Leaving the doctor's office, I immediately made it home to throw in a load of laundry, clean the kitchen, pay the bills, run errands, and go grocery shopping. In fact, with no doctor's visits on the books, I began to pile my schedule up with errands and busyness to fill up my time.
In the following weeks, I went through our "master bedroom" which had become a construction zone/catch-all. We had dinner with our good friends, the MCs. We had movie dates with my family, worked on the house, and poured ourselves into our jobs. I turned my attention to my friends and made cobblers for birthdays and planned my best friend's baby shower.
On November 14th, I said "goodbye" to an old friend from elementary school as we laid him to rest following an unexpected suicide. As I sat at his funeral, I couldn't swallow the giant lump in my throat. I would be lying if I didn't admit that I knew what it felt like to want out of the despair.
The holidays were bittersweet; however, I don't think either one of us had time to slow down and think. Therefore, we spent as much time as we could with our families and I tried to repair the lost hope I once had.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
The Next Step
Following the cancellation of our IVF treatment, there was a glimmer of hope that we would continue again and have a little one on the way by Christmas. I would tell myself, "it isn't before Thanksgiving, but maybe by Christmas."
There is something about the holidays that never fail to remind me of the longing for a child. Maybe it is the fond memories I had as a kiddo that made me want to enjoy them with my own. Maybe it is the idea of "thankfulness" that reminds you of one more year without that blessing. Maybe it is being around the other littles of your friends and family, watching their excitement surrounding each event, that brings out that nagging feeling of pain.
As we walked into our first follow-up visit, there was a part of me that felt this overwhelming idea that my body wasn't ready. The remnants of bruises from our last go-around had yet to heal, and I continued to feel weak.
Once in the exam room, I waited for the doctor-anticipating the worst.
The doctor went through the routine before the dreaded words came, "from what I see here, your body just hasn't quite gone back to normal. I'm still seeing symptoms from the hyperstim and at this rate, I just don't foresee there being any option to start again before the end of the year."
Disappointment.
A feeling I had come to know all too well, yet never getting any easier. The rush of emotions flooded into my chest as it began to burn. I could tell the tears were coming on, and I blinked to try to stop them.
I couldn't.
My eyes welled up with tears as my doctor asked how I was feeling. The words wouldn't come as I looked at my clenched hands in my lap and bit my lip.
"Disappointed?" he asked.
The air in the room was thick as I peered over at my husband. Joshua and I nodded in agreement as I looked straight into the eyes of the man I continued to let down.
After much discussion over our options, we left with heavy hearts as we prepared for the holidays.
There is something about the holidays that never fail to remind me of the longing for a child. Maybe it is the fond memories I had as a kiddo that made me want to enjoy them with my own. Maybe it is the idea of "thankfulness" that reminds you of one more year without that blessing. Maybe it is being around the other littles of your friends and family, watching their excitement surrounding each event, that brings out that nagging feeling of pain.
As we walked into our first follow-up visit, there was a part of me that felt this overwhelming idea that my body wasn't ready. The remnants of bruises from our last go-around had yet to heal, and I continued to feel weak.
Once in the exam room, I waited for the doctor-anticipating the worst.
The doctor went through the routine before the dreaded words came, "from what I see here, your body just hasn't quite gone back to normal. I'm still seeing symptoms from the hyperstim and at this rate, I just don't foresee there being any option to start again before the end of the year."
Disappointment.
A feeling I had come to know all too well, yet never getting any easier. The rush of emotions flooded into my chest as it began to burn. I could tell the tears were coming on, and I blinked to try to stop them.
I couldn't.
My eyes welled up with tears as my doctor asked how I was feeling. The words wouldn't come as I looked at my clenched hands in my lap and bit my lip.
"Disappointed?" he asked.
The air in the room was thick as I peered over at my husband. Joshua and I nodded in agreement as I looked straight into the eyes of the man I continued to let down.
After much discussion over our options, we left with heavy hearts as we prepared for the holidays.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
CX
Saturday, October 18, 2014
8:00am
Joshua and I woke up groggy as we prepared for another drive to the doctor.
I was so weary.
My body feared the needles after seven rounds of blood work in the past week and a half and a week's worth of self-injections. I was thankful to have gone one night without two more shots. My left arm still had the baseball size bruise that was tender to the touch. My right arm had the six remaining marks where the nurses had exhausted my veins.
I rushed to take a shower and quickly got dressed.
My stomach felt like it had balloons placed inside that someone continued to air up. My body was weak and jello-like, and I could see the weight gain that made it difficult to button up my jeans. The tiny spots were visible where the shots had been strategically placed over the past eight days. Ironically, the nausea made it difficult to think of eating or drinking the water bottle that was necessary to get me through the next needle.
We drove in near silence as I braced myself for the upcoming appointment. My leg ached and I worried what it meant.
When we arrived to the doctor, I was anxious to get my questions answered. Yet, something inside of me was uneasy about what was to come.
I made it through another vial as my arm tinged with pain. The nurse left the room so I could undress and my legs began to shake. Despite years of tests, procedures, and exams my body never gets used to that feeling of exposure.
The P.A. returned and carefully went through the routine. She took notes over all the changes that had occurred and mentioned there was little development in my follicles--all 50+ of them.
"10. 10.5. 10.5. 10. 9.5...."
"But they're growing, right? That's still good news."
She didn't respond other than saying, "Let me get through the measurements and then we might talk."
I watched the ultrasound screen and listened as she continued to talk to the the nurse.
What happened next seemed to go in slow motion. I remember leaning back and holding my arms as my body began to shake. She mentioned that I wasn't where I needed to be and that my estrogen levels were way too high. "For where your follicles are at, we should be at 500. Maybe. You were over 1600 yesterday."
My eyes welled up with tears and I apologized for the uncontrollable emotions.
"I'm not saying it's definite. But, I just want to plant the seed that they might end up cancelling."
I nodded slowly as she continued to talk. However, all I could hear was the booming of my heartbeat as disappointment overwhelmed me.
Joshua stood in front of me as they left the room. I couldn't manage to lift my head off his chest as the tears streamed down my face. He tried to console me and told me this was for the best. He shared his concern for my well-being and making sure we took care of me. He said to be positive and "she didn't say they would have to cancel". It wasn't over.
As I figuratively picked myself up off the floor, I wiped the tears and got dressed. I mustered up a half-smile for the front staff as I put one foot in front of the other.
Once in the car, Joshua drove me to breakfast.
My stomach growled, but I couldn't seem to make myself eat other than two small bananas foster crepes I had been craving from the night before.
Back at home, I sulked as I waited for the phone call.
10:17am
-My estrogen level continued to climb and had reached 3,390.
At this rate my levels would be over 20,000 when egg retrieval is scheduled.
-I had over 50 follicles where the average person has 15-20.
-I had fluid on my left ovary that caused concern and they placed me on a high-salt diet.
-I had rapid weight gain and severe pain that indicates I had developed OHSS,
Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome.
-They cancelled our treatment cycle.
I thanked her quickly as I tried to escape the phone call before the emotions came.
Then I filled up the bath tub, and I sobbed.
I sobbed because of the overwhelming disappointment of being so close.
I sobbed because of the incredible emptiness of knowing we were left empty-hearted.
I sobbed because of the guilt of knowing that I had let down my husband.
I sobbed because of the great despair of not seeing an end in sight.
I sobbed because of the fear of where the money would come from again.
I sobbed because I was tired, so tired.
8:00am
Joshua and I woke up groggy as we prepared for another drive to the doctor.
I was so weary.
My body feared the needles after seven rounds of blood work in the past week and a half and a week's worth of self-injections. I was thankful to have gone one night without two more shots. My left arm still had the baseball size bruise that was tender to the touch. My right arm had the six remaining marks where the nurses had exhausted my veins.
I rushed to take a shower and quickly got dressed.
My stomach felt like it had balloons placed inside that someone continued to air up. My body was weak and jello-like, and I could see the weight gain that made it difficult to button up my jeans. The tiny spots were visible where the shots had been strategically placed over the past eight days. Ironically, the nausea made it difficult to think of eating or drinking the water bottle that was necessary to get me through the next needle.
We drove in near silence as I braced myself for the upcoming appointment. My leg ached and I worried what it meant.
When we arrived to the doctor, I was anxious to get my questions answered. Yet, something inside of me was uneasy about what was to come.
I made it through another vial as my arm tinged with pain. The nurse left the room so I could undress and my legs began to shake. Despite years of tests, procedures, and exams my body never gets used to that feeling of exposure.
The P.A. returned and carefully went through the routine. She took notes over all the changes that had occurred and mentioned there was little development in my follicles--all 50+ of them.
"10. 10.5. 10.5. 10. 9.5...."
"But they're growing, right? That's still good news."
She didn't respond other than saying, "Let me get through the measurements and then we might talk."
I watched the ultrasound screen and listened as she continued to talk to the the nurse.
What happened next seemed to go in slow motion. I remember leaning back and holding my arms as my body began to shake. She mentioned that I wasn't where I needed to be and that my estrogen levels were way too high. "For where your follicles are at, we should be at 500. Maybe. You were over 1600 yesterday."
My eyes welled up with tears and I apologized for the uncontrollable emotions.
"I'm not saying it's definite. But, I just want to plant the seed that they might end up cancelling."
I nodded slowly as she continued to talk. However, all I could hear was the booming of my heartbeat as disappointment overwhelmed me.
Joshua stood in front of me as they left the room. I couldn't manage to lift my head off his chest as the tears streamed down my face. He tried to console me and told me this was for the best. He shared his concern for my well-being and making sure we took care of me. He said to be positive and "she didn't say they would have to cancel". It wasn't over.
As I figuratively picked myself up off the floor, I wiped the tears and got dressed. I mustered up a half-smile for the front staff as I put one foot in front of the other.
Once in the car, Joshua drove me to breakfast.
My stomach growled, but I couldn't seem to make myself eat other than two small bananas foster crepes I had been craving from the night before.
Back at home, I sulked as I waited for the phone call.
10:17am
-My estrogen level continued to climb and had reached 3,390.
At this rate my levels would be over 20,000 when egg retrieval is scheduled.
-I had over 50 follicles where the average person has 15-20.
-I had fluid on my left ovary that caused concern and they placed me on a high-salt diet.
-I had rapid weight gain and severe pain that indicates I had developed OHSS,
Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome.
-They cancelled our treatment cycle.
I thanked her quickly as I tried to escape the phone call before the emotions came.
Then I filled up the bath tub, and I sobbed.
I sobbed because of the overwhelming disappointment of being so close.
I sobbed because of the incredible emptiness of knowing we were left empty-hearted.
I sobbed because of the guilt of knowing that I had let down my husband.
I sobbed because of the great despair of not seeing an end in sight.
I sobbed because of the fear of where the money would come from again.
I sobbed because I was tired, so tired.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
One Day at a Time
October 11, 2014 marked the start of our injections.
Despite giving me a hard time about not being able to hurt me, as soon as our first alarm went off for our medication, Joshua stepped in. He got all of my medicine lined up along the bathroom counter as he grabbed an ice pack and asked me to lay down. I let the side of my stomach become numb for a minute before he walked into the bedroom, syringe in hand. He asked where I wanted it and I closed my eyes as he pinched me carefully and injected our first dose.
We did it.
One day down.
Day two proved to be a little more difficult. We switched sides and it burned going in. But, we were one more day in.
Day three. We had bloodwork taken this morning at the clinic and I'm not feeling well. (I had to force the smile as I was trying not to cry on this one).
Day four. At this point I am feeling bad. Really bad. My stomach is hurting, I am not getting any sleep. My stomach feels like I drank a gallon of water and it is hard to button my jeans! All color has left my skin (except for the giant bruises all over my arms from bloodwork).
Day five. Another blood draw at the doctor. Ultrasound shows follicles are developing, but slowly. Where most people have 10-20 develop, my ovaries are stimulating all 50+ follicles at once. They aren't at the size they need to be. My skin is starting to break-out and it seems like the injections are getting harder (especially since they are going into sites that are still bruised). I've gained a few pounds already and don't feel up to doing much of anything.
Day six. They dropped my dose in half. My results came back and my estrogen levels have spiked. I should be somewhere around 100-200, but my levels are around 600. I'm definitely feeling sick. I'm hoping for some relief with less. We have another visit tomorrow morning. Praying for answers and good news tonight.
Day seven. Ultrasound shows that the follicles are still under-developed, but all 50+ follicles are present. I feel worse today than I probably have during the whole process. The doctor wants daily monitoring and has asked that I come back tomorrow morning. Bloodwork came back and the levels are continuing to skyrocket. I'm up past 1600 and they are hoping they drop if I only take one medication. I'm not feeling much relief and I cried quite a bit tonight. It feels like there isn't an end in sight since they will most likely extend the number of days I am on injections if the follicles don't grow.
Despite giving me a hard time about not being able to hurt me, as soon as our first alarm went off for our medication, Joshua stepped in. He got all of my medicine lined up along the bathroom counter as he grabbed an ice pack and asked me to lay down. I let the side of my stomach become numb for a minute before he walked into the bedroom, syringe in hand. He asked where I wanted it and I closed my eyes as he pinched me carefully and injected our first dose.
We did it.
One day down.
Day two proved to be a little more difficult. We switched sides and it burned going in. But, we were one more day in.
Day three. We had bloodwork taken this morning at the clinic and I'm not feeling well. (I had to force the smile as I was trying not to cry on this one).
Day four. At this point I am feeling bad. Really bad. My stomach is hurting, I am not getting any sleep. My stomach feels like I drank a gallon of water and it is hard to button my jeans! All color has left my skin (except for the giant bruises all over my arms from bloodwork).
Day five. Another blood draw at the doctor. Ultrasound shows follicles are developing, but slowly. Where most people have 10-20 develop, my ovaries are stimulating all 50+ follicles at once. They aren't at the size they need to be. My skin is starting to break-out and it seems like the injections are getting harder (especially since they are going into sites that are still bruised). I've gained a few pounds already and don't feel up to doing much of anything.
Day six. They dropped my dose in half. My results came back and my estrogen levels have spiked. I should be somewhere around 100-200, but my levels are around 600. I'm definitely feeling sick. I'm hoping for some relief with less. We have another visit tomorrow morning. Praying for answers and good news tonight.
Day seven. Ultrasound shows that the follicles are still under-developed, but all 50+ follicles are present. I feel worse today than I probably have during the whole process. The doctor wants daily monitoring and has asked that I come back tomorrow morning. Bloodwork came back and the levels are continuing to skyrocket. I'm up past 1600 and they are hoping they drop if I only take one medication. I'm not feeling much relief and I cried quite a bit tonight. It feels like there isn't an end in sight since they will most likely extend the number of days I am on injections if the follicles don't grow.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Laughter is Cheap Medicine
...but IVF is not!After receiving news that we are good to start injections, Walgreen's specialty pharmacy called me from Frisco, TX. They were so helpful over the phone and reiterated that I could contact them with any questions. Since Connie had given me a list of the medication I would be taking, the pharmacy had me confirm the amount of each medicine as well as the cost. Although you cannot put a price tag on a life, apparently the medicine it takes to start one is upwards of $4000. Yikes!
However, God has been gracious to provide for our needs and every step of this process. Therefore, I payed the pharmacy and set up a delivery date. After many months had passed without seeing an old friend, we were scheduled to have a great lunch date around the same time. But, with the signature being required for obtaining my order, I was homebound.
I set up camp at home and began working on my latest ideas for my new business launch. Then, the knock came along with the mountain of syringes as reality set in.Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Bumps and Bruises
Joshua and I had another appointment today.
After taking bloodwork at our doctor's visit, we had another ultrasound. Everything looks great so far! My ovaries are clear with 24 follicles on my right and about 20 on my left. We will wait for confirmation whether we are on track for beginning our injections this weekend. Unfortunately, we learned that my doctor will be out of town during the egg retrieval. Despite trusting the other doctors, it is a little stressful to put such an important step into the hands of someone you've never met. My nerves are definitely getting stronger.
Before we can get started, we have to do some mandatory testing through the Oklahoma Blood Institute. Joshua did great (although he got a little light-headed after they took his blood).
Since they had used my right arm at the doctor, they started on the left. My veins weren't cooperating and they asked for a seasoned nurse to draw me. Unfortunately, the first prick didn't work long enough and they moved to the other side.
No luck.
So, they pricked me for the third time and I tried to stay composed.
A couple of hundred dollars in and a really bruised arm, we were able to leave.
Joshua made sure to feed me and get me comfortable at home. At least that is one more thing down and one step closer.
After taking bloodwork at our doctor's visit, we had another ultrasound. Everything looks great so far! My ovaries are clear with 24 follicles on my right and about 20 on my left. We will wait for confirmation whether we are on track for beginning our injections this weekend. Unfortunately, we learned that my doctor will be out of town during the egg retrieval. Despite trusting the other doctors, it is a little stressful to put such an important step into the hands of someone you've never met. My nerves are definitely getting stronger.
Before we can get started, we have to do some mandatory testing through the Oklahoma Blood Institute. Joshua did great (although he got a little light-headed after they took his blood).
Since they had used my right arm at the doctor, they started on the left. My veins weren't cooperating and they asked for a seasoned nurse to draw me. Unfortunately, the first prick didn't work long enough and they moved to the other side.
No luck.
So, they pricked me for the third time and I tried to stay composed.
A couple of hundred dollars in and a really bruised arm, we were able to leave.
Joshua made sure to feed me and get me comfortable at home. At least that is one more thing down and one step closer.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Pinch Me!
September 24, 2014
We had our injections class with Connie today! I'm not so much excited about what we learned, but rather the idea of us getting closer to the end. It is definitely becoming more of a reality now.
Joshua and I were the only ones in the "class", so Connie brought some nursing students in to teach as well. It was nice to be the only ones going through the process so we could make sure we understood.
As she began teaching us, she asked us, "who will be giving the injections?"
I pointed to him and he pointed to me.
So, she taught us both.
Hubby was a champ. He is so good at retaining information and he listened attentively as she walked us through step-by-step. We had a chance to practice what each injection would involve (because there are more than just one type). One of them was in a pen-shape that allowed you to twist the dial and view the amount in the window. All we would have to do is pinch me and click. I wasn't as afraid of that one.
The second type required actual mixing of the medication. This made me a little nervous. It came in two vials that you would combine by using the syringe. Yuck!
The third one was a pre-filled vial that you attached the needle and "tah-dah"! I liked the idea of that one the most. (As much as you can when thinking about sticking yourself in your belly).
Since choosing not to speak of our treatment with our family, it has been nice to have the support from other women that have been in my shoes. My sister-in-law's good friend, Ashley, was blessed with her little boy after going through our doctor. As a nurse, she has great advice from both personal experience and medical. Therefore, I have been fortunate enough to lean on her through some of the difficulties.
We received the results back from my ART screen and learned that my amh levels were at the highest they've seen. "Normal" registers between 4-8. Mine were at a 21! Combined with the fact that both of my ovaries are proving to appear very young and fertile with over 25 follicles on each, I am now at a higher risk for developing OHSS, ovarian hyper stimulation syndrome.
Since learning of my situation, the doctor is taking preventative steps by changing my medication protocol. In fact, they are looking at starting me at only 75mg of follistim which is unheard of since most women use 300mg.
We had our injections class with Connie today! I'm not so much excited about what we learned, but rather the idea of us getting closer to the end. It is definitely becoming more of a reality now.
Joshua and I were the only ones in the "class", so Connie brought some nursing students in to teach as well. It was nice to be the only ones going through the process so we could make sure we understood.
As she began teaching us, she asked us, "who will be giving the injections?"
I pointed to him and he pointed to me.
So, she taught us both.
Hubby was a champ. He is so good at retaining information and he listened attentively as she walked us through step-by-step. We had a chance to practice what each injection would involve (because there are more than just one type). One of them was in a pen-shape that allowed you to twist the dial and view the amount in the window. All we would have to do is pinch me and click. I wasn't as afraid of that one.
The second type required actual mixing of the medication. This made me a little nervous. It came in two vials that you would combine by using the syringe. Yuck!
The third one was a pre-filled vial that you attached the needle and "tah-dah"! I liked the idea of that one the most. (As much as you can when thinking about sticking yourself in your belly).
Since choosing not to speak of our treatment with our family, it has been nice to have the support from other women that have been in my shoes. My sister-in-law's good friend, Ashley, was blessed with her little boy after going through our doctor. As a nurse, she has great advice from both personal experience and medical. Therefore, I have been fortunate enough to lean on her through some of the difficulties.
We received the results back from my ART screen and learned that my amh levels were at the highest they've seen. "Normal" registers between 4-8. Mine were at a 21! Combined with the fact that both of my ovaries are proving to appear very young and fertile with over 25 follicles on each, I am now at a higher risk for developing OHSS, ovarian hyper stimulation syndrome.
Since learning of my situation, the doctor is taking preventative steps by changing my medication protocol. In fact, they are looking at starting me at only 75mg of follistim which is unheard of since most women use 300mg.
Monday, September 15, 2014
ART Screen and Mock Transfer
I've researched so many programs out there, but to no avail. Connie has been great to deal with and help to educate us on our options.
After countless days of oral medication, today was our first "big step" in our treatment. We had our ART screen and mock transfer in order to get started. Of course there was a little discomfort, but nothing unbearable. Besides our nurse, we had a residency student in the room as well. She was very kind and thanked me repeatedly for letting her come in. I thought I would be against it when I've thought about it in the past since I'm so modest. However, I feel like there would be better physicians out there if they had hands-on experience to start out with. It helps that my doctor is incredible. He has such great bedside manner and is very thorough when explaining things with a great track record.
I am so thankful that Joshua was there with me. His involvement in the whole process is something I don't take for granted. I am so glad I will have the opportunity to share with our little one that their daddy wanted them just as much as I did.
Now, we will wait for our results to come back in and we will discuss injections next week in our injection training class with Connie.
Friday, September 12, 2014
3-0
Despite the overwhelming amount of emotions that comes with birthdays of the precious little ones in our lives, there is still something so special about celebrating another year passed by. I remember looking forward to my birthday as a child, knowing that my family would make it memorable. McDonald's ice cream parties, playing limbo at the skating rink, having my first slumber party, and family dinners are all things I remember well.
As an adult, it seems that birthdays become just another day in our monotonous routine. Maybe you wake up to a few text messages or phone calls that remind you that you're older. Maybe a co-worker puts a thoughtful card on your desk. Maybe you even go out to eat and hear the wait staff sing you a spin-off of the birthday song. However, not much is memorable about "grown-up birthdays".
That is, unless you make it memorable.
The first birthday I had when dating my husband was something I remember like it was yesterday. He had my sweet cousin (my roomie at the time) lay out a new outfit, complete with matching accessories. I spent forever and a day doing my hair and makeup to look perfect for the evening and anticipating what was to come. Once ready, I waited for my knight-in-shining-armour to pick me up. After claiming to have forgotten something at his apartment, we walked in to find a steak dinner by candlelight. He surprised me with the beautiful canvas art I had my eye on before handing me tickets to see "The Lion King" on Broadway. The dinner was delicious, my gifts were thoughtful, the musical was phenomenal, and the added surprise of friends and family meeting up with us later that night was the icing on the cake.
Thus, the birthday tradition began.
Knowing that Joshua had made my day so perfect, I had a lot of pressure to measure up. Therefore, I put on my thinking cap and saved up the cash to enjoy a weekend getaway. True, I cannot remember what gift I bought or the card I picked out. What I do remember, however, are the memories we made while going to a unique city and stuffing ourselves on fancy dinners and fresh bakery goods...falling in love all over again.
Over the years, we have gone horseback riding, taken a trip or two down memory lane, enjoyed relaxing days at the spa, watched the animals at the zoo, encountered loved ones for surprise parties, and even jumped off a building. Therefore, Joshua's thirtieth birthday was set to be nothing less than spectacular.
Planning for my hubby's big party was something I invested in for months. I managed to save up money, researched pinterest, and contacted the involved people to make sure it went off without at hitch. His blackjack-inspired surprise party would happen approximately 48 hours before we hopped on our first plane ride to good old Las Vegas. I had every black-and-white party decoration lined up for an elegant catered dinner while the kiddos showed their talent at go-fish.
That is until life decided to get in the way.
In the weeks leading up to Joshua's birthday, we had our consultation for our fertility treatments. We scheduled our visits and marked the dates on the calendar. In fact, exactly two weeks prior to the "big day" we had our first testing.
I found myself staring at the itemized expense sheet as I reviewed the trip itinerary I had saved online. I reviewed the thousands of dollars that had to be put down up-front, the medication costs, the ultrasounds and physician fees...the list continued. I added the costs of decorations and the customized cake topper I had inquired about. I began cutting corners and taking things off "the list". My stomach hurt as I began weighing my options and trying to make things work. My husband is my world. Seeing him happy is what I work towards day after day.
Then, I remembered the reason we chose to do fertility treatments in the first place. I thought about the way he plays with our nieces and nephew, listening to them squeal in excitement. I could see his smile of pride as he made them feel like they were on top of the world. He is so happy when he is with them.
This is the gift I want him to have.
I want to let him tease our baby by playing with my tummy when they start to kick. I want to watch him in action in the moments leading up to their birth. I want to see his strong hands shake as he cuts the cord. Then, I want to hand him the greatest blessing in the world as he becomes "daddy".
So, I started fresh and began watching the weather in preparation for a "not so flashy" birthday party, I realized that any hope of outdoor plans were a wash. I created a last minute back-up plan for a quaint family dinner and cake at my parents' house. Then, the morning of I hustled around as my momma helped me cook for everyone. I frosted the cake just as I received a phone call from the birthday boy that he was off work early.
Any other day I would have been overjoyed to have some extra time with Joshua. However, this meant I had to rush back home to avoid spoiling the surprise. I left momma in charge of the last minute decorating and crossed my fingers that everything would work out.
Driving up to their house, Joshua immediately noticed the vehicles of each of our family members. Walking up to the front porch, I whispered "happy birthday" to my hunky hubby and his face lit up as he pulled me close and thanked me for everything I had done.
We enjoyed dinner, cake, and a LIVE performance (courtesy of our pre-teen nieces) with all of our family nearby before Joshua opened his presents and we called it a night.
Here's to making your wishes come true and making your next birthday the best yet.
As an adult, it seems that birthdays become just another day in our monotonous routine. Maybe you wake up to a few text messages or phone calls that remind you that you're older. Maybe a co-worker puts a thoughtful card on your desk. Maybe you even go out to eat and hear the wait staff sing you a spin-off of the birthday song. However, not much is memorable about "grown-up birthdays".
That is, unless you make it memorable.
The first birthday I had when dating my husband was something I remember like it was yesterday. He had my sweet cousin (my roomie at the time) lay out a new outfit, complete with matching accessories. I spent forever and a day doing my hair and makeup to look perfect for the evening and anticipating what was to come. Once ready, I waited for my knight-in-shining-armour to pick me up. After claiming to have forgotten something at his apartment, we walked in to find a steak dinner by candlelight. He surprised me with the beautiful canvas art I had my eye on before handing me tickets to see "The Lion King" on Broadway. The dinner was delicious, my gifts were thoughtful, the musical was phenomenal, and the added surprise of friends and family meeting up with us later that night was the icing on the cake.
Thus, the birthday tradition began.
Knowing that Joshua had made my day so perfect, I had a lot of pressure to measure up. Therefore, I put on my thinking cap and saved up the cash to enjoy a weekend getaway. True, I cannot remember what gift I bought or the card I picked out. What I do remember, however, are the memories we made while going to a unique city and stuffing ourselves on fancy dinners and fresh bakery goods...falling in love all over again.
Over the years, we have gone horseback riding, taken a trip or two down memory lane, enjoyed relaxing days at the spa, watched the animals at the zoo, encountered loved ones for surprise parties, and even jumped off a building. Therefore, Joshua's thirtieth birthday was set to be nothing less than spectacular.
Planning for my hubby's big party was something I invested in for months. I managed to save up money, researched pinterest, and contacted the involved people to make sure it went off without at hitch. His blackjack-inspired surprise party would happen approximately 48 hours before we hopped on our first plane ride to good old Las Vegas. I had every black-and-white party decoration lined up for an elegant catered dinner while the kiddos showed their talent at go-fish.
That is until life decided to get in the way.
In the weeks leading up to Joshua's birthday, we had our consultation for our fertility treatments. We scheduled our visits and marked the dates on the calendar. In fact, exactly two weeks prior to the "big day" we had our first testing.
I found myself staring at the itemized expense sheet as I reviewed the trip itinerary I had saved online. I reviewed the thousands of dollars that had to be put down up-front, the medication costs, the ultrasounds and physician fees...the list continued. I added the costs of decorations and the customized cake topper I had inquired about. I began cutting corners and taking things off "the list". My stomach hurt as I began weighing my options and trying to make things work. My husband is my world. Seeing him happy is what I work towards day after day.
Then, I remembered the reason we chose to do fertility treatments in the first place. I thought about the way he plays with our nieces and nephew, listening to them squeal in excitement. I could see his smile of pride as he made them feel like they were on top of the world. He is so happy when he is with them.
This is the gift I want him to have.
I want to let him tease our baby by playing with my tummy when they start to kick. I want to watch him in action in the moments leading up to their birth. I want to see his strong hands shake as he cuts the cord. Then, I want to hand him the greatest blessing in the world as he becomes "daddy".
So, I started fresh and began watching the weather in preparation for a "not so flashy" birthday party, I realized that any hope of outdoor plans were a wash. I created a last minute back-up plan for a quaint family dinner and cake at my parents' house. Then, the morning of I hustled around as my momma helped me cook for everyone. I frosted the cake just as I received a phone call from the birthday boy that he was off work early.
Any other day I would have been overjoyed to have some extra time with Joshua. However, this meant I had to rush back home to avoid spoiling the surprise. I left momma in charge of the last minute decorating and crossed my fingers that everything would work out.
Driving up to their house, Joshua immediately noticed the vehicles of each of our family members. Walking up to the front porch, I whispered "happy birthday" to my hunky hubby and his face lit up as he pulled me close and thanked me for everything I had done.
We enjoyed dinner, cake, and a LIVE performance (courtesy of our pre-teen nieces) with all of our family nearby before Joshua opened his presents and we called it a night.
Here's to making your wishes come true and making your next birthday the best yet.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Living in the Gray Area
This was it.
The moment of truth.
I found myself staring in disbelief at the reflection in the mirror as the light perfectly hit the silvery coarse wires of hair at the top of my head.
For twenty-six years I had the natural brunette hair that God blessed me with. I have always found pride in myself for never dying, highlighting, or perming my subtle brown hair. In fact, the color changed with the seasons just like the leaves so it never got old. I enjoyed the sun-kissed blonde that traced my face when I had been out in the summer sand. And, just as the daylight faded, the blonde would disappear and cinnamon would come in its place-just in time for the holidays. 2014 was the year that all of that changed.
For the first time in my life, I noticed my soft brown hair turning dull. Maybe it was the outward signs of exhaustion I had felt after finally taking time to breathe. Maybe it was the fact that everything I had been through had taken a toll. Whatever the reason, I was living in the gray area.
I have always said that I would never dye my hair until "I needed to".
Well, world.
It was time.
September 5, 2014 I walked into the salon and handed my hair over to a man with an English accent.
He was kind as he talked me through three hours of waiting.
Wash, dry, and start a new stage of my life.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Happy Birthday
Life has been in full swing at the Bailey house. It seems that our calendar continues to fill up and responsibilities never cease. We are about to wrap up what we like to call, "Birthday season". That is, the time of the year where we live in a whirlwind of birthdays for all the little ones of friends and family.
Birthday season officially begins with the first birthday invitation of the year. And, each year it seems to come earlier than the last.
And the winner is...Kenzington!
The first invitation of 2014 officially marked the first birthday of our sweet cousin, Kenzington Paige. Shortly followed was the party of little Finley. Then, our eldest niece, Kennedy, would celebrate her last year before double-digits. Which was just around the corner from Hadley's party. We would soon receive word that sweet Eleanora would be turning one-just a month before Gavi's birthday. Mixed into the upcoming months were the three brothers, Beckham, Graham, and Liam. We would watch Zoie turn a year older and wonder, "where has time gone?" Only to wait until the facebook feeds fill up with more parties for inspiration to plan our "little man" nephew, Krew's next party.
Despite the joy that comes with all of these parties and celebrating these adorable kiddos, there is an amount of exhaustion that seems to intertwine with these emotions. There is nothing like the added reminder of your struggles like the seemingly, never-ending children of your friends.
Now, if I can add something here. I don't ever want it to seem like we don't truly love these babies. Because, the truth is we do. We work really hard to make the parties, put on a happy face, and focus on celebrating the life of another precious child. We sacrifice time with one another and search for the perfect gift for each of them even when finances are tight. We enjoy seeing each of our family members and friends, and we wouldn't trade these kids for anything.
But.
But, it can also be really hard on us. In fact, there are a lot of things that we keep to ourselves about the constant struggle we are experiencing about our journey of becoming parents. To speak for myself, it can be really hard on me.
I remember playing with my baby dolls as a child and wrapping them in the white bunny blanket that I was sent home in from the hospital. I grew up "playing house" with my childhood friend, Lauren. My "daughter's" name evolved over the years into "the list" Joshua and I have formed. In time, I began dating and experiencing my first boyfriend. I even had serious relationships where we would dream about the future-college, marriage, children.
I've come a long way from baby dolls and boyfriends, but not being a mom never crossed my mind. It wasn't in the dreams.
There are some days that I can put aside the grief of the loss of motherhood. Most of the time I can enjoy my life and the blessings I've been given. I think to myself that I am young and have plenty of time to be a parent. I am thankful for the "extra" time I have with just my husband and the past five and a half years of getting to know one another. By God's incredible grace, I have a hard-working husband and three precious fur babies. We have a roof over our heads and food for our bellies. We have incredible friends and jobs that we enjoy. We have each other.
But.
But, there are some days that I don't even feel like getting up. In the midst of a really "good week" I am knocked off my feet with the overwhelming disappointment of the reality we are faced with.
It may come in the form of a pregnancy announcement of a dear friend
-for all my pregnant friends, I am selflessly ecstatic for your new bundle of joy.
It may come in the form of an invite to watch your kiddo play ball
-I pray their team wins and they feel proud of their accomplishments.
It may come as I vacuum the hall and round the corner to see the "baby room"
-I close my eyes and can see the pinterest inspired nursery come to life with a tiny person sleeping in their crib.
It may come as I walk down the aisle in the middle of Target and see the newest baby clothes on the rack
-I secretly hope you save all your baby clothes so my child can wear them too.
It may be in the middle of a restaurant where I catch my husband playing peek-a-boo with the baby at the next table over
-the day will come when I make Joshua the happiest man in the world and watch him as the greatest daddy, ever.
It can come at any moment.
And, just understand it may come in the mail with a simple birthday invitation.
Friday, August 29, 2014
So It Begins
After a couple of weeks of waiting, and determining whether the lack of a phone call from the doctor was a sign or not, I decided to follow-up with my doctor's office. I remembered giving my new cell number and insurance information over the phone, but I feared it had been tossed aside in the hustle-and-bustle of the medical industry. Sure enough, they noted that they had tried calling a couple of times but were unable to reach us.
They updated our numbers and stated that they had a "start date" available for the week of October 20th. In IVF, they base everything off of the egg retrieval and work backwards accordingly. I questioned whether or not we would be able to come up with the remaining money by that time, but I knew from past experience that you never base major decisions off of money. Therefore, we signed up for "the beginning of the end" as we prayed that this was the answer to our prayers.
Friday, August 29, 2014
9:00am
The following day I walked into the office for my first draw of blood work. There was a sense of nervousness and excitement that came over me as I knew we were officially starting treatment.
After much discussion, Joshua and I had decided not to tell our families until we had a successful pregnancy. We already miss out on so much of the fun that comes along with pregnancy in general. There will be no "big surprise" as I randomly feel queasy and take a test. We will be expecting good news or bad news. There will be no "big reveal" as I get to tell my husband for the first time, "You're going to be a dad!" And, there's a sense of sadness that you feel when you miss out on those special moments. Therefore, we wanted our families to still enjoy the element of surprise...to be able to tell them, "You're an aunt, uncle, grandparent!"
Immediately following my appointment, I took the opportunity to go visit some old co-workers downtown. I welcomed the opportunity to see some comforting faces.
That night we met a few new friends downtown at an event called H & 8th. It was so nice to enjoy ourselves with good food and company.
They updated our numbers and stated that they had a "start date" available for the week of October 20th. In IVF, they base everything off of the egg retrieval and work backwards accordingly. I questioned whether or not we would be able to come up with the remaining money by that time, but I knew from past experience that you never base major decisions off of money. Therefore, we signed up for "the beginning of the end" as we prayed that this was the answer to our prayers.
Friday, August 29, 2014
9:00am
The following day I walked into the office for my first draw of blood work. There was a sense of nervousness and excitement that came over me as I knew we were officially starting treatment.
After much discussion, Joshua and I had decided not to tell our families until we had a successful pregnancy. We already miss out on so much of the fun that comes along with pregnancy in general. There will be no "big surprise" as I randomly feel queasy and take a test. We will be expecting good news or bad news. There will be no "big reveal" as I get to tell my husband for the first time, "You're going to be a dad!" And, there's a sense of sadness that you feel when you miss out on those special moments. Therefore, we wanted our families to still enjoy the element of surprise...to be able to tell them, "You're an aunt, uncle, grandparent!"
Immediately following my appointment, I took the opportunity to go visit some old co-workers downtown. I welcomed the opportunity to see some comforting faces.
That night we met a few new friends downtown at an event called H & 8th. It was so nice to enjoy ourselves with good food and company.
Friday, August 15, 2014
Waiting
The next few weeks began an emotional period of waiting.
I continued to teach on Thursday evenings and went to substitute training at my hometown as I wondered where the money would come from.
"If I sub a couple of times a month, that could take care of..."
My head was spinning.
I buried myself into cleaning the house and rearranging as I sold items (kitchen table, decor, workout machine) to add to our bank account. Any opportunity to pick up extra shifts at work, I took.
Now, there is something to be said about going through infertility struggles. Unless you have been there, and everyone's journey is different, it is difficult to put yourself in their shoes.
As an outsider, you think to yourself, "God's timing is perfect."
Or, "when you stop trying it will happen."
Then, there's my favorite, "Be glad you don't have kids yet, because everything changes when you do."
We have had friends that can look at each other and have another baby.
Some people decided they want a child, go off their birth control, and two months later have a positive pregnancy test.
Others wait for a while and wonder why it isn't happening, go to the doctor, realize there is nothing wrong, stop stressing out about it, and get pregnant.
Then there are the miracles that happen when two people try for years, pray for a baby, get ready to go through surgery, discover they have been miraculously healed, and find out they are pregnant.
Then, there is us.
Joshua and I have officially tried for more than three years, gone through multiple procedures, changed our diet and lifestyle, quit stressful jobs that were toxic to our health, lived on nothing but a prayer, and we are still waiting.
This, I believe, is the hardest part of our journey.
Now, there is something to be said about going through infertility struggles. Unless you have been there, and everyone's journey is different, it is difficult to put yourself in their shoes.
As an outsider, you think to yourself, "God's timing is perfect."
Or, "when you stop trying it will happen."
Then, there's my favorite, "Be glad you don't have kids yet, because everything changes when you do."
We have had friends that can look at each other and have another baby.
Some people decided they want a child, go off their birth control, and two months later have a positive pregnancy test.
Others wait for a while and wonder why it isn't happening, go to the doctor, realize there is nothing wrong, stop stressing out about it, and get pregnant.
Then there are the miracles that happen when two people try for years, pray for a baby, get ready to go through surgery, discover they have been miraculously healed, and find out they are pregnant.
Then, there is us.
Joshua and I have officially tried for more than three years, gone through multiple procedures, changed our diet and lifestyle, quit stressful jobs that were toxic to our health, lived on nothing but a prayer, and we are still waiting.
This, I believe, is the hardest part of our journey.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
All In
I remember as a little girl, praying to be a mom. I would wrap my baby dolls lovingly in the very blanket thtat I was sent home in from the hospital. Over time, my imagination would get the best of me as I would "play house" with my best friends. I would have a daughter named "Celeste Paige" and for some reason I had a British accent (we were just kids).
Once in high school, the dating began. We would talk of the future--college, marriage, kids. That was probably the time I first longed for a family of my own. I was so blessed to have my grandparents, parents, sister, and cousins. I couldn't wait for that to be me.
I would talk to my aunt, "Shurn-Shurn", and share my latest crush. She was so special to me and I felt my heart break that my kids would never meet her.
What kids?
True. I didn't have my family yet; but, even then I was thinking of them.
Fast forward to college. I had dates and "serious boyfriends". I even tried rushing into settling down. Let's just say God's timing and His plans are infinitely better than my own. Only by His grace am I where I am today.
I've come a long way from baby dolls and boyfriends. However, the dreams are the same--I long to be a mom. I pray to bless my husband with one of the greatest gifts. I want, more than anything, to be a family.
A little over three years into our marriage, and here we are. From the day we said, "I do," we began the journey of parenthood. Two surgeries, one round of "light fertility treatment", and more negative pregnancy tests than I care to relive, brought us to this.
Honestly, I would be lying if I said the decision has been easy. In a marriage where two people are so different, there are countless arguments and tears. We don't have a"perfect marriage" and there have been nights that make me question everything. It is easy to pull out the skeletons in the closet in the darkness and emptiness of the living room couch. Yes, we have had our share of fights. So much so, that getting to this point has been an internal battle.
I often wondered if children would have come easier, if we would have been different. I questioned whether we were fit to be parents. If we couldn't be on the same page about our marriage, how could we possibly parent together? In fact, it hurts sometimes to grieve the loss of the other dreams that didn't come true in a world of selfishness and deceit.
We are fed fairy tales and lies. We are taught that we are more important than others and everyone owes us happiness. Never-the-less, the lack of love and compassion is hurtful.
Even recently, I have found myself feeling lost and misunderstood. Didn't I marry my soulmate? Doesn't he hurt when I hurt? Can he feel my pain without me saying a word?
Yes, marriage is hard.
It doesn't always result in "happily ever after". It does, however, promise challenges. And, I believe we can overcome them with the strength of the Lord. So, we made the choice to continue our journey in the hopes of our little ones. Wednesday, July 30th we officially had our (second) consultation with Dr. Karl Hansen of OU Medical. (We met following my second surgery last year, but didn't choose to begin treatment).
Due to the chances of pregnancy being so low with an IUI, we chose to go "all the way in" and do IVF. The doctor explained the process and medications I would take.
Shots daily for two weeks--Yikes!
Although I shared that the hormones were my biggest fear because of how my body had reacted in the past, he was so great to take what I said into consideration and put me on a different medicine. Thus, we went over the cost and waiting for "the call".
Oh, did I mention it will cost between $16,000-$18,000?
Just the finances alone is enough to make you stress out. Fortunately, we knew where a large portion of that would come from, but underestimated the cost of medication. That meant we had to come up with approximately $4,000 in the next month.
Crazy.
I began listing things for sale...clothes, decorations, furniture...and I prayed like crazy.
Then, I gave it over to God.
Once in high school, the dating began. We would talk of the future--college, marriage, kids. That was probably the time I first longed for a family of my own. I was so blessed to have my grandparents, parents, sister, and cousins. I couldn't wait for that to be me.
I would talk to my aunt, "Shurn-Shurn", and share my latest crush. She was so special to me and I felt my heart break that my kids would never meet her.
What kids?
True. I didn't have my family yet; but, even then I was thinking of them.
Fast forward to college. I had dates and "serious boyfriends". I even tried rushing into settling down. Let's just say God's timing and His plans are infinitely better than my own. Only by His grace am I where I am today.
I've come a long way from baby dolls and boyfriends. However, the dreams are the same--I long to be a mom. I pray to bless my husband with one of the greatest gifts. I want, more than anything, to be a family.
A little over three years into our marriage, and here we are. From the day we said, "I do," we began the journey of parenthood. Two surgeries, one round of "light fertility treatment", and more negative pregnancy tests than I care to relive, brought us to this.
Honestly, I would be lying if I said the decision has been easy. In a marriage where two people are so different, there are countless arguments and tears. We don't have a"perfect marriage" and there have been nights that make me question everything. It is easy to pull out the skeletons in the closet in the darkness and emptiness of the living room couch. Yes, we have had our share of fights. So much so, that getting to this point has been an internal battle.
I often wondered if children would have come easier, if we would have been different. I questioned whether we were fit to be parents. If we couldn't be on the same page about our marriage, how could we possibly parent together? In fact, it hurts sometimes to grieve the loss of the other dreams that didn't come true in a world of selfishness and deceit.
We are fed fairy tales and lies. We are taught that we are more important than others and everyone owes us happiness. Never-the-less, the lack of love and compassion is hurtful.
Even recently, I have found myself feeling lost and misunderstood. Didn't I marry my soulmate? Doesn't he hurt when I hurt? Can he feel my pain without me saying a word?
Yes, marriage is hard.
It doesn't always result in "happily ever after". It does, however, promise challenges. And, I believe we can overcome them with the strength of the Lord. So, we made the choice to continue our journey in the hopes of our little ones. Wednesday, July 30th we officially had our (second) consultation with Dr. Karl Hansen of OU Medical. (We met following my second surgery last year, but didn't choose to begin treatment).
Due to the chances of pregnancy being so low with an IUI, we chose to go "all the way in" and do IVF. The doctor explained the process and medications I would take.
Shots daily for two weeks--Yikes!
Although I shared that the hormones were my biggest fear because of how my body had reacted in the past, he was so great to take what I said into consideration and put me on a different medicine. Thus, we went over the cost and waiting for "the call".
Oh, did I mention it will cost between $16,000-$18,000?
Just the finances alone is enough to make you stress out. Fortunately, we knew where a large portion of that would come from, but underestimated the cost of medication. That meant we had to come up with approximately $4,000 in the next month.
Crazy.
I began listing things for sale...clothes, decorations, furniture...and I prayed like crazy.
Then, I gave it over to God.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
The Joys of Baking
As a homemaker, I am incredibly fortunate to be able to practice my love of baking on a regular basis. For the last few years, I have unofficially been titled the family cake decorator and chosen to whip up my not-so-famous "applesauce cakes" for my niece/nephew's birthdays. I have practiced my fondant skills at creating the perfect dinosaur cake for little Krew and made heart-felt creations for hubby's birthday each year.
My love of baking played a huge role in me sharing my love with my co-workers when I worked full-time, and I would happily make their favorite desserts when their birthday approached. Much to everyone's surprise I shared with them that I don't actually like cakes. In fact, I love baking them, but don't care to take part in eating the sugary goodness. They were so generous to whip up some of my beloved cookies when they threw my going-away party.
After weeks of sitting in the kitchen, I finally decided to make use of the adorable cookie cutter that I received as a gift when participating in Mrs. OK. Therefore, yesterday I made some of my first ever decorated sugar cookies.
And, I loved it!
Not only did I get to play around with using my own ingredients to sub in for the recipe, but I actually got to enjoy eating them as well! Despite my lack of artistic skills, I was pretty pleased with the results of my impromptu baking afternoon. My husband shared in agreement by finishing off the majority of them last night, and encouraging me to look into making them more often. I jokingly shared that this could be the beginning of starting my little baking business for loved ones. After thinking up a name for myself all morning I am going to spend the afternoon practicing with some new cookie cutters. Be on the lookout for my baking blog soon! In the meantime, enjoy these yummy pictures I snapped from yesterday's adventure.
My love of baking played a huge role in me sharing my love with my co-workers when I worked full-time, and I would happily make their favorite desserts when their birthday approached. Much to everyone's surprise I shared with them that I don't actually like cakes. In fact, I love baking them, but don't care to take part in eating the sugary goodness. They were so generous to whip up some of my beloved cookies when they threw my going-away party.
After weeks of sitting in the kitchen, I finally decided to make use of the adorable cookie cutter that I received as a gift when participating in Mrs. OK. Therefore, yesterday I made some of my first ever decorated sugar cookies.
And, I loved it!
Not only did I get to play around with using my own ingredients to sub in for the recipe, but I actually got to enjoy eating them as well! Despite my lack of artistic skills, I was pretty pleased with the results of my impromptu baking afternoon. My husband shared in agreement by finishing off the majority of them last night, and encouraging me to look into making them more often. I jokingly shared that this could be the beginning of starting my little baking business for loved ones. After thinking up a name for myself all morning I am going to spend the afternoon practicing with some new cookie cutters. Be on the lookout for my baking blog soon! In the meantime, enjoy these yummy pictures I snapped from yesterday's adventure.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Time Keeps on Ticking
Confession three:
Now that I am working off of a time clock, I find it incredibly easy to get caught up in the evenings and stay up late. Therefore, last night I came across "The Parent Trap" on the television just minutes before we typically call it a night. Since hubby has been blessed with the ability to fall asleep-any place, any time-I decided to keep it on for just a few minutes longer while he was sawing logs.
First of all, I started to get very worked up every time a commercial would come on. Thus, I was prompted to look at the tv guide to see how much longer I had to wait for the show to be over. I immediately noticed that what would take a mere hour and half to watch straight through was scheduled for an hour longer due to society's need to attack you with marketing. Yes, I was grouchy about it. After all, it was past my bedtime.
It doesn't take much to notice that I do not like for things to be left unfinished. I find myself thinking back to a comedy sitcom I watched where they poked fun at one of the character's need for closure. Then I realized. This is me.
I do not like to flip the radio in the middle of a song, leave a task half-done, or turn off the television before watching the ending. Therefore, I stayed up way too late watching a cheesy, kids movie.
If only it were that simple. Unfortunately, when I pushed the OFF button on my remote my brain didn't agree. In fact, I found myself thinking of the endless list of things I needed to do. I planned the following day and contemplated upcoming vacation desires. Being married to a realist, I was then reminded of the fact that funds were limited in this dream vacation and had to problem solve how to make the most of what we had. I mentally sorted through items for our garage sale and added up what I thought we would be able to put into the bank.
Numbers.
That was where I went wrong. With math being my most challenging subject, I found myself carrying the one and trying to total the addition problem I had created in my head. Thus, I had a very restless evening while time just kept on ticking.
Now that I am working off of a time clock, I find it incredibly easy to get caught up in the evenings and stay up late. Therefore, last night I came across "The Parent Trap" on the television just minutes before we typically call it a night. Since hubby has been blessed with the ability to fall asleep-any place, any time-I decided to keep it on for just a few minutes longer while he was sawing logs.
First of all, I started to get very worked up every time a commercial would come on. Thus, I was prompted to look at the tv guide to see how much longer I had to wait for the show to be over. I immediately noticed that what would take a mere hour and half to watch straight through was scheduled for an hour longer due to society's need to attack you with marketing. Yes, I was grouchy about it. After all, it was past my bedtime.
It doesn't take much to notice that I do not like for things to be left unfinished. I find myself thinking back to a comedy sitcom I watched where they poked fun at one of the character's need for closure. Then I realized. This is me.
I do not like to flip the radio in the middle of a song, leave a task half-done, or turn off the television before watching the ending. Therefore, I stayed up way too late watching a cheesy, kids movie.
If only it were that simple. Unfortunately, when I pushed the OFF button on my remote my brain didn't agree. In fact, I found myself thinking of the endless list of things I needed to do. I planned the following day and contemplated upcoming vacation desires. Being married to a realist, I was then reminded of the fact that funds were limited in this dream vacation and had to problem solve how to make the most of what we had. I mentally sorted through items for our garage sale and added up what I thought we would be able to put into the bank.
Numbers.
That was where I went wrong. With math being my most challenging subject, I found myself carrying the one and trying to total the addition problem I had created in my head. Thus, I had a very restless evening while time just kept on ticking.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
April 7, 2014
Confession two:
Yes, I admit it. I woke up past 9 o'clock this morning. After waking up when hubby got ready for work, I hit the imaginary alarm clock and slept in. For all of you in the world that were wondering if I awake at the crack of dawn...I don't.
As I rolled out of bed, I did the usual routine for Mondays. Let the pups outside, pick up their beds for my weekly deep clean in our bedroom, rip off the sheets for laundry day, sprinkle my favorite carpet cleaning powder (zorb) across the floor as instructed on the back of the label, and put up the baby gate as I make my way into the rest of the house. You can't say I didn't warn you about my O.C.D.
After switching over the load of laundry (I had a head start thanks to the "delay wash" feature on my washing machine), I used my lavender scented Mrs. Meyers to clean the bathroom after sweeping up the floor in preparing for my afternoon steam mopping.
I was greeted with a sweet text from hubby to put me in a good mood for the week as I walked into the kitchen and looked for the perfect Monday fix for our lunch. We were on week three of groceries before pay day, and I had to find something I had all the ingredients for that would fill a working man's belly. Chicken, olive oil mayo, garlic and spices, eggs, celery, bread...wait, wait for it...ding, ding, ding! Chicken salad sandwiches with potato chips and chocolate-dipped banana slices it is!
Just about the time I determined what to make the phone rang.
"Hi, honey."
After learning of a new hire, Joshua was picked out to train the latest employee. Therefore, he apologetically shared that he wouldn't be home for lunch.
I decided the lunch would be good enough to save for an afternoon reward to my cleaning endeavors, and opted to go ahead and whip up the savory goodness. So, I defrosted a couple of chicken breasts and turned on the cook top and went about my morning chores.
By this time, I was folding my first load of freshly dried laundry and finishing up the scrubbing in the bathroom. With the hub's big birthday coming up, I took a short break to take care of some surprise party hunting online. Then, I rushed into the kitchen to check on my boiling water (after all, a watched pot never boils).
Before you read any further, please learn from my mistakes and back track my footsteps so you can avoid the same thing happening to you. What you are about to read is the actual, uncensored events that occurred and the order in which they happened. Be forewarned.
As I hurried to the stove, I peeked into the tiny pot that I had strategically placed two eggs into just minutes...wait, it's been that long? I looked at the clock and realized my intent to leave the eggs in for a mere 12-15minutes had failed. In fact, apparently the combination of time flying by and the "high" heat had caused all of the water to evaporate.
"Crap."
I looked at my chicken which was floating happily in the large pot just to the left of my dehydrated boiled eggs. I turned both burners off and reached into the top drawer for a potholder to move the cookware off of the hot burners.
Wait, if you read that previous sentence you can see that I had not yet touched the pot yet at this time. Okay, go on.
As I moved my hand closer to the handle, the next few seconds went lightning fast. I remember putting the silicone potholder on (thanks to my previous burn incident just last week). I remember making contact with the handle of the pot. I remember barely moving the pot before closing my eyes and hearing the combination of the explosion and my own scream make its way throughout the house.
Bracing my face, I felt the burn immediately on my upper cheek and above my eyebrow. I looked to the floor through my egg-splattered glasses and felt the dogs brush up against my legs.
"Out, out."
I ran over to the backdoor and hurried the babies outside before assessing the damage. I grabbed my phone and immediately called my husband. Not looking in the mirror yet, I didn't know what to expect. Knowing he was probably driving with the new employee, I asked him to take me off bluetooth in case they were together. Then, I choked back the tears and explained what had just happened.
After listening to my frantic self, he told me he would be home in a minute and got off the phone.
I grabbed the icepack out of the freezer and held it to my cheek as I closed my eyes in pain. I don't know what hurt worse at this time, my face or my feelings from shock. Just then, my sister-in-law called to check in on me after my husband had asked her what to do. Having a nurse in the family can be incredibly helpful at times like this.
She told me not to put ice on it...oops. And, she calmed me down as I replayed the story again.
After hanging up the phone, I walked into the bathroom and was relieved to see the small pink in my skin tone rather than blistered skin. I called my husband to let him know I was okay, but he was already on his way. Before I knew it, he walked into the kitchen as I held the damp washcloth to my face. He looked at me and shared his concern before kissing me goodbye.
Then, I looked at the kitchen.
Somehow the entire egg had come out of the pot and landed underneath one of the other burners. It was cracked in pieces where the shell made its way across the room. Egg remnants were splattered on the window and upper cabinets, as well as the backsplash and countertops. As I stood barefoot to wipe off the cabinets, I felt the crunch beneath my toes. I looked down to see tiny pieces beneath them and making their way into the living room.
Who knew that an egg could make such a big mess?
I finished cleaning up the last of my boiled eggs and tossed the chicken into the garbage due to my loss of appetite. Then, I went about the rest of my Monday cleaning-including myself. I took my smallest baby to the vet for her two-week check up, which called for an impromptu "Mommy still loves you" trip to Petsmart for a new baby and treat. Only to "call it a day" early and flip the television on for some TeenNick to console myself before fixing dinner.
Yes, I admit it. I woke up past 9 o'clock this morning. After waking up when hubby got ready for work, I hit the imaginary alarm clock and slept in. For all of you in the world that were wondering if I awake at the crack of dawn...I don't.
As I rolled out of bed, I did the usual routine for Mondays. Let the pups outside, pick up their beds for my weekly deep clean in our bedroom, rip off the sheets for laundry day, sprinkle my favorite carpet cleaning powder (zorb) across the floor as instructed on the back of the label, and put up the baby gate as I make my way into the rest of the house. You can't say I didn't warn you about my O.C.D.
After switching over the load of laundry (I had a head start thanks to the "delay wash" feature on my washing machine), I used my lavender scented Mrs. Meyers to clean the bathroom after sweeping up the floor in preparing for my afternoon steam mopping.
I was greeted with a sweet text from hubby to put me in a good mood for the week as I walked into the kitchen and looked for the perfect Monday fix for our lunch. We were on week three of groceries before pay day, and I had to find something I had all the ingredients for that would fill a working man's belly. Chicken, olive oil mayo, garlic and spices, eggs, celery, bread...wait, wait for it...ding, ding, ding! Chicken salad sandwiches with potato chips and chocolate-dipped banana slices it is!
Just about the time I determined what to make the phone rang.
"Hi, honey."
After learning of a new hire, Joshua was picked out to train the latest employee. Therefore, he apologetically shared that he wouldn't be home for lunch.
I decided the lunch would be good enough to save for an afternoon reward to my cleaning endeavors, and opted to go ahead and whip up the savory goodness. So, I defrosted a couple of chicken breasts and turned on the cook top and went about my morning chores.
By this time, I was folding my first load of freshly dried laundry and finishing up the scrubbing in the bathroom. With the hub's big birthday coming up, I took a short break to take care of some surprise party hunting online. Then, I rushed into the kitchen to check on my boiling water (after all, a watched pot never boils).
Before you read any further, please learn from my mistakes and back track my footsteps so you can avoid the same thing happening to you. What you are about to read is the actual, uncensored events that occurred and the order in which they happened. Be forewarned.
As I hurried to the stove, I peeked into the tiny pot that I had strategically placed two eggs into just minutes...wait, it's been that long? I looked at the clock and realized my intent to leave the eggs in for a mere 12-15minutes had failed. In fact, apparently the combination of time flying by and the "high" heat had caused all of the water to evaporate.
"Crap."
I looked at my chicken which was floating happily in the large pot just to the left of my dehydrated boiled eggs. I turned both burners off and reached into the top drawer for a potholder to move the cookware off of the hot burners.
Wait, if you read that previous sentence you can see that I had not yet touched the pot yet at this time. Okay, go on.
As I moved my hand closer to the handle, the next few seconds went lightning fast. I remember putting the silicone potholder on (thanks to my previous burn incident just last week). I remember making contact with the handle of the pot. I remember barely moving the pot before closing my eyes and hearing the combination of the explosion and my own scream make its way throughout the house.
Bracing my face, I felt the burn immediately on my upper cheek and above my eyebrow. I looked to the floor through my egg-splattered glasses and felt the dogs brush up against my legs.
"Out, out."
I ran over to the backdoor and hurried the babies outside before assessing the damage. I grabbed my phone and immediately called my husband. Not looking in the mirror yet, I didn't know what to expect. Knowing he was probably driving with the new employee, I asked him to take me off bluetooth in case they were together. Then, I choked back the tears and explained what had just happened.
After listening to my frantic self, he told me he would be home in a minute and got off the phone.
I grabbed the icepack out of the freezer and held it to my cheek as I closed my eyes in pain. I don't know what hurt worse at this time, my face or my feelings from shock. Just then, my sister-in-law called to check in on me after my husband had asked her what to do. Having a nurse in the family can be incredibly helpful at times like this.
She told me not to put ice on it...oops. And, she calmed me down as I replayed the story again.
After hanging up the phone, I walked into the bathroom and was relieved to see the small pink in my skin tone rather than blistered skin. I called my husband to let him know I was okay, but he was already on his way. Before I knew it, he walked into the kitchen as I held the damp washcloth to my face. He looked at me and shared his concern before kissing me goodbye.
Then, I looked at the kitchen.
Somehow the entire egg had come out of the pot and landed underneath one of the other burners. It was cracked in pieces where the shell made its way across the room. Egg remnants were splattered on the window and upper cabinets, as well as the backsplash and countertops. As I stood barefoot to wipe off the cabinets, I felt the crunch beneath my toes. I looked down to see tiny pieces beneath them and making their way into the living room.
Who knew that an egg could make such a big mess?
I finished cleaning up the last of my boiled eggs and tossed the chicken into the garbage due to my loss of appetite. Then, I went about the rest of my Monday cleaning-including myself. I took my smallest baby to the vet for her two-week check up, which called for an impromptu "Mommy still loves you" trip to Petsmart for a new baby and treat. Only to "call it a day" early and flip the television on for some TeenNick to console myself before fixing dinner.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Reconsideration
I am beginning to reconsider the subject of my book and giving it the title,
"Confessions of a Housewife".
Yes, the brief excerpts would read something along the lines of:
Confession One.
It has been a typical day at our residence. Today alone I have managed to burn the tip of my finger, get my finger caught in the vacuum attachment, and spill hot wax on my pearl-white furniture. If only my sweet husband knew the amount of effort it took to have lunch ready and a clean house to come into; but, thank goodness I had the chance to clean up myself and the house before he makes his presence this evening.
Not only has it been a long day, but after 1047 days of marriage I officially bit the bullet. Yes, April 2, 2014 marks a milestone for me.
I know what you're thinking. "I wonder what awe-inspiring thing she did this time?" I mean, you have to be curious if I took the time to count up the number of days it has been since our wedding.
Yes, it is a monumentous occasion indeed. Today, I ironed my husband's clothes.
No, it isn't that I was being stingy and ironing my own clothes and leaving his like a mother teaching their children independence and responsibility. Actually, I am incredibly guilty of not having ironed a single garment in more than three years. Thus, my sweet hubby has either gone out in public as a wrinkled, hot mess. Or, he has ironed his own clothes. In fact, if I remember correctly, he was the one that brought an iron into our house in the first place.
So aside from airing out my dirty laundry (or clean laundry) for the world to see, I must admit one more thing. It is not easy to iron a men's dress shirt! Not only did I spend more than 40 minutes gently pressing out three dress shirts (after reading the fabric composition on the tag and making sure I utilized the proper setting), I also have to thank the "art of manliness" blog for teaching me the correct way to iron the sleeves. Who knew?
"Confessions of a Housewife".
Yes, the brief excerpts would read something along the lines of:
Confession One.
It has been a typical day at our residence. Today alone I have managed to burn the tip of my finger, get my finger caught in the vacuum attachment, and spill hot wax on my pearl-white furniture. If only my sweet husband knew the amount of effort it took to have lunch ready and a clean house to come into; but, thank goodness I had the chance to clean up myself and the house before he makes his presence this evening.
Not only has it been a long day, but after 1047 days of marriage I officially bit the bullet. Yes, April 2, 2014 marks a milestone for me.
I know what you're thinking. "I wonder what awe-inspiring thing she did this time?" I mean, you have to be curious if I took the time to count up the number of days it has been since our wedding.
Yes, it is a monumentous occasion indeed. Today, I ironed my husband's clothes.
No, it isn't that I was being stingy and ironing my own clothes and leaving his like a mother teaching their children independence and responsibility. Actually, I am incredibly guilty of not having ironed a single garment in more than three years. Thus, my sweet hubby has either gone out in public as a wrinkled, hot mess. Or, he has ironed his own clothes. In fact, if I remember correctly, he was the one that brought an iron into our house in the first place.
So aside from airing out my dirty laundry (or clean laundry) for the world to see, I must admit one more thing. It is not easy to iron a men's dress shirt! Not only did I spend more than 40 minutes gently pressing out three dress shirts (after reading the fabric composition on the tag and making sure I utilized the proper setting), I also have to thank the "art of manliness" blog for teaching me the correct way to iron the sleeves. Who knew?
Friday, March 28, 2014
My Journey to Mrs. Oklahoma, The Night Before
After arriving at the hotel, we were greeted with an overwhelming line in which everyone was waiting to check-in. Due to my embarrassment of walking in late for rehearsal, I was bound and determined to get ready and make it to the dinner party on time.
Fail.
The line was moving snail slow. Once we had our key to the room, we rushed upstairs and realized the keyfab had not been activated. Therefore, I rushed back down the elevator to go back to the front desk.
Oh, no.
The line was still stretched alongside the wall and my fears of disappointing my director kicked into high gear. I made the decision to stand off to the side in the hope that I could gain someone's attention and correct the issue as soon as possible.
My chest began to ache. There I was, cutting in front of a group of strangers as I was trying to proudly represent my community. I hated being that person that acted entitled to go to the front of the line. I made excuses in my head saying, "I already waited my turn". However, I still felt guilty and quickly apologized to those around me when the hotel staff greeted me again.
Take two.
I made it back upstairs to the room and quickly changed into the dress that I had talked myself into just the day before. Having spent more money on the pageant than expected, I had a difficult time justifying the purchase of another dress. But, my mother-in-law was kind enough to purchase hubby a new suit for the occasion. Therefore, he encouraged me to buy the dress and enjoy the evening.
Once dressed, I pinned my hair to the side-knowing I didn't have time to actually get ready. Then, I met Joshua downstairs and walked into the dining room for an evening to remember.
The photographer immediately directed us to get our pictures taken, and I was excited to snap a shot with my best friend in place of her date. I felt like a celebrity, safe in my husband's arms as he put his hands around me for the picture and then guided me to a table.
The nerves of the day were still thick. Despite trying my best to interact with my new friends at the table, I couldn't help but replay the day's events in my head. I mentioned little things to Joshua about how I was struggling, but he was kind enough to encourage me and tell me just to have fun.
We were graced with the presence of the reigning Mrs. America, Austen Williams, and my former sorority sister-Mrs. Oklahoma 2013, Julie Pittman. They introduced themselves and broke the ice by having everyone go around the room and share something funny that happened at their wedding. Deep inside I couldn't think of anything funny about that sweet day in May. However, hubby stepped in and shared for us.
"When everyone should stand up and turn to look at her, I just heard her voice come over the speakers. I thought, 'Oh, no. She is leaving me at the altar,' then she shared her journal with me and a prayer for our marriage-making me cry." In that moment I realized how thankful I was to have that man by my side and relieved that he took the pressure off of me.
Following dinner, it was just the girls. We snapped a few sponsor pictures before changing into our comfy clothes for a last minute dance practice. Without our choegrapher, we decided to push hard to make her proud when she arrived. We talked through our questions and I continued to feel nervous about getting everything right. When Austen returned, I eased my concerns by talking one-on-one when everyone went back to the rooms. Feeling more at ease, I went upstairs and practiced with Ginger over and over until the steps were perfect.
Laying in bed that night, I shared the emotions that had been running through my mind all day. I vented about my struggles and discussed my perception of why I was called to participate that year. I shed a few tears, laughed with encouragement, and the two of us did a short devotional and prayer before calling it a night.
Fail.
The line was moving snail slow. Once we had our key to the room, we rushed upstairs and realized the keyfab had not been activated. Therefore, I rushed back down the elevator to go back to the front desk.
Oh, no.
The line was still stretched alongside the wall and my fears of disappointing my director kicked into high gear. I made the decision to stand off to the side in the hope that I could gain someone's attention and correct the issue as soon as possible.
My chest began to ache. There I was, cutting in front of a group of strangers as I was trying to proudly represent my community. I hated being that person that acted entitled to go to the front of the line. I made excuses in my head saying, "I already waited my turn". However, I still felt guilty and quickly apologized to those around me when the hotel staff greeted me again.
Take two.
I made it back upstairs to the room and quickly changed into the dress that I had talked myself into just the day before. Having spent more money on the pageant than expected, I had a difficult time justifying the purchase of another dress. But, my mother-in-law was kind enough to purchase hubby a new suit for the occasion. Therefore, he encouraged me to buy the dress and enjoy the evening.
Once dressed, I pinned my hair to the side-knowing I didn't have time to actually get ready. Then, I met Joshua downstairs and walked into the dining room for an evening to remember.
The photographer immediately directed us to get our pictures taken, and I was excited to snap a shot with my best friend in place of her date. I felt like a celebrity, safe in my husband's arms as he put his hands around me for the picture and then guided me to a table.
The nerves of the day were still thick. Despite trying my best to interact with my new friends at the table, I couldn't help but replay the day's events in my head. I mentioned little things to Joshua about how I was struggling, but he was kind enough to encourage me and tell me just to have fun.
We were graced with the presence of the reigning Mrs. America, Austen Williams, and my former sorority sister-Mrs. Oklahoma 2013, Julie Pittman. They introduced themselves and broke the ice by having everyone go around the room and share something funny that happened at their wedding. Deep inside I couldn't think of anything funny about that sweet day in May. However, hubby stepped in and shared for us.
"When everyone should stand up and turn to look at her, I just heard her voice come over the speakers. I thought, 'Oh, no. She is leaving me at the altar,' then she shared her journal with me and a prayer for our marriage-making me cry." In that moment I realized how thankful I was to have that man by my side and relieved that he took the pressure off of me.
Following dinner, it was just the girls. We snapped a few sponsor pictures before changing into our comfy clothes for a last minute dance practice. Without our choegrapher, we decided to push hard to make her proud when she arrived. We talked through our questions and I continued to feel nervous about getting everything right. When Austen returned, I eased my concerns by talking one-on-one when everyone went back to the rooms. Feeling more at ease, I went upstairs and practiced with Ginger over and over until the steps were perfect.
Laying in bed that night, I shared the emotions that had been running through my mind all day. I vented about my struggles and discussed my perception of why I was called to participate that year. I shed a few tears, laughed with encouragement, and the two of us did a short devotional and prayer before calling it a night.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
My Journey to Mrs. Oklahoma, First Impressions and Frustrations
"Brittany?
Brittany."
"Here!"
I sneaked in the side door to the auditorium just as the director called my name for roll. Suddenly, I was taken back to my college days and felt as if I was the final student making my way into the classroom when the teacher took attendance. I took my seat and was immediately remorseful as she shared the importance of being prompt and respecting everyone's time.
Wow, what a great first impression.
With most of us meeting for the first time, we were asked to go around the room at introduce ourselves and state why we were there. Several of the women spoke up about the fact that they were there "to win Mrs. Oklahoma". One of the women even joked that no one came to "win first runner-up". Ginger shared about her passions and the drive that brought her there. I was just...honest.
I shared that I felt called to do this, and I had no idea why God placed me there. I was looking forward to learning what His plan would entail.
We listened to a few inspirational stories before making our way onto the stage for rehearsal. After practicing with Ginger, I was confident I would know exactly what to do.
Wrong.
The show changed directions entirely, and I was starting back at square one. Most of the women there had competed multiple times prior, and I could feel my insecurities start to surface. The heels I had intentionally picked out to add some height were instantly a regret as I struggled to make myself look graceful.
Let me reiterate that.
I struggled.
For those of you out there that haven't participated in a pageant, let me just stop you before you minimize how much work goes into one. There is nothing easy about it. The financial requirements, stress, emotions, criticism, and effort take a lot out of you. And, this hit me about the time we started to practice our opening number.
Those of you that have been graced by my presence when dancing, you know. Any of you that haven't seen my two left feet can only imagine how bad it really was. So, let me start off by saying that I have no rythym.
First of all, the beautiful and talented, Austen Williams (Mrs. America 2013) stepped in front of us as a choeographer. Let me just say, she is out of this world. As a minister of the Gospel, I admire her so much. She is an unbelievable role model and has a personality like a dynamite. She is amazing...and, she has rythym.
So, when she began to say things like "up, down" my hips had no idea to what she was referring to. As she would count things off, I would think, "I can count, right?" However, counting and keeping to the beat are two different things. I began to push harder and was determined to get it down. Then, I noticed a few of my peers struggling in the same things.
"Whew, what a relief."
I chose to speak up for all of us. I asked questions and became "that girl". I watched attentively to those around me. When I noticed the look of frustration come across their face, I reminded them of their accomplishments. I began to think less of how I looked in front of everyone, and thought more of these women that I considered friends.
"Friends don't let friends go out looking crazy," Austen said.
That resonated with me in a way that I cannot explain. I will love each of these girls and put them first. If they need something, I will be there. When they feel like giving up, I will lift them up. I will love the least of these.
Practice flew by, and the day disappeared shortly after. I rushed to check in at the hotel as I met my husband for our dinner party. My attitude was very solemn as I began to reflect on what everything meant. At that moment, I knew I had lost and won all at the same time. It was evident that this was the purpose I had in coming to Mrs. Oklahoma.
I just remember thinking, "it isn't about you".
Brittany."
"Here!"
I sneaked in the side door to the auditorium just as the director called my name for roll. Suddenly, I was taken back to my college days and felt as if I was the final student making my way into the classroom when the teacher took attendance. I took my seat and was immediately remorseful as she shared the importance of being prompt and respecting everyone's time.
Wow, what a great first impression.
With most of us meeting for the first time, we were asked to go around the room at introduce ourselves and state why we were there. Several of the women spoke up about the fact that they were there "to win Mrs. Oklahoma". One of the women even joked that no one came to "win first runner-up". Ginger shared about her passions and the drive that brought her there. I was just...honest.
I shared that I felt called to do this, and I had no idea why God placed me there. I was looking forward to learning what His plan would entail.
We listened to a few inspirational stories before making our way onto the stage for rehearsal. After practicing with Ginger, I was confident I would know exactly what to do.
Wrong.
The show changed directions entirely, and I was starting back at square one. Most of the women there had competed multiple times prior, and I could feel my insecurities start to surface. The heels I had intentionally picked out to add some height were instantly a regret as I struggled to make myself look graceful.
Let me reiterate that.
I struggled.
For those of you out there that haven't participated in a pageant, let me just stop you before you minimize how much work goes into one. There is nothing easy about it. The financial requirements, stress, emotions, criticism, and effort take a lot out of you. And, this hit me about the time we started to practice our opening number.
Those of you that have been graced by my presence when dancing, you know. Any of you that haven't seen my two left feet can only imagine how bad it really was. So, let me start off by saying that I have no rythym.
First of all, the beautiful and talented, Austen Williams (Mrs. America 2013) stepped in front of us as a choeographer. Let me just say, she is out of this world. As a minister of the Gospel, I admire her so much. She is an unbelievable role model and has a personality like a dynamite. She is amazing...and, she has rythym.
So, when she began to say things like "up, down" my hips had no idea to what she was referring to. As she would count things off, I would think, "I can count, right?" However, counting and keeping to the beat are two different things. I began to push harder and was determined to get it down. Then, I noticed a few of my peers struggling in the same things.
"Whew, what a relief."
I chose to speak up for all of us. I asked questions and became "that girl". I watched attentively to those around me. When I noticed the look of frustration come across their face, I reminded them of their accomplishments. I began to think less of how I looked in front of everyone, and thought more of these women that I considered friends.
"Friends don't let friends go out looking crazy," Austen said.
That resonated with me in a way that I cannot explain. I will love each of these girls and put them first. If they need something, I will be there. When they feel like giving up, I will lift them up. I will love the least of these.
Practice flew by, and the day disappeared shortly after. I rushed to check in at the hotel as I met my husband for our dinner party. My attitude was very solemn as I began to reflect on what everything meant. At that moment, I knew I had lost and won all at the same time. It was evident that this was the purpose I had in coming to Mrs. Oklahoma.
I just remember thinking, "it isn't about you".
My Journey to Mrs. Oklahoma, Run Forest, Run
Following our photo shoot, we were encouraged to change back into normal clothes and meet in the auditorium for orientation.
"Wait, normal clothes?"
It suddenly occurred to me that all of my clothes (including undergarments) were in the back of my car, parked across the street. Aside from that, my pretty little sundress was upstairs on the opposite end of the building. Wearing 6" heels, running in them was not an option. I had one of two options at this point. 1)Wear my suit under my dress for the rest of the day, risking that all of the sequins would fall off and potentially ruin my shot of getting to wear it on stage the next day, or 2)run barefoot outside (in the freezing cold), in my swimsuit.
At the time, it sounded much better to do the second. Thus, I took off my shoes and ran as fast as I could down the beautiful steps of the Scottish Rites Temple. Only to heighten my embarrassment, I ran in front of three adolescent boys that sat right outside the door. The more I ran, the higher my suit decided to rise in the back and the redder my face became.
"Did you see that? Did you see that?" one of the boys stated.
He continued to raise his voice as he shared that, "this is the temple we need to worship at because that is something to worship."
My head went down as I made my way from my car back inside, but this boy had no shame.
"Stop staring, you're making it obvious," his friend stated.
"It is supposed to be obvious," he finished as I ran inside.
Well, there is nothing quite like an ego boost to make you forget about your flaws. As silly as it sounds, I think that was exactly what I needed to hear to realize that no one sees the little things I find when I look in the mirror.
I continued to run upstairs and all modesty went out the window as I rushed into my clothes to avoid being late to orientation.
"Wait, normal clothes?"
It suddenly occurred to me that all of my clothes (including undergarments) were in the back of my car, parked across the street. Aside from that, my pretty little sundress was upstairs on the opposite end of the building. Wearing 6" heels, running in them was not an option. I had one of two options at this point. 1)Wear my suit under my dress for the rest of the day, risking that all of the sequins would fall off and potentially ruin my shot of getting to wear it on stage the next day, or 2)run barefoot outside (in the freezing cold), in my swimsuit.
At the time, it sounded much better to do the second. Thus, I took off my shoes and ran as fast as I could down the beautiful steps of the Scottish Rites Temple. Only to heighten my embarrassment, I ran in front of three adolescent boys that sat right outside the door. The more I ran, the higher my suit decided to rise in the back and the redder my face became.
"Did you see that? Did you see that?" one of the boys stated.
He continued to raise his voice as he shared that, "this is the temple we need to worship at because that is something to worship."
My head went down as I made my way from my car back inside, but this boy had no shame.
"Stop staring, you're making it obvious," his friend stated.
"It is supposed to be obvious," he finished as I ran inside.
Well, there is nothing quite like an ego boost to make you forget about your flaws. As silly as it sounds, I think that was exactly what I needed to hear to realize that no one sees the little things I find when I look in the mirror.
I continued to run upstairs and all modesty went out the window as I rushed into my clothes to avoid being late to orientation.
My Journey to Mrs. Oklahoma, The Arrival
The week prior to the pageant, I started to have the emotions similar to getting married. You put so much thought and planning into everything. You rehearse how you think it might go. Then, by the time it is actually in front of you, you are so ready for it to hurry up and just be done.
Friday morning went faster than the entire month prior. I had created a checklist the day prior and packed the few things I knew I wouldn't be needing to get ready. I took my shower, packed my bags, double-checked my checklist, and loaded up the last of my belongings. Then, I headed to my sister-in-law's to get ready.
Thinking I had plenty of time, I didn't realize how late it really was until I got into the car. I hadn't had anything for breakfast and had been encouraged to eat lunch prior to getting there. So, I rushed into my local Jamba Juice for a quick smoothie. Unfortunately, nerves had gotten the best of me and the drink sat in the cup holder for the next two days (Yuck!)
Once I got to my sister's house, she curled my hair and began to do my makeup. For someone that normally wears mascara and chapstick, I was clueless on stage makeup. Therefore, she fixed me up for photos that day and helped me squeeze into my sequined swimsuit. You see, the suit fit perfectly when I took it out of the package. I was so excited to have something that gave me shape and confidence. However, after using an entire bottle of spray adhesive and thousands of sequins, it was definitely...different. The fabric no longer stretched when you pulled at it. And, oddly enough, my hips are slightly larger than my waist. Thus, it was difficult to pull the suit on through a tiny hole that was permanently conformed to my waistline.
After tag-teaming my suit, I finished up my hair and rushed out the door to get to the temple in time. We were expected to arrive promptly, in our swimsuits, for pictures. I ran up the steps with my opening number dress and a sundress pulled over my suit. Then, I waited my turn for pictures.
It was cold.
If you've been keeping up with the weather lately, you will note that Oklahoma has had (as always) crazy weather. In fact, it snowed the first week of March. Then, it was 80 degrees one day and 40 the next. Just so happened on this day, it was cold and windy.
My body shook as I stood outside with the other delegates and made small-talk to get to know them. Chill bumps made their presence and my allergies began to act up. My nose began turn red and my eyes watered-not attractive. I took my picture and continued to put names to each of the girls I had prayed over in the weeks prior.
For the most part, everyone was incredibly friendly (despite the fact that we were freezing off parts of our bodies that were barely covered). I was anxious to get to know everyone...to hear their stories. However, I remember the advice I was given on not giving too much of my energy to the other women right off the bat. Therefore, I talked with the few girls that were around me before making my way back inside.
Immediately, there were a couple of girls that stood out to me. As I looked around the room, I felt the discernment that I had several other sisters in Christ surrounding me. What a blessing!
Friday morning went faster than the entire month prior. I had created a checklist the day prior and packed the few things I knew I wouldn't be needing to get ready. I took my shower, packed my bags, double-checked my checklist, and loaded up the last of my belongings. Then, I headed to my sister-in-law's to get ready.
Thinking I had plenty of time, I didn't realize how late it really was until I got into the car. I hadn't had anything for breakfast and had been encouraged to eat lunch prior to getting there. So, I rushed into my local Jamba Juice for a quick smoothie. Unfortunately, nerves had gotten the best of me and the drink sat in the cup holder for the next two days (Yuck!)
Once I got to my sister's house, she curled my hair and began to do my makeup. For someone that normally wears mascara and chapstick, I was clueless on stage makeup. Therefore, she fixed me up for photos that day and helped me squeeze into my sequined swimsuit. You see, the suit fit perfectly when I took it out of the package. I was so excited to have something that gave me shape and confidence. However, after using an entire bottle of spray adhesive and thousands of sequins, it was definitely...different. The fabric no longer stretched when you pulled at it. And, oddly enough, my hips are slightly larger than my waist. Thus, it was difficult to pull the suit on through a tiny hole that was permanently conformed to my waistline.
After tag-teaming my suit, I finished up my hair and rushed out the door to get to the temple in time. We were expected to arrive promptly, in our swimsuits, for pictures. I ran up the steps with my opening number dress and a sundress pulled over my suit. Then, I waited my turn for pictures.
It was cold.
If you've been keeping up with the weather lately, you will note that Oklahoma has had (as always) crazy weather. In fact, it snowed the first week of March. Then, it was 80 degrees one day and 40 the next. Just so happened on this day, it was cold and windy.
My body shook as I stood outside with the other delegates and made small-talk to get to know them. Chill bumps made their presence and my allergies began to act up. My nose began turn red and my eyes watered-not attractive. I took my picture and continued to put names to each of the girls I had prayed over in the weeks prior.
For the most part, everyone was incredibly friendly (despite the fact that we were freezing off parts of our bodies that were barely covered). I was anxious to get to know everyone...to hear their stories. However, I remember the advice I was given on not giving too much of my energy to the other women right off the bat. Therefore, I talked with the few girls that were around me before making my way back inside.
Immediately, there were a couple of girls that stood out to me. As I looked around the room, I felt the discernment that I had several other sisters in Christ surrounding me. What a blessing!
My Journey to Mrs. Oklahoma, Handing it Over to God
As I mentioned before, coming to terms with the thought of being "weighed up against" other strong women was something I completely had to give over to God. Even weeks prior to being asked to participate in Mrs. Oklahoma, I found myself in a very reflective state as God was softening my heart for this ministry. I remember having this incredible peace that my intent was not to win, but rather to be used by God.
When people would make statements like, "I really think you could win". I couldn't help but share that I had zero expectations of winning as I was going into the competition. I would share that I knew all of the girls would be a great representative for the State of Oklahoma, and I was anxious to get to know them. However, I still wanted to give it my all and quite frankly was terrified.
In preparing for the event, I was so thankful for the support of my dear friend to help me through each of my doubting moments. However, I felt a tug at my heart to stop focusing on myself and think of those around me. I looked over the pictures of each of the delegates online. I began to pray over each of them as I asked God to direct their steps and allow the "right one" to be selected.
I tried to put my best foot forward, and worked through the things that caused me to take my eyes off of Him. Our director announced other opportunities to gain momentum in the competition, and I found myself getting wrapped up in how many Facebook "likes" I had on my page, or asking for votes online. After practicing in my swimsuit with Ginger, I had this overwhelming urge to give up. The steps I had learned were erased from my mind. The confidence I had built up turned into low self-esteem. Despite my best efforts to be contempt, I was anything but. I blamed it on the outfit, and she was gracious enough to go with me (very last minute) to find a back-up.
When I got home that afternoon, I rushed around to get to LifeGroup. Although, my heart was certainly not there. My husband's job had taken him away from me, and his stress level was affecting how he treated me. I was more than frustrated with him, and had little to say. My sister hadn't expressed any excitement or encouragement when I felt like I needed her most. My parents still hadn't purchased their tickets for the show, and I was feeling about the lowest I had in months.
"This isn't about you," I felt God's voice so clear that night.
All along I had stated that this was an open door that I believed God had placed in front of me. I had prayed over this decision and wanted to be obedient in allowing Him to use me as an instrument. But, my actions lately were showing anything but receptiveness on what I was being called to do. I began to make it about how I could look better than the girls around me, how my clothes would gain attention, and how I could ultimately win.
I decided to stop second guessing myself; and, actually hand it over to God no matter what the outcome would be.
When people would make statements like, "I really think you could win". I couldn't help but share that I had zero expectations of winning as I was going into the competition. I would share that I knew all of the girls would be a great representative for the State of Oklahoma, and I was anxious to get to know them. However, I still wanted to give it my all and quite frankly was terrified.
In preparing for the event, I was so thankful for the support of my dear friend to help me through each of my doubting moments. However, I felt a tug at my heart to stop focusing on myself and think of those around me. I looked over the pictures of each of the delegates online. I began to pray over each of them as I asked God to direct their steps and allow the "right one" to be selected.
I tried to put my best foot forward, and worked through the things that caused me to take my eyes off of Him. Our director announced other opportunities to gain momentum in the competition, and I found myself getting wrapped up in how many Facebook "likes" I had on my page, or asking for votes online. After practicing in my swimsuit with Ginger, I had this overwhelming urge to give up. The steps I had learned were erased from my mind. The confidence I had built up turned into low self-esteem. Despite my best efforts to be contempt, I was anything but. I blamed it on the outfit, and she was gracious enough to go with me (very last minute) to find a back-up.
When I got home that afternoon, I rushed around to get to LifeGroup. Although, my heart was certainly not there. My husband's job had taken him away from me, and his stress level was affecting how he treated me. I was more than frustrated with him, and had little to say. My sister hadn't expressed any excitement or encouragement when I felt like I needed her most. My parents still hadn't purchased their tickets for the show, and I was feeling about the lowest I had in months.
"This isn't about you," I felt God's voice so clear that night.
All along I had stated that this was an open door that I believed God had placed in front of me. I had prayed over this decision and wanted to be obedient in allowing Him to use me as an instrument. But, my actions lately were showing anything but receptiveness on what I was being called to do. I began to make it about how I could look better than the girls around me, how my clothes would gain attention, and how I could ultimately win.
I decided to stop second guessing myself; and, actually hand it over to God no matter what the outcome would be.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
My Journey to Mrs. O...
C.D.
Yes, many of you are aware that I tend to be a little O.C.D. In fact, my random quirks and need to coordinate everything is typically out of my control. I remember sitting in a fancy restaurant with a dear friend, years ago, as we shared our need to add numbers up to ensure it didn't equate to our unlucky digit. Okay, so maybe I'm more ODD than OCD.
Well, this need to coordinate everything would certainly make its way into my planning for Mrs. Oklahoma as I began to search for the perfect attire to express my personality. I admit I didn't fully give of myself when preparing, and some of my closest friends can argue that my outfit choices didn't reflect "me". However, I will say that they coordinated.
Following the never-ending sequins of my gold swimsuit, my husband picked out a lace-overlay gown when we were out shopping around one day. It was the only style I tried on, and fit without the need for alterations. Therefore, it won the vote and I didn't even second guess the pick.
I had glitter-gold and silver/taupe. Therefore, I needed some color in my life. I searched for inspiration boards to determine what to wear for my interview. With peach being my favorite color, I knew I had to incorporate that into the mix. Thus, it was mint to be. I found a beautiful peplum dress to complete the color swatch I swooned over.
The swatch and a snapshot of me just minutes prior to my interview.
Yes, many of you are aware that I tend to be a little O.C.D. In fact, my random quirks and need to coordinate everything is typically out of my control. I remember sitting in a fancy restaurant with a dear friend, years ago, as we shared our need to add numbers up to ensure it didn't equate to our unlucky digit. Okay, so maybe I'm more ODD than OCD.
Well, this need to coordinate everything would certainly make its way into my planning for Mrs. Oklahoma as I began to search for the perfect attire to express my personality. I admit I didn't fully give of myself when preparing, and some of my closest friends can argue that my outfit choices didn't reflect "me". However, I will say that they coordinated.
Following the never-ending sequins of my gold swimsuit, my husband picked out a lace-overlay gown when we were out shopping around one day. It was the only style I tried on, and fit without the need for alterations. Therefore, it won the vote and I didn't even second guess the pick.
I had glitter-gold and silver/taupe. Therefore, I needed some color in my life. I searched for inspiration boards to determine what to wear for my interview. With peach being my favorite color, I knew I had to incorporate that into the mix. Thus, it was mint to be. I found a beautiful peplum dress to complete the color swatch I swooned over.
My final purchase was a blush dress I had crushed over for a couple of weeks before justifying the
money spent for our dinner party (and Easter).
Finally, I had paired the perfect colors with my 6" nude, peep-toes and was ready to go for the weekend!
My Journey to Mrs. Oklahoma, Pity Party on Me
Signing up for Mrs. Oklahoma was definitely a stretch outside of my comfort zone. I had ups and downs and fought internally. I realized I couldn't compare myself to others and had to be true to myself. I worked hard and prayed even harder.
Moving to a part-time business role, finances were tight. I made sure to watch what I spent and find sponsors for in-kind donations. Business members in the community were incredibly helpful.
My wedding photographers, the amazing Roy and Jame of Colorband PhotoArtisans, graciously took my beautiful head shots. I was sponsored with free spray tans FOR A YEAR, and had talented individuals volunteer to do my skincare and hair. I was truly blessed by the compassion people in the community had on me.
But, one thing I struggled with was the expectation I had of others. I assumed that because my life was changing and I was doing something incredibly bold, others would automatically drop what was going on in their lives and support me. In fact, I found myself face down in tears on several occasions because my friends or family hadn't even mentioned my big commitment.
I remember thinking to myself, "so this is what it feels like to be the kid at the game with no fans in the stands." Yes, it sounds a little childish. I admit it. However, when you put yourself through an emotional challenge, not being recognized can be incredibly difficult. I fought these negative emotions even up until the week before.
I realize now, more than ever, that I was doing this pageant for a much greater purpose.
Moving to a part-time business role, finances were tight. I made sure to watch what I spent and find sponsors for in-kind donations. Business members in the community were incredibly helpful.
My wedding photographers, the amazing Roy and Jame of Colorband PhotoArtisans, graciously took my beautiful head shots. I was sponsored with free spray tans FOR A YEAR, and had talented individuals volunteer to do my skincare and hair. I was truly blessed by the compassion people in the community had on me.
But, one thing I struggled with was the expectation I had of others. I assumed that because my life was changing and I was doing something incredibly bold, others would automatically drop what was going on in their lives and support me. In fact, I found myself face down in tears on several occasions because my friends or family hadn't even mentioned my big commitment.
I remember thinking to myself, "so this is what it feels like to be the kid at the game with no fans in the stands." Yes, it sounds a little childish. I admit it. However, when you put yourself through an emotional challenge, not being recognized can be incredibly difficult. I fought these negative emotions even up until the week before.
I realize now, more than ever, that I was doing this pageant for a much greater purpose.
My Journey to Mrs. Oklahoma, Search for the Suit
Even as God prepared my heart, I was hesitant to willingly put myself under a microscope for judgment. I began to make silly requirements that had to be met before I would commit.
Being incredibly modest, wearing a swimsuit in public was something that literally mortified me. In fact, I was the girl that changed in the bathroom stalls for track back in school. I stated that I wouldn't participate unless I found a swimsuit that I just loved and fit me. (That will never happen, right?)
You see, at 4'10" very few things look great on my frame. In fact, I generally can fit into children's sizes, complete with cartoon characters and ruffles. Finding a swimsuit that fit was a challenge in itself, but one that I felt comfortable standing in front of the world was another story. Therefore, I began to browse the internet for pictures.
According to the discussion I had with Ginger over the requirement, I had to find one that was either silver, gold, or white. The one that stuck out to me the most was, of course, black. Therefore, I went to bed that night reassured that this wasn't for me.
Then, my Pinterest addiction won the best of me. As I typed in “gold one-piece swimsuit”, I gawked at the image that came up. A 1990’s Vogue runway image taunted me. Not only was it tasteful, but it was covered in sequins from top to bottom.
Of course, my hunt to purchase the suit was to no avail. And, soon enough I found that my size was sold out in nearly every style I picked. Quite content with myself, I quickly allowed the thought to fade.
Ginger text me to see how my hunt was going. I shared how I couldn't find my size and she continued to encourage me by saying I could get it altered to fit. To me, that wouldn't meet the requirements I had set and it was proof enough that I shouldn't do it. Then, when my husband asked me what I had found I shared the few pictures of suits I had found that I loved. However, I mentioned they weren't my size or they reminded me of my incredibly expensive taste and I knew we couldn't afford them. But, there was one that stuck out.
Despite every phrase I wrote in the search bar, a simple, black one-piece with a shape of its own would appear. Not to mention, after further research in the size guide, it just happened to be the perfect measurements for my little body. Therefore, I toyed with the idea of styling it on my own and recreating the one-of-a-kind sequined suit I couldn’t help but want. Therefore, I bit the bullet and signed up for my first, ever pageant. And, no matter what happened I knew that I had put in the effort to be suited for success!
Being incredibly modest, wearing a swimsuit in public was something that literally mortified me. In fact, I was the girl that changed in the bathroom stalls for track back in school. I stated that I wouldn't participate unless I found a swimsuit that I just loved and fit me. (That will never happen, right?)
You see, at 4'10" very few things look great on my frame. In fact, I generally can fit into children's sizes, complete with cartoon characters and ruffles. Finding a swimsuit that fit was a challenge in itself, but one that I felt comfortable standing in front of the world was another story. Therefore, I began to browse the internet for pictures.
According to the discussion I had with Ginger over the requirement, I had to find one that was either silver, gold, or white. The one that stuck out to me the most was, of course, black. Therefore, I went to bed that night reassured that this wasn't for me.
Then, my Pinterest addiction won the best of me. As I typed in “gold one-piece swimsuit”, I gawked at the image that came up. A 1990’s Vogue runway image taunted me. Not only was it tasteful, but it was covered in sequins from top to bottom.
Of course, my hunt to purchase the suit was to no avail. And, soon enough I found that my size was sold out in nearly every style I picked. Quite content with myself, I quickly allowed the thought to fade.
Ginger text me to see how my hunt was going. I shared how I couldn't find my size and she continued to encourage me by saying I could get it altered to fit. To me, that wouldn't meet the requirements I had set and it was proof enough that I shouldn't do it. Then, when my husband asked me what I had found I shared the few pictures of suits I had found that I loved. However, I mentioned they weren't my size or they reminded me of my incredibly expensive taste and I knew we couldn't afford them. But, there was one that stuck out.
Despite every phrase I wrote in the search bar, a simple, black one-piece with a shape of its own would appear. Not to mention, after further research in the size guide, it just happened to be the perfect measurements for my little body. Therefore, I toyed with the idea of styling it on my own and recreating the one-of-a-kind sequined suit I couldn’t help but want. Therefore, I bit the bullet and signed up for my first, ever pageant. And, no matter what happened I knew that I had put in the effort to be suited for success!
My Journey to Mrs. Oklahoma, Facing My Insecurities
The day I was approached to compete at Mrs. Oklahoma was the same day that I said, "No". I remember getting the email asking if I would be interested in participating and immediately thinking, "Who me?" I even laughed it off when I shared with my husband that I was asked.
Serious as he could be, he simply said, "You totally should".
"Wait, what? I'm four foot ten, have never been in a pageant, and don't have a talent."
Every single insecurity made its way to the surface.
-You aren't tall enough.
-You're nose is too big and scrunches when you smile.
-You are flat-chested and have a rib-cage that makes up for it.
-Your legs are too wide.
The list could have gone on and on (and on). Every negative thing that one person ever said about me suddenly became my reality. My perception of myself was that I wasn't "good enough" because of the opinions of others.
Now, to say that I didn't consider it would be a lie. I think every little girl imagines of being a princess and wearing a crown. To get all dolled up and be recognized was incredibly appealing, but my fears outweighed any hope that I had. I fed into the lies that the world had told me and completely forgot about what God thought.
That day I battled with thoughts of excitement and concern. Then, I remembered a dear co-worker, Ginger, that had shared her intent to compete this year. I wanted to talk to her, but at the same time I was certainly not going to step on any toes or steal her thunder. I brushed it off and made up my mind that it was silly to even consider it.
Then, my phone went off.
It was Ginger. She was checking on me on my newest endeavor in life. That's when I knew I had to say something. I shared what had happened about being approached and that I wasn't going to do it. I expected a sigh of relief on the other end, but I received quite the opposite. She encouraged me and told me what a great opportunity it would be. I voiced my concerns and fears and she spoke life over me by building me up in my strengths.
Even after her support, I hadn't been persuaded to change my mind. We discussed how we are our own worst critics, and even this beautiful red-head on the other end of the phone had doubts of her beauty. I knew if this was something God wanted me to do, He would make it clear to me. I prayed that night and asked for clarity and direction.
Then, I felt God redirect my thoughts. I hardly slept that night and I felt ashamed that I was picking out all of my flaws rather than crediting Him with all the good He put within me. I realized that His perfect timing had never faltered before, and it was up to me to take that first step. It was up to me to allow Him to use me, to stretch me, and to guide me…even if it wasn’t comfortable.
Serious as he could be, he simply said, "You totally should".
"Wait, what? I'm four foot ten, have never been in a pageant, and don't have a talent."
Every single insecurity made its way to the surface.
-You aren't tall enough.
-You're nose is too big and scrunches when you smile.
-You are flat-chested and have a rib-cage that makes up for it.
-Your legs are too wide.
The list could have gone on and on (and on). Every negative thing that one person ever said about me suddenly became my reality. My perception of myself was that I wasn't "good enough" because of the opinions of others.
Now, to say that I didn't consider it would be a lie. I think every little girl imagines of being a princess and wearing a crown. To get all dolled up and be recognized was incredibly appealing, but my fears outweighed any hope that I had. I fed into the lies that the world had told me and completely forgot about what God thought.
That day I battled with thoughts of excitement and concern. Then, I remembered a dear co-worker, Ginger, that had shared her intent to compete this year. I wanted to talk to her, but at the same time I was certainly not going to step on any toes or steal her thunder. I brushed it off and made up my mind that it was silly to even consider it.
Then, my phone went off.
It was Ginger. She was checking on me on my newest endeavor in life. That's when I knew I had to say something. I shared what had happened about being approached and that I wasn't going to do it. I expected a sigh of relief on the other end, but I received quite the opposite. She encouraged me and told me what a great opportunity it would be. I voiced my concerns and fears and she spoke life over me by building me up in my strengths.
Even after her support, I hadn't been persuaded to change my mind. We discussed how we are our own worst critics, and even this beautiful red-head on the other end of the phone had doubts of her beauty. I knew if this was something God wanted me to do, He would make it clear to me. I prayed that night and asked for clarity and direction.
Then, I felt God redirect my thoughts. I hardly slept that night and I felt ashamed that I was picking out all of my flaws rather than crediting Him with all the good He put within me. I realized that His perfect timing had never faltered before, and it was up to me to take that first step. It was up to me to allow Him to use me, to stretch me, and to guide me…even if it wasn’t comfortable.
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