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Our Family’s Fertility Struggles: Part Two

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Ten months ago, I opened up about the problems my husband I and were having trying to have children. I shared with you our decision to adopt after failing to conceive for a long time, on our own and then with fertility treatments. It is time for an update on our lives.

In the ten months that have passed since that original blog, we have still not gotten pregnant. If you are keeping track, that makes it thirty-one months since we began actively trying to conceive a child — over two and a half years. However, the pain of a possible future without children led us to seek other avenues for building our family, and we started our adoption process last August. It was a long, confusing, at times overwhelming, process, but I can thank God that I am now a Mama — that is, to a human baby, rather than just my cats.

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Let me begin just after the failure of our second attempt at IUI, at the next doctor’s appointment to see if I had viable follicles for a third round of treatment. Because of hormone therapy (and some resulting depression, I’d assume), I’d gained about thirty-five pounds in just over five months and was told that day that I’d gained too much weight for the IVF specialist to consider treating us. I was handling the disappointment of another failed fertility attempt poorly, a baby cried in the next room, and my doctor had just tried to console me by saying, “I’m really sad to see you back here — I just really thought it would take this time.”

In the car on the hour and fifteen minute drive home, I told Josh that I just couldn’t deal with it anymore — I couldn’t handle the pain and disappointment and cost and time of all the doctors appointments. He asked if I could be happy without kids. I told him that, while I loved our life together, I wanted a family — a child (or four) to love and snuggle, who would wake us up early on Christmas morning, and with whom we would have movie marathons in footy pajamas, carve pumpkins at Halloween after trips to the pumpkin patch, go to the zoo and circus, build snowmen, and eat dinner at six. I told him I didn’t think I could be happy without that. He said that, in that case, we wouldn’t waste any more time on “ifs” — if I have enough properly-sized follicles, if I get pregnant, if I don’t miscarry — and we’d start to focus on “whens” — when we get the paperwork done, when the social worker approves our home study, and when a child gets placed with us.

We initially decided to foster children in the hopes of being able to later adopt them. We signed up for classes two months in a row, which were cancelled due to lack of interest. Simultaneously, we started searching out information on other types of adoption programs. We were disheartened by the cost of infant adoption, but we decided not to rule it out.  Our friends, family members, and pastor all gave us advice, along with names and phone numbers to try. We attended a town meeting on fostering and adopting. We contacted several agencies — state-run and private — to seek more information. Then it was time to make a decision.

The agency we chose was All About U Adoptions, a small company based in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. They made all the paperwork, applications, and classes as organized and straightforward as possible, with a clear-cut to-do list and a timeline for getting it done determined, really, by us. Being as ambitious and strong-willed as I am, I forced my husband to complete the essays and budget and coursework as quickly as possible, despite the snails’ pace at which it seemed the state offices ran in filing and approving our fingerprints and background checks. We finished the entire process, including the home study, in approximately four months; we truly had much for which to be grateful at Thanksgiving.

After our photo book was made and copies were submitted to the agency, we were told we would have to continue to be patient, and that they were hoping to be able to match us to a birth mother within a year. We talked to other couples who had completed adoptions, and they gave us hope that eventually we would be chosen. We decided we would wait about six weeks — just until the start of the new year — and then we would look into hiring an adoption marketing company to seek out potential matches for us (which would be another added cost, but would likely result in an adoption for us much sooner than a year of waiting).

Surprisingly, at the end of December, we got the phone call we had been hoping for: there were two birth mothers who might pick us, if we agreed to show them our portfolios. We immediately said yes (of course we said yes, with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm), and we were supposed to hear back if one of them had chosen us by the next day. We didn’t hear back the next day, or the day after. We contacted our agent, who said that one of the mothers had picked a different couple and the other wanted to set up an interview on Skype.

I am not sure if I have ever been as nervous as I was the evening we were to connect with a potential birth mother. I knew that she probably had many other couples on the list, most of whom had likely been waiting much longer — months or years, even — for a match. I was afraid that we wouldn’t have THE quality — the one specific, subjective quality that differs but that all birth mothers look for in a potential family for their child — the quality that can’t be predicted by anyone else but which makes up her mind definitively one way or the other. We had heard that one birth mother chose a couple because of a tee-shirt the husband was wearing in a picture of the portfolio book. Another birth mom chose a family because they lived on a farm.

On January 3, 2017, my life changed forever when Hannibal jumped into my lap on camera during the course of conversation. Our son’s birth mother said, “You have cats. You are so happy — always smiling. I want to move forward.” So we had THE quality — our genuine happiness and love for each other won her over. So did our cat.

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We called our families and friends, and we told them that, while we had been chosen and were cautiously optimistic, the birth mom could still change her mind any time up to five days after the court hearing to terminate parental rights; this occurs some time after the baby is born. So, while our son was due in April, and we frantically made registries and painted his room and set up his crib and joyfully washed all the tiny clothes we received at our baby shower, we were under the constant fear that she would change her mind and decide to keep him or, perhaps (and I’m still not sure it would have been legally possible), pick a different family instead. I was always very careful during that three and a half months to answer everyone’s questions with a warning: “We are so excited, but, remember, she can still change her mind.” I was terrified it would happen.

Our church and our students organized and held fundraisers for us. We also received private donations. All of this helped with the financial burden. Our friends were incredibly helpful, including writing recommendations, offering advice and babysitting services, and giving us gifts and hugs. The towns in which we live and teach were completely supportive and most people seemed genuinely excited for us.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it was mid-April and we got a call saying our birth mother was in labor. I’ll never forget the elation and uneasiness we felt over the course of driving those eighteen hours. We were somewhere in Missouri when we learned our baby had been flown to the Arkansas Children’s Hospital because he had to have surgery for a very serious birth defect. Once we arrived in Little Rock, at 9:15 p.m., we were turned away because we didn’t have parental rights; they wouldn’t even confirm our son was actually in the hospital. I can not explain the fury and despair we felt, knowing our son was in a crib somewhere in that hospital, he was sick, we didn’t know exactly how severely, and we weren’t even able to hold his hand. So, while our son was born on Monday evening, we didn’t actually meet him until Wednesday morning, when his birth parents arrived at the hospital and put us on the visitor list.

Our son spent a week and a half in the NICU. Over the course of that time, we were given legal guardianship. We spent each day with him; his birth mother was with him most nights. She was there out of love and worry for her baby, even though it was at great physical and financial cost to herself. She had given him up for adoption because of her circumstances, and it was clear that, while she understood the choice she had made in giving him to us, it still pained her deeply. In that short time, I grew to love her in a way that would be hard for people who don’t have adopted children to understand.

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About a month and a half after he was born, we had to fly back to Arkansas with him to finalize the adoption. The entire trip went smoothly, and we are happily home with our son who is, in the judge’s words, “Ours just as if he had been born to us.” He is calm and sweet. He is learning to smile. Life is literally better than I even imagined it would be.

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For all of you praying for a positive pregnancy test, I haven’t forgotten you. I haven’t forgotten what it feels like to cry quietly so your husband doesn’t hear you when that test comes up negative. I haven’t forgotten the jealous torment of reading someone else’s pregnancy announcement on Facebook or the energy-draining despair of smiling when others say, “You would make great parents — you should think about having kids!” or the anguish of hearing other women complaining about the stretch marks and baby weight and heartburn and late nights and check-ups and morning sickness.

And, I pray that all of you find your joy. It might occur when you get pregnant. It might not happen biologically — it certainly hasn’t happened for us in the ten years Josh and I have been married — so I encourage you to consider other options, too. It might come from rescuing a pet. It might be when your priorities shift and you decide to look into fostering a child — maybe a toddler or even a teenager. Because of the costs associated with infant adoption, we have decided that we will look more into fostering children when our son is a bit older.

As I have stated previously, there is more to being a family than having a child with your genes. My baby doesn’t have Josh’s hair or my eyes, but he has our hearts forever.

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Peace and love.

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This Thanksgiving Season

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It is the time of year when people begin to express their gratitude for the good things in their lives. Of course, I could go on and on about being thankful for owning a home, my husband and I each having stable jobs, being in relatively good health, and all the expected sentiments: pets, good weather, and full bellies. In light of all that has happened in my family, good and bad, this year, I am going to take a moment and share from my heart.

Last fall, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She has been receiving chemo for just over a year, had a double-mastectomy in the spring, and went through six weeks of radiation this summer. It is a hard process to watch, but with determination and a caring medical team, my mom was recently told by her doctor she is officially a “survivor.” This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for my mom, as never before.

In May, my dad suffered a massive stroke in two parts of his brain. He has come through with much less damage and fewer long-term effects than anyone thought possible. Then, in the summer, he had heart surgery. His doctors are surprised and proud of his resilience. He has healed quickly and has not lost his sense of humor. I am so thankful I am able to call my dad and argue over politics and hear his laugh.

Three weeks ago, my parents were sleeping when their house caught fire. They barely escaped and spent four days in the hospital recuperating from smoke damage. In a year where our family has had its share of disappointments and crises, this tops the list of being a mental and emotional drain. However, I believe, truly, that God sent angels to protect my parents’ lives while all around them was destruction.

In the midst of all of this, my husband and I were receiving fertility treatments that did not work. How can we find a blessing in this for which to be thankful? We have been inundated by friendship and support that was both unexpected and greatly appreciated. Our community, our friends, even strangers have been so thoughtful, uplifting, generous, and positive that it has helped me face the task of filling out adoption paperwork (so much paperwork!) and readying for our home visit with optimism. It is so much easier to do a difficult task when you know that people want you to succeed; we have received cards, phone calls, letters, and social media messages that I will forever store in my heart. I did not know, when I wrote about our fertility struggles, how many people this problem affects. Nor did I know how supportive people would be by the announcement that we were beginning to look into adoption. People have been so kind, understanding, and excited for us that it reinforces — in the midst of all the negativity in the world today and, particularly, in our country this week — the idea that most people are genuinely good, caring, and loving. Please know that we genuinely appreciate all the support we have received, and cannot express our thankfulness adequately enough.

Peace and love.14480660_10209711720605577_7351541725707216488_o (1).jpg

Ways We Can Improve Our Society: Part Two

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Check out part one for more ideas!

Thankfully, the number of potential candidates for the Presidency has dwindled slightly. Unfortunately, most of those who remain are the loudest, angriest, and most arrogant.  If I actually believed politicians would be willing to listen to the desires of the people they claim to represent, I would offer them the following suggestions for how we, as a nation, might grow and change. Instead, I am relying on the people to change what we can, provided we can stop insulting and berating each other on social media for how our political policy beliefs differ.

To begin, I believe our country (our world, in fact) would be a better place if everyone was required to give another human being a genuine compliment every single day. I’m sure there is a government bureaucrat out there somewhere who is tired of getting paid for reading magazines and pretending to file paperwork. Let him be in charge of tracking how quickly general happiness, self-esteem, and optimism skyrocket under the new Renee Fornelli Love agenda. There’s some type of computer program that can make graphs and pie charts, I assume. He could even create a survey — and we all know how important polls are these days — and build data. There would be so much more paperwork to “file” (and, by file, I mean lose/shred/stick in a box in a warehouse)! What an exciting job for that formerly bored government employee!

Next up, we can easily improve our world through the utilization of recycling centers. Last summer, my husband and I decided to make regular recycling a part of our lives. I organized a small corner of our home to store paper, cans, and plastic bottles. I have a couple pictures of my bins below. It takes, maybe, twenty minutes a month to gather up and drop off all the items that, previously, would have gone towards filling up our landfill. Instead of having companies make new things, they can refashion and reuse old things. Isn’t that “shabby chic” idea all the rage right now? Please consider making a better effort to go green. I was surprised — pleasantly — by how little effort recycling actually takes. Save our planet — it’s the only place we have to live!

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Last on the agenda today is the need and desire for our society to consider pet adoption. Statistics show there are many benefits to owning a pet. They can help to lower blood pressure, ease depression symptoms, and detect an owner’s serious illness, for starters.  Cats and dogs, especially, are excellent companions for children and adults, and offer a wide array of services to offset any minor inconveniences that go along with pet ownership. Dogs provide protection and a sense of security to people with disabilities and those living alone; they also learn tricks and make for great exercise buddies. Cats are useful for killing rodents and are particularly good snugglers. For example, my cats are great foot warmers in the dead of winter, though they do often steal all the blankets and fashion a nest for themselves, leaving me to shiver uncontrollably through the night. Be that as it may, I know they love me because they show it in other ways. They meet me at the door when I get home from work. They lay beside me and purr when I’m sick. They “sing” with me and often answer when I talk to them. They “pet” my hair and give me kisses. They leave fake mice in my purse if I leave it unzipped, and I often find toys in the toe of my boots when I slip them on. They are content to lay in my lap for hours. They fill my heart with joy and happiness.

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So, to all of you petless people, I will encourage you to go to a shelter and adopt a pet. You do not need to spend hundreds of dollars to buy one from a dealer or a pet store. Often, people give pets away for free. Pets provide comfort, acceptance, and companionship to lonely people. They give entertainment and add excitement to daily chores. They offer unconditional love. People with pets are almost always happier because of them. That’s why they fill your Facebook news feed with so many pictures of them.

So, if we can change our attitudes and behaviors, we can change our world for the better. I’m willing to give it a try. Are you?

P.S. We don’t actually need the government telling us to compliment each other. Just do it on your own. It feels great for the recipient as well as the giver. Make each other happy today!

Peace and love.

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Ways We Can Improve Our Society: Part One

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As election time rolls around and debates separate the wheat from the chaff and political ads slander opponents mercilessly, it becomes apparent (particularly on social media) that everyone in America knows what is best for the country and if you disagree you are a worthless pile of fool. To add to the “excitement” of another 11 months of campaigns, here is the first stage of “making America great again,” and if you disagree, you are a worthless pile of fool.

First up, budget cuts. I hear about this concept of “budgeting” and apparently it means “planning for a fiscally sound future by not buying so much makeup,” according to my husband’s line of thinking. What it actually means is balancing income and expenses — in other words, allotting an adequate amount of money to each area in order to responsibly pay bills in a timely fashion. The following are some ways I think the local, state, and federal government could increase revenue or cut needless expenditures, or improve our society as a whole.

First, when an individual is caught speeding, he or she should be required to pay a fine of no less than $50 for every excess mile per hour an officer clocked their speed. (Bonus: the main roads will be much safer, as compulsive speed demons will likely stick to back roads — I’m not convinced they can change.) That money can be earmarked for educational funding, including a newly required defensive driving course for all caught recklessly risking their own and others’ lives by cruising along at 75 in a 65 zone.

Second, why do prisons provide cable television? Many hardworking, law-abiding citizens can’t afford such a luxury. My cable bill each month is astronomical (particularly after adding an additional box) and increases semi-annually. Felons don’t need cable, they need to sit and think about what they did wrong. If they get bored with repenting, they can pick up a book and read. Our world would be a better place if everyone in it read a book a month. Rather than setting up convicts with expensive entertainment, force them to watch local channels and, when they tire of that, to educate themselves. I know, the option of schooling already exists in the joint, but I feel more people who are incarcerated would put forth the effort of seeking an education to better their lives on the outside if it was the only option available during their free time (and by free time, I mean the time they don’t spend lifting weights and fashioning shivs out of toothbrushes). Admittedly my knowledge of the inner workings of life in the clink is limited to, ironically, what I have viewed on cable networks. What would the government do with all the funds they freed up by making the pen “hard-copy only”? They would redirect that cash to fuel public education. By funneling more money into our children’s schooling, we could hope there would be fewer ex-cons in the long run — and wouldn’t that make for a brighter future overall?

Third, hire only highly skilled and professional construction companies who will work on one mile of road at a time, from dawn until dusk every single day until the job is complete. The longer that stretch of patch work takes, the more road rage I suffer. The citizens pay taxes to fund quick, sound reconstruction of the roads, not to hire a bunch of sweaty, chain-smoking sign holders. When I drive by at 10:15 in the morning, I know they cannot possibly be legitimately still eating breakfast. So why are they just sitting in their trucks, laughing at my aggravation? Why do they tear up twenty miles of the interstate at a time if they have no intention of fixing it that week? Why must I slow down to twenty-five miles an hour when workers are nowhere to be found? Why doesn’t the foreman insist they remove the “reduce speed ahead” signs before leaving for the afternoon siesta (which is the only logical explanation for why machines are sitting empty in the ditches when I drive home at 4:30 in the afternoon)? Why is my tax money paying for months of unnecessary inconvenience to travelers and a lack of oversight resulting in lazy incompetence from poorly managed road crews? I’m becoming suspicious that maybe they intentionally take so long because they get paid by the day. Government officials, do some reference checking on the companies you pay with my money, or I will vote you out.

Check out part two here.

Peace and love.

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What I Have Learned From My Kitten

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11162081_10205935851051198_2565505048927328346_nI have recently acquired a kitten; he is nearly two months old. His name is Hannibal, because my husband and I were betting that he would have to be a warrior in order to stand firm against his much bigger brothers (Archimedes is 19.5 pounds and Magellan is 14 pounds). 10922872_10205907810470201_7914865518395219764_n

I have never really had to introduce new cats to each other before; previously I had a single cat, and after he died I got a pair of litter-mates when they were tiny. Furthermore, having not had a kitten in about 9 years, I guess I had forgotten what bringing a baby into our home would entail. Over the last three weeks, I have learned just what acquiring a “free” kitten includes.

A kitten comes with a monetary cost. Immediately upon his arrival, it was necessary for us to purchase another litter box, as vets recommend having one for each cat and an extra. We also discovered we had to buy a “potty training” box: a used 9″ x 13″ cake pan, as his little legs would not enable him to scale the walls of the full-sized boxes. We bought a bag of kitten food and a new food bowl (so he would not be afraid of the scent of the bigger cats). We also took him, within a day of bringing him home, to the vet for his first check-up and to get his shots. The next week we had to bring him to the vet’s because he had a respiratory infection that is common to cats who are born on farms. Free kittens will cost you quite a bit of dough up front.

11329764_10205906092067242_644109690277529000_nA kitten disrupts the flow of the home into which it is introduced. Each comes with its own temperament, and, therefore, its own rules, by which all household members must play. When we brought Hannibal in, we had all the fears and hopes of any new pet parent: would he be healthy, would he create tension, would he get along with our other cats, would he love us? The first few days were rough, to put it mildly. Tiny little five-week-old Hannibal was terrified, hostile, and fiery. He spit and hissed and bit and scratched everyone; he hid between the door and the wall; he ran from anyone approaching him.

But my husband and I were head-over-heels in love. It’s exhausting keeping watch and standing guard, so Hannibal often fell asleep while sitting up. After he ate, he let me hold him and sing to him and would snuggle in and fall asleep. He often got so caught up in his playing that he would fall asleep in the middle of it. In essence, he was an angel when he was asleep. How could anyone not fall in love with a sleeping ball of fluff? Even more endearing was his tendency to nuzzle in when his guard was down. He showed that, although he was afraid, he could learn to trust us; it was the first sign he was accepting his new family.  11377099_10205927908052628_4119230687361810319_n11429088_10205994352033686_7724427361259011556_n

A kitten costs peace of mind. The constant worries pile up; it is especially true for new mommies. “Why is the baby sneezing so much?” “Where is the baby?” “Did the baby use the litter box yet?” “Did Archimedes just hurt the baby?” “What if the baby uses his claws and scratches out Magellan’s eye?” “If the baby sleeps with us, you’re not going to roll on him, right?” “When are the baby’s next shots?” “Did the baby just hurt himself jumping off the couch?” “What if the baby falls down the stairs?” “How do we get the baby to stop chewing on cords?” “The baby isn’t climbing up my curtains, is he?!” Well, ok, that last thought isn’t so much a worry as a threat, expressed in the form of a question. If you get a kitten, be prepared to replace curtains, move furniture around, cover the couch in blankets, and, essentially, baby-proof your home.

A kitten costs time. It takes time to potty-train a baby. It takes time to feed him in a separate room, watching to make sure that he eats and doesn’t get distracted by other cats’ paws under the door. It takes time to teach him his name and to teach him not to scratch the furniture and to teach him not to bite his brothers’ tails unless he wants them to fight back. I also had to specifically carve out alone time to spend with my other boys (both the other two cats and my husband) and ensure that my time was not consumed with the new kitten. I often had to seek out the other cats, who hid upstairs and downstairs (where Hannibal was, for a time, unable to go — he has since learned to maneuver stairs and is an unstoppable force). I had to reassure them that, although I was spending so much time with the baby, it didn’t mean I loved them any less.11215807_10205957227265590_2406978983197072906_n11254288_10206161078001731_47836632477146075_n

A kitten costs all your peaceful, quiet afternoons. Kittens love to play — to scratch, bite, pounce, and bound away. They particularly love to ambush whoever accidentally moves in their vicinity. It is how they learn and it is their instinct. They are the masters of guerrilla warfare. If you bring a kitten home, be ready for nonstop attack mode. Unfortunately, not everyone in this house enjoys playing. In fact, no one does. We have learned diversion techniques (tossing toys across the room). We have bought mechanical toys to distract his attention for several minutes at a time. We have cruelly but without regret drawn the other cats into the “game” through the use of feather wands and food (which, notably, they did not appreciate in the least). Fortunately, over the past few weeks, all three cats are starting to become much more accustomed to each other and are spending some time together voluntarily. The older ones might even be starting to like the baby, despite his never-ending energy and their complete lack of desire to play with him…or with each other.1471338_10206070604059939_4157556326881593652_n11659317_10206153293127114_6421831474576771216_n

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A kitten will prevent you from doing many things that need to get done during the day. As previously stated, they enjoy playing, and it doesn’t matter with whom: with people, with other cats, with their own tails. They tire themselves out through play, and thus (like all babies) tend to sleep afterwards. You will get nothing done when a kitten is sleeping on you, because you are terrified of disturbing it, waking it, and being forced to fend off the needle-sharp claws and teeth with which it will retaliate. So you will just lay quietly and let it sleep.

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Finally, a kitten will cost you sleep. Kittens are basically nocturnal. They sleep a lot during the day and are far more active at night. Your new kitten will keep you awake by bringing toys with bells into the bed for playtime. It will bite your toes if you happen to shift them slightly. It will scratch you as it climbs you like a mountaineer on Everest. It will knead you and chew your hair. It will wake you up several times a night (though, perhaps not intentionally). It will purr loudly and make you love it. It may even put you to sleep by doing it. 11665747_10206160606949955_6609770067023629341_n
Enjoy your new kitten, but know that it is not, technically, “free.” That is the best part.

Peace and love.17668_10205979425740538_5577552344138097590_n

Success Series Part 2: Drive

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Check out part 1 here.

We have all been asked the question, “What are your strengths and weaknesses?”. I have a difficult time with this question. I guess I don’t even know why people bother asking, since they don’t truly expect honesty or answers like, “I’m incredibly lazy and won’t do anything productive without prodding” or “I often stay out unbelievably late at night gambling and drinking, so I will frequently show up late — if at all.” The expectation of future employers or college entrance officers is that we will effortlessly spin our flaws into benefits, like, “I’m a perfectionist so I spend way too much time getting everything exactly right” or “I often become so consumed with tasks that I bring work home with me — I just can’t stop thinking about it, even in my free time” or “I take on too much because I am overly eager and a real go-getter.”

My conscience is far too inconsiderate to allow me to ignore my true failings. My answer when posed this question often goes a little something like this: “One of my best qualities is my determination. I am tenacious. I am headstrong. And, fine, I will admit it: I am bordering on stubborn. One might even call me obstinate. If I feel I am justified, I dig in my heels — admittedly, being inflexible is possibly my worst quality.” And then I blush. I’ve never really learned to quit when I’m ahead.

So, let me see if I can spin this quality back into a positive.

I am proud of my ability to set a goal and work to reach it single-mindedly. It is my perseverance that has enabled me to get good grades, graduate from college, pay off most of my student loans, quit smoking, and lose a considerable amount of weight. (I am not discussing the impact of having a loving family or strong support system here — while those, too, are keys to success, they are so important that they will be in a separate blog post.)

Even though it hurts to acknowledge that being strong is often seen as unattractive or undesirable, I can’t allow that to intimidate me into being weak. I am a principled person, and when I am relentless or tough, it’s because I feel I must be. I stand firm when I believe it is not just the right thing, but the only thing, to do.

Despite being called “unyielding” and “unreasonable” by both loved ones and strangers, I find that it is my rigidity that has enabled me to survive hardship, bullying, and many new beginnings. I don’t let obstacles prevent me from doing what I need to do to find happiness. I go over, under, or around whatever is blocking my path to success.

Sometimes, that blockade was put in place by me. Sometimes, it was left by others. But it is my willpower, my unwavering desire, my belief that I CAN, which has allowed me to clear those hurdles one by one. It is my steadfastness that has let me heal from rejection, unfairness, and tragedy.

It is my dedication, my diligence, my drive that has led me to the life I have today. How can that possibly be a negative?

Peace and love.4332_1149745819631_369708_n

Love Is in the Air

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I love weddings. I should clarify that: I love the idea of weddings.

I love the idea that two people, despite the odds of divorce, which are ever-increasingly stacked against them, believe that their love will last “until death parts them.” I love that two people are willing to commit themselves, fully, completely, voluntarily, to only one other person for the rest of their lives. I love the idea that each person in the marriage is willing to sacrifice their own desires, needs, whims, hopes, dreams, or plans, if it means the other will find fulfillment. I love the idea that they trust that their love is stronger than their independence, stronger than their recklessness, stronger than their irresponsibility, for they are willing to exchange all of those traits for a lifetime of partnership, forgiveness, and accountability. I love that, while they each lose their individual freedom, they gain a comfortable security. I love the idea that they both desire only the best things in life for the one person they adore above all others. I love that both people in the marriage promise, on entering the union, to value, trust, support, care for, and respect his or her partner until the end of their days.

I love that a wedding is the beginning of a marriage.

I love that there is a friendship so strong between two people, one they fear losing so greatly, that they devote every thought and action of every day to keeping that friendship stable and healthy and balanced and, most importantly alive. Relationships take work or, much like the cactus in my kitchen, they die slowly, a little at a time, until, unfortunately, they are unable to be revived.

Marriage, at its core, is a long-term inside joke between two best friends. A culture develops for the two people inside the relationship that others simply do not understand.

A wedding, in effect, is a statement that each partner will create a life-long secret world shared only by those two people. No one else is invited in to explore. No one can board a plane and vacation there for a while. Though there are always outside observers staring over the fence, no one else fully gets the couple’s world. No one understands their special language. No one was there for all the memories the pair created. No one has seen all the arguments, the laughs, the slow-dances, the tears.

Nobody else gets the joke. Nobody else needs to. Don’t you just love weddings?

Peace and love.199400_1027251397347_5685_n