, violent coughing, runny and/or stuffy noses, body aches, chills, upset stomach, and sore throat. Thankfully, not all of us have had all the same symptoms at all the same time. Kadon stayed home Monday, Thursday, and Friday, and Kevin finally went into the office for about 2 hours yesterday and has been there all day today.

I actually skipped the gym every day this week. THAT'S how sick we've been.

On top of it all, I also haven't been able to sleep. I tossed and turned all night long Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, never getting a solid night of rest. I napped fitfully during the day some, but by yesterday morning my spirits in particular were at an all time low. I called the doctor and made an appointment for this morning, convinced that the 'burn in my chest' cough I was experiencing was pneumonia, that I was NEVER going to get better, and that holycrapIthinkdyingmightbeeasierjustshootmenow. Poor Kevin was at his wits end dealing with me, as my attitude unraveled and my spirits spiraled downward.

Finally, last night I broke down and, as I held a feverish Kadon in my arms, asked for a priesthood blessing for both of us. Kadon writhed and cried through his-a phenomenon I have witnessed before and still don't understand-but later when I received mine, I was promised sleep and recovery. The recovery part didn't surprise me...it seems a fairly standard practice to be promised the blessing of recovery when receiving a blessing for sickness. I was thrilled, though, at the promise of sleep.

After the blessing, Kevin sat back down in front of his computer where he has spent the majority of his week, even sick, and continued to work. I laid on the guest bed in his office and attempted to read, but was sound asleep by 8 o'clock. I woke intermittently throughout the evening, sometimes exchanging a few words with him as he worked, once requesting ice cream, but always fell back asleep quickly. At midnight Kevin woke me and we both retired to our bedroom. I slept soundly until 6:30 this morning. By 7:30 I decided that the trip to the doctor wasn't necessary after all, and I called to cancel the early morning appointment.

Today, I'm focusing on trying to put the house back together. Kadon is home from school again, but Kevin felt well enough to go into the office and my cough seems to finally be breaking up some of the mucous in my chest.

I'm so grateful to be on the mend. I think next time I'll stock up on ice cream in advance, though. Having to run to the grocery store to get your fix when you're feeling awful is less than perfect.

Resurrected

Sorry, I've been a bit busy.

Short recap:

We got married as planned on September 18th, and the ceremony and the reception were nothing short of a fairytale. During our entire honeymoon (during which we were COMPLETELY disconnected from reality for 8 GLORIOUS days) I continually asked "Did that really happen? Was it really that wonderful?" It was, indeed.

Like a light switch after the wedding, all three kids (especially Kadon) began calling Kevin 'Daddy'. It was strange and unexpected at first, but now it's a welcome and blessedly normal part of our lives.

The boys started school, and Brooklyn and I threw ourselves into making friends at the gym, neighborhood, and church. Success reported on all fronts!

The holidays were fabulous-traveling to see our new extended family for a few (CRAZY!) days at Thanksgiving, then a few wonderful days alone at home for Christmas.

Several business trips for Kevin...clearly, a new way of life we're all adjusting to. The first time Kevin was gone, Kadon regressed into an extremely angry stage, and it took me a few days to connect the missing Daddy with the resurgence of angst. After the trauma of the first trip, the separation has been a bit easier, thankfully.

And that, in a nutshell, is what we've been up to for the last nearly 5 months. Nothing earth shattering, but at the same time...something earth shattering. Life is good. Different and chaotic and noisy, but so good. I look back at our lives a year ago, and in my wildest imagination I would not have anticipated being where we are now. I'm so grateful Kevin and I didn't wait longer to get married...September was fast, but perfect. The peace of the last 4 months have done nothing but reinforce what we already knew.

Life is really, really, really good.

Settling

Our move to Toledo went well. The house is unpacked for the most part, and we are working on slowly moving over Kevin's belongings in preperation for the union of our two households. The kids started school yesterday, and we are all beginning to settle down into a routine. Kevin has been here every day since we moved-Saturday for the moving of furniture and some unpacking, then Sunday for a bit of relaxation after church, and Monday and Tuesday he came 'home' after work for dinner, then stayed for a little while after the kids went to bed. It's been odd-to be in the same city after spending our entire courtship seeing each other strictly on the weekends-but idyllic.

Jeremy was working on homework last night as I was preparing dinner. Because of the timing of our move, Jeremy missed the first four days of school, and therefore had a fair stack of schoolwork to catch up on. As I cooked, Jeremy sat at the table and worked on the papers. Kevin had been outside playing with Brooklyn and Kadon, and came inside as Jeremy was struggling with one of the assignments.

Without a word to me, Kevin approached the table and began to help Jeremy with his homework.

For a moment, I stood alone in the kitchen-frozen, unable to continue the task before me. My heart caught in my throat-constricted in an odd tangle of pain and pride.

I'm so grateful to be marrying a man who wants to help his children with homework.

I'm so sad that Ammon was never able to help his son with assignments.

I'm feeling guilty that in the midst of a perfectly normal evening-I was struck with a momentary pang of 'missing' that pierced me in an unexpected way. It passed quickly and was replaced with gratitude, but it was there.

It's an odd thing-this loving after losing. It's wonderful and unexpected, but I'm learning that there are still pitfalls and grief triggers even in the face of love and happiness.

The wedding is a little over 2 weeks away. I can't believe it-it alternately seems eons away or speeding toward me like a freight train. I can't wait to be married to Kevin-he is everything I longed for in a companion, and so much more. He loves me and the children in a way that I didn't think was possible, and I am profoundly grateful for the chance to love him. As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I wholeheartedly believe in the Law of Chastity. That being said-I am a physical woman. After spending 8 years in a loving and healthy marriage, returning to abstinence is difficult.

It's right. It's healthy. The reasons for doing so are perfect and wonderful.

It's still hard. It's hard for me to express love without using my body, without violating the beliefs I hold so dear. I will never be sorry we choose to wait until our wedding night, but sometimes the waiting hurts. Sometimes the waiting makes me question things that I shouldn't-have no reason to question. I struggle with letting my hormones rule my emotions and speak to my heart.

I wrestled with whether or not to blog today. I have set a goal to be better about chronicaling our new life adventures here, and I knew that I had time this morning to sit and record some of the thoughts that have been swirling around in my head. I also was acutely aware that I'm on a bit of an emotional down today-that thoughts and grief and difficulties are dragging on my spirit.

"I don't want to blog today" I thought. "I don't feel happy and blessed today, and I don't want a post today to be depressing".

Since when have I ever hidden from hard emotions on this blog?

I tried to talk to Kevin-late last night, after the emotions had already rendered me incapable of logic-but wasn't able to properly articulate what I'm feeling. Things have been so good since we moved to Toledo. Everything we wanted for our relationship, for our lives, has been better here. Kissing him goodbye in the evenings and knowing that we get to see each other again after work the next day is wonderful-sitting next to him in church on Sunday and knowing we didn't have an emotional goodbye later that evening was wonderful. I anxiously watch the clock every afternoon, waiting for the hour when he will walk through the door to spend the evening with us.

I've typed several different paragraphs here-deleting each one a character at a time before publishing. Clearly I'm no better at articulating this morning than I was late last night.

I need to remember how to be grateful. I need to remind myself that life is good-and take the time to appreciate the fact that I'm not rushing to class today. That I don't have a paper to write, or a test to study for. That I dropped my two healthy little boys off at school this morning, and that I get to spend the day with my beautiful baby girl. That tonight the love of my life is going to come home from work, and we're going to go to the gym together, then spend the evening with each. I'm healthy. I'm strong. I've survived SO MUCH.

Instead, I'm sitting here feeling homesick, sad, and lonely. The homesick I understand-the sad and lonely I have lost the the 'rights' to. Even with so much happiness, hope, and promise swirling around us, I am struggling with....with an emotion I don't even know how to put into words.

Today, I'm taking the day off. I'm going to let Brooklyn watch a movie, and I'm going to curl up on the sofa next to her and read my book.

I might shed some more tears.

I might miss the life I left behind in Cincinnati.

And at the end of today, I will put a smile on my face and in my heart-kiss my children and my fiance-and remember to be grateful for all that I have been blessed with.

It's what I do.

Coming Together

The move is coming together, and so is the wedding. Kevin's parents drove to Cincinnati from thier home in Kentucky last weekend, and after the 4 of us had dinner on Friday, the kids joined us for some miniature golfing and go-carting on Saturday afternoon. Whether or not Kevin's parents approved of me (although he assures me they do!) they were truly smitten with the kids. The kids all easily called them Grandma and Grandpa-and even though I had to swallow a knot of 'odd' every time-it was pretty natural. It was good to be together as a family. It felt like Kevin was my husband, and we were simply a family having fun on a weekend afternoon. It was good to see that side of Kevin-the son-instead of just the father-figure and husband-to-be. The way he interacts with his parents speaks volumes about his character, and their relationship is easy and affectionate. I look forward to becoming part of the family.

We're moving on Friday, and so far the house is as packed as it can be at this point. It was so nice to say goodbye to Kevin Sunday evening and know it's for the last time-even though we won't be living together until after the wedding, it will truly be a treat to be living in the same town. The kids and I are all eagerly anticipating the move-and only 3 weeks later, the wedding!

Escaped

Amidst the flurry of the next few weeks, Kevin and I were able to take a few days last weekend to simply be together. Ammon's parents, Russ and Mary, took the kids from Friday afternoon until Monday afternoon, and I drove to Toledo to spend a few kid-free days with Kevin. There were errands to run-we shopped until my feet ached, and had a wonderful time doing it. Kevin learned that I get cranky when I haven't nourished properly, but did an excellent job of feeding me delicious home-cooked food when my attitude shot downward. We looked at countless suits-3 pieces, and 2 pieces. Black, charcoal, patterned or not. We still haven't made a decision on what Kevin is going to wear for the wedding, but it was still productive to find out what won't work with his style and body type, so I do not count it as time lost.

We also spent a completely hysterical 2 hours in Bed, Bath, & Beyond registering for wedding gifts. As we were filling out the paperwork necessary to begin our registry process, the store associate regaled us with stories about couples who get into fights during the registry process, and grooms who abandon their brides at the store over a disagreement.

"It always happens in the bedding section." She told us.

We were intrigued, and decided to investigate the possibility of Registration Made More Fun by Fighting.

Indeed, it was entertaining.

We argued loudly over over sized wall clocks, and called each other names over curtains and kitchen goods. It was so much fun. We giggled like teenagers as I walked barefoot around the store, scanning items and dreaming about our future together.

On Sunday, we attended church together, and spent the day playing games, talking, and planning. I love spending time with Kevin. I love talking to him and sharing stories about our past. I hope we never stop wanting to learn about each other and sharing details about our lives-past and present.

We slow-danced in the living room on Sunday evening.

It was one of the single most romantic and touching moments in my life.

I'm so in love with him. It's impossible to describe-and I don't know why I'm lucky enough to be able to experience it. I'm not sure why my life has taken the path it has-but I know that through it all, I'm grateful to be where I am now. I cherish the opportunity to look at Kevin and know that he loves me and wants to spend his life with me. I blossom under his care-I can feel it, and though I'm grateful he never saw the shell of a woman I was for a long time, I wish he could see the transformation his love has brought to me.

Life is good.

Leaving

In months past, I was certain that even if I were lucky enough to meet somebody that I wanted to settle down with again, I would never be willing to leave Cincinnati.

'I have too much going on here', I thought. 'I could never leave-he'd either have to be local or willing to relocate'.

I was settled here in Cincinnati. I embraced life here in the only way I know how-fully and with passion. Our support network here is strong and large. The ward that we attend has been an incredible source of strength, and the friendships we have made within its boundaries are fulfilling. In the last 2 1/2 years, our ward has formed a protective circle around my family. I have called-too often-on people to help. With the kids, with a shoulder to cry on, with help getting into my attic or fixing my lawn mower.

School has been what I've spent the last 2 years focusing on. Countless sleepless nights, papers written, flashcards memorized, and textbooks read have filled my time. There has always been a test to study for, or a project to complete. My life as a widow has been centralized around my education-the two are linked together. I went back to school because my life changed, and every time things got difficult it was hard not to imagine that if only he had lived, everything would be different. I'd have more help with the kids, I wouldn't have to spend all my free time studying, I wouldn't be so lonely.

Eventually, I feel like I reached a place where I didn't do that as much. I found my balance as a student-a tenuous, incredibly difficult one-but a balance nonetheless. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief when classes ended last spring. I was burnt out, exhausted, and frustrated with life in general. The loneliness of the last 2+ years was weighing heavily on me, and the isolation of my classwork was contributing to a general sense of restlessness and depression. I looked forward to the summer and simultaneously dreaded September when it would come to a close.

I needed a break.

I can't recount how badly I needed a break. I was strung out with school, and although one section of it was completed-I knew that the worst was still approaching. I had finally completed the required courses for application into the nursing program at the University of Cincinnati. It was for this program that every hour of schoolwork for the last 2 years had been geared toward. Admission into the nursing program is exclusive, and the curriculum is demanding. It lasts 3 years, and admission into it would consume my life. I sat in my advisors office one morning in May and filled out the 1 page application. I clicked the 'submit' button, and immediately broke into exhausted sobs. I knew I wouldn't hear whether or not I had been accepted for months, and the suspense and tension of the summer stretched out before me in one endless path.

And then I met Kevin.

Kevin made the weeks fly by, and as we made plans for our future, all my hesitancy about leaving Cincinnati vanished. I embraced relocating-with excitement we searched online together for houses, sending links back and forth and discussing pros and cons. We began to plan our wedding, and I eagerly anticipated the day when we would be able to live together as husband and wife. A new city, a new family member, a new life.

During it all, my nursing application quietly flit across the back of my mind. In moments of solitude, it gnawed at me. I had worked so hard for admission into the program, but leaving for Toledo meant I would be taking a break from school for the time being.

There was never any doubt about leaving Cincinnati. There's never been any doubt about marrying Kevin. When I finally received the letter from admissions stating the results of my application, my decision was already made.

I can't wait to become his wife. I can't wait to explore our new city, and to figure out the dynamics of our family. In 40 years, I know I will look back and be grateful that I took a leap of faith and married Kevin.

Today I can honestly say I'm relieved not to be returning to school next month. But just because it was an easy decision to make doesn't mean it wasn't a painful one.

I can't promise that my eyes won't stray to the rear view mirror and tear up as we pull out of Cincinnati on moving day. I can't promise that there won't be moments in Toledo where I wish my friends and family were close, and that I could slip back into the old familiarity of life here. I do know, though, that it's alright. That no matter what happens to us, somebody much bigger than us or anything else is in charge.

He's got my back, just like He always has.

Moving

Moving is stressful.

Yes, I know this comes as a shock. Moving has often been heralded as one of those delightful past times-one engaged in one weekends in order to maximize the full joy of the experience.

I love moving. It seems as though approximately every 20 months, we grow restless in our surroundings and seek out new digs. Someday I hope to actually reach the 2 year mark at a residence, but thus far that elusive milestone has stayed thisfar out of reach.

Actually, this time we didn't even make it to 20 months. We made it 13. But whatever.

So yes, moving is stressful. Combine moving a family of 4 with planning a wedding, and sometimes I feel like my head is going to explode. I stop myself because the last thing I need is another mess to clean up, and I'm certain neither my landlord nor the new tenants would be thrilled with gore.

I've never planned a wedding before. The first time I got married, it was more of an elopement than anything else. For a variety of reasons, a real wedding was not one of the options given to us, so with very little notice we gathered together a few family and close friends and spoke some vows in the city park. There was no wedding dress, no photographer, and no reception. We gathered for dinner afterward at a local restaurant, and that was that. For years, I lamented the fact that we never had a real wedding. A year later when we were sealed, I insisted on a wedding dress and a tuxedo for Ammon. We had a photographer friend who took some pictures, and we sent out announcements for a very small and intimate open house after the sealing. I was always grateful for the pictures from that day, but still felt the lack of a 'real' wedding.

With less than 3 weeks until the move, and less than 6 weeks until the wedding, I'd take an elopement in a heartbeat.

That is, if I wasn't pretty certain I'd regret it regularly for the next 50 years.

I'm traveling to Toledo this weekend and have mentioned the idea of elopement several times to Kevin.

"The magistrate is available until 4, babe. I could come up early, and for a mere $70 we could be done with all of this."

My dearest looks at me, sighs, and rolls his eyes. If he wasn't several hours away, I'm certain he would put his arm around me and pull me close for an exasperated hug. He knows I don't really want to be married by a magistrate in the Toledo courthouse. I suppose I know that too, but I'm going to keep reminding myself of that as we attempt the create ceremony invitations today, re-evaluate the wedding budget, make photography decisions, find hotels for the honeymoon, and figure out decorations for the ceremony and reception.

Seriously, elopement is easier.

Now if only we could conquer the move, life would be perfect.

Changing

So much has happened.

I took a break from blogging because life was overwhelming and busy, and because it had become a chore instead of a release.

I kept taking a break because suddenly, unexpectedly, and fantastically-life got very busy.

Busy in a way I didn't anticipate.

Busy in a way I didn't think I was prepared for.

Busy in a way that is only going to get worse for the time being.

Busy in a way that will have the kids and I moving to another city and has me changing my last name.

I mentioned before that I had ventured into the online dating scene. I had no expectation that I would actually meet somebody, and after an unsuccessful relationship early this year, I was fairly certain that I would spend the next several years of my life alone. I know I've written about that in the past, and I was still sure that would be my lot in life.

In a fit of loneliness and desperation late one night-during the last push of finals last quarter, a long, lonely summer stretched in front of me. I posted yet another profile on an LDS themed dating website. I didn't pay for the site, simply chose to post my free profile. In order to view any of the communications that were sent to me, though, I had to pay the monthly fee. The profile sat for a couple weeks. I received several 'flirts', and a few messages, and I was finally curious enough to pay the monthly charge to see who was interested in me. I responded to a couple, deleted most of them, and decided to conduct a search of the available prospects in my area.

I aimlessly sent out 'flirts' to several different people. One of them stuck out a bit as a quirky, funny, cute man who listed his education as 'doctorate' and his profession as 'scientist'.

"Interesting." I thought. "Dating a doctor could be fun...but I'm sure he wouldn't be interested in me."

Ever the optimist, I am.

I clicked 'send' on the flirt, and closed down the website. Within days, the scientist and I were communicating. It started in emails, progressed rapidly through online chatting and phone calls until eventually it culminated in a face-to-face meeting.

I'm marrying him next month.

Nothing could have prepared me for the stunning force and speed that this relationship has taken over my life. OUR lives. Kevin marched through barriers that I thought were fortified and impregnable. In reality, it seems as though he alone held the appropriate keys. I fell so deeply in love-so quickly-and have fallen deeper and deeper every day since. He is a dream come true. He is everything I could have special-ordered in a companion, and more that I wouldn't have dreamed of asking for. He is my match in every way, and I'm so blessed to have found him.

I want to share so much. I want to update on wedding plans, on moving plans, and scream about our love from the rooftops. It's taken my life by storm-this love-and I can't wait to see where it takes us next. I'm breathless from it all, honestly.

I've had moments where I'm scared. Scared that he'll be taken from me, like Ammon. Scared to risk loving again. My heart is safe with him, of that much I'm sure. I'm working on the fear of death. It's a fear that I don't think will ever truly leave me. I look at Kevin sometimes and wonder what is lurking in the future for us. Cancer? Accident?

One thing I have learned as a young widow is this: life doesn't hold still. It doesn't move backward, and you can't take anything back or make changes to your past. Loving Kevin wasn't a choice I made-that was out of my control. Choosing to give in to that love and build a life with him is a choice I hold firmly in my grasp. We're going for it. We're running together, and we're going to leap off the cliff and pray that we soar.

I'm certain we will. It doesn't feel like falling with him. It feels like flying.

And it feels good.

Snacktime?

Created by Oatmeal

Miracles

I've had arthritis off and on in my joints for the past few years. When I got pregnant with Brooklyn in early 2007, I mentioned it to my obstetrician. He wanted to run some tests to find out if I had some sort of arthritic disease, but because I was pregnant at the time and any sort of established treatment wouldn't be safe for the baby, we decided not to run any tests at that time. I think he wanted me to be able to enjoy my pregnancy without worrying about diagnosing an untreatable condition, and we never spoke about it again. A few months into my pregnancy we moved to Dayton, Ohio; Cincinnati, Ohio; and Ammon died all in quick succession. The plan was to return to the doctor after Brooklyn's birth and figure out the cause of my painful arthritis, but I never got around to making the appointment in the midst of life happening all around me.

Sometime two winters ago, I finally made it into the doctor to renew my blood work for a thyroid disorder. I mentioned to my general practitioner that I had struggled with intermittent arthritis for several years. She was of the opinion that the problem could possibly be tied to my untreated thyroid hormone imbalance, and recommended that I take the prescribed medication for three months and return for more blood work if the problem didn't resolve itself. At the end of three months, the arthritis was still persistent, but once again-I put off making the appointment to see what was causing the problem.

In July, I was single-handed packing up our townhouse to move into the house where we currently live, and as a result I was forced to go through the detritus of my life with Ammon. It was an extremely stressful and emotional period, and my arthritis flared again. After spending several nights unable to sleep, I finally broke down and through tears-made an appointment to see my doctor.

The results of the blood work came back within a few days, and they were devastating.

The rheumatoid factor was elevated in my blood work-a key indicator of rheumatoid arthritis-a debilitating, incurable disease that runs in my family. There are a host of other disease possibilities-including some forms of leukemia-and none of them are pleasant.

I sat in the parking lot at Kroger one sunny afternoon, and listened through a haze of pain and grief as the nurse on the other end of my phone recommended I seek out a rheumatologist for treatment. In that moment, I made one phone call-to my in laws-and sobbed bitter, angry, mournful tears.

It wasn't enough that Ammon had been taken from us, it wasn't enough that I was being asked to raise our children alone-now it appeared as though my health would be stolen from me. I was beyond comfort. It was one of the lowest moments since the sheriff stood in front of me and told me my life was over.

Between when the nurse called to deliver the blood work results and when my appointment with the specialist came, my doctor called back. Sometimes, she said, arthritis can be caused by a Vitamin D deficiency.

"Come back in for more blood work" she said "It's probably just a vitamin problem, and we can put you on a supplement to fix it. Don't go to a specialist yet."

I grabbed the life preserver she threw me, and held tightly to it. I made phone calls to everybody I could think of-calling in every spiritual favor I felt was owed to me.

"Pray for me" I begged. "Pray that this is a vitamin problem, not a disease."

We picked a day, and asked everybody who was aware of the problem to spend the day in fasting a prayer that the second round of blood work would come back showing a severe vitamin D deficiency. I spent several days in hopeful but guarded prayer-begging, pleading, and beseeching for deliverance from this set of problems. A few days later, another nurse called to deliver a second set of blood work. To my horror, she informed me that all of my vitamin and mineral levels were within normal range, thereby canceling out the possibility that my painful arthritis was anything other than a terrible, unnamed disease.

I was deflated. I couldn't believe that after everything our family had been through in the past 18 months, that God would choose not to answer this prayer. I had been arrogant enough to assume that I was 'owed' this blessing-that I had earned it through surviving young widowhood, that my faith had secured my health in order to care for my family. Ignoring the many prayers on behalf of our family threatened my sanity and hard-won spiritual balance. I wallowed in depression and sorrow for a few weeks until the appointed time for my appointment with the rheumatologist.

Two days before my 27th birthday, I had a series of xrays done on all my painful joints, and an exam by a Cincinnati rheumatologist who is among the top in his field. In a curt manner, he informed me that through his physical examination and all the xrays, he could find nothing wrong with me.

I left his office bewildered.

I have had less than 5 arthritic days since then.

Here is what I have learned: God doesn't always answer prayers in the way we ask. Sometimes, He goes above and beyond. Sometimes when we're praying for a vitamin deficiency, He chooses to lift the problem entirely.

Sometimes, we don't know what we're asking for.

Always, He knows what is best.

How grateful I am to be His daughter, and to know that He is in charge of my care.

The Freshman - Jay Brannan

Closer

I wanted to post a quick reminder that our trip to Utah is getting closer, and every little bit helps. Thanks to all those who have contributed so far-you're amazing, and I'm unbelievably grateful! If anybody wants to donate, the widget on my sidebar is secure and linked directly to my Paypal.