Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Day 21

I write this at 8:30pm. On day 21. 

Day 21 of no solid food. 

My body can't process food. 
That's all I know. 
I don't know why. 
It's just painful. 
Painful. 

I literally can't even put into words where I'm at right now, mentally. 

On an island. 
In a funk. 
Not ok. 

All of these things. 

I'm not typically a "sad story" kinda girl. 
But this is ridiculous. 

Breakfast comes around 8am. Every morning. 
1/4 cup of Steel Cut oats. 
My only true meal of the day. 
It's the only good that doesn't hurt. 


Lunch is a protein shake. 

Dinner is either chicken noodle soup (hold the noodles) or a spoonful of Jif creamy peanut butter. 

I'm not kidding. 

Day 21. 
And no one other than me, is alarmed by this. 

I went to target on Tuesday. And it was a struggle. A weak. Out of breath struggle. 

It's not ok.  

Currently, my case is "under review" at UAB and the Dr's are puzzled. 

All tests return clear. 
So....there's nothing wrong?! 

It's not ok. 

So, I've tried to remain "glass half full" but at the end of today.  
I'm empty. 
I'm done. 

I can't call them one more time. To only have them say "we will call you when we know something" 

I can't have another test find, more blood drawn, and have them say "all tests are clear". 
I can't. 

It's a mental defeat. 

I'm done. 

Maybe, tomorrow will bring something. 
Anything. 

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Learning how to be a Father...



My parents divorced when I was just about to turn 2.

I have no memory of them as a couple, or the 4 of us as a family.

In a way, that's probably a good thing, because I had no devastating "oh no! My parents are getting a divorce" moment.

So, then my mom remarried, maybe about 2 years later (I am piecing the timeline together myself...this maybe completely inaccurate)

My earliest memories, are of all of us. A family of 5. I have a few blurry memories of my little brother being born, so by that time my "dad" was already in the picture.
Again, no memories pre-him.

I have a sketchy relationship with my "real dad" (such a tacky term) to say the least.
That's a whole 'nother blog post, that may never happen.

But, with my dad...(formerly referred to as "step-dad" but I dropped that term a long time ago!) I have a pretty fantastic relationship with.

He's the man that was there when I had my kidney removed at the age of 16, and I was so scared.
He was there when I went on my first date. And he told me that guy wasn't good enough.
And he wasn't.

He was there when my heart was broken.
He was there to tell me I was beautiful before Prom.
He was there when I had a flat tire. And he taught me how to change it.

He taught me to cut the grass. In rows. Or in a square.
But do it the same, so it looks good.

He taught me to be nice to my brother and sister (and if you aren't nice, he will make you kiss...and make up!)

He is the man that Scott asked if he could marry me.
He walked me down the aisle. And he beamed with pride.

He was there when my boys were born.
And he drove 10 hours (and I feel sure it only took about 8 that day) when we found out Elijah wasn't gonna make it.

He was there.
He is still here.
He is the one I could call right this second, in a pinch, and he would show up with a smile. And never ask a question.

He's a great dad.
He's the best dad.
He taught me that when I had babies, I wanted them to have a great dad, and that I should settle for nothing less than excellent.

I am thankful that he is here, to hang out with my boys.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!
Thanks for being "real" :)
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