My Corner of Crazy

 Hey amigos! Long time no see, eh? I've just been a crazy worker bee to bring home the money to my honey so we can stay afloat. (I actually think it's working right now too!) That therapeutic boarding school where I work? It's amazing. I love my job every day. Each day is an adventure preparing me for who knows what that I can only assume I'll have to deal with once again when I have teenagers of my own.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about today. Actually, I have a confession I really wanted to make: I don't know how this story is going to end. I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to build my family in a biological way. I don't know if I'll ever adopt a little baby to be mine forever. I don't even know where this story is going right now. And if I had to guess? I wouldn't be able to. I have no idea. My life can still go a million different ways. And you know what? That's okay.

Yup. I said it. I've finally gotten to the point where I'm okay with the fact that I may not be able to control my future. I don't know if I'll have children. I don't know what I'm going to do when I grow up or who I'm going to be. And isn't that its own kind of wonderful?

I've had three events cause some pretty significant paradigm shifts for me this week. Though small on their own, they've each impacted me significantly and reminded me of a few different things.

I had a friend tell me the other day that she is jealous I get to peek at my eggs once in a while, and while I was initially bugged (because I'd much rather be fertile than have monthly vaginal ultrasounds), it gave me a little perspective. Huh. My situation isn't really so bad. I mean really. At least my ovaries are producing eggs. At least my ovaries work. At least I ovulate. And my husband has sperm that are usually able to come hang out around the right time of the month for our three or four day long dance party. And maybe I'm not getting pregnant. But I am getting closer to figuring out why not. Because as the months progress and the treatments don't work, I have fewer and fewer causes it could be. This whole infertility thing may last the rest of my life, but at least I have a Reproductive Endocrinologist who listens to me and isn't rushing me into anything. Seriously. This could be worse.

I just switched houses at work today (we have three locations) and had a chance to work with a co-worker who I'd never worked with before. We were talking about ourselves a little bit since the girls were in a cycling class (that I am really excited to do next time!) and she mentioned the fact that she was pregnant when she and her husband got married. She said they'd already been engaged for a while when they found out and that their little buddy just hurried their wedding along a little. And then she talked for a little bit about how it's been a struggle to get married and become a new parent in the same year. She encouraged me to enjoy my time with my husband while I can because children can be their own kind of challenge when they come around. And, since this was our first real conversation, I didn't really feel it appropriate, so I didn't mention the fact that I am infertile and I've been trying to get pregnant for three years or the fact that I'd give pretty much anything to have a baby these days. But you know what? She's right. I haven't really been enjoying this time with my husband because I've been stressing about the impossibilities that I face and the what-if's and the maybes and the worries that accompany all of that. And I forget that my guy really is as wonderful as they come and I'm creepy borderline obsessed like crazy with that boy I call mine. And sometimes I forget it. How can anyone forget something so great? Maybe life just makes you forget sometimes.

This weekend, in Pleasant Grove, UT, very near where Joshua and I shared our first basement apartment after being married in 2009, an infant's corpse was discovered in a woman's garage. Upon further investigation, six more infant corpses were discovered by police. This story makes me sick. So so sick. For some reason, a woman decided that her only option seven times was to hide her pregnancies and murder her children immediately following birth. What a crazy crazy world. And you may be thinking, what the heck could you have learned from this? And I swear to you, under other circumstances, who knows? I could have been that woman. My life could be so much worse. I cannot even fathom being in her shoes, but I can sure try. And I'm telling you, the only thing that could ever drive someone to do that is complete desperation. And while I feel personally affected by this story (because, for freak's sake, I would gladly have raised every single one of those babies), I can't judge. I'm currently the crazy girl who tracks everything that goes on in her bedroom, and I used to be the freak who took her temperature every morning in addition to charting her cervical positioning and cervical mucus along with any other "pertinent" information, most of which was about my moods and breast sensitivity. And while this may seem like comparing apples and oranges, we're all our own kind of crazy.

And what do I want you to take away from this today? Embrace your little corner of crazy. Because perspective is a powerful thing. Today I'm the girl with headaches who's wearing pink jeans, rocking her bandaged arm from having blood drawn again, snuggling with her mutt-pup, and listening to Arctic Monkeys on repeat. I'm enjoying my wavy long hair and the fact that my bangs are close to being grown out again. I'm the girl who drives too fast with her sunroof open and always gets conned into the "upgrades" at Jiffy Lube because those dang mechanics are so convincing. The one who's watching all of the "kid snippets" on Youtube and laughing hysterically at Season 3 of Bob's Burgers that recently arrived on Netflix. I'm the one who works with troubled youth and loves it more than any other job because I'm making the world a better place one girl at a time. I'm the one with the stoic stare and the logical argument, the one who plans out everything she does, strategically, deliberately before doing it. The same one who wants to write novels and live on the beach for the rest of my days. Yup, that's me, in a nutshell. That's my recipe for crazy. And, do you know what? It's all good. Because my kind of crazy is okay for today.

What does your little corner of crazy look like today? Are you free as a bird or a worker bee? What's your soundtrack? And how does it look? Because for me, my kind of crazy is looking okay.

Random Thing: If you are pregnant and not sure of what your options are, please consider adoption. Because I know I'm not the only mama-to-be with no baby-to-be yet. And if my little corner of crazy doesn't seem right for your impending bundle of joy, there are so so many other families who are looking to build their families through adoption as well. Open, closed, whatever. You can pick. But please, if you're thinking about pretending it didn't happen and whatever goes along with that, please choose life. Please think about the future for that little baby.