another set back.

I had another round of tests done before my doctor went on vacation and before Frank and I went to Vegas. Friday my doctor called with the results and they were bad. I have to get a second opinion on it, but it’s not looking good. It would take a miracle for me to be pregnant this month. Please pray for one.

I held it together at work pretty well. I was in shock for the first hour after. I managed to call Frank and tell him. And then I sat at my desk, fighting back tears and trying to keep a wavering smile on my face. On the way home I screamed and cried and used some unattractive swear words. When I came home, I curled up next to Frank and he said, “Ok, we are going to be upset about this for one hour. Then we are going to do things we can control, like clean out the basement.” So for one hour we were sad and then after that, we turned on some music and threw out the junk in our basement and added to our garage sale pile.

So yeah, we’re looking for a miracle – and I don’t mean a ticket to a Grateful Dead concert.

I am asking God for more peace. I am so beyond angry about this. And really, I don’t feel that I should be angry about this. It’s like going to Vegas and losing while other people win. And then going outside of the casino and realizing most of the world can’t afford the dollar to play because they are starving and thirsty and cold.

We are so blessed in so many ways. We have each other, for one. He is absolutely my soul mate and I wouldn’t trade him for anything. We have families that we love and that taught us a lot about life and loving. We have amazing friends. We both have awesome jobs. Jobs that are interesting and exciting and enriching. We have a home that we really enjoy and love. Our cup runs over.

So I am angry, but then I think about all of these awesome blessings that we God has provided while so many others around the world need clean water and a three meals per day.

But, oh, does my heart ache.

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doing better

today was a little bit better than yesterday night.

Frank was amazing.  I came home from a reception after work and was so hungry that I didn’t know if I wanted to eat now, order food or go out to eat.  On the way home I changed my mind three times.  While Frank may have been tempted to throw up his hands and say “screw this!” – he didn’t.

We went to a nice Mexican restaurant and then stopped at Dominicks and rented He’s Just Not That Into You. Oh, goodness – all of the mistakes I made in my dating life!!  If only I had that movie back then.  But I have to say, I think it all worked out perfectly.  But man – I was an idiot.

Moving on.

I decided to go with snuggling on the couch and renting a rom-com instead of going to the theaters and watching The Time Traveler’s Wife because, well, I sobbed when I read the book.  And considering my fragile hormonal state, why risk it?  Maybe Friday.  Maybe.

The upside: I’ve been drinking more water, so the crying isn’t dehydrating me.  I mean, silver lining on everything, hey?

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emotions, much?

Well, thanks to the fine folks that make progesterone supplements and the delightful prescription that my doc writes me every month, Frank found himself on an all-expenses paid trip to crazyville.  This 8th layer of hell included only myself, crying and leaking snot all over my face.  What did he do to deserve such a horrific punishment?  Well, he was home.  Since I try my hardest to not go crazy all over his a$$ while he’s out of town, and I try not to lose it on vacations – that pretty much only leaves the first night that he is home for me to unload.

Hello, Frank.  Welcome to your worst nightmare.

On tap for tonight we have just a large dose of fertility blues with a side of emotional baggage.  And if you’re interested in dessert, we can certainly arrange for some self-pity a la mode.

What brings on crazy, Emily? I’m going to go with the progesterone supplement I took tonight.  See, all day was fine. Good day. Solid.  I took the supplement when I got home and I was almost in tears watching The Lovely Bones movie trailer with Dor.  And then we watched Chuck, an otherwise upbeat show – and I almost lost it watching Chuck’s sister get married.

The good thing is that I know it’s not entirely me.  I know I would normally be in a lot more control of my feelings.  But man, the thought of doing this for another week, or even doing this for another month – that’s daunting. Especially since I am fighting the urge to compare myself to others – those who have had it easier or those who have had it worse – for either justification of my anger (the former) or comfort (the latter).  And neither is the right answer.

Frank is home, which makes this easier to do than to do it alone.  Thank God for Frank. 🙂

rough night.

Call me hormonal… cuz I think I am.

I just want to cry at everything.  I’m on a progesterone supplement and I think that’s the main cause of this situation I find myself in.  I went to a wake for a man I didn’t know, and just the sight of a dear friend in distress caused me to almost lose it (normally I can maintain myself in those kinds of situations).

Poor Frank got a dose of it this afternoon.  ::sigh:: He handles it well.

Ok, I’m going to go work out and hope that it helps the situation.

AGH!!

sweet home, chicago

Well, we are back from our Vegas extravaganza.  We came out ahead of the casinos (by about $50 – hey, better than in the hole $50!) and had a delightful time together.

I will write up a detailed, day-by-day report as soon as I get pics back from Frank.  Some things just can’t be explained with mere words.

General thoughts:

  • I would definitely go back to the Grand Canyon.  The pictures do not do justice to what it feels to be a tiny human standing at the edge of this natural phenomenon.
  • The Bellagio is lovely, but over-rated.  More on that later.  Suffice to say: Frank and I did not think that it was worth $100 to pay to work out.  Seriously, the gym was not included as part of the stay.
  • Buffets are awesome.
  • O (Cirque du Soleil) was amazing.  The imagery, colors, stunts, choreography, athleticism, music and overall experience were mind bending.  I have been practicing touching my toes and hopes that I might be able to stand still with the same grace and poise (unlikely, but worth the effort).
  • Grand Canyon – awesome.
  • Flight to the Grand Canyon – not as awesome.   Small Plane + Hot + Bumpy + Thunderstorms = Not happy times. I did not puke, I will have you know.  The girl in front of me was not so lucky.
  • Learned, during our Grand Canyon aviation experience that when Frank says, “Are you sick?” and I say, “Yes,” and he says, “Do you need a sick sack?” and I say, “No,” that we are miscommunicating.  Sick to me means feeling nauseated and having a head ache and the world is spinning.  Sick to Frank means “I am going to vomit.”
  • In sort of a experiential cliche, I sat next to two musicians/wannabe musicians on the way home from LAX.  Dude.
  • Grand Canyon – still awesome.  If you haven’t seen it, go see it.  Stop reading this post and start driving/flying to it.
  • I’m serious.  Grand Canyon.   It is both Grand and Canyon-y.
  • I always smile when I end a trip without exposing my dirty underwear at the baggage claim.  It stems from a childhood incident wherein my family’s luggage ripped apart en-route home from Orlando.  Our bag rounded the corner of the carousel, underwear laid out for the world to see.  At first we chuckled, not realizing it was our bag.   And then, horror of horrors, we realized that those panties hanging out were OUR panties.  NO!  Dad yanked the bag off of the carousel and tried to remedy the situation by taking off his belt and wrapping it around the suitcase.  Too small.  I don’t know what he eventually did.  I just know the car ride home was silent as we were all stricken by the experience.  So to say that I managed to end yet another vacation without sharing my blue and white polka dot undies with the fine folks at ORD, that is a big deal.

It’s good to be back home.  Thanks to Andy for the ride home tonight.  You’re  a fabulous brother.  (who I convinced to go on a 2 mile run with me at 9:30 am Saturday).

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in just about one month…

we will celebrate our six year wedding anniversary.

SIX. YEARS.

our first kiss as husband and wife

our first kiss as husband and wife

It’s at this point I’d like to just point out we were 16 when we got married.

Ahem.

So six years ago, Frank was texting me, telling me that he broke his arm (he didn’t) and that he would need a cast (he didn’t). And I was thinking, “Crud, he’s going to have to hide his arm in all of our wedding photos.”  Good thing that Frank was just playing a joke (good thing…).

And we were having our bridal showers and final dress fittings and getting our marriage license.

It was such a rich, vibrant time in my life – but also fast and busy.  So many things in my life were changing at break-neck speeds, it was hard to keep things organized.  And often we didn’t keep things organized.

In the midst of Frank and I starting our new life together, my grandfather passed away.  My grandfather gave me a great appreciation for strong male personalities.  I find myself drawn to men with bigger-than-life-personalities and even larger opinions.   Meanwhile, my dad’s strong, but very diplomatic and wise personality was a nice balance for my grandfather’s influence.  In many ways, Frank is the perfect blend of the two men.

While my parents’ marriage is it’s own great love story, and I love it, my grandparent’s love story was legendary.

They met when Nani was 11 and Papa was 14.  Papa’s mom made him share part of his candy bar with Nani.  Knowing Papa’s sweet tooth, this was no small sacrifice.

When Papa was a teenager, he went off to fight in World War II.  He didn’t speak much of his time there, but when he did, he was very emotional.  When he came home, he went to a New Year’s Eve party and Nani was there.  Nani was a model and I always imagined that there was a halo of perfect lighting wherever she went.  That night, several young men were vying for her attention and it wasn’t until midnight that my grandfather finally won the battle for Nani.  He wasted no time – that night they set a date for their wedding and they were married on June 12 of that new year.  (6 month long engagements are genetic, I guess)

Their love affair never faded.  Vibrant, passionate – their love affair simply evolved and grew over the years.  They loved to have a good time, throw a big party, surround themselves with friends and family.  As a little girl, I remember catching them smooching in the kitchen and holding hands.  It always seemed fresh and sweet.

They argued, absolutely.  I don’t know any couples that don’t argue.

On June 12th, 2003, they celebrated their 55th wedding anniversary.  I was in another room while they ate breakfast together and heard Nani say to Papa, “How did you love me all of these years?”  And he answered back simply and plainly, “Because I just do.”

Less than a month later, Papa passed away in his sleep.  I had dreaded that moment for years and years prior to it actually happening.  As a little girl, when I became aware of their intensity for each other and then became aware of death, I always hoped that they would die together so that they wouldn’t have to know any days separated from one another.  I know that sounds horrible, but it’s true.  They were each other’s entire world, and when Papa passed away, Nani’s heart was totally broken.

She made it another three years and just around Valentine’s Day, she passed away.  I suppose, as my Uncle Steve pointed out, it was only fitting.

And so what does their love story have to do with Frank’s and my love story?  Oh, many things I believe.  They made a decision, every day, to love one another.  They managed to do what so many others fail to do: turn around previous generations’ issues of alcoholism and infidelity.  Their love was powerful enough to clean the slate of what they inherited from their families so that their children wouldn’t grow up in a broken home.  They taught my mom what to look for in a mate and she, in turn, passed that along to me.

It wasn’t perfectly executed, but it was love.

In the midst of Frank and I planning our wedding, we stopped to remember Papa and Nani’s marriage and love story when Papa passed away.

My father-in-law likes to talk about the giants in our lives.  The people who came before us, on whose shoulders we stand.  The people who taught us to love big or go home.  The people who courageously, bravely, and selflessly made daily sacrifices because they thought more of their legacy and future generations, than of themselves.

Frank and I have been married for almost six years.  We faced some difficult challenges together.  We enjoyed some of the sweetest times.  We argue and snuggle – often within the same 15 minutes.

Frank is an amazing husband.  He is kind to me when I am upset.  He is gentle, even when I am fiery.  He is strong when I crumble.  He is generously affectionate, even when I make myself busy to enjoy it.  He is wise and seeks to be wiser.  He is a great leader, yet he often just walks alongside me.  He is my favorite person, my best friend, and my lover.

Six down, forty-four to go.  I hope we leave the kind of legacy in the lives of our family and friends that would make God and the giants proud.

This much, always.

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2.2 miles of therapy

I think running is therapy for me.

It’s me, proving to myself, that I can run.  I can make it each quarter mile further.

Each step is me not caving.

Each step reminds me of the verses in the Bible that say to rejoice in suffering and trials.

Each step reminds me that because I took one step, the next time it will be easier and faster and lighter.

People have said that you run against no one but yourself.

And that’s true.

But you also run for no one but yourself and because God gave us the ability to choose to run.

I run for me and to be closer to God.  Even if I say nothing and He says nothing, it’s sort of like an aligning of me with His Spirit.

I run as fast as I can mentally and physically and emotionally.

Tonight I started crying while I was running, but I kept going.  I ran through the tears and found a good pace and felt better.

I was crying because the thought occurred to me that the saddest and hardest part of what we are going through is the thought that if we don’t have children, who will tell future generations how much Frank and I loved eachother?  Who will tell future generations the great things that God has done in our lives?

And you know, I don’t have anything else to say about that.  It’s just sad.  And yeah, maybe we will have kids.   And maybe we won’t.  I think I’m just sad.

The cool thing about running is that sometimes it gets really hard.  Sometimes I think, “I just can’t go on, I’ll never make the next mile.”  And then, I push and I make it.  That gives me a lot of hope.

So maybe right now it’s hard and I’m just sad, but I will persevere.  And God’s Word says that perseverance builds character and character gives us hope.

In sadness I can have hope.  And that is awesome.

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running & frank is home

Ok, so I did NOT get my 2 mile run in this morning.  I opted, instead, to sleep in.  I feel that it was a wise decision.

And I am psyched for my 2 mile run this evening, with FK.  I am really going to push myself to run faster than I have, since this is now becoming a “short” distance for me.

Did I mention that FK is home?  Only for 24 hours, but hey, I’ll take what I can get!

And next week, Vegas!  YES!

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running ugly together

At my soon-to-be former agency, they have many catch phrases. “One Team, One Dream” and “Nothing is Impossible.”

As the economy soured, the agency adopted one more, “Winning Ugly Together.” The premise was that we would have to be scrappy and competitive and pull out all of the stops in order to win. And this kind of winning might be quite ugly – late nights, aggressive maneuvering, etc.

Well, I’d like to say that today, Frank and I “Ran Ugly Together.” Frank slowed his running pace to be just-faster-than-a-brisk-walk and I tried (sometimes successfully) to run at a pace that I consider sprinting (it’s really not even close to a sprint). I had a 3 mile run on the schedule. We pushed and grunted and made otherwise weird (athletic?) noises throughout the entire run.

And we did it. We made it over 3 miles. (original estimates had it pegged at 3 1/2 miles, but it was really more like 3 1/4 miles). And I booked it for the last quarter mile (because of other biological needs).

We were scrappy and dedicated. We pulled out all of the stops – we ran through cramps, we stretched out hammies, we boldly ran past dogs and old men. And as we stumbled up the bike path to our house, Frank said, “Well, 8 more of those and we’d have a marathon.”

My initial response was, “ha – heck no!”

But then I thought about it.

“Nothing is Impossible,” I thought. We could do it.

Sure, it would be grueling, but if I got myself primed this fall and then started a really great cross-training program over the winter and then started an amazing marathon training type program in the summer – I could be ready for next year’s Chicago Marathon (sorry Toni – not gonna happen this year… ).

“One Team, One Dream,” I think. If we were dedicated to the cause, we could totally pull it off.*

I would want us to make tee-shirts for the occasion (ah, the sorority girl in me rears her ugly head).

They would be simple. White tees. Black writing. “Running Ugly Together.”

So, anyone want to start this training program with us? Frank, you in?

*A possible pregnancy would delay this by 1 year, probably. It’s a whole different kind of marathon. In that case, I would make tees that said, “Laboring Ugly Together.”

love me some husband!

FK IS HOME! FK IS HOME!

Ahh, I love it when he’s home.

When FK is home, I usually get a real dinner. Not just some cheese on bread or a high fiber pita with peanut butter. REAL food. mmm.

When FK is home, he usually gets the laundry started (he hates folding, so I do that part).

When FK is home, I usually fall asleep faster at night (last night was an exception).

Ahhh. Good stuff. So glad that he is home!