I have already gotten some amazing things accomplished this year, with the help of my awesome husband. But my major goal today is to start getting myself back in shape and back in my size 8 skinny jeans by the end of the year. To do that, I need to lose about 40 pounds. This, my friends, is no easy task. That's where this blog comes in.
Let's face it- all of us have a weakness. We all have something that kills our diet, something we see as a delicious Kryptonite. In my case, it's several somethings: bread, fries, and chocolate. These things, and pregnancy and laziness, have led me down the morbid, downhill path to cottage cheese legs, muffin top, and stretch marks. It's gross, and no matter how many times my husband tells me I'm attractive and makes me feel beautiful, that feeling is short-lived and brutally murdered the next time I have to suck it in to button my jeans and I'm left with fat oozing over the belt loops. Sometimes I look in the mirror at my legs and realize just how lumpy my knees look. I've also recently discovered that my elbows have a layer of fat just above them that sags slightly over the knobby joint when I straighen my arm, like two extra muffin tops. I did not publish this on my blog so that my few followers would feel sorry for me or so I could share with the world just how low my self-esteem has gotten. I have decided to get my butt off the couch and put my foot down. I draw the line here. I will not gain another pound. My hope in sharing this is that my attempt at finding humor in the situation will bring a smile to the face of someone else struggling with their physical appearance. I am also hoping to keep myself accountable by sharing my goals and progress with others. And if someone chooses to follow me on this journey, I want them to know that this is not coming from some size 4, super gorgeous, exercise junkie who thinks the answer to happiness is a thin waist and a perky attitude. I'm just a twenty-something wife and mom who let junk food and pregnancy get the best of her and now I'm going to try through trial and error to lose the junk in my trunk before it gets so out of hand I have to resort to being on a reality show about weight loss.
So, you may be wondering what I'm going to do to lose this extra fluffiness. Well, it's fairly simple. I'm going to exercise. I'll even try to keep track of what it is that I do to exercise and post my progress weekly or bi-weekly. But what I really plan to change is my snacking habit. there is nothing wrong with a snack between meals, but when you graze on junk all day, it's a bad habit to form and a hard one to break. Along with my exercise routine, I'll post things to do "in lieu of food" so that when you feel the urge to grab that chocolate bar after you just ate lunch and before you've done anything to earn it, you will have a list of things (quirky, fun, or useful) to do instead of devouring gobs of fat.
Today I only have a few for this list.
1. make cards. It'll save you money, and possibly time in the future.
2. go for a long walk and take pictures of things that catch your eye.
3. paint your toe nails. we all know you deserve it.
4. get all dolled up. It's not just your hubby's responsibility to make you feel pretty. Who knows? maybe after his long day at work, he'll love coming home to a pretty wife so much that he'll surprise you with a mid-week date.
Now,get off your butt and go do something!!!
Tour de Cure 2011
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
New Year's Resolution
This time last year, 2010, I had recently had our son, Tacoma. I was feeling morbidly obese at just under 200 lbs, with no hope of getting out of my maternity jeans any time soon. I wrote my resolution on a piece of loose-leaf paper and stuck it to my "board o' stuff" for the world to see. Did I achieve anything on my resolution list? Well, let's see...
Marissa's New Year's Resolution 2010
1. Have a clean room
2. Get rid of some clothes and shoes
3. Get rid of things we don't need
4. Have a clean car
5. Weigh 155 and be back in my old clothes by May 28th (my birthday)
6. Weigh 145 by December 2011
7. Work out once a week starting first week of 2011
8. Work out twice a week by May 28th
9. Work out three times a week by October
10. Be a happier person
11. Tithe more consistently
12. Be a more supportive and loving wife
13. Be a more patient and active mom
And I'll go down the list starting with numero uno. "Have a clean room" hasn't exactly happened. As much as I would love to say that this entire place is spotless, it is most definitely not. But I have a much smaller, less overwhelming mess than I did this time last year. Let's face it, you take two messy young adults, throw their apartment into two rooms, add a baby, and you get chaos.
"Get rid of some clothes and shoes" has definitely happened. CHECK! Yes, I, the Queen of Clothes and the Princess of Shoes, got rid of some of my least loyal subjects. Meaning, I looked through my closet, drawers, boxes, and baskets and said, "Hear ye, hear ye... all unfashionable, ill-fitting clothes and shoes are hereby banished from the kingdom." And that was that.
"Get rid of things we don't need" happened. We had a garage sale.
"Have a clean car" can be checked off the list. Our car is about as clean as it gets with a one-year-old passenger.
Numbers 5-9 can't be checked off my list. I had set the bar too high for myself. I was assuming that I would be able to ignore the hunger pangs and the lingering cravings every single time. I couldn't have been more wrong. But I swear I don't wear my maternity jeans anymore and most of my shirts fit me again. This year that part of my resolution will be more logical.
As for number 10, I am definitely a happier person. Numbers 12 and 13 can be lumped in with this one. I am happier, I am a better wife, and I am a fantastic mom (if I do say so myself). Last year I was feeling guilty about a few things, most of them having to do with my attitude toward everyone, including Tacoma. It's hard being a new mom and realizing your life is forever changed. I wasn't quite ready for it. Finding a good routine took a long time, much longer than I'd anticipated. Eventually Nathan and I figured out how to be "us" while still being "Mommy and Daddy" for Tacoma. There are still some kinks that need to be worked out, but for the most part we've got it figured out.
"Tithe more consistently" ... yeah, I'd love to say we have been tithing machines, but we haven't really even been church-going machines. We've missed more Sundays than we've gone, honestly. This one is definitely going back on the resolution list for 2012.
So here it is...
Marissa's New Year's Resolution 2012 (In no particular order)
1. Tithe. Go to church.
2. Lose weight. (I think we all knew that was coming)
3. Have an apartment of our own by April
4. Have our car completely fixed by December
5. Have a budget.
There's more that I want to write today, but I'm stopping here. Can't sit on my butt all day if I'm going to get anything on my resolution list done!
Marissa's New Year's Resolution 2010
1. Have a clean room
2. Get rid of some clothes and shoes
3. Get rid of things we don't need
4. Have a clean car
5. Weigh 155 and be back in my old clothes by May 28th (my birthday)
6. Weigh 145 by December 2011
7. Work out once a week starting first week of 2011
8. Work out twice a week by May 28th
9. Work out three times a week by October
10. Be a happier person
11. Tithe more consistently
12. Be a more supportive and loving wife
13. Be a more patient and active mom
And I'll go down the list starting with numero uno. "Have a clean room" hasn't exactly happened. As much as I would love to say that this entire place is spotless, it is most definitely not. But I have a much smaller, less overwhelming mess than I did this time last year. Let's face it, you take two messy young adults, throw their apartment into two rooms, add a baby, and you get chaos.
"Get rid of some clothes and shoes" has definitely happened. CHECK! Yes, I, the Queen of Clothes and the Princess of Shoes, got rid of some of my least loyal subjects. Meaning, I looked through my closet, drawers, boxes, and baskets and said, "Hear ye, hear ye... all unfashionable, ill-fitting clothes and shoes are hereby banished from the kingdom." And that was that.
"Get rid of things we don't need" happened. We had a garage sale.
"Have a clean car" can be checked off the list. Our car is about as clean as it gets with a one-year-old passenger.
Numbers 5-9 can't be checked off my list. I had set the bar too high for myself. I was assuming that I would be able to ignore the hunger pangs and the lingering cravings every single time. I couldn't have been more wrong. But I swear I don't wear my maternity jeans anymore and most of my shirts fit me again. This year that part of my resolution will be more logical.
As for number 10, I am definitely a happier person. Numbers 12 and 13 can be lumped in with this one. I am happier, I am a better wife, and I am a fantastic mom (if I do say so myself). Last year I was feeling guilty about a few things, most of them having to do with my attitude toward everyone, including Tacoma. It's hard being a new mom and realizing your life is forever changed. I wasn't quite ready for it. Finding a good routine took a long time, much longer than I'd anticipated. Eventually Nathan and I figured out how to be "us" while still being "Mommy and Daddy" for Tacoma. There are still some kinks that need to be worked out, but for the most part we've got it figured out.
"Tithe more consistently" ... yeah, I'd love to say we have been tithing machines, but we haven't really even been church-going machines. We've missed more Sundays than we've gone, honestly. This one is definitely going back on the resolution list for 2012.
So here it is...
Marissa's New Year's Resolution 2012 (In no particular order)
1. Tithe. Go to church.
2. Lose weight. (I think we all knew that was coming)
3. Have an apartment of our own by April
4. Have our car completely fixed by December
5. Have a budget.
There's more that I want to write today, but I'm stopping here. Can't sit on my butt all day if I'm going to get anything on my resolution list done!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Hattiesburg, or bust!... planning for our first trip with Tacoma
There's something that's been on my mind for the last 4 months... my hometown of Hattiesburg, MS, and my grandparents who live there. They weren't able to come up and visit when Tacoma was first born, so now that spring break is almost here we are planning a trip down to see them. I have been making this trip with my parents and my brother for almost 15 years. First it was from Elizabethtown, KY, then Gonzales, LA, and now Bentonville, AR. After so many years of long trips in the car, I'm a veteran. I know what to pack to keep me occupied, I know what to eat to keep from getting carsick, I know when to take bathroom breaks because there won't be another chance for hours. But all of this is going to be completely different this time.... because this time, we have a four-month-old going with us.
The route we take is about 560 miles one-way, and takes about 10 hours without breaks for gas and food. Tacoma has been to Tulsa, OK, and Tahlequah, OK, but never a longer trip than that. He hates to be in his car seat for a long time, and he has just discovered the joy of his jumper. I am already trying to figure out what and how to pack. But more than figuring out what to put in the trunk, I am having a hard time figuring out what to have in the car to occupy his little hands and eyes. Tacoma loves to move, but since he will be in his car seat for at least 2 hours at a time, I know we will need several new and exciting things to keep him happy. One thing I'm planning to take is a portable dvd player with a screen that can be mounted on the headrest facing his car seat. Tacoma loves to watch Nick Jr. while he's in his jumper, so I hope that he will be satisfied with cartoons while he's confined to a car seat. I am also taking a few books (he loves Eric Carle books because of the bright pictures), his favorite car seat and stroller toys, and a musical stuffed animal. He's pretty partial to his mobile on his crib, and I already said how much he loves his jumper seat, but I'm afraid neither of these will be able to come with us. So what do I find to replace these essential items on this week long trip?
I know this trip will be long and hard on all of us, but I'm hoping the benefits outweigh the trouble. I want my little boy to know the sweet smell of honeysuckle growing wild and thick in my grandparents' yard. I want him to know the joy of hooking his own fish and reeling it in. I want him to go to the zoo that I visited when I was little. I want him to visit my Grandma and to get loved on while she gives him candy. I want him to stare at all of the unique and beautiful things that my Grandma has collected from all the different places she's lived. I want him to be held in the same weathered hands that held me when I was so small. I want him to know why catfish and hushpuppies made by my Papa are so much better than any fish you could get at a five-star restaurant. I want him to know how good it feels to sit in the corner of my grandparents' kitchen counter and watch my Grandmother make breakfast.And while I know right now he is too little to go fishing, or eat catfish, or have his appetite spoiled by candy, I know it will mean so much to my grandmother and papa and my grandma. I know it will be worth it.
Now I just have to figure out how to keep my busy little baby calm on the way there and back.
The route we take is about 560 miles one-way, and takes about 10 hours without breaks for gas and food. Tacoma has been to Tulsa, OK, and Tahlequah, OK, but never a longer trip than that. He hates to be in his car seat for a long time, and he has just discovered the joy of his jumper. I am already trying to figure out what and how to pack. But more than figuring out what to put in the trunk, I am having a hard time figuring out what to have in the car to occupy his little hands and eyes. Tacoma loves to move, but since he will be in his car seat for at least 2 hours at a time, I know we will need several new and exciting things to keep him happy. One thing I'm planning to take is a portable dvd player with a screen that can be mounted on the headrest facing his car seat. Tacoma loves to watch Nick Jr. while he's in his jumper, so I hope that he will be satisfied with cartoons while he's confined to a car seat. I am also taking a few books (he loves Eric Carle books because of the bright pictures), his favorite car seat and stroller toys, and a musical stuffed animal. He's pretty partial to his mobile on his crib, and I already said how much he loves his jumper seat, but I'm afraid neither of these will be able to come with us. So what do I find to replace these essential items on this week long trip?
I know this trip will be long and hard on all of us, but I'm hoping the benefits outweigh the trouble. I want my little boy to know the sweet smell of honeysuckle growing wild and thick in my grandparents' yard. I want him to know the joy of hooking his own fish and reeling it in. I want him to go to the zoo that I visited when I was little. I want him to visit my Grandma and to get loved on while she gives him candy. I want him to stare at all of the unique and beautiful things that my Grandma has collected from all the different places she's lived. I want him to be held in the same weathered hands that held me when I was so small. I want him to know why catfish and hushpuppies made by my Papa are so much better than any fish you could get at a five-star restaurant. I want him to know how good it feels to sit in the corner of my grandparents' kitchen counter and watch my Grandmother make breakfast.And while I know right now he is too little to go fishing, or eat catfish, or have his appetite spoiled by candy, I know it will mean so much to my grandmother and papa and my grandma. I know it will be worth it.
Now I just have to figure out how to keep my busy little baby calm on the way there and back.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
After Midnight... Part of my Testimony...
Anyone who knows me well can tell you- I used to be a little crazy.
I guess I was a pretty sane teenager... sane meaning I didn't party, sneak out, skip school, or do drugs. I did serial date to an extent, but there was one guy I kept coming back to because he was my first love. That ended senior year when he decided I wasn't the kind of person he could love anymore. Other than the dating a different guy almost every week or so, I didn't do anything too extreme. Sure, I had my fair share of crazy friends, more than a few were the kind of people "good" kids stayed away from because they were so different. But those were the people who accepted me as I was, who judged the least.
Then I graduated high school and started my first semester at NWACC (Northwest Arkansas Community College). I was angry, depressed, and looking for some sort of distraction. It started when I discovered pool. Pool, as in billiards. I got hooked because I was what the guys who occupied the pool room at NWACC called a "natural" and they helped me hone my talent. They were good guys. When it was time for them to go to class, they would go. Most of them went to a church and had beliefs similar to my own. So you could say that they weren't bad influences, but the game they played was... on me, at least. I started skipping class here and there, and within weeks I would go to NWACC only to play pool and I would lie to my parents about it. I told them I was going to class, but I was spending all my time poised gracefully over tables covered in green felt. It felt nice to be good at something, and at first it was just that. I was good at something other than books. But when pool got it's hooks in me and I decided I could afford to miss a week's worth of classes at a time, it became an addiction. I didn't realize it until years later, but I was addicted. I would get up early in the morning just to go to school and play. Then I met a guy who wasn't such a good influence. Let's call him Scott. Scott introduced me to a place called Billiards Palace. I'd drive all the way to Fayetteville just to play for hours at a time in a smokey room lit by florescent lights and neon beer signs. Days after I met Scott, I went to the Benton County Fair and met another guy... Let's call him Matt. I began a crazy relationship with Matt in September, weeks after meeting him, and in the months following I began making some of the worst choices of my life. In October I gave him the one thing that I most regret giving away too soon, to the wrong person. I slept with him because I thought I needed to just to prove to him how much I wanted our relationship to work. He was the kind of guy who wanted everyone to believe he was better than them. Somehow I got sucked into that lie and I convinced myself he was too good for me. I became the girl I'd promised myself in high school I wouldn't become in college. When I realized that sex wasn't all he needed to keep our "relationship" going, I started drinking and smoking pot with him and his friends. I started staying out late to go to parties with him. And of course I kept lying to my parents about everything. I know they knew something was going on, and I knew at the time that as long as I kept lying, kept digging myself deeper into this hole, the harder it would be for me to climb back out. By the end of the semester my lies started unraveling because I failed my first semester of college. My parents knew I'd been lying about that, so it was only a matter of time before they found out the rest. I didn't think about it at the time, but I was ruining years of my life. It took about a year and a half of this insanity and the lies before I realized I couldn't take it anymore. I was getting more and more depressed the longer I let it go on.
Then I started shutting out all the horrible parts of my life one by one. I stopped playing pool, I stopped drinking and smoking at parties and started being the D.D. instead. I thought I could keep my relationship with Matt, though. I tried to change him. I thought if he quit smoking, quit doing drugs, quit drinking, quit partying, and kept going to church, he would be the right guy. I thought if he was the right guy that I wouldn't have to have sex with him anymore and I wouldn't feel so convicted every time I went against my beliefs. I wanted to get my life back to where I knew God wanted it to be. I wanted to walk with Him. Deep down I knew that Matt would never be the right guy. It took a few more months for me to realize that I had to leave him. I stopped going to parties with him at first just to see what would happen. I thought maybe he would leave first. I'm not sure why, I'm usually a very independent and outgoing person, but I felt like I needed him and that it would kill me to leave him. I had given him two years of my life, and in those two years I'd grown so attached that I couldn't see myself without him even though I knew I needed to leave him in order to be closer to God. When I stopped answering his every call and quit inviting him to hang out with my friends, he started to get upset with me. And I found that the more time I spent away from him, the more of my independence I got back. In early October I decided that I could do it, so I called Matt and I said, "I need to see you." He thought this was going to be my big apology I guess, because he agreed to meet me. When we were finally face to face I said, "I can't do this anymore. You aren't the one God has planned for me to spend my life with. I can't be the person He wants me to be when I'm with you. I have to break up with you, Matt." He tried to convince me to stay with him, he tried to tell me I needed him, and then he told me he could change and become whatever I needed him to be. I told him it wasn't about what I needed him to be, but who God wanted me to be. I got in my car and drove away. Of course I cried. Of course I thought about turning around and taking back everything I just said, but then I felt God reassure me that I would be fine without this guy.
A few weeks later I was with my friend Jennifer at a Bentonville football game (Go Tigers!), and there was Nathan Sorey...The man God had intended for me to spend the rest of my life with.It's funny, the minute I stopped looking in all the wrong places, God literally placed me right beside "the one." But that's a story for another time. :)
My point is, I used to spend the hours after midnight playing pool and partying with people I thought were my friends. Now, the hours after midnight are spent cuddling my sweet baby boy and listening to his soft inhales and exhales, praying he is asleep for the rest of the night. A vast difference. Praise God.
I guess I was a pretty sane teenager... sane meaning I didn't party, sneak out, skip school, or do drugs. I did serial date to an extent, but there was one guy I kept coming back to because he was my first love. That ended senior year when he decided I wasn't the kind of person he could love anymore. Other than the dating a different guy almost every week or so, I didn't do anything too extreme. Sure, I had my fair share of crazy friends, more than a few were the kind of people "good" kids stayed away from because they were so different. But those were the people who accepted me as I was, who judged the least.
Then I graduated high school and started my first semester at NWACC (Northwest Arkansas Community College). I was angry, depressed, and looking for some sort of distraction. It started when I discovered pool. Pool, as in billiards. I got hooked because I was what the guys who occupied the pool room at NWACC called a "natural" and they helped me hone my talent. They were good guys. When it was time for them to go to class, they would go. Most of them went to a church and had beliefs similar to my own. So you could say that they weren't bad influences, but the game they played was... on me, at least. I started skipping class here and there, and within weeks I would go to NWACC only to play pool and I would lie to my parents about it. I told them I was going to class, but I was spending all my time poised gracefully over tables covered in green felt. It felt nice to be good at something, and at first it was just that. I was good at something other than books. But when pool got it's hooks in me and I decided I could afford to miss a week's worth of classes at a time, it became an addiction. I didn't realize it until years later, but I was addicted. I would get up early in the morning just to go to school and play. Then I met a guy who wasn't such a good influence. Let's call him Scott. Scott introduced me to a place called Billiards Palace. I'd drive all the way to Fayetteville just to play for hours at a time in a smokey room lit by florescent lights and neon beer signs. Days after I met Scott, I went to the Benton County Fair and met another guy... Let's call him Matt. I began a crazy relationship with Matt in September, weeks after meeting him, and in the months following I began making some of the worst choices of my life. In October I gave him the one thing that I most regret giving away too soon, to the wrong person. I slept with him because I thought I needed to just to prove to him how much I wanted our relationship to work. He was the kind of guy who wanted everyone to believe he was better than them. Somehow I got sucked into that lie and I convinced myself he was too good for me. I became the girl I'd promised myself in high school I wouldn't become in college. When I realized that sex wasn't all he needed to keep our "relationship" going, I started drinking and smoking pot with him and his friends. I started staying out late to go to parties with him. And of course I kept lying to my parents about everything. I know they knew something was going on, and I knew at the time that as long as I kept lying, kept digging myself deeper into this hole, the harder it would be for me to climb back out. By the end of the semester my lies started unraveling because I failed my first semester of college. My parents knew I'd been lying about that, so it was only a matter of time before they found out the rest. I didn't think about it at the time, but I was ruining years of my life. It took about a year and a half of this insanity and the lies before I realized I couldn't take it anymore. I was getting more and more depressed the longer I let it go on.
Then I started shutting out all the horrible parts of my life one by one. I stopped playing pool, I stopped drinking and smoking at parties and started being the D.D. instead. I thought I could keep my relationship with Matt, though. I tried to change him. I thought if he quit smoking, quit doing drugs, quit drinking, quit partying, and kept going to church, he would be the right guy. I thought if he was the right guy that I wouldn't have to have sex with him anymore and I wouldn't feel so convicted every time I went against my beliefs. I wanted to get my life back to where I knew God wanted it to be. I wanted to walk with Him. Deep down I knew that Matt would never be the right guy. It took a few more months for me to realize that I had to leave him. I stopped going to parties with him at first just to see what would happen. I thought maybe he would leave first. I'm not sure why, I'm usually a very independent and outgoing person, but I felt like I needed him and that it would kill me to leave him. I had given him two years of my life, and in those two years I'd grown so attached that I couldn't see myself without him even though I knew I needed to leave him in order to be closer to God. When I stopped answering his every call and quit inviting him to hang out with my friends, he started to get upset with me. And I found that the more time I spent away from him, the more of my independence I got back. In early October I decided that I could do it, so I called Matt and I said, "I need to see you." He thought this was going to be my big apology I guess, because he agreed to meet me. When we were finally face to face I said, "I can't do this anymore. You aren't the one God has planned for me to spend my life with. I can't be the person He wants me to be when I'm with you. I have to break up with you, Matt." He tried to convince me to stay with him, he tried to tell me I needed him, and then he told me he could change and become whatever I needed him to be. I told him it wasn't about what I needed him to be, but who God wanted me to be. I got in my car and drove away. Of course I cried. Of course I thought about turning around and taking back everything I just said, but then I felt God reassure me that I would be fine without this guy.
A few weeks later I was with my friend Jennifer at a Bentonville football game (Go Tigers!), and there was Nathan Sorey...The man God had intended for me to spend the rest of my life with.It's funny, the minute I stopped looking in all the wrong places, God literally placed me right beside "the one." But that's a story for another time. :)
My point is, I used to spend the hours after midnight playing pool and partying with people I thought were my friends. Now, the hours after midnight are spent cuddling my sweet baby boy and listening to his soft inhales and exhales, praying he is asleep for the rest of the night. A vast difference. Praise God.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
No matter what...
My prayers changed as soon as I heard those words... "you're pregnant." God, wow... that's all I can say. Wow... There's no accurate way to describe the immediate feelings that consume you when you find out you're pregnant, but the closest thing to describing how I felt went in this order: shocked, joyful, grateful, blessed.
And while visions of little hands and feet began to cloud my mind, Rachel, the nurse who had just given us the best news we could imagine, gave us the worst news that could follow... "We have to run some tests, give you an ultrasound, just to make sure nothing is wrong since you're having so much pain..." Sounds routine and reassuring, right? She wasn't done. "You may be experiencing an ectopic pregnancy." I didn't know it at that moment, but by the time she was done explaining I would hate that word and I would go from thanking God to hating Him. She explained that an ectopic pregnancy occurs when the egg attatches inside the fallopian tube and that if the pregnancy is not ended by miscarriage or abortion, then it can lead to fatal complications for the mother. She said that it may be too early to tell, because judging by the tests they'd run and my estimation of the date of my last period I was only 4 weeks along. She said the fetus may be too small to see. I was angry at her for using the term "fetus" instead of "baby" because to me, that term encourages detatchment from the child and the situation. I was angry at God that He could create and take away, and in my heart I screamed at Him that it was unfair for Him to put me in this situation. He tells us that life is sacred and that abortion is wrong, and I believe with all my heart that abortion is the worst kind of murder, but here I was being told that I may have to have an abortion to save my life. Essentially, kill my baby or both of us. I hated that such a contradiction could be possible. I did not say any of this out loud. I didn't want to ruin such a beautiful moment with my anger. One look at Nathan and I could tell he was wondering the same thing... How could this be possible? But in that look, I also saw that he was just as happy as I was. We were pregnant. A life was growing inside of me. Despite my anger I was still in awe.
Our ultrasound that day revealed nothing. Our baby was still so tiny that we could not be sure where he or she was. As we waited for Dru to pull the car around, I spoke to God. I will NOT kill my baby. I will love this child with my last breath if it comes to that. No matter what, I will love this kid with everything I have. Please, God, don't let this be an ectopic pregnancy. Please.
Nathan and I got home that night and came to tell my family face-to-face because this just wasn't the news I wanted to tell them over the phone. And when we finally went to our apartment that night, Nathan and I talked and we decided we would treat this like a normal pregnancy until we knew for sure. The next day I called around and tried to find an OB/GYN who would see me. I needed to know. I had to know. But none of them would see me until I was 10 weeks along. The pains in my stomach went away slowly over the next few days. I was 8 weeks along before I got tired of waiting and going crazy and went to see our regular doctor. She sent us for an ultrasound at the hospital. While we waited and my nerves put me at the end of my rope, I remember Nathan taking my hand and looking at me and smiling. This is when I knew that everything would be okay. I don't remember the nurses that gave us the news, but one was blond and the other had dark hair. The blond one said, "I know your doctor will want to give you the details, but I can tell you that your baby is right where he or she needs to be. You do not have an ectopic pregnancy." Just like there is no way to describe the feeling of finding out you're pregnant, or that there is a possibility that you will lose the baby, there is no way to describe the happiness that washed over me when I heard those words. Everything would be okay.
We found our OB/GYN after much searching. Her name was Dr. Tiffany Weathers, and she was possibly the second biggest blessing in those few short weeks. She was straight forward, she gave the details without making it confusing, and she broke the tension often with her sense of humor. She wasn't just a doctor, she was a friend who had all the answers.
We found out we were having a boy in July of 2010. We moved in with my mom and dad on our 1 year wedding anniversary. It was a blessing that they offered to let us live with them until we could get back on our feet because we had no idea how we could afford what was ahead. My relationship with God grew more and more each day because I relied on Him to keep my sane.
I think it was the stress I placed on myself trying to get everything ready that caused Tacoma Harrison Sorey to come into the world a month early. On Friday, November 5th, 2010, Nathan was off work and I decided to take full advantage of the day. We went to Wal-Mart that day twice for paint supplies, and the second time we were there, I was having contractions 2 minutes apart. Nathan didn't want to let me paint, but I was determined. So with our friend Zack's cat Slate playing around our feet, we taped off and began priming the walls. I took it easier than I would have normally, but I had a growing sense of urgency to finish Tacoma's room. We were supposed to have until December 1st, so Nathan wasn't in as much of a hurry as I was and that bothered me. I was impatient with him and it seemed like every little thing he'd done the last week had set me off. But that day, I made an effort to stay calm and though I was still not laid back, I wasn't as snappy as usual.
Eventually I had to stop painting. My contractions stopped coming every 2 minutes, but we called the doctor anyway. That Tuesday we'd gone to see Dr. Weathers and she'd told us, "I'll be out of town this weekend, so don't go into labor!" Ha. The on-call doctor (Dr. Martinelli) said we should see wait and see, that these were probably just Braxton Hicks contractions. But that was at 7pm and I'd been having them since 3:30 pm that day. So when I was still having contractions at 11pm, we called again. She told us to head up to the hospital. So we grabbed the bag we'd packed an hour before just in case and told my parents (who were asleep) that we were going to the hospital and we'd let them know if they needed to come up.
Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the ER waiting room, wondering why I hadn't felt another contraction in the last 12 minutes. They weren't coming in any particular pattern, but I been having them like that for hours. After Nate gave them my information at the desk, he came to sit by me and I said, "Watch. Just my luck, now that we're here, I won't have anymore contractions and it will just be a false alarm." He gave me a little nervous laugh. Neither of us felt like paying another hospital bill just to be told something we could've found out if we'd waited just a little longer. We thought it might be Nebraska all over again. A few minutes later, after my nerves had given me that queasy feeling in my stomach and the butterflies had made many babies of their own, I was wheeled into the maternity ward room. I was so thankful for a familiar face- our nurse was Bailey Berry (we'd gone to church with her family for years). Sure enough, I was dialated to a 3 already and they decided to give me pain meds and fluids to see if it would slow down and/or stop my contractions. I was only 36 weeks pregnant, Tacoma was already measuring over 6lbs., and I was walking the line between being happy I was delivering earlier because it meant he wouldn't be 9lbs like I was and being worried that a premature delivery could mean he'd have something wrong. I remember sleeping for minutes at a time between contractions. Nothing is worse than waking up to pain like that, but it would only take seconds for me to drift back into a deep sleep. When I woke up around 5am on November 6th, Nathan was still exhausted. I knew I'd need him fully rested later that day even though the doctors wouldn't tell us one way or the other if I was going to deliver Tacoma.I called my parents. Neither of them had slept since we'd left and I could hear it in their voices. Despite that, they were at the hospital, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed within an hour, ready to be grandparents. For some reason, when you're pregnant and about to give birth, seeing your mom (if you have a close relationship) is the most reassuring thing in the world because if she can do it, so can you.
By 8 or 9, it was obvious I was going to have Tacoma that day. There was no stopping this kid. Family and friends were there as soon as we gave the word. Carolyn, my best friend, was about to jump out of her skin with excitement. I know it was pretty weird for her, it's not often she gets to see me so... well, about to give birth. Haha.
Around 10 or 11, I got my epidural. That was the most terrifying part, to me. If you know me well, you know I absolutely HATE needles. I wasn't afraid he'd slip and paralyze me, I wasn't creeped out by that at all. I was afraid of that giant needle. I was afraid of the epidural running out. I was afraid they'd make Nate leave the room. Nathan held me the whole time and I cried as hard as I could without moving my body. They tell you to relax and not move. They tell you to breathe. Right. You're sticking a HUGE needle in my SPINE and I should relax and breathe? No thanks. I did my best not to hyperventilate. Once the anesthesiologist had finished and I felt that cold sensation crawl down my back and into my legs, I watched him pack up to leave the room. This is when I decided to get brave. "Hey, so how big was that needle you just stuck in my back?" I asked. He said, "Which one?" I was curious, "Both." He held one up that had to be at least 4 inches long and said, "That's the one you felt." He picked up a second that was at least 8 inches long and said, "And that's the one you didn't." I laughed, not because I thought it was funny, but because I was almost sorry I'd asked.
After that, all I had to do was sit back and wait. Since I was only 36 weeks along, they wouldn't give me anything to encourage labor or give it a swift kick to get it moving faster. No. They made me wait it out. How nice. Well, I waited. I waited. I waited.... and I waited. My parents went to go get a carseat, Carolyn got a flat tire, and I dialated from a 6 to a 10 in an hour. Everyone had to hustle back to the hospital because I was NOT delivering this kid without my mom.
After 3 hours of pushing, Tacoma Harrison Sorey arrived in this world at 5:43pm, weighing 7 lbs exactly, and measuring 19 3/4 inches long. When they put him on my chest and I looked into that tiny red face for the first time ever, I knew that this moment was going to define my life- not my 16th birthday, not my graduation from high school, not my wedding day, nothing could top this. This little boy was mine. My first. This was the sweetest, most precious gift God had ever given me. Second only to His Son. And at that moment, everything changed. My prayers changed, Thank you, God. He is perfect. He is beautiful. I love him. And when I looked up at Nathan looking down at his newborn son, I knew he was thinking the exact same thing. No matter what, we would love this kid with everything we had. No matter what.
That was the day our lives changed forever.
And while visions of little hands and feet began to cloud my mind, Rachel, the nurse who had just given us the best news we could imagine, gave us the worst news that could follow... "We have to run some tests, give you an ultrasound, just to make sure nothing is wrong since you're having so much pain..." Sounds routine and reassuring, right? She wasn't done. "You may be experiencing an ectopic pregnancy." I didn't know it at that moment, but by the time she was done explaining I would hate that word and I would go from thanking God to hating Him. She explained that an ectopic pregnancy occurs when the egg attatches inside the fallopian tube and that if the pregnancy is not ended by miscarriage or abortion, then it can lead to fatal complications for the mother. She said that it may be too early to tell, because judging by the tests they'd run and my estimation of the date of my last period I was only 4 weeks along. She said the fetus may be too small to see. I was angry at her for using the term "fetus" instead of "baby" because to me, that term encourages detatchment from the child and the situation. I was angry at God that He could create and take away, and in my heart I screamed at Him that it was unfair for Him to put me in this situation. He tells us that life is sacred and that abortion is wrong, and I believe with all my heart that abortion is the worst kind of murder, but here I was being told that I may have to have an abortion to save my life. Essentially, kill my baby or both of us. I hated that such a contradiction could be possible. I did not say any of this out loud. I didn't want to ruin such a beautiful moment with my anger. One look at Nathan and I could tell he was wondering the same thing... How could this be possible? But in that look, I also saw that he was just as happy as I was. We were pregnant. A life was growing inside of me. Despite my anger I was still in awe.
Our ultrasound that day revealed nothing. Our baby was still so tiny that we could not be sure where he or she was. As we waited for Dru to pull the car around, I spoke to God. I will NOT kill my baby. I will love this child with my last breath if it comes to that. No matter what, I will love this kid with everything I have. Please, God, don't let this be an ectopic pregnancy. Please.
Nathan and I got home that night and came to tell my family face-to-face because this just wasn't the news I wanted to tell them over the phone. And when we finally went to our apartment that night, Nathan and I talked and we decided we would treat this like a normal pregnancy until we knew for sure. The next day I called around and tried to find an OB/GYN who would see me. I needed to know. I had to know. But none of them would see me until I was 10 weeks along. The pains in my stomach went away slowly over the next few days. I was 8 weeks along before I got tired of waiting and going crazy and went to see our regular doctor. She sent us for an ultrasound at the hospital. While we waited and my nerves put me at the end of my rope, I remember Nathan taking my hand and looking at me and smiling. This is when I knew that everything would be okay. I don't remember the nurses that gave us the news, but one was blond and the other had dark hair. The blond one said, "I know your doctor will want to give you the details, but I can tell you that your baby is right where he or she needs to be. You do not have an ectopic pregnancy." Just like there is no way to describe the feeling of finding out you're pregnant, or that there is a possibility that you will lose the baby, there is no way to describe the happiness that washed over me when I heard those words. Everything would be okay.
We found our OB/GYN after much searching. Her name was Dr. Tiffany Weathers, and she was possibly the second biggest blessing in those few short weeks. She was straight forward, she gave the details without making it confusing, and she broke the tension often with her sense of humor. She wasn't just a doctor, she was a friend who had all the answers.
We found out we were having a boy in July of 2010. We moved in with my mom and dad on our 1 year wedding anniversary. It was a blessing that they offered to let us live with them until we could get back on our feet because we had no idea how we could afford what was ahead. My relationship with God grew more and more each day because I relied on Him to keep my sane.
I think it was the stress I placed on myself trying to get everything ready that caused Tacoma Harrison Sorey to come into the world a month early. On Friday, November 5th, 2010, Nathan was off work and I decided to take full advantage of the day. We went to Wal-Mart that day twice for paint supplies, and the second time we were there, I was having contractions 2 minutes apart. Nathan didn't want to let me paint, but I was determined. So with our friend Zack's cat Slate playing around our feet, we taped off and began priming the walls. I took it easier than I would have normally, but I had a growing sense of urgency to finish Tacoma's room. We were supposed to have until December 1st, so Nathan wasn't in as much of a hurry as I was and that bothered me. I was impatient with him and it seemed like every little thing he'd done the last week had set me off. But that day, I made an effort to stay calm and though I was still not laid back, I wasn't as snappy as usual.
Eventually I had to stop painting. My contractions stopped coming every 2 minutes, but we called the doctor anyway. That Tuesday we'd gone to see Dr. Weathers and she'd told us, "I'll be out of town this weekend, so don't go into labor!" Ha. The on-call doctor (Dr. Martinelli) said we should see wait and see, that these were probably just Braxton Hicks contractions. But that was at 7pm and I'd been having them since 3:30 pm that day. So when I was still having contractions at 11pm, we called again. She told us to head up to the hospital. So we grabbed the bag we'd packed an hour before just in case and told my parents (who were asleep) that we were going to the hospital and we'd let them know if they needed to come up.
Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the ER waiting room, wondering why I hadn't felt another contraction in the last 12 minutes. They weren't coming in any particular pattern, but I been having them like that for hours. After Nate gave them my information at the desk, he came to sit by me and I said, "Watch. Just my luck, now that we're here, I won't have anymore contractions and it will just be a false alarm." He gave me a little nervous laugh. Neither of us felt like paying another hospital bill just to be told something we could've found out if we'd waited just a little longer. We thought it might be Nebraska all over again. A few minutes later, after my nerves had given me that queasy feeling in my stomach and the butterflies had made many babies of their own, I was wheeled into the maternity ward room. I was so thankful for a familiar face- our nurse was Bailey Berry (we'd gone to church with her family for years). Sure enough, I was dialated to a 3 already and they decided to give me pain meds and fluids to see if it would slow down and/or stop my contractions. I was only 36 weeks pregnant, Tacoma was already measuring over 6lbs., and I was walking the line between being happy I was delivering earlier because it meant he wouldn't be 9lbs like I was and being worried that a premature delivery could mean he'd have something wrong. I remember sleeping for minutes at a time between contractions. Nothing is worse than waking up to pain like that, but it would only take seconds for me to drift back into a deep sleep. When I woke up around 5am on November 6th, Nathan was still exhausted. I knew I'd need him fully rested later that day even though the doctors wouldn't tell us one way or the other if I was going to deliver Tacoma.I called my parents. Neither of them had slept since we'd left and I could hear it in their voices. Despite that, they were at the hospital, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed within an hour, ready to be grandparents. For some reason, when you're pregnant and about to give birth, seeing your mom (if you have a close relationship) is the most reassuring thing in the world because if she can do it, so can you.
By 8 or 9, it was obvious I was going to have Tacoma that day. There was no stopping this kid. Family and friends were there as soon as we gave the word. Carolyn, my best friend, was about to jump out of her skin with excitement. I know it was pretty weird for her, it's not often she gets to see me so... well, about to give birth. Haha.
Around 10 or 11, I got my epidural. That was the most terrifying part, to me. If you know me well, you know I absolutely HATE needles. I wasn't afraid he'd slip and paralyze me, I wasn't creeped out by that at all. I was afraid of that giant needle. I was afraid of the epidural running out. I was afraid they'd make Nate leave the room. Nathan held me the whole time and I cried as hard as I could without moving my body. They tell you to relax and not move. They tell you to breathe. Right. You're sticking a HUGE needle in my SPINE and I should relax and breathe? No thanks. I did my best not to hyperventilate. Once the anesthesiologist had finished and I felt that cold sensation crawl down my back and into my legs, I watched him pack up to leave the room. This is when I decided to get brave. "Hey, so how big was that needle you just stuck in my back?" I asked. He said, "Which one?" I was curious, "Both." He held one up that had to be at least 4 inches long and said, "That's the one you felt." He picked up a second that was at least 8 inches long and said, "And that's the one you didn't." I laughed, not because I thought it was funny, but because I was almost sorry I'd asked.
After that, all I had to do was sit back and wait. Since I was only 36 weeks along, they wouldn't give me anything to encourage labor or give it a swift kick to get it moving faster. No. They made me wait it out. How nice. Well, I waited. I waited. I waited.... and I waited. My parents went to go get a carseat, Carolyn got a flat tire, and I dialated from a 6 to a 10 in an hour. Everyone had to hustle back to the hospital because I was NOT delivering this kid without my mom.
After 3 hours of pushing, Tacoma Harrison Sorey arrived in this world at 5:43pm, weighing 7 lbs exactly, and measuring 19 3/4 inches long. When they put him on my chest and I looked into that tiny red face for the first time ever, I knew that this moment was going to define my life- not my 16th birthday, not my graduation from high school, not my wedding day, nothing could top this. This little boy was mine. My first. This was the sweetest, most precious gift God had ever given me. Second only to His Son. And at that moment, everything changed. My prayers changed, Thank you, God. He is perfect. He is beautiful. I love him. And when I looked up at Nathan looking down at his newborn son, I knew he was thinking the exact same thing. No matter what, we would love this kid with everything we had. No matter what.
That was the day our lives changed forever.
It isn't too hard to see we're in heaven....
I got married to Nathan Sorey on July 25th, 2009. It was sunny, very warm, and so beautiful. It was the best day of my life.... We weren't planning on a baby until both of us were finished with school (one more thing I've dabbled in... haha), but apparently God had other plans. Spring Break 2010 Nathan, his mom, and I ventured to Wyoming because Nate really really really really wanted to go to school at Wyotech in Laramie and I knew I couldn't move to a place I'd never seen. I had taken 3 pregnancy tests before leaving, and I had one packed to take on the trip.All had come out negative so far. I started having stomach pains one day into our trip and I didn't say much because I thought it was just because I'd been cooped up in a car for hours and hours straight and no normal human feels that great after such a long ride in a car. I was cranky and distracted, dwelling on my anxiety about moving so far from home to a place where I knew absolutely no one. I kept praying to God that He would give me peace on this trip, that He would show me that this is what He wanted and that I would be okay. I prayed that my stomach pains would ease. I prayed that I wouldn't kill my mother-in-law or my husband along the way.
We spent a few days in Laramie, Cheyenne, and Fort Collins (Colorado), and then we headed home. About 4 days into the trip I had taken my 4th pregnancy test... also negative. I still wasn't that excited about moving. Actually, I might have been less excited about it if not for our trip to Fort Collins. I was pretty sure I could fall in love with that town, even though we only got to spend a few hours there (mostly spent in REI). And to make it worse, instead of getting better, my stomach pains had only gotten worse. On our trip home, we stayed in Lincoln, Nebraska, in a questionable motel. By questionable I mean I wasn't sure how long ago it had been since those sheets were washed. It was one of those places you see in the movies... you know the one, it has blinking, green florescent lights in the dim hallway that seems to stretch on forever. It wreaks of cigarette smoke. It's where people are found murdered and where the drug deals happen. Yes, that's the one. We stayed there. And it so happens that I had just had a hysterical breakdown before crashing onto the bed at 12am. I got hungry and my sweet, loving husband went out in search of food. When he came back with a microwaved vending machine egg roll, I wasn't thinking of all the bad connotations that normally come along with mental images of venting machine sandwiches and other such foods that should never come from a vending machine. I was only thinking of the way egg rolls normally taste and my mouth watered. I ate the whole thing. Later, about 2am, I woke up violently ill. And after throwing up every last thing that was in my stomach I continued to get sick. It was about 3:30am when we arrived at the Brian LGH emergency room. Nathan and I were convinced that I was extremely sick, if not dying.
After much blood work and much more waiting, the ER nurse came in with results. Her name was Rachel. She had a sweet, reassuring smile and a soft expression on her face. Just the kind of nurse you want to come tell you that you are dying. But that isn't what she said at all. Instead, she smiled and said, "You're pregnant."
That was on March 27th, 2010.
And so the adventure began...
We spent a few days in Laramie, Cheyenne, and Fort Collins (Colorado), and then we headed home. About 4 days into the trip I had taken my 4th pregnancy test... also negative. I still wasn't that excited about moving. Actually, I might have been less excited about it if not for our trip to Fort Collins. I was pretty sure I could fall in love with that town, even though we only got to spend a few hours there (mostly spent in REI). And to make it worse, instead of getting better, my stomach pains had only gotten worse. On our trip home, we stayed in Lincoln, Nebraska, in a questionable motel. By questionable I mean I wasn't sure how long ago it had been since those sheets were washed. It was one of those places you see in the movies... you know the one, it has blinking, green florescent lights in the dim hallway that seems to stretch on forever. It wreaks of cigarette smoke. It's where people are found murdered and where the drug deals happen. Yes, that's the one. We stayed there. And it so happens that I had just had a hysterical breakdown before crashing onto the bed at 12am. I got hungry and my sweet, loving husband went out in search of food. When he came back with a microwaved vending machine egg roll, I wasn't thinking of all the bad connotations that normally come along with mental images of venting machine sandwiches and other such foods that should never come from a vending machine. I was only thinking of the way egg rolls normally taste and my mouth watered. I ate the whole thing. Later, about 2am, I woke up violently ill. And after throwing up every last thing that was in my stomach I continued to get sick. It was about 3:30am when we arrived at the Brian LGH emergency room. Nathan and I were convinced that I was extremely sick, if not dying.
After much blood work and much more waiting, the ER nurse came in with results. Her name was Rachel. She had a sweet, reassuring smile and a soft expression on her face. Just the kind of nurse you want to come tell you that you are dying. But that isn't what she said at all. Instead, she smiled and said, "You're pregnant."
That was on March 27th, 2010.
And so the adventure began...
just one of those days
It's the middle of February and it's 70 degrees out and sunny. Just a week ago we had TWO FEET of snow on the ground. What? Yes, 2 feet. Now it's perfect weather for a walk.So, that's exactly what I plan to do when I'm done with this post.
I've never been much of a blogger. Never really wanted to put forth a whole lot of effort when it came to sharing things about myself. I'm a dabbler... and by that I mean I begin multiple projects, whether it's writing down the idea for a book I just had, or actually scrapbooking a few pages of my life before deciding I'd rather be outside than hunched over a desk. I don't really ever commit to one specific thing for long.Hence my inability to blog. But recently I've found myself with a lot of time on my hands, and in that time I've renewed my passion for a few things... photography, reading, writing, and music. I've also become a stay at home wife and mom. So, now that I have something to write about, I will. Whether anyone will read it or not, I have absolutely no idea. Here goes nothing...
I've never been much of a blogger. Never really wanted to put forth a whole lot of effort when it came to sharing things about myself. I'm a dabbler... and by that I mean I begin multiple projects, whether it's writing down the idea for a book I just had, or actually scrapbooking a few pages of my life before deciding I'd rather be outside than hunched over a desk. I don't really ever commit to one specific thing for long.Hence my inability to blog. But recently I've found myself with a lot of time on my hands, and in that time I've renewed my passion for a few things... photography, reading, writing, and music. I've also become a stay at home wife and mom. So, now that I have something to write about, I will. Whether anyone will read it or not, I have absolutely no idea. Here goes nothing...
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