Well...

Good news, bad news. Just news? First and foremost: my results came back today and I am cancer free. I still have to get a small procedure done but not having cancer makes that such s small blip on the radar. Baby William is growing so much by the day. My heart melts every time I look at him. He's holding hands and grabbing hair and smiling and trying to talk and cuddling everywhere. Sir Anakin is also doing very well. The treatment plan we have him on seems to be working quite well and he's back to being my amazing little big man. I love him so much it makes my heart ache. He's growing into quite the young man and I couldn't be more proud. Country Boy and I are still together. I'm at odds on really where we stand currently. Things got so bad there for a bit and honestly I was ready to leave. We talked in depth for the first time in ages and it seems to have helped. He's trying really hard and that's what matters most.
As far as relationships in general I'm just still not feeling that connection on a deeper level, but then maybe I'm not meant to right now. Seems every time I've ever had the type of mental/emotional connection I'm currently craving I get broken in the end. I don't mind that though, it helps me to grow more. It's never been unworthy of the prices paid from my heart. I need communication on that deepest of levels. I need to feel my soul undressed and unwound, laying in the comfort of the afternoon sun awhile or wandering through fields of thoughts and dreams. That type of connection is intense, deep, difficult yet so rewarding. I need it. My soul craves it down to my core. Usually when I start feeling this way some life changing event occurs in the near future so I'm a tad bit anxious as well. I don't know where to go from here. I feel like I have so many good, loyal friends, but it's all so superficial. Get down to the nitty gritty with me. Grow with me. Open your soul and I'll do the same. I can't keep wasting time, it's all we have. Get real people. Get deep down, to the core, in touch with every fiber of your being real. I mean, it's hard. Reality checks suck, you have to learn to love your light and dark on the deepest of levels, you have to be willing to expose yourself to situations that are often less than ideal. I mean, I don't necessarily like reviewing past hurts and traumas, but I do it to keep in tune with myself and grow. I need those kinds of people in my life. Not the drama, just the kind of deep knowing and understanding that says "I am here, I am beautiful and I am a survivor." That connection from soul to soul, not just heart to heart. I need people that I can look at and know I'm not seeing a mask they're hiding behind. Be brave enough to open your soul to the world. Yes, there is risk of pain but I'm telling you the friendships derived from being that way are such a reward. Please someone... soul journey with me...

Anywho, I guess I'll update more later. I really need to try to take a nap.

Grief

The children are napping, so I took a moment to shed a tear. I'm hiding in that so favorite hiding spot of mine. You guessed it, the bathroom. You were an incredible woman. At 23 I still hid from you to have my cigarettes. Pepaw had lung cancer and almost died that year. Seems so trivial now. I would rather have those hidden moments with you. Your smile was quick and easy. Your laughter contagious. The very essence of you brought out the woman in me. I don't know a soul on this earth that didn't strive to be better just for you. You were just that kind of woman. And now, not even half a day past your departure, I already feel the emptiness in my soul. You had strength in reserves and you were always willing to share. Wisdom for days you said gave you your silver hair. Wit and charm floating around you in the air. I've never known another that believed in miracles like you. Gah. I can't even bring myself to finish this so soon. Bottom line is this: I already miss you and I still feel like you're here. I miss you today, I'll miss you tomorrow, I'll miss you forevermore. The grief has yet to hit me full force, and even I can not grasp the magnitude of feeling so bereft. You were the Nanny of my soul and I pray forever that you knew.

Sometimes, during the silky embrace of the night, I allow myself to think of you. The warmth of your hand running through my hair, the sound of your heart against my ear, the strength of your arms around me. In those moments, I love you still. I breathe the emotions almost easier than I breathe the air. There's a familiarity there, a comfort in the memory. I allow my heart to wander, finding where you are. And though I will never open that door again, the could have beens seep through the wood once more.
Sometimes in the light of the day, I hear your laughter floating through the air. It takes me back to those mornings spent talking and sharing and the merriment there. I hear the dog getting jealous, and sports on the telly. I see the way the sunshine plays against your hair. I remember that morning as you cooked us breakfast, the way the light came through the window. And I sat there picking music as you laughed at my choices, though it was your collection I was choosing from. I again feel your shirt wrapped around me, smell the food on the stove. And there it is. That moment I knew you just had to be the guy I had been searching for. I glanced up for a moment, as the sun lit the room around you and laughter filled the air. The smile on your face was the most genuine thing I ever have seen. The light in your eyes shone straight through me. In that single breathtakingly beautiful moment, I had never wanted you more.
Sometimes I wonder, will our paths ever cross again? In some distant future will your soul remember mine? I pick up the phone to ask you, for these are things we used to share. Remembering the last conversation we ever had, the sadness returns. The moments are gone but I am still here. And though your bare skin never caressed mine, I physically feel the whispers of your words in the wind. It's in these moments I know, I was truly naked around you. It's in these moments I know that the future will never be ours, but part of me will always remain with you. You were a soul mate, though what kind I wasn't aware.
Now I know. You taught me so much about my own heart, about my wants and dreams. I guess somewhere along the way I lost sight of that kind of friendship, or maybe pure friendship was never really there. All I can say in this moment is that I miss you still. I pray that some day in the future your soul recognizes mine and once again we can be friends. I pray that you understand the way you reached me to the core. That deepness and beauty and a connection like never before. No, I won't go back there, not with you. Forever, though, my heart will remember.

Hear beneath the simplicity of words.

I tell you these things, I rip apart my soul and hand you the pieces in little bits of information. I don't think you even realize that. These things I tell you are more than mere information, each thing is tied to a part of my soul. I try so hard to gain your understanding, to show you the vulnerabilities in me nobody else can see. This information comes to you in all of these little things I tell you in those late night conversations. I tell you- not to strike fear in your heart, not to bring stress upon you, not even to merely point out our weaknesses. No, I tell you these things so you know. You see: this journey we're on will never be easy. There will be ups and downs and all arounds. Some days I will be free and breeze through life as though the wind itself carries me. Others I will be so broken I may blow away should just one more breeze caress my skin. And I open my soul to you so you know, so you understand every little piece that makes me a whole person. Every concern, every joy. Every fear, every hope. I tell you these things so you know my heart, where fear threatens to win and the past haunts every thought. Because in our darkest hours, where fear abounds and stress makes a mess, you will know. You will see into the depths of that chaotic storm that is me and know where we stand in reality. You will still see your hold on my heart because you will know, whether I can show you or not. You are my solid ground. I tell you these things so we know where to work. Because to work together on these things is to gain a bond so strong the pull of the moon couldn't rip us apart.  We all know my love for the moon, so think of what this must mean of my love for you to be willing to tell you these things. I do not speak out of anger or hurt. Those emotions would make me hide these things I've been trying to tell you. So when the times are hard and I tell you these things, I tell you to fight the storm trying to tear us apart. The very storm that threatens to rip me apart in the quiet of the night, with or without your love near. I know that it is a plentiful weight I lay on your shoulders, as I tell you these things. Please know though, I tell you so you have a fighting chance. I tell you these things so that in those moments of darkness you have these little reminders, these little pieces of my soul to aid you. I tell you these things to add another piece of armor to our love, gaining strength until we are unbreakable. Know these things, learn these things, study these things, work on these things. For in our weakest moments, as the storm rages and the wind rips through and we feel like we're drowning, these things I tell you will come to light. For these are the things that will make us or break us. I tell you these things because together we can weather the storm, but separate it's vast and all consuming. So listen carefully my love, as I give you these pieces of my soul when I tell you these things.

The brokenness of a little girl...

The cold winds are here
Going straight through my soul
Knowing this year
You'd be 56 years old
It's your voice I want to hear
Full of wisdom and love

I was your Angel. You told me so. Your laughter filled the room. Your voice fills my head. If you were happy you sang. If you were sad you prayed. Things got so tough. Still, you weren't dead. That day plays in my mind. No smile, no laugh, no joy. Now I'm left here all alone. Knowing you'd be 56 years old. You said "I'm going home my dear. There's no need to fear." What you never knew, was you were my angel too.

So... I'm sitting here with a little miracle we call babies. He's eleven days old. How crazy is that? And I'm crying my eyes out because I wish daddy was here. This little bundle of joy carries his name, but my heart carries his love. I am saddened that my boys will never know the man that raised me. Even as he knew he was dying he kept his spirits up and gave all he had to us kids. Never again will I hear his silly songs about boogers in his nose or Jeremiah the bullfrog. Never again will his words of wisdom fall on my ears. He was my rock through the storms, my protector though he was bed ridden. He loved us so unconditionally words could never truly explain. Then he was gone. Just like that, without a word. Ten years later I'm still in tears. He was the greatest man I ever knew. Me and little William Clay have a full day today with a friends goodbye party this evening. But the cake is still on the table, and I can't bring myself to cut it. 56 years old, if only you had made it this far...I will always be Daddy's little girl. Your words of wisdom are my strength, your kind heart my guide, your knowledge my drive to learn, your songs my voice to sing, and mostly your love to get me through. Happy birthday Daddy. I hope they have cake up above.

On the brink.

I'm fighting this so hard it hurts. I'm screaming inside for any and every reason you could ever imagine.
As of Tuesday I will be induced to begin labor. I'm angry about this. I have gone through weeks of pain because the doctor didn't believe me when I told him I wouldn't dilate on my own. Now he's saying we can induce Tuesday. At that point I asked to hold off til Friday because my oldest son has school, even if that meant bearing through this pain a few more days. It's just more feasible for my family's routine. That's apparently not an option either. I hate feeling so helpless. I hate that he hasn't listened, or even that he has but hasn't been able to do anything about it. I hate that I've gone through weeks of unnecessary pain all because of a stupid fucking insurance claim. Because they apparently won't cover it unless I'm a week past due. I mean seriously? Since when do insurance companies tell the doctors what to do? And now here I am left worrying and trying to plan everything to make sure Anakin is taken care of, that I don't come home to a fucking mess, that my family is cared for. I'm angry that every plan has gone to absolute shit, but then again this pregnancy itself wasn't planned.  Oh, the irony there. And now here we are being induced in absolute horrible timing. I'm also infuriated that this child's father could not possibly give a fuck less about anything but himself. It may not matter to those around me, but it matters to me a great deal. I need to know that they will have things handled and yet again that responsibility falls on me. Everyone keeps saying everything will be alright, but nobody has the words or actions to prove that to be true. Nobody realizes the weight of the world on my shoulders to make sure this goes smoothly for everyone. The little things that add up every day keeping my head in order. Nobody understands the impact of being nine months pregnant, bipolar and OCD. And it isn't their fault. Everyone is so used to me handling everything that they have no clue what the weight of that responsibility feels like to me. I have to make sure everyone else is taken care of first and by the end of it all I'm so frustrated that I'm on the brink of losing it entirely. Which is where I am today. Someone can literally say hi and I envision myself strangling them. I literally have to withhold myself from doing so. I want silence, but the blaring thoughts in my mind refuse to quiet. So here I am, yet again, in the bathroom floor trying to get it out anyway I know how. And I moved to outside, the walls were reflecting my emotions and smothering me. Which makes me angry all over again. I miss running. Pushing myself to the physical limit, sweating out the worry and anger and darkness. Welcoming the physical exhaustion, the wind tearing through my lungs and clearing out the webs of these disorders stuck in there. As of today I'm not even allowed to fucking swim. The toll that takes on me emotionally is indescribable. A big body of water is my refuge when all else fails. There isn't enough hot water in the world to sting away the fury burning within me currently so my 30 minute shower only wasted money, it did nothing to calm me. Everyone is sleeping, so even my favorite past time of tearing apart the house and cleaning out the corners like the inky blackness seeping through my soul is out of the question. I'm losing my grip on this y'all. I used to have help. The St Johns Wart eased the black tendrils of fury burning through my every blood vessel. Nine months without it has proven just how much it truly helps. It's been a very long time since I've been so on edge. The nightmares have returned. Night terrors that I try to hide memories coming back to haunt me. The irritability is a dead give away though. And I see the concern in their eyes. The sideways glances just to make sure I'm still checked in, that I still have a grip on this disorder. The constant "are you okay". The tentative Hello and obvious suppression of anything at all that could set me off on another tirade. The relief in their eyes when my rant isn't directed at them. The pain when I physically and emotionally can not return the love that is so graciously yet cautiously showed to me. I see these things. I hate myself for it. I hate being like this. I'm desperately grasping at straws, begging for mercy from myself. Drowning in my own emotions and praying they see that it's not them, it's me. I'm tearing out my hair in my mind, screaming at myself to knock it off, breaking down at the slightest failure because I know where this path leads and it isn't somewhere I want to be. This isn't me. But that's just it. This IS a part of me. Part of me that I've controlled so long I no longer know how to handle losing that control, even briefly. And I feel myself on that edge. The Dark corners of my soul edging me closer to jumping into the black abyss being bipolar can create out of nowhere. It feeds on every negative you try to forget. Hungrily eating all that is good and beautiful in this universe. The nothingness that screams so loud it'll shatter your soul. I'm crying out for anyone to save me. Save me from myself, pull me out of these emotional rapids. But there's nothing we can do. Only endure until Tuesday. And that knowledge is gut wrenching in a way words could never describe. Top that with having to plan out every little detail of EVERYTHING while completely disrupting your family's newly engaged routine. Every time someone tells me it will all work out I physically restrain myself from spitting in their face. Who will sweep the floors? Fill the ice trays? Wipe down the counters? Will anyone else think to wipe down the bathroom properly? Double check to make sure we have everything we need? Make sure everything is organized so it can be found in the middle of the night, stumbling around in the darkness while half asleep with a newborn crying in your ear? These things may seem frivolous to you, but they're imperative to me. How will I know Anakin is on time for school while I'm hosoitalized? What will happen if he has a melt down like he did today? Can they handle it? Can they ease his fears? I'm his mother. That's my role. I know that this pregnancy is a blessing, deep in my heart I know that to be true. I hold no ill feelings towards my growing, soon to be here, son. But it has been one thing after another since the beginning of this journey and it's becoming harder and harder to bear when I didn't want this in the first place. My anger and resentment there is towards his father. That mother fucker that "wanted to start a family and settle down" didn't even make it to the appointment today. Said he was up all night puking and didn't want to spread it. I don't even trust him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt there. He gets to go on about his daily business gallivanting around and pretending as if he's prince charming while the ENTIRE weight of this pregnancy and child thereafter has fallen on MY shoulders. He gets to put on his front of being the good guy (yet do absolutely NOTHING except respond 'k' to the message letting him know his child will be born Tuesday). It's me and those around me dealing with every emotional/physical/financial issue that has risen. Then when he gets the results of the paternity test (that he expected ME to arrange) he'll just swoop right in and be Oh so fucking let me shove it down your throat wonderful. He doesn't have to deal with taking care of our child those first few months. No, he gets to wait until mediation because he CHOOSES to. He gets to stop by randomly to see his son, because I'm trying to be fair. Drop in, coo a little and oretend to be a daddy, then leave and go back to his life. We get to deal with the responisibility of caring for this child. And don't get me wrong, I'm beyond overjoyed that the Lord blessed me with another child. I embrace that responsibility with everything in my heart. I know that the joys of little William Clay will far outweigh anything else. His father though? I hate him. I despise his very existence. I can't blame (though blame sounds negative, I can't find other words) him entirely for this pregnancy but I have no doubt he wanted this to happen thinking it would somehow bring us back together. He hinted at such himself. The thought is sickening. The thought of him literally makes me physically sick. He hasn't been here at all. Made no effort to be any part of this pregnancy other than showing up to doctor appointments. Let's not forget me being cussed out because originally I didn't have insurance and they didnt reimburse him for the first few appointments. Yet he'll get to reap all the benefits of being "daddy" because I can't bring myself to lie to my child. He's no more a father than the dirt on my shoe. I seriously wish the ass would just walk away. The man that HAS been here through it all and DESERVES to be called Daddy is instead taking a back seat out of respect for what is "right". Let us raise this child because we're obviously the ones that truly care. Walk away and continue living your lie of a life. Don't drag my child through this. I already feel sorry for my child that my own naive decisions caused him to have such a lying, manipulative jerk as a father. That is my only true issue with this pregnancy. I burn in anger that I will never allow myself to let my child know these things. He'll learn on his own in his own time. I pray to God that he grows with the ability to see the truth beneath the facade his father puts on. But even I fell for it, if only for a short while. Even still, with all of my anger burning within, I pray that things work out in the best interest of my child. I have grit my teeth and tried to be as reasonable as possible. I can honestly say that. It may not be getting us anywhere, but when the day comes and my child asks, I can honestly say I've tried my hardest to be fair. That small triumph is doing little to ease my fury tonight though. An hour into writing and I'm still burning within, though not as on edge as earlier. I believe I could now face humanity without acting like a savage. All I can do right now though is ask my support group to bear with me at this point. Hold me when I cry, but silently. I do not need your words, I need your presence. Take my anger and tears with a grain of salt because I promise it is not truly directed at you. Genuinely want to help, but don't let it tear you apart if there's nothing you can do. The problem lies within my chemical/hormonal imbalance, not your actions. Your presence during my suffering means more than you'll ever know. Understand that I know things will work out, but that I reserve the right to lose my shit every now and then. See the struggle in my eyes, but know that relief is around the corner. And for the safety of my sanity I pray you fill the damn ice trays and wipe the hair out of the sink. And yes, even I laughed there. But while you're at it, I would be eternally grateful if you also swept the floors ;) Those of you that love me so deeply, I know you are reading this.  I see your love. Even when it seems hopeless, know that it helps. Know that even in the midst of this emotional turmoil I am currently listening to Cher 'You Haven't Seen The Last Of Me' and my heart is singing every word faithfully. We will get through this as we have gotten through so much else. It will be alright.

My little one.

I can not get it through my head that he started school today. We've been preparing for weeks. He has all his school clothes, his back pack, his supplies, even his own agenda. But it never really hit me until we walked through the doors this morning. The fear that struck through me is unlike any I have ever faced. My baby. My first born. Wee little one of seven pounds five ounces. It was inevitable that one day he would grow up. He would step out on his own and start forging his own journeys. I just wasn't ready for this so soon. He held my hand as we entered the classroom, said hello to his teachers, and in an instant grew inexplicably. He found his own cubby, his own seat, then set about exploring his classroom. I am now the proud, absolutely terrified mother of a preschooler. From this day on there will be three hours Tuesday-Friday where I can't protect him. There will be other children his age, and new adults in his life. What if they are mean to him? Will he be made fun of because of his glasses? Will he find the strength in himself to say Hello and make a new friend rather than hiding behind my leg? Who will cling to my skirts as I'm trying to make lunch? Who will jump from behind the couch in an attempt to scare me? What on this earth could possibly fill the void left by merely a few hours absence of my little big man? What if he doesn't like the food? Or he gets bored and decides to act silly crazy as he so often does at home? Will he miss me while he's there? What if he likes them better than me? What if he doesn't want to come home? I so badly want to encourage him on this new path, yet I also want to snatch him up in my arms and never let go. A mothers love is unconditional. It is also very selfish. In my heart of hearts I know that he will do great. He's intelligent, witty, fearless, full of laughter and eager to explore. I can't help but worry though. Today as I shut that classroom door and forced myself to walk home I left not just a piece of my heart, but a large part of my soul. For four years he has been my every reason to breathe, to grow and to move forward. Now he's venturing onto his own path and I feel helpless as I sit back and watch my baby boy grow up. And the underlying fear behind it all: what if he decides he doesn't need me anymore?

If you're reading this, please read from a place of love and understanding in your heart.

Well, just a little earlier I said I wasn't writing in this for a bit, but I decided it's slightly easier than writing everything out by hand.  Especially after three pages front and back of a hand written portion. So here is what has been on my mind:

My home: is a whirlwind of projects that need to be done. A never ending list that only I seem to see, probably because of my inability to leave well enough alone when it comes to organization and cleanliness. I am extremely detail oriented and it shows through my pages upon pages of to-do lists in my head. I stopped writing them out a while back because it was overwhelming for those around me. But I need an outlet. I feel as if I'm driving myself crazy over what seems like silly things to other people. They're important to me though, even if I don't quite understand why. How can I ask others to understand though if I don't? I guess acceptance is the main thing I seek, but that's hard to find when you're the project oriented crazy ocd pregnant lady. I don't even know how to begin asking for that acceptance without understanding first. I need the help of my support group and don't know how to tell them what I need exactly. Mostly because I'm not quite sure what I need. Some days I need space to work through it on my own, other days I desperately cru out inside wishing they would take the initiative to complete something without my having to ask, there are even days I want them to stay out of my way but at least ask me if I need help.

Cancer: the biopsy is getting closer and closer the farther along I get in this pregnancy. It's terrifying to me as I've mentioned before. Those feelings are amplifying and everyone keeps brushing it off as if it isn't a possibility until it becomes a reality. The possibility is very much so real to me though, and the repercussions that would follow in the aftermath if it is cancer. I have no outlet for those emotions either as I feel it would unduly stress others to talk about it at this time.

Custody of baby William: lets face it here, I was extremely unwise and naive in my perception of his father. Now I am constantly worrying about the welfare of this baby emotionally. I am bringing a child into a very unstable environment where his father and I are concerned. We can't seem to reach any agreements and though I am trying my hardest to be civil and fair, I find myself wishing I had lied to him and told him this child wasn't his. Given my own past, I can't do that to my child though. He deserves to know who is father is, no matter how difficult the situation is to deal with. I feel guilt for bringing my baby into such a ridiculous facade of decency. In my own personal opinion his father is childish, not at all ready for this child or the responsibility he will find himself facing soon. You can't sweet talk, lie or manipulate your way out of caring for a child. Though I wouldn't feel any remorse if he chose to give up his parental rights and walk away, I would forever harbor guilt where our son is concerned. He deserves better than the situation he it's being born into and my being naive about his father is a large part of the reason he is being born into such a situation. I can only pray that his father grows quickly and does what is best for our son, regardless of our personal differences. Please allow me to clarify here. I don't think his father is a bad person per say. I think he often had good intentions, but went about things horribly and then his character turned south when things didn't work out his way. That is why I am still fighting (against everyone around me as well) to handle this as fairly as possible. Do I resent him? Yes. But I still believe that he will do his best when it comes to our son IF he can work past his immaturity. I am not saying I'm prefect either, but I am working on my own faults in order to be fair. I triple think every decision to make sure it's what would be best for my kids and not just something I want out of spite or ill feelings towards him. I believe he may be trying to do the same, but I currently see no results from his efforts if there are any.

Country Boy: we've been back together for six months now. I can honestly say I learned a great deal about myself and grew exponentially in our separation, but I've grown and learned even more since deciding to "join ranks" again. I've come to realize my own fears and insecurities and the problems they created that led to me leaving. Not to say he's perfect, but we're definitely good for each other and our relationship is now a healthy one that continues to grow stronger every day.

Life: I am struggling internally. Emotional hurricanes are sweeping through me daily along with the constant babble of the issues mentioned here. Most days I am beyond drained without the words to express the emotional turmoil I'm feeling inside and it seems nobody notices the light slowly fading from my eyes because they have their own concerns to deal with. I feel enough like a burden with all that people are doing to help me, but honestly what I need most is for someone -anyone- to realize that I am NOT okay. I need emotional release and currently have no healthy outlets other than this blog and the words I fill it with. Sometimes, I wonder if even this makes a difference. If one of my crew were to read it, would they understand? Or would they lash out feeling hurt that I don't have the actual words to SPEAK what I so intensely feel. Sometimes a woman just needs an understanding compassionate hug to hold her together while she falls apart. It seems silly to ask for that though, so I'll improvise with writing all those jumbled words here. This also goes hand in hand with the fear that opening up that kind of vulnerability will make those around me think I am weak and need constant emotional care. The reality of the matter is that I generally have my emotional ducks at least swimming together, if not all in a row. Sometimes though, a few choose to wander off and I end up here again ;)

Anywho, I'm going to attempt sleep now. I know that this all seems a bit drab and dark, but please be assured that there is still plenty of light and blessings in my life. This is merely a place I can release the dark. I choose to share the light with those around me rather than burdening them with the dark moments/thoughts/worries/fears. Sweet dreams world.

Google fail.

So, as this biopsy looms closer this cancer shit had been on my mind. And to ease my fears I decided to look up symptoms of cervical cancer. Fail.
Pain during/after sex
Irregular spotting
Constant discharge
Lower back pain

All of these are things I've written off over the past few years. Scar tissue can cause pain during/after sex (except apparently mine healed). Ovarian cysts can cause irregular spotting and discharge (though it should only happen when cysts are irritated). Messed up muscle can cause back pain (though the dull constant ache is apparently abnormal). Way to freak yourself out Sarah...

Well then.

I've held off sharing this for quite a while, but now it's rather eating me alive. A little over two months ago they told me I have abnormal cells on my cervix. I'm used to that. What I want used to is the alarm it caused my baby doctor. She scheduled me to have a colposcopy. It's a simple procedure where they place some dye on your cervix and take some up close pictures to determine if the cells are dangerous. So we scheduled the appointment, went in and paid for it, then waited almost two hours. A new doctor I had never seen walked into the room after I was prepared for the procedure and told me they weren't going to do it. He said the rules had changed and they didn't do the procedure on anyone under 24 (I'll be a lovely 23 in a couple of weeks). This raised immediate red flags to me, as my doctor is really the only one I trusted in that office. I asked if they could speak with my doctor about it and they said it wouldn't change anything. Then I asked why they wouldn't do the test. Apparently it is now considered normal for a woman my age to have abnormal cells (according to my medical records the results said "high risk abnormal cells"). He then proceeded to tell me that I had a 33% chance of having cancer so it was okay. So we asked to be reimbursed for our payment and went home. Now, I had already been looking at other doctors because of the inconsistency and chaos of this doctor office. With this new information I kicked it into overtime, got my insurance straightened out and found a doctor I liked. So we go to the new guy, and he does a new test. This leads to today. Regular baby check up (he's doing great!) and the results from my latest test came back. My once abnormal cells are now mildly precancerous. It is too late in my pregnancy to do the colposcopy. Within about two months I went from abnormal to precancer. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Regardless, once I have baby William we are going to do the procedure, along with a biopsy and scan of my other organs. If all returns well we can go in, freeze the precancer cells and scrape them off. From there it's a new test 4-6 weeks later, with all going well it will then be every six months. I went from a 33% chance of cancer to 50/50 in what seems like the blink of an eye. Even in the worst scenario it'll be a hysterectomy and possible short term chemo (and that's only if it's really bad). So I keep telling myself everything will be okay. I keep telling everyone that is alright. But it's not. It's the possibility that I have fucking cancer. I mean, come on people! I'm trying to stay positive for those around me that know what's going on. But this is the bottom line folks: I'm terrified. I am scared senseless. I know I'll be alright, you know I'll be alright. But cancer is cancer, no matter how treatable it is. Everyone is like "you'll be fine" "it'll all work out" "technology is great these days" "it's the most curable kind". True, we don't know if it is actually cancer yet. Is it too much to ask though for some raw honesty? I see the fear in your eyes people! This false positivity is killing me. Just be real so I can be too! My sister has been about the most honest with me. I talked to her earlier when I got the news. I said "Sissy, I'm fucking scared". You know what her response was? She said,  "I am too". In that one brief moment of raw, real emotion, I felt better than I have all day. Thank God it's not just me. Thank God someone else feels this way. I know with her I can let down those walls of "being strong" and hey down to the heart of the matter. She's still got that positivity. She knows I'll be okay, we've braved shit more fear instilling than some stupid cells. But I know, in the middle of the night, I can call her crying and terrified. I won't be alone though. She'll match me treat for tear and then tell me to pull it together when I've let it all out. Is that too much to ask of people? Because that's what I need...

How My Marriage Failed, and Why I Refuse To Fix It.

We're all labeled in this society as different things, based on our own personal decisions. For a while, I hated this. I am: the divorcee, single mother, home wrecker, damager of her children... honestly the list of things goes on and on.

So here's some reality from said divorcee. My marriage failed. We were young, new parents, selfish, conditional, etc, etc, etc. Ya, we loved each other. Still do actually. So why didn't we just change and make up? Was there one simple thing that pushed us over the edge? A series of seemingly in important events? No. Yes. All of the above? We started as friends, became a little more, got pregnant, did everything ass backwards, got married, and very shortly after we separated. Was it doomed from the beginning? Maybe. I personally like to believe that we both had the best of intentions. So let's face the facts here. We were young, selfish, not fully developed, and not at all ready for marriage. We weren't ready for each other. The love and work it takes to make it. We fell apart instead of falling together. So why not fix it knowing we could be together now? So many years later? After we both have matured and developed? Simply this: the demise of our marriage sent us both spiraling into different venues of life, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

The man who once claimed "you didn't love me for me, you loved me for who you thought I could be" is now the man I tried to inspire him to be. I wanted him to follow his dreams, to continue growing into the man he wanted to be. I thought I was being supportive of those things. Guess what? I was going about it all the wrong ways. So then we split up. Now, he is the COO of a growing martial arts school. He has goals and motivation galore. I was a crutch. I made myself his crutch. Without me, he soared.
Then there's me with my ever present journey and different lessons to learn and words of wisdom and love for everyone but the face I see in the mirror. I've become this whirlwind of the woman I WANT to be. The woman he couldn't handle back then. Yes, at times I am selfish. Sometimes just downright dumb with the decisions I've made. But I learn and I LIVE and I go with the ebbs and flows, I strive to continue growing every single day. During my marriage I was so hell bent on being perfect that I was a terror. A terror with a cycle that was not only self destructive but also one of harm to those around me. When we separated I learned to love my imperfections, accept my mistakes, and most of all forgive MYSELF. Would I have reached this point had we stayed together? Would I be the woman I am today? Honestly, I don't think so.

I often reflect and wonder if this does actually "damage" my son. So here's the bottom line folks. My son is smart, loving, kind, helpful, and strong. He knows that both of his parents love him "to the moon and back". His father and I have a healthy friendship that enables us to do our best for him. Ya, he may split weeks and holidays. He may miss a parent when he's with the other. It may make him sad sometimes that Mommy and Daddy aren't together. I, however, refuse to risk how happy/strong/growing we are on a chance that Mommy and Daddy could be happy together. If anything, it teaches him that things can still be okay even if they didn't work out how we wanted them to. This home wrecker and divorcee will NOT sacrifice her own (or her soon-to-be ex-husband's) happiness and growth for the opinions of others. And that, my friends, is why we are going through with this divorce.

About life...

Tired of dying
Hiding things inside
Tired of crying
Wishing I could hide

All the things I couldn't do
The dreams left unfulfilled
I've given all I've got
Will it never be enough for you

Lists go on and on
Running circles in my head
I shed tears every night
Mornings just bring dread

One day is all I ask for
The sun glows against my skin
When the world may seem right
Instead of cold, bitter and dead

This hopelessness fills me
As I type here half asleep
More tears fill behind my eyes
My heart; it silently weeps

Some day the light will shine
Maybe then you'll see
There may not be much left
But I give you all of me

Holy Hell

"You're like this whirlwind tornadoe, except you're not a disaster. Walking contradiction maybe, but not a disaster. You're good and bad and just... everything, all at once. The moment you enter someone's life they're like 'what just happened?' but it's not like this bad revelation. You open people's eyes. Not like you're trying to or anything, you're just real and this... this prescence that inexplicably draws people in and scares them all at once. I mean seriously. The day I met you I was like 'Oh dear Lord who is this person' and not in a creepy I like her kind of way. It's just you. In every way. Even when you're being shy and doing that people watching thing you do so well. Like you're a breath of fresh air backed by a storm of every Grey area people are so afraid to explore. You are that Grey area. Everything about you from the way you look to that ever changing accent down to the very core of you. From the moment you say hello, I could already feel that power behind your words. Calm and chaos and everything all mixed together. It's like 'what is this woman's purpose on earth?!' and in the same breath or maybe even at the same time people know you're different from the moment you walk in the door. You're powerful. Very. And it's crazy and bizarre and beautiful all in one short gasp of air that you suck out of everyone the moment you walk in."

By far one of the most enchanting, awe inspiring and beautiful things I've ever heard about myself. It's hard to accept it, but I suppose it's true. At least the tornado part ;-)

My baby :)

I came home tonight to a bright eyed bushy tailed Anakin. So, in essence of enjoying being Mommy and capturing as many precious "only child" moments as possible, we stayed up late together. We made "Easter baskets" that look like bunnies and danced. Of course, he had to lay down at some point, but it was so worth those extra memories before nights are taken up with baby too. Bed time story was a learning success, he now knows how to rhyme! I can't believe how time has flown! In precisely one week my precious "little Big man" will be a whopping four years old. Can y'all believe that?! I remember those first nights in the hospital with him, zombie mode at four am when he was hungry, every first he's had so far. It truly is crazy how time flies. And now Mommy is having another baby. He is so excited to be big brother. Tonight he told me he is going to help Mommy read baby bed time stories. Being able to share with him the songs I used to sing him brought tears to my eyes as he began to learn them too. I can't express the joy in my heart tonight, yet there is also a lingering sadness to it all. Once baby is born I will no longer be able to call him my "one and only". I know without a doubt that I will have enough love in my heart for both of my children, but there's something quite spectacular about it being just me and my little Big man. A certain magic to it all that never seems to fade.  I just hope I'm enough to continue guiding him through life while doing the same for "our little rubber duckie". I laugh at that because at first he really thought Mommy was going to give birth to a duck, a rubber one at that! Will these memories of my little Big man fade as baby arrives? My biggest fear of all is that my little man won't feel so special with new baby here. I have faith that including him as much as possible will alleviate that some. I want him to feel even more special. Now, not only is he little Big man, he's big brother too!

So...

They've determined that I may have cervical cancer. Can't do the biopsy until I have baby. Easiest scenario is that the  abnormalities will fade after baby is born. Worse case scenario is that I need a hysterectomy. Inside I'm freaking out but on the outside I'm calm about it. My whole life purpose has been to have babies. As many babies as God will grant me. So here I am facing the possibility of this being my last pregnancy. And even with all of the current complications I know that I will revel in this pregnancy. As weird as it sounds; I will enjoy every bout of morning sickness, I will remember every little pain, I will spend every sleepless night breathing in the beauty of this miracle growing within me. It may very well be my last chance to do so. I have always said that I will have as many babies as God will bless me with, and if he only blesses me with two I will embrace that wholeheartedly. Some are never blessed with any at all. Still, I can't help but feel a little scared and sad all in one...

I am weak.

That is all.

Pretty much I'm pregnant, not with the father and my best friend just walked out on me too. And I can't deal. I posted something a while back about laying on the bathroom floor. And that's where I am. Literally. Well technically I'm not on the floor. I'm in the tub. Without the strength to stand up on my own. And I know eventually I'll have to. But for now I'm just laying here, surrounded by a million tiny little glimmering pieces of my shattered soul and praying for a miracle by the grace of God. And no I don't want your sympathy, and no I don't want your help. Please for the love of all humanity don't try to "console" me. Just let me breathe, just let me grieve. Just listen. Just care...
I'm laying here and the melodies are memories, the pain unbearable, and I can physically feel myself break. Like there's nothing to it. Except there is. It's everything and nothing all in one moment. It's anger and fear and the dire need to scream until I shatter from the sound alone. That chance that just maybe if my body breaks apart it will be easier to come back together. That knowledge that all strength is gone. And I feel that part of me, it wants to stand up. It wants to move forward. And the rest of me just stays. Laying here. The music is playing and drowning out the world, covering the tears, shooing away the fears. The words are flowing but I feel like my blood is not. I can't feel it anymore. As if I have no heartbeat, because there is my heart. Shattered on the floor. Glimmering, like drops of dew on a spring morning. And the water is getting cold, but it comforters me. I still have feeling there. I see the water glide across my skin and I feel the way it moves and I find hope there. The bubbles are long gone. I made a mustache with them earlier. And then I laughed until I cried. Seriously. Then I sobbed until all my tears were gone. I'm fairly certain it helped me feel better. Surely there are more tears now, but they won't come. And I still can't feel my heart. My head says move, but then I'm lost in another song. And I'm screaming the lyrics in the bathroom, I can feel the vibration from the beat. My throat is sore from the protection of my voice. Usually I'm a very quiet person. I've done a lot if screaming lately though. If you were here I would probably scream the lyrics to you.

Just a small note.

I hate when people say "he got you pregnant, he should take care of you". New flash y'all, he didn't rape me. We both had a part in that.

Done bitching. Doctors appointment today!

Well then.

Guess what? I'm pregnant! I found out on New Years of all times. About seven weeks along now. I'm seriously hoping for a little girl but have a feeling it well be a boy. Regardless, I am extremely excited!