#20 My Childhood

As a teacher, I am shocked by the kids of today.  These kids don't have parents that care enough to provide them with structure, discipline and love.  I look at children these days and feel sorry for them.  They didn't grow up in the same world I did.  I can't even imagine how I would have turned out if I had grown up in today's society.

I was born to two amazing parents, who were loving and excellent providers.  They both worked hard for a living, loved us unconditionally and instilled discipline without being too strict.  My siblings and I grew up living in safe neighborhoods where we would play outside until the street lights came on or until our mom called us in for dinner.  We ate supper every night together as a family, without the TV on.  We would sit together in the den after dinner and watch sitcoms until bed time.  My parents saw to it that we did well in school and would contact our teachers if they thought we were slipping.  If we were reprimanded by our teachers, WE were the ones that were punished when we came home, no question.  We were taught to respect our elders.  We went on family road trips and sang songs and played games in the car.  That was my childhood in a nut shell.

Kids these days don't grow up like this.  Instead of life lessons and attention, they are given material things to compensate.  It has created a society of disinterested and entitled children.  It's pretty discomforting.

I realize that my childhood was not the norm.  It was the anomaly, a rare gem.  I know that I am extremely blessed.  I have wonderful parents and was fortunate to have a conventional and healthy upbringing.  I know that when I become a mom, I will follow my parents' example and provide the same for my children.

"Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons." ~Author Unknown

                                      Christmas: Me on the left, my sister on the right.  Apparently I was three.   

#18 & #19 Cat naps and Leftovers

Yesterday I was tired and I didn't blog on what I was thankful for.  The truth is, that I have started to substitute teach and waking up super early again has me all out of whack.  I was so tired when I got home yesterday, I felt nauseous.  I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.  It's the kind of tired where you can't think straight and your head feels like its stopped up.  There is just no other way for me to explain it.  So yesterday, I took a long cat nap at about five in the afternoon and didn't wake up until about eight in the evening.

Naps are the best.  When I am extremely exhausted, there is no better feeling than allowing myself to lie down on the couch and drift off to sleep.  While in college, I would come home from class and sleep for four hours every day.  Of course, I was recovering from going out the night before, so the nap was essential if I was to have the energy to go out again that night.  My after class naps were much envied by my roommate who had to work after classes.  She would come home from work in the afternoons and wake me up with her arrival.  She would shake her head, half amused and half envious.  I didn't care if I was rubbing it in.  Those naps were my bitches and I had no shame.      

I also realize that yesterday's nap is a coveted by about every working mother out there.  So, since presently I am infertile and have no kids, I thought it best to be thankful that I can still take naps when and where I please, without interruption.  At least I have that over all those women who can just get pregnant whenever they want.  They have whiny children when they get home.  I have relaxing naps.

Today is no different.  I am utterly exhausted again and feel like crud.  This brings me to #19: leftovers.  When I feel like this, I do not want to cook when I get home.  This problem is simply cured with leftovers.  Typically, I cook every night and we always have left over food since it's just the two of us.  Therefore, I end up freezing leftovers for another time.  Last night and tonight is a leftover night.  I simply put the leftovers to heat up back in the oven or on the stove and voila: Dinner is served!

If I had children, I may not have leftovers to serve because it would have all been eaten or I would have had to cook something any way because children are not fond of left over food.  So until I have children, I will be thankful for how easy dinner time is with just two adults in the house.

Naps and leftovers are life savers on stressful and tiresome days.  Anything that makes my life easier at this point, I consider a HUGE blessing.

"Human felicity is produced not as much by great pieces of good fortune that seldom happen, as by the little advantages that occur every day." ~Benjamin Franklin

                                                This is how I felt and (probably) looked yesterday.

#17 Friends

My husband and I moved to a different state this past summer and we are really happy where we are living.  However, whenever you move to a new area, you have to start the process of making local friends all over again.  For me, this is not a quick process.  I am one of those people who doesn't make close friends until I've been living in a place for a few years.  It has rarely occurred, that I will make an instant friend with whom I click with in the first few encounters.  I don't know if it's because I am closed off or if it's because I am maybe a little shy.  Whatever the reason, making best friends is a gradual process for me.  Despite this, I have made a lot of amazing friends in my lifetime.  Maybe I would have made more if it didn't take so long, but when it comes to friends, I believe in quality over quantity.

When I met my husband, my friends took on a new role in my life because Nick became my best friend.  He is the one I share all my feelings with and spend the majority of my time with.  Also, now all my friends live several hours away, so going out for a girls' night isn't really possible.  When I am able to see my friends on vacation or when I speak with them on the phone, they are my escape.  I don't want to talk about my infertility.  I don't want to feel sad and heartbroken.  I want to be care free and frivolous, something that is normally difficult to do when you are trying to have a child desperately for four years.  We reminisce about old times and talk about topics that make us laugh.  We simply live in the moment.  I know though, that if I did need them to talk to about my problems, they would be there for me any time.  I have only told two of my close friends about my struggles with infertility.  Almost all of my friends have a child or children, and as all of us infertiles know, sharing our heartache with anyone is difficult, let alone someone who has no ability to understand--only experience can give perspective.  Of the friends I haven't told, none of them have ever questioned why we haven't had children yet.  I tell them that Nick and I want to wait several years before trying.  Whether they believe this or not, I don't know, but they never press the issue and I am extremely appreciative.

As strange as this is, one of the two friends that I have told about my infertility happens to be a very close guy friend that I have known for years.  Zach has been a friend to me since junior year in high school when he called me stuck up in English class.  I of course gave him a piece of my mind and we have been friends since. I  think he admired my spunk and I admired that he didn't care what people thought of him.  Zach and I have talked on and off through the years; talking each other through break ups and hard times, even the suicide of an old high school friend.  When I told him about my infertility and pit of despair, he was sympathetic and consoling, something not expected from a man.  He then told me something that made a huge difference in my attitude.  He told me this:

"You're actually the second person that I've spoken to in the last year that has had this kind of problem. In her case it led to a divorce. This is obviously an incredibly stressful thing to go through - try to remember how lucky Nick and you are to have each other to lean on through this process. That's a pretty full life in itself."

I couldn't believe it.  His words made me realize that I was being extremely unappreciative.  Here I was with a wonderful life and amazing husband and the only thing I was concentrating on was the one thing I didn't have.  I felt like a spoiled brat.  Shortly after, I decided to live my life in thanks for all the blessings I do have.  I can't believe it took a man to make me see the light in the darkness of infertility!

I learned a valuable lesson from this experience.  Friends ARE necessary for your well being.  Sometimes it takes a friend to open your eyes or to ease your pain by providing a shoulder to lean on.  They can also offer a different point of view, which is sometimes needed when you are so caught up in your own problems and grief.  Other times, you need a friend to just cut up with and have a good time.

Through this struggle, I unfortunately have grown apart from a few of my good friends.  It's hard to celebrate the births and lives of their children when it is hurting so much inside.  Some may call it selfish, I call it self preservation.  I know that one day, I can explain myself and they will understand. Because that is after all, what friends are for.  

"Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will ride the bus with you when the limo breaks down." ~Oprah Winfrey

   
                                                        Me and a few of my closest girl friends.

#16 Music

How can I follow up my #15?  I mean seriously, my niece is a such a blessing, how can anything after her be worth while?  Maybe I should have saved her for my very last blog, but alas here I am, only on #16 and with sort of a writer's block.  My only answer is to find something that is completely frivolous, but awesome at the same time.  So, today I am thankful for music.

Let me be clear, in no way am I a musician.  I can not play a musical instrument, I do not sing (except for in the car where no one can hear me), I can not read music and I could not write a song that would be worth listening to if my life depended on it.  I actually always wanted to learn to play piano, but my parents could never afford a piano or music lessons, so that dream was never actualized. :(  Can you hear the world's smallest violin playing my song?

However, I don't believe that you have to be an actual musician to enjoy and love music.  Music fills in the spaces in so many places.  (I did not mean to rhyme there, it just happened.)  Think of how boring it would be driving on a long car trip if there was no music.  Or think of cleaning the house, having a party, movies, exercising, putting on makeup or weddings without it....BORING.  There is nothing I enjoy more than walking my dog in the early morning with my Ipod buds in my ears playing some of my favorite songs.  I do not think I would go on those walks if there was not music surrounding my thoughts.

In addition to making life more fun and enjoyable, music has the ability to influence one's mood.  Think about a time when you were sad and you heard the perfect song and for some reason you felt a little better.  I always think of the football players in high school who would blast Guns n' Roses' Welcome to the Jungle before the Friday night game.  They would automatically feel excited and amped up to play.  Their sudden adrenaline rush proves that music has the ability to actually elicit a physical response from our body.  I have even listened to songs that have brought forth tears from very eyes.  Remember, Tim Mcgraw's Don't Take the Girl? Come on, you know you cried too. I think the reason music moves us is because sometimes we hear a song and it reminds us that we are human and that we aren't alone with our feelings.  The songs prove that there is someone else out there in this big world that has had the same experiences and can sympathize with our emotions.

In my infertility, there's a few songs that speak to me.  For some reason, I don't know why, but Dave Matthew's Grey Street has always been one of my go to songs.  Read the lyrics and maybe you'll understand.  As cheesy as this is, two others that always get me is Rascal Flatt's Stand or I Won't Let Go.  If you are infertile, listen to these songs, but I warn you, you will cry.

So despite infertility, I am still appreciative for the small stuff.  Music only plays a trivial, minor role in my life, but really, don't all the small things add up?

"Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest, heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul." ~Unknown

                                      The closest I will ever get to musically performing: Playing Rock Band.

#15 Kayla (my niece)

Sometimes in life, you find that you just click with certain people.  Maybe it's body chemistry, maybe it's fate; whatever, it is, it's usually an instant thing.  It's like you just get each other without actually knowing one another.  It doesn't have to always be with a potential lover.  It could be a friend.  Sometimes it's not even a person, it can be a dog or cat.  For me, this happened when I first saw my niece, Kayla.

Kayla is my first niece, the oldest of all my parents grandchildren and she is my brother's daughter.  I didn't know that I could love a person so instantaneously until I held Kayla for the first time.  She was a beautiful seven pound, blonde haired baby and I was hooked.  My Dad told me that when his first niece was born, he was sure that he couldn't possibly feel a stronger kind of automatic love, until he had his own child.  I know exactly how he feels to an extent.  I don't have a child of my own, but the love and adoration that I felt for Kayla was through the roof.  I wanted to be around her every second and I ate her up.  I now have five more nieces and two nephews, and hopefully more to come.  I don't love Kayla more than any of them, but the bond I have with Kayla is special.  Let me explain why today's blog is dedicated entirely to her.

I know that most aunts love their nieces or nephews an enormous amount, but I'm not quite sure that any other niece or nephew has loved their aunt like Kayla loved me.  My family calls it obsessed, I call it a "unique bond".  It all started when she was about six months old.  My brother had left Kayla with my cousin so that he could go to the gym.  I called my cousin and heard Kayla crying on the other end, so I drove to my cousin's as quick as I could.  I walked in, took Kayla in my arms and to my cousin's surprise, she immediately stopped crying and stared at me in wonder.  From that point on, she would never keep her eyes off me when I was in her presence.  When I would babysit her, she would start squealing when she would see me walk up the driveway.  When I would walk in the house, I would pick her up and she would just stare at me and smile.  I could make her laugh like no one else and when she would get hurt or get sick, she would ask for me.  She preferred me over everyone, much to her mother and her mother's family's dismay.  (My brother on the other hand, ate it up that his child loved one of his family members more than all of his ex-wife's.)  When I was around, no one else was to hold her or rock her to sleep.  When she turned two, we started developing our own inside jokes.  One time when Kayla's mom asked her who her best friend was, she expected Kayla to answer with the name of the little girl down the street that Kayla played with several days of the week.  Instead, Kayla answered, "Ne ne," the name she still calls me to this day.  When I retold this story with pride to a family friend, she replied, "Yes, you are definitely her best friend.  The thing is, I think she's your best friend too."  The thing is, she was right.

Now, my Kayla is ten years old.  She doesn't remember her obsession (or "unique bond") with me that much, but we still have a special connection.  I love her to pieces and we really enjoy each others' company, plain and simple.  She comes and stays with me and I love every moment of it, knowing that her teenage years are quickly coming and probably pretty soon, she may want nothing to do with me.

As I look back, I recognize that I was given a gift through our extraordinary bond.  Through Kayla, I learned that nothing compares to a child's unconditional love.  I truly believe it's the closest thing I have ever felt to being a mother.  So when infertility gets me down, I think of Kayla and I regain the strength to keep on going, because now I'm ready to feel the real thing.

"Nieces are the children that we borrow, intending not to raise but merely love." ~Unknown

                                                 Me with Kayla when she was just 2 years old.

      

#14 My Grandfather

My grandfather, who my siblings and I called Paw paw, was an incredible man.  He passed away a little over a year ago and I still think about him all the time.  Whenever he crosses my mind, I tear up.  The worst is when I'm in church and I hear a song that was played at his funeral.  As a matter of fact, just writing about him right now is making my eyes well up with tears.  I've known that a dedication to Paw paw would eventually end up one day on this blog, but I was waiting for just the right day.  Nick's grandfather just passed away two days ago and all my feelings about my grandfather became fresh again.  I knew it was the perfect time.

My Paw paw was the type of grandfather who was quiet, but had a strong presence.  He never said much, but I remember he always sat in his recliner and I would sit on his lap and have short, sweet conversations with him as a child.  I would ask about the crosses he wore around his neck and why he loved golfing so much.  In the summers my brother, sister, my cousins and I would go stay with my Paw paw and Maw maw.  I remember waking up at six o'clock in the morning to my Paw paw making his coffee and breakfast before leaving for his early morning tee time.  I would watch him from the pallet on the floor in the den through my sleepy, half open eyes.  When he would walk out the door, I would roll over and go back to sleep.  I felt comforted by watching him every morning.  I think it's because I adored the ground he walked on.

Not only was he an amazing grandfather, but my Paw paw was an extraordinary man.  He experienced more in his lifetime than the average person.  He witnessed the death of his oldest brother as a young child, endured the insufferable circumstances brought on by the Great Depression, and fought in World War II.  I'll never forget the story about his oldest brother drowning.  My great grandparents actually brought my great uncle inside their home and laid his body on their dinner table until he was taken away to be prepared for burial.  That night, my Paw paw and his parents and siblings ate dinner at that very same table.  Regarding the Great Depression, he would tell the story of how he wore the same outfit every single day, and every single day he would wash that outfit so that he could wear it clean the next day.  He always told us that he would never eat potato soup or bread pudding again.  Apparently, during the Depression, those were cheap and easy meals, and my Paw paw could not understand why anyone would actually pay to eat those foods at a restaurant.  While serving the Navy during World War II, he saw horrific things that he didn't like to talk about.  The only time I ever heard about his World War II experiences from him was after he saw Saving Private Ryan in the theater.  It was the first and only time I had ever witnessed my Paw paw cry.  He endured so much in his life time, but you would never know it.  He was so stoic.  I truly believe men were made differently back then.

Before my Paw paw died, he told me that he wanted to see Nick and I have a child because he "didn't have much longer, ya' know."  I so wish I could have given him that gift.  I wish my children could have been held by one of the greatest men to ever walk this earth.  However, life doesn't always work out the way you plan or the way you want it to.  Infertility has made me realize this life lesson more than anything else I've experienced because it could be another four or more years before I have the children I spent my whole life "planning" to have at the age of twenty five (remember, I am now twenty nine).  The only thing that puts me at ease is that at least I know there is another angel in heaven looking over me and my future children.  He will be able to see their birth and all their experiences and milestones in his very own recliner up in heaven.  He actually has the best seat in the house.

My Paw paw passed away about a week after our last family reunion.  He said in the weeks leading up to the reunion that he wanted to see everyone one last time.  It amazes me that as soon as this wish was granted, he was able to let go.  I miss him dearly, but I also know that people can't live forever.  Paw paw lived a fulfilled life that was full of family and lots of love.  I try to not be sad about his death.  Instead, I celebrate his life and am proud of the positive impact he made on so many others.


"A grandfather is a little bit parent, a little bit teacher and a little bit best friend." ~ Author unknown

                                    Paw paw with my niece.  This was about 6 months before he passed.

#13 Good Health

A couple weeks ago, I received an envelope in the mail from the March of Dimes.  In the envelope was was an actual dime with a stub to be sent back with a generous donation.  The gist of the letter was to return the dime and at the same time give a few of your own.  If you didn't know, The March of Dimes works to improve the health of mothers and newborn babies.  In a split instant I had a very selfish moment: Here I am wanting to be a mother with a newborn baby.  Why should I give to those that have a newborn baby for free when I have to save up to have one of my own?  I immediately suffered the guilt for feeling this way, even if was just for a moment.  As a result, I didn't throw the letter away, thinking maybe I would donate to redeem myself.  When Nick arrived home from work that day, I told him about the letter and to test him said, "I mean, we can't donate money to others, we need to raise our own money to afford IVF.  Right?"  Then Nick said something that made me so proud of him, "We should donate.  We don't need a black cloud looming over us.  We can't expect to have good fortune when we aren't willing to help others receive theirs."  I was shocked and pleasantly surprised with his remark.  Nick isn't cheap or greedy, but donating money has never been his thing.  I wrote a check to the March of Dimes and put in in the mailbox.

The next day after the mail man picked up my donation, I retrieved the new mail and walked back inside the house.  I told Nick that God was now messing with us because in the mail again was another fundraiser request.  It was for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and included a nickel and note saying that, "A generous gift, along with this nickel, can help save children's lives across Texas."  I also wrote them a check and sent it the next day.  A few days after, I received a phone call from the National Breast Cancer Foundation for a donation.  I decided that God was really having a good time at our expense.  I just pictured him looking down and laughing.  It made me smile, because man he really knows what he's doing!

What I soon found after receiving the fundraiser requests was that I was thankful that I am not the one needing a fundraiser.  In other words, I am a healthy and have been my whole life.  I have never had a  major illness and/or suffered from any traumatic injuries.  (Unless you count being hit in the nose by a softball when I was eight.  Though it was probably more traumatic for my mom then myself.)  My BMI is in the normal range, I have had doctors comment that I have the blood pressure of an athlete and I am pretty darn strong if I do say so myself.  Now, I realize that I am only twenty nine and that I have no idea what the future holds.  Life can change on a dime (no pun intended) and it's not always for the better.  Your health can change at any instant, some things are just out of our control.

Ok, I know what you're thinking.  Yes, I am infertile and there are people that say it is a disease, so technically my health isn't perfect.  However, infertility does not threaten my life and I can still do any physical activity I please.  Not to mention, if I wasn't healthy, managing infertility would be much more difficult.  So tonight during my bedtime prayer, I will include a little thanks for having twenty nine years of one less thing to worry about.

"The greatest wealth is health."  ~Virgil

#12 Carefree Weekends

Writing this blog has really helped me in dealing with infertility.  I know its only been a few weeks, but I feel a monumental change in myself.  Day to day, I make a huge effort to remain positive.  When those little insecurities or negative feelings start to invade my mind, I say to myself, "No, you are not going to do this.  What are you thankful for?"  It really helps.

Case in point: yesterday at church.  A young couple just so happened to sit in the pew directly in front of my husband and I.  This may seem like no big deal except they had a precious two year old daughter and the woman was pregnant.  They didn't sit to the right or left of us, or the row behind us, but directly in front of us; happy and smiling when their little girl did something cute.  I don't think I saw another pregnant woman in that entire church.  I mean seriously, could God be any crueler?  This is the thought that started to creep into my mind by the end of mass.  It was followed of course by, "It's not fair.  Why do we have to work so hard while others barely bat an eye?  My husband deserves to be a father.  He'd be an amazing dad."  So normally, this would be followed by tears in the car on the way home while my husband quietly drives to our house so that I could get into bed and sulk for a few hours.  For him, the day would be a bust and he would feel miserable.

Then I did it.  I said to myself, "NO.  I have so much to be thankful for."  I started to think of every single one of my blogs and when I got into the car I didn't bring up the the pregnant woman or her family and it was soon forgotten.  The truth here is that their story isn't mine.  Who knows what their future holds or what is in their past?  Though everything seems perfect in their world, I don't know that for sure.  What I do know is that yes, I have infertility but other than that, my life is pretty wonderful.

After church, my husband and I ate lunch at one of our favorite restaurants and then bought coffee at a bookstore so we could sit and talk.  Then I realized how thankful I am for our weekends and that we literally have no worries for those few days of the week.  My husband and I can do whatever we want on the weekends: We can go out of town, we can sit around and be lazy or we can do just what we did yesterday; spend some  good quality time together as husband and wife.  Our only responsibility on the weekends is to ourselves.

It is true that for four years, we have been desperately trying to have children, but infertility has provided us something we wouldn't have had had we conceived immediately.  We are able to really be together, just the two of us, giving each other undivided attention.  These are precious moments.  When kids come along, all this will stop.  I have realized through infertility that we have come to know each other deeply and have found that we love one another's company.  If we do have some kids along the way, we vowed that we will be sure to always find time every week for just the two of us.  It has strengthened our marriage for the future.

So until we have children, I am going to thoroughly enjoy my carefree weekends.  I almost let a one hour mass destroy an amazing Sunday afternoon with my husband.  I've learned that sometimes, though difficult, it's in your best interest to ignore your heart and let your mind take the reigns.

"Every day may not be good, but there's something good in every day."  ~Author Unknown

 

                                                      Me and Nick just hanging out at home.

#11 LSU

As I've been writing these blogs, I am discovering that thinking of all the things I am thankful for is quite easy.  However, writing a blog about them is a totally different story.  For instance, I am quite thankful for my bed.  It is a beautiful cherry wood sleigh bed and let me tell you, it is cozy.  There are a lot of people who can't afford to sleep in a bed every night, so I am blessed.  But what else can I really write about a bed to make it a worthwhile read?  I've also noticed in writing that I have definitely delved into some deep topics.  I mean I can't sit here and tell you that almost every one of my blogs hasn't made me tear up as I'm writing them.  Tearing up not because I'm sad, but because I am so grateful.  So I decided in this blog, I would be thankful for something that maybe isn't so sentimental (hopefully) but a little more light and fun.  One thing came to mind:  My alma mater.

LSU is amazing and the memories I created there will stay with me forever.  The campus itself, is beautiful.  It has majestic, live oak trees that were planted in 1930 that are worth fifty million dollars.  They tower over the entire campus and their branches provide shade when you want to sit peacefully and study or people watch. The architecture has an Italian Renaissance theme that is marked by its tan stucco buildings with red tiled roofs and colonnades.  It is truly a sight to see.

Though beautiful in appearance, LSU provides so much more.  Not only did I gain an education that I am proud of and which has given me the opportunity to do what I really love (teaching), but I had some great times and made some life long friends.  I still talk to all the friends I had at LSU.  They all were at my wedding and in the coming year, I will be attending one of their weddings and will be a bridesmaid in another.  The memories we created were some of the best in my lifetime.

One of my favorite memories that comes to mind when thinking of LSU is tailgating.  Maybe I am biased, but no one does it like LSU.  It all starts on Friday night, the night before game day.  Out of your group of friends, you better have someone really driven that is willing to put up a tent and camp out Friday night so that all of his dead beat friends can take advantage of his dedication on game day.  I was one of those dead beat friends and my dedicated and die hard LSU friend was Chris.  On Saturday morning, you are to wake up early (like crack of dawn early) and join in on the tailgate.  Me and all my girlfriends were particularly bad at this.  Most LSU fans start drinking at 7 a.m.  We on the other hand, were always so hung over from the night before that we couldn't roll out until about 9 or 10 a.m.  We started the day by getting what we called a "breakfast daiquiri" at one of the drive thru daiquiri shops in Baton Rouge (with a triple shot to boot).  This literally served as our breakfast.  We headed out to the tailgate with our fold up chairs and hung out all day long, drinking; eating delicious, cajun food; laughing; playing games and walking around campus to see other friends.  Then when it was close to game time, we would head to the stadium to watch the Tigers beat the hell outta whoever they were playing.

I will never forget one time walking to the stadium, I was following close behind my friend, Chris.  He had a Natural Light in one hand and a Beam and coke in the other (well, mostly Beam).  He had been drinking these two drinks, double fisting and alternating between hands, ALL day.  I have to add that when I say "ALL day," I am speaking of the hours from 7 a.m. to around 6 p.m.  (That is how you do it at LSU.)  Well, the Beam and coke hand must have been very heavy for him because he was holding that one as if it weighed one thousand pounds and he was dripping the precious liquid onto the sidewalk with every step.  It created a line from our tailgate all the way to the stadium.  Maybe he knew what he was doing.  I mean if he got lost, in Hansel and Gretel form, he would find his way back.  The entire way, all our friends walked behind him laughing.  Other fans saw the hilarity and joined in.  Every so often he would turn around and slur, "What's so funny back there?"  This of course made us laugh even harder.

At one point during our trek to the stadium, he stopped in on one group's massive tailgate party.  There was a huge group of fans standing around and he stood in the middle of them.  They all went quiet, wondering what this drunk idiot was doing.  We all were standing back, watching from afar, a little worried that Chris would get his face pounded in.  Chris waited for everyone to go silent and made sure all eyes were on him.  He suddenly raised his Beam and coke hand and yelled, "Tonight we play Georgia!" He lowered his hand and said nothing.  There was silence.  Then one member of the tailgate looked at him and said, "Yeaaaah...?," in an agreeing but questioning tone.  Then Chris raised the Beam and coke hand again and yelled, "Tonight, we beat Georgia!"  All the tailgaters must have really enjoyed his Varsity Blues impression (either that or they were just really drunk themselves) because they all starting cheering and high-fiving him.  He had managed to further amp up an already pretty lively group.  Ever since, I have never laughed that hard again in my life.  I still laugh when I tell that story to this day and I am smiling as I type it on this very blog.  By the way, in his inebriated state, Chris was quite the soothsayer.  LSU beat Georgia 17-10.  Geaux Tigers!

You're probably sitting and reading, wondering why I chose to tell this particular story.  Truthfully, I'm not sure, because this is really only one of hundreds of good memories I have from LSU.  But whether it be this memory or another, they all serve the same purpose; to remind me of few of things:

1.  LSU was a once in a lifetime experience and I am so thankful that it is a part of who I am today.
2. I made some long lasting friends at LSU that I miss dearly.
3. The memories I created at LSU will stay in my heart forever.
4. Though significant, I will not allow the pains of infertility to take up any more room in my heart.  That space should be opened up for memories that make me laugh and that put a smile on my face.


"God gave us memories so that we might have roses in December." ~J.M. Barrie

                                Good friends from LSU.  Chris is in the middle.  Notice the two drinks in his hand.

#10 My Dad

Seeing as though he is the reason for my blog yesterday, dedicating today's thanks to my Dad feels like the right thing to do.

My Dad was a tough love kind of father.  He didn't treat me and my sister like princesses and he certainly didn't spoil any of us.  He always told us that he thought we were spoiled but by looking at my peers and friends, we were probably the least spoiled of all.  He didn't give in to our every whim.  He actually used to sing us that Rolling Stones song, "You Can't Always Get What You Want..." when we asked for something or said we wanted something.  If any of us threw fits, he would tell us, "The world does not revolve around you."  If we then retaliated with an "It's not fair!"  He would simply retort, "Well, I hate to break it to you, but life's not fair."  At four years old, this can be really frustrating.  It is true, my Dad didn't always give us what we wanted, but he made sure he always gave us what we needed.  We never were without a home, food, clothes or love.

In his youth, my Dad was a very ambitious man.  He and my Mom had my older sister when he was twenty eight and he was in law school and working a full time job.  His dream was to be a politician.  I think my Dad believed he could change the world for the better.  He really felt the moral fabric of America was deteriorating (to this day, he still believes this to be true), and he wanted to turn it around.  However, being a politician and being a family man is a tough juxtaposition.  In order to be a politician, you have to sacrifice a lot of things, most of the time in doing so, you're sacrificing to the detriment of your family.  When he realized this, he gave up his dream and found work as a corporate attorney, a job he loathed.  My Dad held this job until retirement.  Having to get up and go to work every day was a real struggle for him, but he did it to support his family.  He wanted to be able to provide us with everything we needed so we could live a normal and happy life.

However miserable he was at work, it didn't affect his role as a father.  In his free time, he became involved in our sports and extra curricular activities.  One of my favorite and funniest memories of my Dad was when he defended to the high school athletic boosters that, "Cheerleading is a sport, damn it.  How many of you can do a standing back flip?"  He coached my brother's football teams, attended all of our games and encouraged us to work hard.  He always said, "A lot of people are going to be more naturally gifted than you, but they may not work as hard and that makes all the difference."  My Dad used to tape inspiring quotes and antidotes to our bedroom doors so that when we woke up in the morning, it was one of the first things we saw.  When it was time for each of us to go to college he helped us fill out our applications and he managed to some how find scholarships for all three of us.  While in college, he rewarded us for getting A's and reminded us how important education was.

I am so grateful for everything he did for us growing up, but one of the most important things he provided me with is my confidence.  I actually read an article once that said all girls need a father in their lives.  The article went on to say that a girl's confidence and emotional strength are rooted in their relationship with their father.  If a girl has a good relationship, she will feel more self worth and therefore make wise choices.  I actually believe this to be true.  Growing up, my Dad used to tell me that I am as smart as anyone else and that I could do anything I wanted to do in life.  He told me that it was ok to be an athletic or strong woman or to want a career when I am older.  He tried to squash all the stereotypes that used to be so ingrained in young women.  I did not have to be a housewife or try to portray myself as weak.  I could be a doctor, a lawyer or an athlete if I wanted and would still be feminine.  He also instilled in me the idea that a positive attitude can do wonders in a desperate situation and that sometimes you have to actually strive for it.  Optimism doesn't always come naturally.

My confidence and emotional strength carries me through life, especially in my struggle with infertility.  Infertility is not for the weak at heart.  It is the hardest thing I have ever experienced, literally.   Feeling heartbreak month after month for four years is difficult to endure.  Us infertiles internally battle with ourselves; questioning our worth as a wife, daughter, aunt and overall purpose as a woman.  We have to deal with tough decisions:  Do I go forward with IVF even though I am pro life?  Is it the right thing to do?  Is this the path God wants me to take?  Should I spend all of our savings, even if it doesn't work? Many relationships get severed in the process; it's tough to see your best friends and family members working on their second and third babies even though you've been working on just one for far longer.  Some women struggle with suicidal thoughts.  I would be lying if I told you that it has never entered my mind when I was at my lowest.  Despite all of this, I was and am able to get through it.

They say that you always manage.  In other words, when life gets tough, you adjust.  That may be true, but some occurrences in life are not so easy to accomodate to, and some people don't bend, they break.  If it wasn't for my Dad and the determination and tenacity he instilled in me, I would have broken a long time ago.  Right now I'm still bending.

"One father is worth more than a hundred school masters." ~George Herbert

                                                    Me and Dad on my wedding day.

#9 Coffee

Ahhh, coffee.  Coffee tastes good, it smells good and it wakes you up in the morning.  I love coffee and I am thankful for it.  I am thankful that I can afford to have a cup every single morning or in the late evenings after dinner.  However, I am not really dedicating this blog to coffee, per se.  I received an email from my Dad and it's funny because he sent it to me yesterday, the day that AF came.  I had already written my blog for yesterday so I decided to use it for today.

When I decided to start devoting my life to counting my blessings, instead of being miserable about infertility, I started to see things around me differently.  It was as if I opened my eyes for the first time and saw the obvious.  You can call it signs or you can call it coincidences, but all I know is that everything is starting to make sense.  This email, to me, is just another sign that I am heading in the right direction with my infertility.  Here it is:

"A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying A word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.  Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see." "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg.  Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled, as she tasted its rich aroma the daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its insides became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.  "Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?  Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?  Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. 


If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.
When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.  Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying." 


When AF arrived, I started to be a carrot.  Then I received this and sent it to others who I thought needed it.  After, I decided I would dedicate today's blog to it.  Then I posted it on the Inspire website for other infertiles to read so it could help them get through their day.  I realized, I had become a coffee bean.  May we all be the coffee!


"There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity."  ~Washington Irving

#8 My Faith

Today is a little bit of a bummer.  I started AF and for an infertile woman, it feels like your heart is literally breaking.  I get this really sick feeling in my stomach that doesn't leave me for at least three days.  Since starting this blog however, I have vowed to cast off those negative feelings and replace them with positive thoughts and an optimistic attitude.  So to really stick it to infertility, I am dedicating my thanks today to my faith.

I am not going to lie and say that my faith has not been shaken in this journey.  I am a Christian, so when I first had the feeling that something wasn't quite right because we weren't conceiving, I started praying to God.  I prayed all day and attended mass every Sunday and prayed for the same thing over and over.  My husband and I would pray together before dinner every night and after we blessed our food, we begged God for a baby.  One time, as weird and maybe creepy as this sounds, we prayed after sex.  We were willing to do ANYTHING.

After two years of praying, we found that our prayers were not being answered.  I started to grow angry with God and questioned everything wrong in the world.  If God loved all his children so much, why are there such horrible and atrocious acts in this world?  Where is the justice?  Why can every crackhead in the United States have a baby and not take of care of it, but my husband and I, who I know will be amazing parents, can't even have one baby?  It got even worse.  I would get angry when I watched a reality TV show about teens getting pregnant and not taking care of their children.  Then I started to see my own students have children before me!  Some of them I know were not ready.  People who would get married two years after us were working on baby #2.  I felt crushed, alone, neglected, and just pissed off.  I stopped going to church and rarely prayed.  I started to believe that nothing in this world was the deliberate act of God.  It merely was science taking its course.  My relationship with God was no longer a close one and I didn't care.

Then recently I had a serious epiphany:  I was relying on hope, not faith-BIG difference.  Hope was destroying me every month.  To me hope is desperation.  It is filled with doubt.  Example: "I really hope I get pregnant this month."  This statement is filled with anticipation and fear.  In hope, there is no definite result.  However, if you have faith, you believe it will happen, even if it takes a while.  It's taken me about four years to know the difference between the two.  I've come to realize that miracles happen all the time.  In my most recent blog, I wrote about one of my heroes, Louis Zamperini and his experiences during World War II.  How did he survive what he went through?  A lot of men didn't.  Clearly, the only answer was that he believed he could survive and that eventually his suffering would end.  He is a living miracle.

I now believe this for myself.  I have suffered, but the end of it is coming, I know it.  I have faith that a miracle can happen for me too.  Regardless if you aren't a Christian, everyone can have faith.  Whether it be in a God, love, people or an energy that powers us all, everyone should have faith that miracles are real and can happen to anyone, even you.

Infertility is no longer going to weaken me.  My will is strong.  I will not further allow it to shake my faith.

"Impossible situations can become possible miracles." ~Robert H. Shuller

#7 Heroes

In honor of 9/11, I thought it only appropriate to show my appreciation and gratitude to all the heroes out there.  A hero is different for everyone.  The firefighters that risked their lives after the twin towers fell, and the ones that ended up giving their life, the soldiers overseas preserving freedom, a mom, a dad, a policeman or a teacher-these all are heroes to someone.  Not everyone can be a hero.  It really takes someone special.  They have to be willing to go above and beyond for a cause that they feel is greater than themselves.  Let me tell you about one of my heroes.

I just finished reading a book that I urge every American to read: Unbroken. It is a biography about Louis Zamperini, an Olympic runner turned B-24 bombardier during World War II.  Louis didn't have an easy life.  His parents were Italian immigrants to America and he struggled to fit in.  He was beaten up and harassed relentlessly on a daily basis.  They didn't have money and barely had enough food to eat due to the Great Depression.  However, in high school, he discovered track and became so good at running that he attended the Olympics when he was only sixteen.  Everyone said that he was destined for greatness.  Essentially, he gave up his dream of winning the Olympics when he enlisting in the military and was assigned the job of a bombardier.  He was 24 at the time and was absolutely terrified of flying.  On a flight meant to rescue another crashed bomber, Louis' plane went down in the Pacific. Out of an eleven man crew, Louis and only two other men survived the crash.  They floated on a life raft for 47 days, fighting off sharks and enduring enemy fire, thirst and starvation.  The men were rescued by the Japanese Navy (one man had died by this time) and were sent to POW camps.  What he endured at these camps was ten times worse than anything he faced on the life raft.  He was tortured, beaten, starved, given stagnant water, suffered with dysentary and dengue fever for months without medical treatment, and forced into slave labor.  After over two years in these camps, the war ended and Louis and the other POWs were saved.  He weighed 67 pounds.  He went into the war weighing in at 154.

What makes Louis a hero is not that he survived these appalling circumstances, but how he handled it in his life afterward.  Sure, Louis was a victim and he deserves all the sympathy in the world.  He could have spiraled down hill and no one would have blamed him.  He in fact did struggle for a while with depression, alcoholism, post traumatic stress, and a rage for his captors that consumed him.  However, one day he realized that the life he was leading was not the life he had fought for on that raft in the Pacific or in those horrific camps.  He wanted to live a life devoted to God.  So, he went home and poured all his alcohol down the drain.  He opened a camp for troubled boys.  He even traveled to Japan to face the very soldiers that had beaten him, tortured him and denied him his every human right.  He forgave them and embraced him.  This is what makes him a hero.  No one looks up to the guy that spirals out of control and can't put his life back together.  Though sympathetic, this is not what inspires people.  People are inspired by how someone gets back up after  he/she has been knocked down over and over again.

Louis' story touched me in such a way that there is not a day that goes by that I don't think of him.  In my personal struggle, I many times have wondered why me?  The emotional pain that I have experienced has been so heartbreaking that I wonder how I can make it through another month.  Now when I have these thoughts I think of Louis.  Is my pain, emotional or physical, greater than what he experienced?  No.  When I feel like I can't endure another month, I think of Louis and how he probably wondered every month how much longer he could make it, but still did.  Surely, whatever I am experiencing is not nearly as terrible as what he faced, and he now is a happy and healthy man in his 90's that skateboards, hikes and loves his family.

After reading this book, I self reflected on my behavior and attitude.  The way I was reacting to my infertility was not inspiring.  Crying, sulking and playing the victim, these actions are not admirable.  If I never have children and spend my life acting like this,  more than likely I will not touch a single soul.  However, if  I act like Louis did in the face of adversity, maybe my story can inspire another.  Now as each month passes, I think to myself, "I can get through this month because eventually my rescue is coming too."  When I feel sad about my predicament, I think "Is this worse than a Japanese POW camp?"  Hell No.

“A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

                                                 Louis Zamperini greeting his family after being rescued.

#6 My Brother

There really is nothing better than having a sibling that is also a best friend.  I am fortunate enough to have this blessing.  Of course, we didn't always get along.  My brother and my sister used to team up against me and pick on me relentlessly.  I was the youngest child with a temper to boot, so when they would pick, I would lash out.  They of course will say that I was a brat or that I was crazy.  I say that I was defending myself against their never ending torment.  Though my brother always picked on me, I remember my sister was especially mean.  I always thought she hated me, even when I was doing nothing wrong.  When I was about twelve years old, the tides turned.  My brother will say that I had grown up and matured and that he felt our sister was really hard on me.  I say that he grew a mind of his own and was no longer under her evil spell.  All I know was that from that point on, it was Me and Grant against our older sister.  I suddenly felt redemption.

Our friendship continually progressed and never faltered.  When we both were in high school together, instead of him being embarrassed by his little sister, he was proud.  We hung out with each other's friends and we would cover for each other if one of us snuck out (I did more covering than him).  When we were both in college together, we hung out and he always called me and included me in everything he did.  He wanted to watch over me and see me happy and have a good time.  I loved hanging out with him.  I had always looked up to him and thought he was special for a big brother.  Most big brothers, I thought, would stay far away from their younger siblings, but not my big bro.  He enjoyed showing me the ropes of high school and then college.  I of course was elated that he gave me the time of day.

After college, my brother had it rough for a while.  He had to let go of his dream of being a pilot because he got married and had kids too young.  Later on he lost a lucrative paying job and then he divorced from his first wife.  Many of his hardships came from his decisions or mistakes, but I still couldn't help but feeling for him.  For a while when he was going through the bad years, we weren't as close.  I just thought that maybe that was the natural course of a sibling relationship in life, but his depression was the culprit and I wouldn't realize it until after he overcame it.  Grant picked himself back up, got a new job and found a new wife who he absolutely adores.  It should come as no surprise that his current wife and I are great friends.  He started calling me more often and asking for advice.  Our relationship had been restored.  To this day, I talk to him at least twice a week.  We give each other advice or just listen to the other vent.

When I was going through infertility, I didn't tell anyone for about three years.  I can't explain it, but infertility almost makes one feel ashamed or embarrassed.  It's not something you want to shout from the roof tops.  It is a sensitive subject and how others react can alter your mood and spirit.  My husband and I always figured that we'd eventually get pregnant and wouldn't have to tell anyone about us struggling through it.  When it wasn't going as planned, I realized I needed to tell my family.  I knew they were wondering why we weren't having kids.  The first person from my family that I told about it was my mom, followed by my brother.  He didn't say much but just listened.  I didn't expect any consoling words, because guys just aren't that good at it.  The great thing was that he just asked questions and didn't offer any words of advice. Even better, he didn't say any of the insensitive things that most of us infertiles expect to hear from someone who doesn't understand.  I felt a weight being lifted off my chest.  Even now when I tell someone new whom I trust about my infertility and they react in a way that doesn't insult me, more weight is lifted.  I can still talk to Grant about it and the conversation isn't sad or depressing, it's merely matter of fact.  One time he said, "I just won't believe that you and Nick will never have kids.  Yall are just too good of people for it to never happen."  Some people need to take advice from him on the right things to say to an infertile woman.  I have the best big brother in the world.  I am so thankful.    

"I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see.  I sought my God, but my God eluded me.  I sought my brother and I found all three." ~Author Unknown

#5 Teaching

I have been teaching for the past five years.  Currently I am not working as a full time teacher but am substituting instead.  My husband told me that this year I should take a much needed break.

Teaching full time and struggling with infertility was very difficult.  When my doctor wanted me to come in every day one week for an ultrasound at nine in the morning, it wasn't exactly easy to take off.  After I did that one week, I vowed I could never take off from work like that again.  Taking time off for a teacher is very different from other professions.  Not only are you gone from planning, organizing and grading, but you are leaving 100+ students behind to fend for themselves. Not to mention that you have to do extra the day before for being gone the next day.  It is exhausting!  So, instead of taking off, I worked my infertility appointments around my teaching schedule.  This was still very stressful and difficult.  Once when my doctor wanted to test for a thyroid problem, I had to record my temperature and heart rate three times a day.  I had to plan it during my off periods, lunch break and between classes.  I can't even count the number of days I would race to my doctor's office after school just so I could make it to get my blood drawn before the four o'clock deadline.  On top of that I was charting CM every day, all day while working.  Every chance I could make it to the bathroom, I went.  This meant booking it to the bathroom and back in the four minute passing period time between classes.  For empahsis, let me add that the bathroom was on the other side of the school, so that meant I literally ran.

When I look back at all of this, sometimes it makes me laugh because it is so ridiculous.  The things us infertiles will do to get pregnant!  Sometimes however, it makes me realize how strong I am.  Most women do not have to endure all this stress and heartache and they are lucky, don't get me wrong.  I would trade places with them in a minute, but I've learned a lot about my character in the process.  I have been knocked down so many times in this battle, but I always manage to get back up.  I endure a lot of emotional and some physical pain and I learn to get through it.  A lot of things in my life have helped me get through the hard times, but one of the things that sticks out like a sore thumb is teaching.

Unless your an exception, every woman has an innate desire for children.  A woman may want success and have ambition, but the sense of purpose is best fulfilled by having a baby.  Because really, the greatest success of all is raising a productive member of society.  For infertiles, that sense of purpose may never be fulfilled.  So then, what is our purpose in this life?  Every person has to answer that for themselves and it is up to them to seek and find it.  For me, I always felt that if I never have children, at least teaching has given me a sense of purpose.

I love kids.  I love helping kids and seeing them succeed...even if they are not my own.  I see that students crave discipline and I give it to them.  I am not a pushover and I expect a lot of out of my class.  I am there to help them when they need it and tell them to do it themselves when I know they can.  I try to encourage them and influence them in positive ways.  I give them advice and listen when they need to talk.  I try to demonstrate how to behave and to work hard.  Sure, I teach them the subject matter, but I also do so much more.  For some of my students, I know that my classroom is the only place they are learning life lessons.

Sure, sometimes it hurts to look at my students and see what I may never have, but I have to shake my head and clear that thought.  What sits before me is a classroom of kids that need me at that moment.  There were mornings that I would cry on the way to work, but rest assured as soon as I walked in that school, I was back to the upbeat teacher that they had come to expect.  Teaching not only gave me a sense of purpose in life but it gave me strength to keep going even when I didn't want to.  For that I am extremely thankful.

"A good teacher is like a candle - it consumes itself to light the way for others."  ~Author Unknown

#4 My House

I love my house.  Just thinking about my house gives me a sense of pride.  It's not the most beautiful, biggest or that up to date, but it's all mine (or I guess I should say all ours).

Since I moved out of my parents' house at the age of eighteen, I have lived in about ten different places.  Which pretty much means that I was moving about once a year!  All the places I lived were apartments or rental houses and all of them were not exactly ideal.  My first year away from home I lived in a dorm on campus that was so small that my roommate's and my bed were literally two feet apart.  We used to joke that whatever I breathed out, she breathed in and vice versa.  I was sick in that dorm about every other week.  We also lived in a rental home our junior year that somehow had a secret passage way for flying roaches to get in.  We were constantly hunting and being chased (literally) by roaches while screaming the whole time.  Our senior year, our rental apartment literally was about 10 feet from train tracks.  How I managed any sleep that year is beyond me.  Well, I take that back, because drinking and passing out makes you oblivious to all noises and environmental distractions.  Thank you Bud Light.  The last place I lived in with my husband was definitely interesting as well.  One of our neighbors broke into our apartment in the middle of the night to get away from two men that were "threatening to kill him."  The guy was so inebriated that I didn't know whether to kick him out or let him pass out on the couch.  I could go on and on.  Seriously, those are only a few out of many.  I won't even delve into the long story of how one of my apartments was hit by a car.

All of these stories now provide me with a good laugh and a reason to be thankful for my current house.  The house I live in now is ten years old.  It is not brand new.  It doesn't have granite countertops (yet) or wood floors (yet) and believe me, it has its flaws.  We had to fix so many problems in our first few weeks of moving in, my husband and I started to question our decision.  There were times that I thought Nick would have a nervous breakdown.  Every time he had to fix something, I would get tense.  I'm not sure if all husbands are like this, but when it comes to patience in DYI projects, Nick is not exactly setting the world on fire.  All in all though, we have come to be happy with our decision and are in love with our new home. Not just that, I am thankful for it.

As you all know, I've been struggling with infertility for four years and I have been living in this house for only about three months, so it hasn't been with me through the whole process.  However, the idea of it has.  All those years, one thing I would constantly fantasize about (besides getting pregnant) was owning a house.  What it would look like, the home decor, how big it would be, etc.  It gave me a little something to look forward to.  I was never sure if a baby was in our future (still not) but I knew for certain that a house would be.  It was something we had control over and if we worked hard enough, could get it one day.  Having a baby for us infertiles is so different.  There is absolutely no control, and you can bust your butt and put your body through hell and back and none of it may work.  That's is the reason why when someone who is not struggling with infertility gives a bit of advice or an antidote about perseverance or never giving up, we infertiles want to punch them in the face.  They have no idea what's it like and never will.

Right now I am sitting at my desk in the entertainment room of my house.  I have decorated my house just the way I like it.  It is cleaned spotless, just the way I like.  I still have big plans for this house as far as updating it to make it more modern but I love it in the mean time.  It is my home, my sanctuary.  I can be myself and if I am sad about infertility, can bawl my eyes out and no one would know the wiser.  If me and Nick have a screaming match and want to curse each other out, we do it, and we don't have to worry about the upstairs neighbors hearing.  I am so comfortable in this house.  It is glorious.

One day I hope to have children to fill the rooms of this house.  I currently have an entertainment room, a guest bedroom and one room that is empty, which I would love to turn into a nursery.  It may never happen, who knows.  However, if it does, at least I feel peace that I have a great and loving home.  Any baby would be lucky to grow up here.

"The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." ~ Maya Angelou

        

#3 Louisiana

Well, I am back from my labor day weekend hiatus.  I know I said I would write every day, but when I go back home, all is forgotten and I become responsibility free.  So I thought it would be very fitting to write my #3 thing I am thankful for as my home state of Louisiana.

My parents were born and raised in New Orleans and my siblings and I were all born there as well.  When I was in elementary school, my family moved from Louisiana so my Dad could find work.  From there, we lived in Mississippi, then Florida for several years and then I finished up high school in Texas.  All that time, without realizing it, I never felt at home.  It wasn't that I didn't have friends or that I wasn't happy, but something was off.  This feeling stopped when I attended LSU for college and everything made sense.  I finally felt like I was right where I belong; it was like I was tapping in to roots I had forgotten were there.  To this day, when I cross the Atchafalaya bridge, the feeling rushes back to me.

Maybe I am biased, but there is something about Louisiana that you can't get anywhere else.  I have lived in several states throughout my life, but there is no state that I have lived in yet that has the culture that Louisiana has: the food, Mardi Gras, the hospitality, the people, the music, the football, the crawfish boils, Antebellum homes, New Orleans...I could go on forever.  Louisiana undoubtedly has a culture of having a good time.  Seriously, which other state has their own holiday that they celebrate for almost a month?  If there is one, I would have to google it to realize it, but who has to google Mardi Gras?  Where else in this country can you walk down a street at twelve in the afternoon to find people drinking, laughing and listening to live music?  I bet I don't even have to tell you that the street I'm talking about is Bourbon.  I have visited many places, but not one has even near the quality of delicious cooking that Louisiana has.  It is truly a unique place and I have yet to find a place to match it.  Which leads me to explain why I am thankful for my #3.

Throughout these last four insufferable years,  I have not lived in Louisiana.  However, I visit there at least once a year.  Whether it be for Mardi Gras, to see my parents, to visit my college friends, for a family reunion, to attend a wedding or like this past weekend, for a bachelorette party, Louisiana is a great place for a vacation.  The great thing about Louisiana is not only do I feel like I can act more myself, but I forget about all my worries and my current predicament.  It takes my mind off of the situation and I can just relax and have a good time.  When I go there I am too busy shopping at the local shops, partying, eating and visiting with family and friends to think of anything else but the moment.  It is one of my biggest distractors and I am so thankful.

I love Louisiana and I am proud to call it my true home.  I have seen a decline of Louisiana in some ways in my own lifetime and this saddens me.  I was living there for Hurricane Katrina and saw the devastation it caused.  In a lot of ways, New Orleans still has not recovered.  However, despite the negative aspects of Louisiana, I really feel that they are all outweighed by the positives.  I have not lived there in years, but deep down, I know I will find my way back there eventually.

"I guess I feel that I was following my instincts, and at the same time being guided by the best. I became totally intrigued with Louisiana - the people, the food. It is a part of my life. Everything that has happened for me since moving here has just been icing on the cake."  ~Emeril Lagasse

#2: Mia (my dog)

Ok, I know what you’re thinking: “She picks a dog over the rest of her family.  She must be a crazy dog lady.”  Well I am here to tell you that I do not love my dog more than my parents or siblings.  I do not dress my dog in clothes and I will never book a photo shoot for my dog alone.  I am actually horrified when people take their dog to the pet store to take pictures with Santa.  Not that long ago, a single acquaintance of mine from high school posted pictures of a photoshoot on facebook.  All the photos were of her and her two dogs.  This actually creeps me out.  So let me explain it like this: Every day when I choose something to be thankful for, whatever I randomly choose is what I am going to focus on.  My parents may not come for twenty days or they may come tomorrow.  Today I choose Mia, my dog.  

Mia is a four year old German Shepherd and let me tell you, she is truly awesome.  My husband and I chose Mia when she was only six weeks old.  She was seriously the cutest thing I have ever seen (as far as puppies go) and seemed completely healthy.  But when Mia was three months old she almost died from parvo, an extremely deadly canine virus.  Less than 20% of dogs survive this virus.  Therefore, Mia is a fighter.  Coming out of parvo alive gave Mia a new lease on life and in return she chose to love people unconditionally.  

Let me further explain why Mia is a marvel.  Mia is a 90 pound german shepherd.  She could destroy any thing (including people) that stands in her way.  Mia will accidentally bump into me and I will bruise.  She could drag me across the yard on her leash without blinking an eye; she is that strong.  However, Mia is the most gentle and affectionate dog I have ever seen.  She has never shown signs of aggression and she is great with children. 

How does Mia relate to my infertility?  You see, I truly believe that dogs are angels.  They are one of the greatest gifts that God gave to mankind.  Like I said in my previous post,  Nick can get uncomfortable when I get emotional about infertility and he at times doesn’t feel up to talking about it.  Mia however, will always listen and never criticize.  There have been so many times that I would be crying and Mia would come up to me and lick the tears off of my face.  Sometimes she will be in another room and hear me sob.  She will come in and lay by my side of the bed.  Sometimes, she will even lay her head in my lap.  I’m not really sure if I could have gotten through these last few years without her.  She has eased some of the pain and made the void not so empty.  I completely understand the saying that dogs are man's best friend.

As a Catholic, I was taught to believe that animals do not have souls and therefore do not go to heaven.  This always bothered me because I thought of Mia and how she was more deserving of heaven than a lot of people.  A religion teacher I used to work with put me at ease.  He said, “When we pass, all aspects of our soul go to heaven if we are worthy.  Dogs do not have their own souls, but instead are an extension of their masters’ souls.  So when your time comes to pass, your dog will be with you in heaven.”  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole."  ~Roger Caras