Dads

Growing up I said I hated my father. I wonder if those words will stick with him. I sure hope not. We butted heads as I was growing up. My mum and other members of my family said that I was just like him and I hated hearing it. I've grown up a lot since then. 

I guess I started to realize shortly after I got away from my dad how truly wonderful he is. When people told me I was just like him, I didn't cringe. In fact, I took it as the great compliment that it was and is. The reason my father and I had a hard time getting along was because I am just like him. And I love that. As I look back I can now see all of the wonderful things my father did for me. I appreciate his humor and his love for a good argument. I love the way he can answer every single question on Jeopardy, but is never cocky about how smart he really is. 

It wasn't until recently that I truly understood just how incredible my father is and I am ashamed of that. While I was in the hospital and being flooded by guests, text messages and phone calls I started getting extremely overwhelmed. I didn't know how to let anyone know this and, quite frankly, I was on the verge of tears as I laid in my hospital bed just nodding and smiling an not knowing how to get rid of the overwhelming emotionally claustrophobic feeling that was suffocating me. No one noticed, which was the point. I didn't want them to. I didn't want to be rude. My dad didn't care about being rude. I doubt he would ever admit this, but he's truly a sensitive guy. He picked up on how overwhelmed I was and he stated that he was leaving making my mum and sisters leave with him because he was the driver.  He was so subtle in helping because that's what dads do. They help you without making a big deal about it. 

My dad has worked on our house for us only asking for a few beers in return. He has giving me countless rides places, protected me from as much as he possibly could, worked his ass off to give us an amazing life, showed us the value of family and love and has molded me in to the best person I could be. I have many blessings in my life and they far outweigh the regrets and I owe a lot of that to my father. 

I have so many amazing memories of him and my mother and how grossly in love they are. Now I can just laugh at all of the times he embarrassed me in front of my friends (and trust me, there were a lot of those times). I think back and realize just how much he actually shielded me and protected me. I am so very lucky to have a father like him. I know many people don't. Fathers are amazing people, but I feel like mine has an added advantage over the rest of them because he is mine and I am so thankful to have him. 

If someone today tells me I am just like my father, my heart swells with pride and a huge smile breaks out on my face and I think to myself, I sure hope so. If I'm half the person he is, I'm pretty friggen great. I love you dad and I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass my whole life. Thanks for raising me to be like you. I hope I make you proud. I'm sure you'll never read this, but if you do just know that everytime I said an unkind word against you or said I hated you I never meant it. I love you so much and I could never imagine a better father and friend than you. 

I think it's time

Time to start writing again. It has always helped me and I feel like it can continue to do so. 

Sometimes I wonder how I can be so overwhelmingly happy, yet feel like I am heading in to a world of depression all over again. I guess it's hard to understand if you aren't going through it, but sometimes I just feel out of touch with myself. Like I'm a shell. 

I try to portray this aura of confidence, but I am a total fraud. The only time I feel remotely fond of myself is when I'm hidden under make up. That's not right, is it? I should be able to like myself when I'm not hidden. 

Sometimes I wonder if there is makeup for the soul. People tell me I'm a good person, but it's hard to believe it. I don't feel like a good person. I feel guilty for things I can't control or things that I shouldn't feel guilty about. Maybe people are seeing my made up soul. Maybe I really am a horrid person and that's where all of these guilty feelings come from. I don't really have any of the answers. I don't think anyone does. 

I am a slacker.

I know I have been exceptionally bad at keeping up with my blog. I have been having trouble sitting down and finding time to write. There is always something to be done, and always somewhere to go. Every year around my birthday I like to reflect on the previous year. The good, the bad, the indifferent.

Social media has given me a way to make this easier. I can just go to my Facebook page and scroll through all of my thoughts that I felt were so important to share to the masses. This year has been a roller coaster ride of a year. I have lost people who I love, made some exceptional friends, created a miracle and saw the best and worst of humanity.

It is weird to think that my 26th year is going to be a year that I reflect on often, but I know that it will be. When I look back on my life in 25 years I know that this year has been one of the most significant years in my life. This year has forced me to realize who I am. There are things about me  that I need to work on, but there are also some really great things about me. Over this past year I have realized what is really important and how fragile and precious life truly is. There were moments of incredible sadness, and moments of greatest joys.

I would like to think that there is a balance in life, but I know that isn't true. Maybe on a grand scale it is, but certainly not on an individual level. I don't pretend to know the mysteries of the world or why things are the way that they are, but I do know that the connections we make, we make for a reason. Whether someone walks in to your life for a moment or for a life time cherish them. Each life has the ability to make an impact on your life and it does not matter how big or small that person is, what does matter is how they change your heart.

Betrayed

In my life, I have felt betrayed many many times. But this is the worst. I felt betrayed by my very own body when I failed to be able to do the one thing a woman should be able to do, but there are ways around that. That doesn't make that feeling go away, though. Now as I lay here restless and unknowing I feel like I am being betrayed by a higher power. Why put me through this? 

I feel like a failure as a mother. I feel like I am being punished for something. I was granted this wonderful miracle and now I'm not sure what his fate is. I am angry, and scared, and feel abandoned. Each moment I spend trying to be positive only to have that moment ripped away by more and more doubt. 

I honestly don't know how to get by. The uncertainty is the worst. Mostly because it makes me feel like I am dooming myself and my baby in to a worst case situation. Maybe everything is fine and he  is just stubborn and wants attention. Each reassuring moment I give myself, I take away just as quickly as it comes.

Not everyone goes in to have a fetal MRI done. This isn't a standard practice. But how could something be wrong with the absolutely perfect baby that I have seen and felt inside of me? He is beautiful and strong and I swear he has his father's nose. He is my perfect baby and there is no possible way that I could love him any more than I do. Haven't I earned the right to meet him? Don't I deserve a happy ending? Doesn't he deserve a chance? Doesn't Alan deserve his special father son times? 

I am so scared. I want answers, but I'm also terrified at what those answers could bring. 

Awareness

This post has been particularly hard to write and I am not sure why. I have no problem talking about infertility in real life to people, but for whatever reason it is hard for me to sit and write all of the things I want to say.

Awareness isn't about making people feel badly or guilty that they can get pregnant easier than some. It is about educating people about infertility and to try to get them to realize how hurtful people can be, the pain that comes along with this disease, and how much goes in to the process. It's true that my journey pales in comparison to others, but I feel that I have been able to learn from my journey and can better support my friends who are still struggling. 

Support shouldn't be that hard. For whatever reason people feel like they can ask you about the state of your uterus and have it be ok. I don't know what it is about babies that make people think there are no boundaries. The generation before ours didn't discuss anything. So many things were taboo. I'm happy to be part of the generation that is changing that, even if it is for selfish reasons. 

In a way being open about our struggle has been a way to save myself from the questions and unsolicited advice everyone seems to have. Society gives you one year. One year from the day you say I do to the day that you announce being pregnant. You may get a three month grace period, but after that people are antsy. Then the comments start. The. The questions start. Then the anger and sadness start. 

People don't know how to respond when you say that you are struggling with infertility, and honestly, it is a hard subject to talk about when you don't know what it is like to go through it. The simple answer is you can say, "I am so sorry that you are going through this. I am here if you ever need to talk." It is nice to know that someone cares and wants to be there for you. Hugs are always welcome and a bit of understanding can go a long way. 

Coming Together

The events that occurred on Monday were horrific. Horrific isn't a strong enough word, but I don't know a strong enough word to use. They filled a community with fear, which I suppose was the intent. It takes a truly cowardly person or group to do what this person or people has done. It disgusts me to my very core and makes me afraid to live in a society where I have to fear walking down the street or attending a public event.

I mourn for the loss of life and for those who were injured. Many have lost their limbs not to mention the emotional damage done to the people who were first hand witnesses to this tragic event. Life was stolen because of an act of terrorism. We may not know who is responsible for this heinous act, but I have faith that the authorities will track them down. The anger and terror that filled me when I found out what was happening in my beloved city was more than I could process.

A quote on a building in New York said the following: "Darkness can not drive out darkness, only light can do that." Whoever said that is right. Boston will not get through this by being angry and allowing hate to take over. Boston has not done that. The phrase "Boston Strong" has been going around. It is true. There is a strength in this community unlike any I have ever heard about. We are a bunch of sarcastic pricks that can band together and support each other the moment after we just called someone an asshole. We are one huge dysfunctional family, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Tonight we are a community starting to heal. I had a hard time making a decision of whether or not I wanted to go in to town and go to the Bruins game. I felt afraid, which didn't sit right with me. I have never been afraid of my city. After much deliberation, I decided that me not going to the game would do nothing except give the power to the person or people responsible. When I realized that I knew there was no way I would not be attending that game.

Walking in to the Garden tonight was a bit eerie with all of the security. I was unsure what was going to happen before the game, but I knew I was in for an emotional night. As the crowds filled the stands and the lights dimmed two support ribbons were displayed on the ice with the words "Boston Strong" on them. After a moment of silence a video was displayed to pay tribute to those we lost and those who were injured and to thank those people who in a moment of panic stayed to help instead of running to safety. Tears streamed down my face as I watched footage of a cowardice act and the aftermath of a community banding together to help the wounded.

What happened next is something I have a hard time putting to words. It was time for the National Anthem the black carpet was rolled out and Rene Rancourt was followed by the Honor Guard for the first responders. As Rene started to sing the beloved song of our country, something amazing happened. The crowd joined in. Not just a few, but the whole arena will with 17,500+ people. As we sung out the words written years before any of us existed they brought a new meaning. My eyes filled with tears once more as I sang out loud and proud the lyrics that represent my country.

I have cried several times in that building. Sometimes it is because of a needed win, sometimes it is because of a devastating loss, and sometimes it is even because of a strong sense of frustration. Tonight's tears were different. At first they were tears shed over lives lost and even some of those tears were selfish tears representing the fear that was inside of me, then those tears changed. I went in to town tonight filled with terror, but in that moment when I sang the Anthem with my community I felt safe for the first time since Monday. Not because I felt there was no longer a threat, but because in that moment I felt the strength of my community. 

Tonight wasn't about a game being played, nor was it about who won or lost because years from now the stats won't matter. Tonight was about a community removing their cloak of fear, showing their strength, and banding together. Tonight was about proving that we are as tough as we always knew we were and, although, we are forever changed and will never forget, we have chosen to move forward together supporting one another and building ourselves back up. The fear is still present, but it is no longer paralyzing.
  
"Darkness can not drive out darkness, only light can do that."

Tragedy

Most of you know about the horrors that occurred yesterday in Boston. At this point in time I honestly can not process the information enough to get understandable sentences down on a page. Boston needs prayers and more specifically the innocent victims need prayers.