To say I have slacked off the last 3-4 months would be an understatement. After the half marathon in September I lost all motivation without a goal in sight, and my runs became few and far between. Then winter came, along with snow and ice and plenty of excuses, and my runs were almost non-existent. The Husband would drag me out every once in a while for a weekend run, but I pretty much avoided it like the plague. My weight continued to drop and my body still felt good, and that did not help my motivation at all.
With a few warm days, the thought of bathing suits, and the numbers on the scale on a gradual rise, I found myself wanting to run again. Over a few beers on a rainy Saturday afternoon The Husband and I developed a plan, and I found another reason to wake up in the morning and a healthy habit to look forward to every day.
Like clockwork The Husband and I have ran every night since Sunday. And it feels good. I’ve even managed to run at night after a long 12-hr shift without face-planting into the cement. We’re only running 3 miles now, which will probably continue to be our nightly run during the week with longer runs on the weekends. It’s so nice to be able to run a good, steady pace without wanting to quit every 5 minutes or barely being able to catch my breath.
Tonight we set our post slacker-winter record— 3 miles in 28:52! Pretty pathetic, I know, but it’s been a while. You should also know that I slow The Husband down A LOT… he wasn’t nearly as lazy as I was during the last few months, and can still run 6-8 min miles when I’m not around to hold him back.
Yay to running, being healthy, and looking good in bikinis this summer!
I had an amazing meal planned for V-day last night. I had stocked up on anything and everything I might need from the grocery store, had all of my dippers sliced and ready in the cutest green polka dot bowls, and had the first glasses of wine poured. I pulled out our Cuisinart fondue pot (my favorite of all our wedding gifts), chose the pink and red skewers as they seemed most appropriate, and started to set up for course #1.
Surprisingly, the plug for the fondue pot was not stored inside of it as I usually keep it. No big deal, so I began scouring each drawer in our kitchen sure it would only take a few seconds to find. A few minutes later I moved on to the cabinets, then the storage cabinet above the refrigerator, then back to the drawers, checked the inside of the fondue pot again, and began to feel myself get a little bit frustrated.
Me: “hey baby, do you have any idea where the plug for the fondue pot is? I can’t find it anywhere.”
Him: “It’s in the drawer next to the pantry. Just saw it there the other day.”
Me: “no, that’s the plug for the skillet. This plug looks the same but is a different brand.”
Him: “no, that can’t be the plug for the skillet. I threw that away a long time ago when we figured out it didn’t work.”
That’s when it hit me. A few months ago I was whipping up a batch of pancakes for a Sunday brunch, but I couldn’t get the skillet to heat up. I messed with the plug over and over again trying to figure it out, until finally it began to spark and become a fire hazard. (At some point Nick took it upon himself to throw the plug away as I found a different option for cooking my pancakes.)
Kind of a funny story. But it gets better- I was reorganizing the cabinets this weekend, and came across the non-working (or so I thought) skillet, and within an hour had loaded it up with some other old appliances and driven it to Goodwill. So there I sat… a beautiful fondue pot with no source of electricity, and a Presto plug for a skillet I no longer owned.
My immediate reaction should have been to laugh (how stupid was I to not realize I was trying to plug the wrong cord into our skillet months ago?), but instead I began to cry. And then I began to sob.
At first I’m sure Nick thought I was losing my mind, or far more in love with the fondue pot and skillet than he ever realized. But it wasn’t about the fondue pot, or a ruined V-day meal plan… it was about the big picture. It was the feeling that no matter what I try to do, nothing ever works out. Big or small, I always feel the world is against me. We are good people; we work hard, we live moral and ethical lives, we try to always make the right decisions, we are compassionate and selfless people, but the world is always against us. The National Guard continues to shut every door possible in the husband’s face, we can barely survive to pay our bills each month with nothing left over, we’ve been smacked in the face by infertility and the harsh reality we may never be parents, and I can’t even enjoy a fancy at-home dinner with my husband on Valentine’s Day.
I know this seems like a pity party, and I guess it is for the most part, but sometimes I’m tired of walking through life with a smile on my face and appreciating what I do have. Because sometimes I just don’t feel like it’s very much. I know that I only I can make myself happy and I must accept the cards we’ve been dealt, but for 20 minutes last night I didn’t. I felt sorry for myself and cried on Nick’s shoulder… and you know what? It felt good.
After my sob fest we made our own little double boiler on the stove, pulled up a few stools, and enjoyed our first course (almost) the way I planned. It turned out to be a wonderful night with my husband, just the two of us at home, and that’s all that really mattered. Now the fondue pot incident is just a good story.
At the same time, something’s got to give. Whether we actually catch a break in life, or make some drastic changes and hope for the best, something has to change. It HAS to get better.
Today was for jewelry making and watching movies, running in the warm sunshine, and a nice serene walk around the lake with the husband sharing our dreams for the future.
Today was good.
Mountain Therapy 2011 has come to an end.
Another awesome weekend with an awesome group of girls.
I know it’s only January 11, but so far my New Year’s resolution is a success. I vowed to no longer let our infertility consume me, and not allow myself to become a ball of tears at the thought of it. I’ve spent the first 11 days of this year surrounded by pregnant bellies, and pregnancy announcements, and adorable little babies, and I’ve handled it better than I ever thought possible. Gone are the days of fighting back tears through a less than earnest smile and harboring jealousy toward those that seem more fortunate… instead I am genuinely happy for the blessings of children in everyone’s lives, and I don’t have to pretend to feel something I don’t.
Do I still want a baby? Without a doubt. Would I still be ecstatic if I learned tomorrow that I’m pregnant? Of course I would. But for now I’m content with the challenges we’ve been faced with, and I’m focusing on being grateful for what I do have- especially an amazing husband and partner to hold my hand and fight through this journey with me. I’ve also been faced with the thought that with The Husband’s possible upcoming deployment, our dreams of having a baby may be put on hold even longer. He would most likely be mobilized as early as March, and would be gone for at least 15 months before returning home. And surprisingly, I’m okay with the delay in starting our family.
I also haven’t lost hope. Anything can happen, and while I don’t expect any surprises in the near future I also know that things happen when you least expect them.
I originally started blogging as a way to pass the time while the husband was gone and share my experience of handling a deployment… and it seems this blog may be returning to its roots far sooner than expected.
Nick returned from Iraq at the end of July, and it is the ARNG’s policy that units are only deployed once every 5 years from TN. Of course we never believed this to be true, and when the rumors started circling the unit that the next deployment would come in 2012 to Afghanistan, we weren’t surprised at all.
What I didn’t expect was the text message I received from Nick while he was at drill Sunday and I was at work. He told me that we needed to talk asap, because he was thinking of volunteering for a deployment to Afghanistan with a different unit in June.
My heart sank. My stomach felt queasy. I didn’t even know how to respond.
We had a long talk about this possibility on Sunday night… why he wants to do it, the benefits to his career with the Army, and the sacrifices it meant for our relationship. Again. One of the hardest things about being a military wife is trying to be supportive and strong when you’re terrified of the future. Nick absolutely loves the military and is much happier serving his country than any other job you could offer him here, and I love him too much to deny him happiness in life.
Do I want to cry and scream and tell him there’s no way in hell I’m letting him go? Of course I do. But instead I let him hold me and promise that he’ll come back, he’ll always come back.
Nothing at all is definite yet… he’s still trying to learn more about the unit he would be deploying with and the mission they would be focused on. For now I’m embracing every moment we spend together, because as a military wife you learn to never take those moments for granted. You never know how long you have together, and you want as many memories as you can hold to carry you through the long months apart from the one you love
After only 3 days since leaving NC, I feel lost. It’s feels good to be back into a productive routine where (most) everything I do has meaning, but everything just seems a little off. Like I don’t belong here. My heart is and always will be where our families are, and for now that’s NC.
I long for the day that I can drive to my parent’s house to chat with my mom, because face-to-face conversations are always better than over the phone. I live to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon painting with Nick’s grandfather after a filling lunch of all things Cuban. I dream of riding horses with my mother-in-law, and dropping by my lifelong best friend’s house just to say hello. I yearn to spend the day alone with my Dad, because I have and always will be my daddy’s girl. I wish for the day that Nick can spend time getting to know his brothers again as life changes and ages us all. I hope for the day when we never have to miss a birthday party, or graduation, or the birth of a new family member.
We always say that one day we’ll move back to be closer to family, but my biggest fear in life is that it will never work out. There’s always something keeping us in Nashville… and although I am madly in love with this city, it will never be home.
I never thought that we would find ourselves alone, where visits with family are few and far between. I never thought there would be Thanksgivings and Christmases with just Nick and myself. And I never thought I could miss my hometown as much as I do now.
Maybe we’ll make it back one day, maybe we won’t. But my heart will always remain in the city that raised me, surrounded by the people in life that I love the most. I’ll never lose hope of raising our children surrounded by those we love, and I’ll never stop dreaming of a life back in NC.
Without a doubt, 2010 was a year of growth and self-discovery. There were challenges and triumphs along the way, but overall I can look back at everything with a sense of contentment and pride.
Nick and I survived our first deployment, and spent the first 8 months of the year on opposite sides of the world. We grew closer, learned more about ourselves and our relationship, and were grateful to end the year together as one. We celebrated our 1st year of marriage, traveled to Mexico, and planned for an exciting future together.
I completed my first half-marathon in 2010. For someone who was never a runner and never thought I could be, this was a huge accomplishment. I crossed the finish line holding the hands of two of my best friends, and have never felt more proud to face a challenge head on and reach a goal I never thought possible.
This year marked the start of a new career, and the realization that I finally found a career I love and can feel passionate about every day. Being a nurse is never glamorous and is full of physical and mental stress daily, but I’m proud of what I do and the small ways in which I’m able to impact the lives of those I care for. The rewards are endless, and I never doubt my decision to enter the world of nursing.
2010 also brought the biggest challenge Nick and I have ever had to face… infertility. It broke us in ways we never thought possible. We cried together, and were forced to stay strong as one while it felt that the world was trying to tear us apart. We faced huge decisions, and spent days worrying about what this would mean for us and our future. While the struggle remains, our outlook has brightened. No longer do we find ourselves on opposite sides of the battlefield, but rather hand and hand fighting together.
I also got my first tattoo this year at the ripe age of 26. I still feel pretty badass.
So goodbye, 2010, it was fun while it lasted. Now it’s time to see what 2011 can do.
