Caitlin recently had a really cool entry at her blog entitled Words. She was given 5 words by a fellow blogger and the task was to describe what they meant to her. Well, if you haven’t already guessed, now she has given me five words! Maybe this will help some of you get to know me a little better.
in early 2004, I stumbled across a small band out of Texas called Eisley. A band comprised of three sisters, a brother, and a good friend. The sister’s voices are melodic and ethereal. I find it very difficult to compare them to anyone, really. At the time, the band was pretty small so their website was basically a message board with a few resources compiled on the side. They’ve grown quite a bit since. Two full length albums released with Warner Brothers and working on the third. I began to hang out in the aim chat room dedicated to the band. I wasn’t particularly outgoing so I only really spoke when spoken to. I met a lot of really wonderful people through that site. Including Robert. The first time Robert (who also lived in Texas) and I finally laid eyes on each other, it was at an Eisley show in Dallas. I’d been in denial in the time leading up to that night of my feelings for Robert. I thought it was particularly stupid for me to harbor any feelings for someone who lived thousands of miles away. But upon seeing him for the first time, touching him, smelling him, seeing the twinkle in his eyes when my particular brand of humor made him laugh out loud, I couldn’t deny anything. Not one thing. That summer, Robert took six weeks and came to visit me. We took two weeks out of that time frame and followed Eisley around on the midwest portion of their tour. We caught shows in Minneapolis, Cleveland, and Toronto. Later that summer, when I disclosed on the message board that Robert and I had gotten engaged, their dad, Boyd (also their general manager) emailed me with a “Congratulations and I had a feeling about you two!” message. One evening, Robert and I were snuggling in bed. He suggested we mail the Duprees a Thank You card. I then noted that we should thank whatever got us into Eisley to begin with. We kept going back and back and back until I finally suggested that we just thank God for each other instead and to spread the appropriate blessings. In august of 2007, we went to an in-store appearance in Houston. As soon as Boyd saw me, even though he hadn’t seen me in years, he came right over to give us hugs. And then he noticed my belly and called everyone over. “Can you believe that they met through the forum? She’s from Canada and he’s from Texas and because of Eisley they are together and about to start their own family.”
Can you believe that because of a band Rolling Stone magazine once referred to as “Unicorn Barbie music” my life was completely and utterly altered?
A few months ago, I was talking to an old classmate of mine. We went to school together starting from the fifth grade. He asked me what it was like to be “living the dream”. When I asked him what he was referring to, he explained that he remembered me saying, even in the sixth grade, that when I grew up I wanted to be a mom. He recalls me saying it with such sincerity and conviction that it wasn’t a cop out answer made possible by my gender. It struck me that there was never a point during my adolescence that I did not want to be a mother. It was never my goal to become a mother as quickly as possible. I daydreamed of the picture perfect family. I did this even when my age was in the single digits. I would fantasize about living in a big house, with a beautiful dog, a big yard, and happiness. It’s a little unnerving to reach the conclusion that I wanted to be a mother so I would finally have the happiness my young mind so desperately craved. For a little while, I was gravely concerned I would not be able to bear children. I didn’t have my first period until I was 16. When I was 17, it just stopped for over two years. It had been irregular anyway but two years?! It returned exactly 36 hours after meeting Robert face to face for the first time. I remember being in my friend’s apartment (another person I met on Eisley.com) and I went into the restroom early in the morning. Lo’ and behold. I was so immeasurably happy. I had a period. This means I ovulated. This means I’m not barren at the tender age of 19. I celebrated by making everyone custom omelets. I’m sure most people who weren’t aware of my particular circumstance confused my happiness for being generally twitterpated with Robert. (it was about 40/60, if you want to fight about it). About 4 months before James was conceived, Robert told me it was silly for us to use any kind of birth control. He didn’t suggest the notion out of desire for children. He suggested the notion because “my system is so screwed up, it would take forever for me to get pregnant anyway”. Ouch. He stuck his foot so far in his mouth he knows what the sweat of his knee tastes like. I forgave him but it sent me into a little bit of a depression. It revived all the old feelings of being a dud. 6 months later, I was complaining about a severe case of PMS to a good friend of mine. Upon listening to all the things I was complaining about, she suggested I take a pregnancy test. I laughed out loud and told her I was absolutely not pregnant because every other time I’ve felt like this and took a test, I wasted a test. After a week of persistence, I finally broke down and took one only because I happened to have one. When it came up positive, I sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared at the test. “Robert?” I called out. “I just took a pregnancy test. It’s positive.” He burst into the room, took one look at the test, and said “That’s a generic brand test, right?”
After a particularly difficult labor, James entered the world via emergency c-section. When they were examining my uterus to make sure there were no remains of the placenta, they discovered uterine fibroids. In a nutshell, I have benign tumors in my uterus that probably helped complicate the delivery, and should have complicated the pregnancy. I have some serious issues with my old OBGYN. I liked her, I trusted her. She won’t talk to me. I don’t know how bad the fibroids are. I don’t know what kind they are. I don’t know where they are located. But I’m starting to go with optimism. I got pregnant once against the odds, right? What’s to say I can’t do it again? I hope to give James a sibling at some point next year. I want six kids. Rob wouldn’t mind stopping at James. I’m praying I can have my little girl, too. Think pink, everybody. I could talk about this for hours so I’m just going to move on.
As long as I can remember, I’ve been overweight. I was a girl that ate her feelings (and had a LOT of feelings). I remember being a size 14 in the ninth grade. My wedding dress was a size 24. After James was born, I discovered something that nobody ever tells you about maternity leave. It is very, very, very boring. My house was clean within days and I found myself with a lot of time and not much to do. So I baked. and cooked. and ate wheat thins while watching Dr Phil. Before I knew it, I gained 30 lbs. While on maternity leave. My rock bottom moment occurred when I had to buy a maternity swimsuit 6 months postpartum. And had to buy shorts from the menswear department. Last july (2008) girl at work had casually mentioned that she was going on a diet. I told her I would go on the diet with her. And that was it. I never followed any particular plan. I just basically started counting the calories of everything that went into my mouth. I weighed and measured everything. I wrote everything down. By the time Halloween rolled around, I had already lost 46 lbs and had made my way to onederland (when your weight starts with a one and not a two). The smallest I’d been in my entire adult life. By Mother’s Day 2009 I’d officially lost 80 lbs. I am no longer overweight according to the charts at the doctors office. I am a size 8/10. My waist to hip ratio is reflective of a healthy woman. I have an entirely new body that I don’t recognize at all. For the most part, I’ve been stalled out at 170 lbs (which is a gain of 5 over my low weight which reflects 75 lbs lost). I’ve been saying for a long time that it would be so cool to reach 145 lbs and be able to say I’d lost 100 lbs. And then I visited my mother. I love my mother. I love her dearly. I am very proud of her. But I was very alarmed by her size when I saw her. My mother stands 5’4 and weighs 108 lbs. She is underweight. It has scared the daylights out of me. I think I needed to see that to help me adjust my perspective. There is nothing wrong with being a size 8/10. I will admit I would like to begin toning and exercising more to trim my waistline a little more. I think it will help when I want to start trying for another baby. I don’t know why.
This one is going to be a bit of a cop out.
Things I miss about living in Canada.
3)Snow at Christmas time.
4)East coast music on the radio.
5) various candy bars.
When I was in the tenth grade I signed up for Livejournal. I didn’t write particularly well (I still don’t) but I thought it was neat having a place to talk about stuff in my life, even if the only people that read it were people that were involved in my life in another capacity anyway. Eventually I started to meet people. For example, Caitlin. I met Caitlin through Livejournal and I was Maid of Honour in her wedding. When I was pregnant, Robert suggested I start a pregnancy blog. I kept up with it briefly but between being pregnant (and therefore being exhausted) and working full time I quickly abandoned it. On April 8th of this year I was linked to Matt and Maddy by a friend on Twitter. Matt had posted about Maddie Spohr and though I wanted to find out more, her corner of the internet wasn’t working. I spent some time perusing Matt’s site and spent the better part of the afternoon completely devastated. An emotional wreck. I started to follow some of the blogs I discovered and began to wonder if perhaps I should revive my old blog. I did but after I discovered I couldn’t edit it myself (it was hosted on Rob’s old domain so he had to do it himself) I decided to just start over with a new wordpress account of my own. I feel like I have my own story that I want to tell but at the same time I am constantly writing it with an editing eye. After reading about so much tragedy and frustration and the trials that others have gone through, I feel like I have no business complaining about anything. I don’t particularly want to write about my life before Robert. I don’t want to relive it. It wasn’t anything particularly heinous but I have no desire to go there. But my present is nearly everything I have ever wanted it to be. I have a stable marriage. A full time job I mostly like. A beautiful and healthy 18 month old son. An optimistic view of the future. All of these things have lead me to conclude that I really have no business trying to be a blogger. I have myself convinced that it’s cruel of me to even try to talk about my problems that are so paltry and trivial when compared to the trials of others. The whole idea is laughable and I know it. If I begin to write about my son and having another baby, I’m suddenly so overcome with guilt that I usually just delete the whole thing. When it comes to guilt, I am easily manipulated. I always have been, and I may always be. It’s something I have to work on, and that’s probably what I’m going to start blogging about. The internal conflict I always seem to be facing about whether or not I deserve the good things in my life. Finding and appreciating my own self worth. Letting go.
If you want your own set of five words, Comment and I will assign them to you.