Goodbye, 20's

Mommy post again?! Whatever, I'm mommy and I can do what I want.

I'm 30 now.

Sigh.

No, really, it's ok. I'm not that girl that is all omg I'm 30 eww that's so old and gross blargh. Actually, quite the contrary- I'm looking forward to my 30's and all that these next ten years may bring. I've heard they are the best years of life, and I'm determined to make them that way. Yeah, you heard me, 30's- I ain't scared of you.

So, being the forever nostalgic person that I am, I began reflecting on my 20's and realized how much actually transpired in these past ten years. They are the foundational years of my adulthood and somehow, I not only survived, but I learned things that some people don't learn in their entire lives. For that I am grateful. The struggles and the hardships taught me a lot about life, myself, and what I want and need.

20's recap begin.

I began my 20's in a bad, dark place. I was fighting some enormous demons with a monkey on my back. This was my make-or-break moment, at such a young age. I was either going to succumb to the monkey, or pull myself up by the bootstraps and forge on.  I decided it was time to stop being a dumbass and somehow managed to get myself on the right path. Whew, that was close. And it was that fighting spirit, that inner desire to be and do better, that helped me through the rest of my tough times. My first name means "warrior" in Gaelic and there couldn't possibly be a better name for me. Unless there's a Gaelic name that means "so small she looks like a child, but with the fighting spirit of a pissed off Marine."

I had my very first surgery this year, for a rogue and stubborn lymph node. It was my first big health scare, as the doctor mentioned testing me for lymphoma. Luckily all was well and the surgery corrected the issue. I finished up year 20 as a student at USF and working full-time in a jewelry store. It was this year that I met the man that would become my husband. No traveling at the age of 20, though.

21 then arrived. Along with being able to legally drink while looking like a 12-year-old (goodness my ID was scrutinized by a bartender on more than one occasion), I also graduated with my bachelor's degree and began working in an adult mental health facility. I have some great stories, believe me. I very quickly learned how to command an audience and be assertive... ever try to lead a life skills group in a room full of very large adults having active hallucinations? It's great fun, trust me.

I also bought my first house that year. While most of my peers were partying and living the sorority life during their senior year of college, I was buying a house and planning a wedding. Real adult stuff, and I felt mega mature for it. 21 was also the year of my first plane flight, to New York, and later flew to Chicago.

22 was the year I got married. In retrospect, I was way too young. I didn't know myself yet- I had just fought off my demons 2 years prior and was still in the process of healing and self-discovery. Another lesson learned the hard way. But I was happy, and ready to spend the rest of my life with one person, for better or for worse. Rose-colored glasses, sigh.

It was also the year that I began my career in child welfare, having no idea what I was getting myself into, or that I'm one of the few "chosen ones" that can actually succeed in this field and make a difference. As I left my job in adult mental health, a few people very bluntly told me that I wouldn't make it in the field, because they had tried and failed or knew people who tried and failed, saying "good luck, but you'll be back." And here I am, almost 8 years later and a couple rungs higher on the ladder and still going strong. Sometimes others' doubt is the best fuel for ambition.

About two months after my wedding and one month after starting my career, I began having excrutiating pain during my period that was pretty textbook for endometriosis. My doctor didn't hesitate to send me to surgery to officially diagnose and hopefully treat it. Diagnosis confirmed- I was sentenced to a life of pain, yay me. About two weeks after my surgery was when we were hit by a drunk driver, totaling our car, yay. Travel this year: Jamaica, and it was splendid.

23 was mostly uneventful. We did some traveling... I believe it was the year we first went to Virginia and Washington DC. My first subway/metro experience woop.

24. Oh boy... this is when my life really began the rollercoaster ride that led me to where I am today. We decided it was time to start a family, which was a big, fat fail. I quickly figured out that my reproductive system was a hot mess, and learned the true meaning of desperation and hopelessness. Infertility rocks you to your core, and it was my first lesson in mourning the loss of a possible future. There were many days that I thought I'd never throw a first birthday party for my own child, and it was an extremely painful situation to endure. And lonely. As friend after friend announced pregnancies and popped out gorgeous, squishy babies, I sat on my bathroom floor staring at yet another negative ovulation/pregnancy test, wondering if I'd ever be a mother. It was a cruel irony... the first of many. I was the motherly kind, and wanted nothing more than to have a handful of children, but there I was with an empty womb and a sad heart. To add insult to injury, I was constantly bombarded with statements like "just relax. You're too stressed about it and you won't get pregnant if you're stressed" and "just start the adoption process and you'll get pregnant. It happens all the time" or "don't think about it. Pretend you don't want a baby and then you'll get pregnant." Augh. To distract myself from the frustration (and to "relax" as everyone suggested was the magic ingredient for fertility), I traveled a lot. Las Vegas, North Carolina, St. Augustine, Orlando, the Florida Keys, Jamaica again.

25... I started my 25th year feeling desperate and hopeless, and questioning my life path. I was unhappy with my career (I took a job transfer from child welfare to children's mental health BAD IDEA) and wondering where I should go next. I began feeling like my life wouldn't involve pregnancy or having children of my own, and my then-husband wasn't fond of the idea of adopting. When my fertility doctor suggested we start using injectable hormones to help me get pregnant, we discussed other options and decided on a surgery to clean out my endometriosis and burn holes into my stubborn ovaries with lasers. Yummy. A few weeks after surgery, I was off on another trip to Jamaica. I also returned to child welfare, this time in adoptions. A couple months later, something new happened... I ovulated on my own. I called the doctor, because I was on a self-imposed hiatus from fertility treatments (partially due to a lapse in health insurance from starting my new job) and the stars aligned just right. My health insurance kicked in sooner than expected because of a loophole, and I was prescribed another round of fertility meds.

I will never forget December 20, 2011. I set my last pregnancy test on the bathroom counter and hopped into the shower, thinking to myself "it's not going to be positive. Don't get your hopes up, KT. You're gonna have to order more tests too." I got out of the shower, and there it was. A faint second line on the test strip. I had peed on enough of those tests already to know that this was, indeed, a positive result. I wrapped a towel around me, and ran into the bedroom crying and telling my half-asleep husband that I was pregnant. And I was. I was gloriously, wonderfully pregnant. I spent the next few months proudly sporting my sea bands and fighting off waves of nausea, while giving off the pregnant woman glow and slowly watching my face puff up like a marshmallow in the microwave. So adorbs.

Shortly before my 26th birthday, a routine trip to the OB would send my life into a complete tailspin. The ultrasound showed that there was less than a centimeter of cervix separating my miracle baby from the world, so off I went to the hospital "to be monitored for a couple of days."

I celebrated my 26th birthday in the hospital, and was visited by my family who brought gifts and flowers. I was 29 weeks pregnant, and being pumped full of drugs to keep me from delivering my tiny baby girl. I lived in that hospital for 28 days until I delivered a beautiful, tiny, 4lb 5oz fighter. I shed many tears of joy and fear (hormones ugh) in the 23 days of NICU life that followed. Then she was discharged, and our family was complete. Mommy, Daddy, the dog, and the plug-in baby.  Being a first-time mom with a sick preemie was the most stressful event of my young life. I can't even begin to describe the feeling of holding a 5lb baby who stops breathing and turns blue right there in your arms. That baby girl and I both fought hard that year, and it was worth it.

27... I was a new mom who had just bought my second house and gotten a promotion at work. My days were crazy. I'd wake up in the morning, get myself ready, get the baby ready, feed the baby, and take the baby to relatives for the day. I'd drive to work, and my days would be so hectic and crazy that I wouldn't even have time to eat or pee. The amount of stress and pressure at work was indescribable and on top of all of that, I didn't feel appreciated for my efforts. I'd then pick up the baby, bring her home, feed her, bathe her, and put her in bed. Then sit at the table by myself, eating a cold dinner. Mom life. This is when my marriage began falling apart, sadly.  But it was also the year that I celebrated my miracle child's first birthday, which was a dream come true.

I decided it was time to get back on birth control, because my hormones were getting the best of me. What I thought would be a simple trip to the doctor to get a prescription turned into being scheduled for a biopsy. The results were not good, and I was sent for a surgical biopsy. For once, I had good faith that things would be fine and walked into my post-op appointment feeling pretty well. My doctor let me know that my margins were not clear, and there were still cancer cells in my body. She discussed options, as I sat there numbly listening to her say things like "oncologist" "cancer" and "remission." The next few months consisted of doctor's appointments, getting familiar with the cancer center, blood work like crazy, a trip to the ER, traumatic surgery complications, and having a hysterectomy 3 days before my 28th birthday.

I started out year 28 uterus-free and loopy as hell from pain meds. And on my 28th birthday, I got the call from the oncologist saying they were confident that there was no remaining disease and that I had been cured. Best birthday present ever. Two weeks later, however, I began to bleed and a failed attempt at patching the leak sent me into an episode of traumatic bleeding. I was taken back to the cancer center where I began going into shock and remained there for a couple days until I stabilized and was sent home, exhausted and weak. But I survived, although I was significantly traumatized by the events.

My health gradually improved as my relationship with my husband began to worsen. My health scare was very eye-opening for me in many ways, and some of those ways weren't so good. Then I found out I was being cheated on, and my world slowly began to crumble around me.

I spent the majority of my 28th year of life clinging to and trying to salvage my marriage for the sake of my daughter. But at the same time, I also resolved to focus on my own happiness for once. I was tired of being a neglected wife and pouring my energy into someone else's happiness at the expense of my own. I also spent the year being mommy to one very feisty, wickedly smart, sassy little two-year-old who stole my heart every time she looked at me with those enormous blue eyes.

I got another promotion during this year, which sent me to work more than 35 miles from home, but the decrease in stress was well worth the extra drive time. We put kiddo in daycare and while our schedules changed dramatically, my sanity was finally restored. This was also the year that I experienced my first ever child death at work. It rocked me to my core... a decision that I made on a case (it was the right decision, and the state agreed and no one was found to be responsible for her death other than the man who murdered her) resulted in a child being killed. I questioned my career, I worried I'd get fired, and I was mourning the loss of an innocent child and her innocent grandmother. But I learned a lot through that experience, and it strengthened my resolve to continue working in this thankless field, despite the nasty backlash from people wanting to have a pity party in the media. 

My 29th birthday was my last one with an intact family, although I didn't know it at the time. I spent the next few months giving one final effort, until we inevitably separated. The heartache that followed was indescribable and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Divorce sucks. I sold my dream home and threw away my wedding mementos (ugly cry). I split my belongings in half and packed up what was mine, and moved into my tiny apartment. It was the second cruel irony of my life- I put my foot down and asked the man who promised me "forever" to be a better person. And he decided to do that... without me. For someone else. So the world would gain a better member of society, while I lost the life and future I had planned.

29 was the worst year of my life. One of my lowest points happened in February of 2016. I sat in my doctor's office waiting to explain to the doctor how I hadn't been able to feel half of my face since October, and after lots of testing, the neurologist concluded that severe stress had been affecting my nerve function. I checked my email in the waiting room, and found out that we finally had an offer on our home. I was initially excited, then stressed, then devastated, as I realized that my former life was really and truly coming to an end. I called my mom on my way to work from the doctor, and explained the stressful situation that was unfolding because of some unnecessary arguing about the sale of the house with my ex. After consoling me, my mom gave me the absolute worst news I've ever heard in my life. My dad had melanoma. Time paused, as my car went silent and more than just my face became numb. My mom reassured me that everything was going to be fine, and every bit of strength I had exited my body. I wanted to be strong, but I couldn't. I've always been strong in those situations, but I just couldn't. Not that day. Not that situation. I hung up the phone and sat in my car sobbing and trying to regain my composure enough to walk into my office. I felt like my life was crumbling around me... I was losing my husband, half of my child, my dream home, my financial stability, my future, and possibly even my father (my dad ended up having a very successful surgery and is healthy now. We are waiting to see what the next step is, but he is currently cancer-free. There was such an enormous sense of relief after we got his final pathology results and found out that his sentinel lymph nodes were clear... my father is one of the most important people in my life and the thought of losing him was absolutely devastating to me. It still puts a lump in my throat when I think about it). My friends and family banded around me during that time, knowing that I was climbing a mountain and just needed to make it through those few months so I could start to rebuild. I wanted nothing more than for my dad to be healthy, and be around to see me succeed again.

The months that followed were not good. I was very emotional and the struggles consumed me. I was not myself. I was an ugly, angry, hurt version of my worst self who said and did things that I'd never dream of doing on a normal day. But I kept reminding myself that the fog would lift, and that I couldn't give up. I repeated my mantra: "I will not roll over and wait to die." I was going to make it through.

I completely started over just before my 30th birthday.  29 was not pretty. 29 was ugly, and sad, and devastating.

But somehow, I pulled up the nose at the very last minute. The fog lifted as I had hoped it would, and I began to heal from the hurt and disappointment. I went through the motions... I was sad, I was angry, I was confused, and I was hurt. I let myself feel, I let myself process, and I let myself repair the damage that had been done. And finally, I was successful.

It felt like the sun rising after a long, dark night. As it crests over the horizon, you once again become aware of the beautiful things that were masked by the darkness.

The anger dissipated and the acceptance set in. The weight on my shoulders lightened. It didn't break me, though for a while I worried that it did. The hurt in my heart was being replaced with the love that surrounded me during my worst time... 

I spent my 30th birthday smiling. I spent time with my daughter, my wonderful boyfriend, and finished the night with a surprise party with a bunch of my friends. I was happy and felt loved.

And here I am now, 30 years old, and starting over.

But I learned so much in my 20's, and I am so grateful for the ability to fight through the struggles and learn from them, instead of letting them destroy me and make me into a bitter, negative person.

I learned that things don't matter; people matter. It sounds simple and pretty obvious, but I had to learn that one the hard way. Looking back, I was filling an emotional void with tangible items. The less I felt loved in my marriage, the more I tried to make myself happy with possessions. The real happiness came when I stopped putting my value in my things, and put more of my time and energy into my relationships with the people around me. It came at a difficult time, when some of the people in my life decided to make a prompt exit upon hearing the news of my pending divorce, but I still decided to rest my head on love and trust. I have an amazing support system and a wonderful group of friends, and a family that is always there for me no matter what. I'm closer to all of those people than I've ever been. Some of them saw me at my absolute worst, and chose to stick around. They chose to support me and love me despite the ugliness and I learned that those people are the ones I want and need in my life.

I learned that I'm strong. I'm damned strong. I pulled through some seriously difficult times and didn't let anything defeat me. I lost some battles, and I had plenty of moments of losing my cool, but I always rebounded and am back to my normal happy-go-lucky self. I have never let circumstances destroy me.

I learned that I can make some pretty stupid decisions. And I am lucky to be where I'm at today. I learned to listen... if something doesn't seem right, or everyone around me is warning me about something... then I should proceed with caution, or not proceed at all.

I learned that I'm worth it. But that didn't come until very, very recently. I spent years of my life feeling unimportant and undervalued, and ironically, my attempt to correct that only made it worse. When I asked for better, I was told that it wasn't possible. And then he was gone, in the arms of another woman. My friends, my therapist, my family- everyone- told me that it had nothing to do with my own worth. That this other woman wasn't worth more than me. But I didn't believe them for a long time... I wondered what was so broken and wrong about me. I thought of all of my struggles, my pain, my hysterectomy, the physical and emotional scars... and I felt worthless. Briefly. Somehow, the constant message being pounded into my head by others saying "you're worth it. You're beautiful and strong, and you'll be fine" sank in and I started to believe it. And I do believe it. My worth is not determined by my divorce. I'm not a failure. I'm not broken. I'm not half of  a person. I'm a whole person who is really (pardon my colorful language) fucking strong and valuable. I'm a damned good mother, a successful professional, and I was a damned good wife. And now I'm a damned good girlfriend. I have worth. I know my worth, and that's not me being conceited. That's me knowing that I have value. That I'm not perfect, but I'm good enough. I stumble some days, and  I question all of that. But overall, I know it to be true.

I am finding myself now. I am remembering how I'd much rather be outside than inside. I have urges to climb trees, and those urges are quickly dampened by my fear of spiders. I am spunky and sarcastic, but sometimes sensitive. I just want everyone around me to be happy and often times feel far too responsible for that. If I feel I've failed at making someone I love happy, a part of me crumbles temporarily. I'm working on that. I'm a peacekeeper. I curse a lot around people who are ok with it. I have a terrible sense of humor and love to laugh as often as possible. I don't like being around people with a poor sense of humor because they ruin my vibe. I hate running, but I do it, and am starting to love it (curses!). I don't watch a lot of TV and can never remember a single second of any movie I've ever watched, which is not very many. I procrastinate so, so badly. I like sleeping in and napping. I also like doing yoga and weight training, and love trail running and hiking. I want to climb mountains, and swim in oceans and lakes, walk along train tracks, go on road trips, drink all the beers, and take lots of pictures. I need to be appreciated. Some people don't need that, but I thrive on it. I hide my pain from the world (physical and emotional) because I'd rather not show weakness, and I'd rather not have the sympathy. I need to love fiercely and be loved fiercely. 

And I am a mom. It's not all that I am, but it's most of it. Bringing a little life into this world has been the most amazing, magical, chaotic thing I've ever done. I've read all the mommy blogs and articles and know about sleep regressions and developmental stages and teething. But what I didn't know... was what it feels like to know another being on that level. I know everything about her. Everything. I know where her moles are (omg so cute, I die) and the exact shade of her eyes. I know the phrases she uses, what makes her happy, and all of her fears. I can tell how she feels by her posture and by the twinkle (or lack thereof) in her eyes. I know how she likes her waffles made. I'm not a perfect mother, and I never will be. But she's taught me so much in her 4 short years on this earth. I can only hope to be the best mother I can possibly be and to give her the best childhood she could possibly have. She is absolutely the center of my whole universe and always will be; there will never be another person more important to me than her.

So there we have it, folks. My soap opera of adulthood, crammed into a novel-esque blog post for the world to read. I don't know what the next ten years will bring, but I hope they're more stable than my 20's. Please, be more stable than my 20's.

All the Single Mothers

All the single mothers (all the single mothers)... now put your hands UP. (I can't dance like Beyoncé. And if I tried, someone would likely call 911 thinking I was having a seizure, and you're welcome for the visual)

I'll never forget this Mother's Day. It's being added to the list of "Mother's Days that are etched into my darned photographic memory". But it's for good reasons.

Duh, of course this would be added to the list. It's a monumental Mother's Day- my first as a single mom. Future me will always remember this day, for various reasons. It was a pretty epic Mother's Day, and not because I got to sleep past 7:30am and have breakfast served to me in bed, followed by spending the whole day in bed watching trashy TV and smiling like a creep at all the mushy facebook posts about moms. Nope. Those Mother's Days are a thing of the past for me. This year was epic for the opposite reason. I stumbled out of bed at 7:20am to the sound of "mooooooommy. Mooooooommy." coming from the baby monitor. I crawled into her bed with her, and reminded her that it's Mother's Day (you silly 3-year old, now go make mommy some pancakes and start the laundry!). I asked for a cuddle, and she gladly laid her sweet little head on my chest and said "I saved this cuddle for you for mother's day. I love you so much." As I completely melted into a metaphorical puddle of goo, she then said "now can I go play with play-doh?" Yep, have at it kid... and here, let me open up the new play-doh I bought yesterday with my hard-earned garage sale money. I kissed her sweet little face, and told her I'd sit and play with her once I was finished making some elixir of life (coffee). We played with play doh, then she ate some breakfast. Halfway through breakfast was potty time, the time when we are both reminded that no matter how much control she has over my daily routine and how much she thinks she is independent and can do whatever she wants, she still needs me to wipe her bottom for her. Wash hands, return to breakfast. Well, SHE had breakfast while I cleaned up the kitchen. Then I asked her to play by herself while I showered.

My child is not usually that child that must interrupt my time behind closed bathroom doors. She usually leaves me alone... except on Mother's Day, when there's this VERY WELL KNOWN memo about how moms are supposed to pee and shower in peace for just one day. Apparently she has things backwards and gives me bathroom peace every other flippin day of the year except for Mother's Day, when she decided she absolutely needed to shove a peppermint lifesaver under the door while I was peeing. But then, she needed to reclaim her peppermint, so her tiny fingers appeared and swept it away. I was laughing hard enough already, but when I opened the door, I was glad my bladder was already empty, as she sat there wearing her pajamas and sunglasses on the floor. I died. She's too cute.

I did then enjoy a peaceful shower, put on my face, and quickly got us ready to get out the door. I ate a no-longer-warm bagel in the car on the way to get some special Mother's Day photos done. It was the perfect way to spend the morning, and now we'll have some absolutely amazing photos to remember this day. Complete perfection.

Then we started our tradition of delivering flowers to the grandmas. First stop: Grammy's work. Second stop: grandma and grandpa's house. Where she refused to eat a happy meal, had an emotional breakdown about taking a nap until grandma busted out the big stuffed polar bear and mommy ended up lying in bed next to her until she fell asleep, and then spent the afternoon keeping her grandparents young. On the way home, we had an impromptu Frozen sing-a-long, then played the rhyming game. When we got home, she went to play in her room while I made dinner. I threw out my back moving my mini-fridge out of my kitchen. She announced from her doorway "I'm gonna close my door so I don't hear your noise" because me making dinner was getting in the way of her ipad watching time. Then she sat down and ate a quarter of a hot dog, some corn, and half of a hot dog bun while watching "Blue's Clues" Birthday episode for like the third time this weekend. I went to grab her plate from her, thinking she was finished, to which she replied "I'm not, beautiful girl" and had a few more bites of the bun while one of her arms was wrapped around my waist. Gooey insides. Then it was bath time, which was uneventful, aside from her putting a washcloth over my hand "to keep you safe from the monsters because I love you so much." Then as I was drying her off, a cockroach crawled out from under her bath mat about a foot away from us. I shuffled her off to the side, then sprayed the hell out of the bug with kitchen cleaner until it scurried away and died in very underwhelming fashion next to the toilet. The child asked if I was going to clean it up and I said "I will... later. Now brush your teeth" which actually means "it's going to stay right there next to the toilet until my boyfriend comes over and takes care of it and until then we aren't going to use this bathroom for anything else in case it comes back to life as a roach zombie." And scene.

I tucked her into bed tonight, my heart full and happy. We had our moments, of course, because she's 3 and can't control herself. And I'm a mom and I get frustrated. And then ten seconds later we're cuddling and laughing again because we love each other and she's pretty wonderful like that. But at the end of the day, I'm grateful that I get to call her my daughter. She's astonishing.

5 years ago, I cried myself to sleep on Mother's Day. I sifted through my Facebook feed of happy moms with sweet little babies, pregnancy announcements, happy families... and thought, why not me? All I ever wanted was a family of my own, and there I was, with recent punctures in my veins from various blood tests and an empty bottle of fertility medications but no baby in my arms or my belly. I didn't know if I'd ever have a child of my own, and ever get to celebrate Mother's Day in the way I had always dreamed.

So today was incredible. It was busy, and noisy, and messy, and frustrating, and hilarious, and sweet, and exhausting. My back is killing me, my head hurts, and I'm pretty sure I forgot to take my blood pressure medications today. But hey, my hotdog was still warm when I sat down to eat it.  It was the best Mother's Day ever, because I got to be a mother. Maybe one day I'll have another "day off" on Mother's Day but... maybe not. I have every other week of not being a mother, so really, I don't even need a day "off." I need my days "on." They are the best.

There's another reason I'll remember this day...
I will cling tightly to the feeling I had deep in my chest last night when I rounded the corner towards my kitchen and saw two gorgeous mason jars sitting on the counter, each filled with bright wildflowers. And I'll remember how that feeling intensified as I listened to the story of how someone I admire so much put the whole thing together, from thinking of me when he saw a blue mason jar at work, to driving his truck around to different spots to pick the various colors of flowers he knew I loved. That feeling... of being important, and cherished, and loved in a way that I had never felt before... I'll never forget it. And I'll never settle for someone who doesn't make me feel that way. Future self, please don't settle for less than that.

I'll also remember it for how empowered I feel. Disclaimer: I sometimes feel awkward calling myself a "single mom." I almost feel like I don't belong in the club, because I didn't "earn" my wings. When my marriage ended, I walked away with a little cash (not much), a reliable car, enough furniture, and the means with which to start over. I have a degree and a stable career. I, in no way, had to pull myself out of a giant hole to get here. I had a good start. But so far, I'm kind of rocking it. I learned that I'm really good with money and budgeting, to the point that my savings account is growing before my eyes. I'm living a simple, yet happy life. I have enough, and nothing in excess. I'm not at all struggling with my parenting... in fact, I feel like an even better parent now than I was before. I've dealt with sickness, and vomit, and middle-of-the-night thunderstorms, mornings that started way too early, temper tantrums that my whole building could probably hear, and lots of messes that I was too tired to clean. But I'm alive and none of that has brought me to anywhere near my breaking point. In fact, I haven't even had an "I can't do this" moment. Somehow I manage to keep this household running ALL BY MYSELF. I don't get handouts. I really don't get much help with anything, because I don't need it. I got this. I have support, of course, and plenty of people who encourage me and keep me going. But I am largely doing this on my own and I feel so empowered by it. I worried how I'd take on all of the responsibilities that were previously handled by my ex, like the finances and some of the chores that he would do, in addition to everything I already did and working full-time too. I still hate doing dishes, but I do them. I make dinner for me and the kiddo every night, and I carve out some "me" time every week. I soak up the solitude and reflect, and generally feel very fulfilled and happy. On the weeks that I don't have my child, I stay busy with running, hiking, camping, and cooking fancy meals and getting my apartment cleaned and organized and ready for another hectic week of motherhood. Rinse, repeat.

So here I am. On this Single Mother's Day... sore and tired, but so very happy.

Dear Threenager Emma

Dear Little Threenager Emma,

It's been a while since I've written you a letter, or written a blog post disguised as a letter. You're three (and 3/4 holycrap) now and I can't wrap my brain around how we got here. This is when I should say "it feels like just yesterday that you were a gurgling, squishy blob drooling on my arm while I rocked you to sleep" but honestly... baby Emma feels like a distant memory to me. Probably because my days are so filled with handling threenager Emma that I don't have time to have a memory anymore.

I'll get the mushy stuff out of the way first.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for every bit of sorrow you'll feel in your heart, for every tear you will shed, for every moment you will wish things were different in your life, and for every question you may have as a result of your father and I getting a divorce. I'm sorry that we couldn't work things out to be a family. It is not what I wanted for your life, and I will always feel immense guilt for not being able to save our family. But know that, for every ounce of guilt and sorrow I feel, I am that much more determined to give you the best life possible, whether that includes a stepfather for you or not. It could be just you and I against the world forever, and I'm ok with that. I hope that I can at least show you what a healthy relationship is like, and I hope that you will strive to one day find a man of your own (when you're 35! Sorry) who treats you the way you see me being treated. Or I hope that you grow up knowing that a man does not make a strong woman and that you don't need another person in your life to be happy. That YOU are your source of happiness, and maybe one day you'll meet a man (ok, or a woman, it's not 1960 anymore) that will want to share that happiness with you and enhance it. But no matter what, my goal is for there to never be a day in your life that you question how important you are to me. I want you to always know that you are my #1 priority in life, above everyone and everything else. You deserve that. There will never be a friend, a man... anyone, who will mean more to me than you. And I want you to look back on your childhood with fondness in your heart and know that you had the absolute best childhood ever. We probably won't be jet-setting across the world, but I hope you can recall wonderful memories of campfire marshmallows, movies on the couch, and snuggles under the covers while it rains. I hope you'll be close to all of your family members, and that you'll get to spend as much time as possible with people who love you. Those are the important things in life.


I want you to always remember that I love you more than absolutely anything that has ever existed in the universe. Kid, you're pretty freaking awesome, even when you're driving me crazy. You do that a lot these days, but it's the good kind of crazy. It's the kind of crazy that makes me drink a beer after you go to bed, or gently suggest you sit with your ipad and turn into a YouTube zombie for a bit so I can breathe. It's the kind of crazy that leaves me exhausted at night, as I climb into bed and smile when I think about the ridiculous and adorable things you did that day.

You taught me a very valuable lesson recently... as I was figuring out where we were going to live, I had a few choices. One of those choices would have enabled you to have a playroom, like you had in our old house. But it would have really pushed my limits budget-wise. I decided that the smarter thing to do would be to get the apartment we currently live in (the "princess castle" as we call it these days), although it's small and there's no playroom. I worried you'd be upset about not having that extra space for all of your toys, especially coming from having an entire wing of our old house that was practically yours. And now I couldn't even fit half of your toys into this space. Deep sigh. We've been in this apartment for a month and a half now, and you've never complained for a second. In fact, you love this apartment. You were actually pretty excited about the fact that your bedroom is also your playroom and you seem to have not noticed the lack of space to stretch out and play with your toys. You don't care. You're just happy to be here with me, and happy to have toys to play with.

Big, dramatic facepalm of shame. Of course you don't care about the size of this apartment or the lack of playroom space. You're three. Your day is complete if you've been able to smash playdoh into places it shouldn't go and parade around in some kind of dress-up outfit. Added benefit: less space for you to misplace your Elmo. As we've settled into this little home, I've realized that the stuff doesn't matter. It's the people, and the time, and the memories. Thanks, kid. I needed to learn that.

My Emma, you amaze me. I guess you're supposed to, since you're my child and all, but you really do. Recently, I was checking your body for moles (add that to the list of "weird things moms do" because the little moles popping up on your skin are too freakin' cute) and found your PICC line scar and it took me back for a moment. I remembered how teeny tiny you were when you were born, and how you'd stop breathing and turn blue in my arms every day. How I worried you'd have brain damage and would struggle... and here you are, running circles around dear old mom with your logic and reasoning.

So to avoid writing a novel about how absurdly cool you are (oh god, by the time you're old enough to enjoy this, "cool" is going to be such a lame-o term used by old people ugh), I'll just list reasons and make it into a more organized novel:

• You're kinda creepy. In a super-cute preschooler way, of course. But... you make uncomfortable eye contact with me when you're pooping. Yesterday, you asked me if we could naked cuddle on the couch. There's a story behind that, that involves the day prior and you having a meltdown while wearing your mermaid costume and asking if we could cuddle which ended up with you snuggling with me while wearing just your panties. ANYWAYS. You told me recently that you save your poops for home because you love me so much. Basically, you have absolutely no boundaries. You take hits of the back of Elmo's head like you're sniffing glue. One morning, when I was dropping you off at daycare, I pulled you out of your car seat and you held on to Elmo. I asked you to put him back in the car so we could go inside, and you whispered "I just need one more smell" and took a big whiff, and then threw him into the back seat. I tell you all the time that you're weird, which is another way that I say "I love you."
• You're wicked smart. Like, smarter than me, and I give up. I have resigned myself to the fact that my life is dominated by my three-year-old dictator who, may I remind you, still needs me to wipe her bum. You aren't even 4 yet, and you can read and write your name, do simple math in your head (wtf), count to... I don't even know- probably a million, and you've known all of your letters for at least a year now. But it's your ability to reason that freaks me out and makes me think you're clearly ready to get a job and start paying your own bills. Seriously, spicy cheez-its are expensive and I could use the help, child. I'm a single mom now. Ahem, anyways... you solve problems in your head, propose solutions, and make connections super fast. And you can explain yourself too... small example: yesterday, we were driving home and passed a car accident that had just happened. There was a woman standing on the side of the road with bright red (not natural) hair. You said "she has strawberry colored hair like Ariel the mermaid." Later, we passed an ambulance and I said they were going to the accident we passed. Your response: "the Ariel accident? Her name isn't Ariel but I don't know her name, so I call her Ariel because she has strawberry colored hair." wtf. w.t.f. You're only 3! Today, you were trying to explain to me that you wanted a piece of candy from your bag. I'm very, very clear on where the candy bag is and what it looks like, but you needed to be sure. So you said "that bag. Over there, on the counter, next to the coffee cup." Next up: calculus.
• You're so emotional spirited. You approach all situations with a ferocity that is usually completely unnecessary, just like your mama. lolz. You're actually learning how to harness some of that emotion and get it under control, but at times, your little threenager brain loses control and you have massive meltdowns. At least you haven't peed on the floor again recently (jinxed it!), but the occasional exorcist-screaming meltdowns still come out of nowhere. Like tonight! But you very quickly identified that you needed to calm down, and opted for a voluntary time-out until you could calm the hell down, which was such a big-girl decision. But you love fiercely, your little body can barely contain your joy at times, and sometimes you just can't scream loudly enough to convey the rage that burns inside you. I hope to help you use your spirited personality for good, because it can take you places if you don't let your emotions control you.
• You have a daily identity crisis. Actually, you usually have at least 6 in a day. One minute you're a big girl so I don't dare call you "baby" and the next minute you're not a big girl so you need me to get you a sippy cup. Sometimes you aren't a big girl, but a mermaid. Other times you are a princess, but usually you're Elsa and I don't dare call you Emma when you're Elsa. I find it absolutely hilarious when you want to pretend to be a mommy, because you totally emulate me- you lay out firm boundaries, give instructions, and let me know that if I don't listen to you there will be consequences (you truly make me sound like evil dictator mom, I love it).
• You're becoming thoughtful. This is mega exciting for me, because I really don't want you to end up being an asshole in life. And I've learned recently that not everyone is naturally capable of being considerate of others. Some people just can't do it. You, however, seem to be off to a good start so far. You'll sometimes ask me in the morning if I need a water bottle for work, and will go into the cabinet and get me one. Sometimes I tell you I need one even though I don't, just because I want to reinforce this awesome behavior. Or you'll ask if my feet are cold, and will lay a blanket over me. Again- my feet aren't usually cold but I tell you that they are, and then praise the heck out of you for being so thoughtful and making mommy so happy. It's not the water bottle or the blanket that makes me happy- it's that you wanted to do something for me. It's incredible.
• You sleep. And you sleep well. Except lately, when you've decided that your new bedtime is 9:30 but hey, at least you stay in bed and just roll around until you finally pass out. But you don't usually wake up in the middle of the night, you sleep well, and you still nap every day. Woop! Emma naptime= mommy naptime. Please always nap. Even when you're 10. Please.

Our days are filled with random singing and dancing, cuddles, hide-and-seek, arguing about food, saying "I love you!" at random, and me telling you that whining hurts my ears and you should stop. I wouldn't trade a single second with you for an eternity with anyone else. I truly wouldn't.

So here we are. Mommy and Emma. Emma and Mommy. Grabbing life by the horns and finding as much joy as we can... we're gonna be fine, kiddo. We already are. Just be easy on me down the road when you're way smarter and taller than me, because no matter what, I birthed you.

Obligatory Divorce Post

A year ago, I was a married working mom who lived in a decent-sized house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Life was okay. The days were routine, and I went on about my life putting one foot in front of the other.

Tonight, I sit on my couch in my little apartment/villa/condo thing while my little cub is wiggling around in bed trying to fall asleep. Today was a work holiday, so I took the cub to daycare, came home and went for a rainy run, had a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, took a shower, went shopping, and came home and napped. Then picked up my mini-me, and did our nightly routine of dinner/bath/bedtime, with a nuclear meltdown temper tantrum sandwiched in between, and now I'm here. And I'm okay.

But some days I don't feel okay at all, and it's to be expected. I debated for a long time about whether or not I'd write a blog post about my divorce because this blog was intended to be about my darling little ray of sunshine who came into this world a little too soon. But this divorce is a pivotal point in her young little life, and this blog has reached far more people than I ever thought it would. And if anything in it could give some encouragement or hope to even one person, then it's worth baring my soul on the interwebs. *cracks knuckles* and away we go...

I didn't sign up for marriage with the intention of it ending. I admit- I'm easily disenchanted and I still, to this day, cannot finish an entire box of cereal on my own because I grow tired of it by the time I'm about 75% of the way through with it (even Lucky Charms, THE HORROR). That's just how I am. I like things to be fresh and new... but not my relationships. I entered my marriage with the understanding that "till death do us part" and "for better or for worse" were not just empty words we recited in front of our family and friends. I meant it. I didn't put on a white dress and walk down the aisle arm-in-arm with my father, both of us beaming with joy, just to one day have him hug me in my new apartment and say "I know it's not what you're used to, but you'll do fine." It was a comforting hug and a brief pep talk from a father who knew his daugther was in a world of pain and knew there was nothing he could do about it. I didn't choose to have a child with someone under the assumption that one day I'd lose half of that child that I fought to have in the first place.

But that is my reality.

And that reality is a little harsh right now, and some days it stings quite badly. On the day of our last marriage counseling session, when my ex husband all-too-enthusiastically announced "we are getting a divorce", the counselor said to me (as I sobbed on her couch) "the cruel irony of your life is that you put your foot down and decided to stop enabling and the result is that he decided to work on becoming a better person, just for someone else." I'm usually a fan of irony, but not this time.
After that counseling appointment, the domino effect of grief and loss began. I wasn't desperately clinging to my marriage and begging him to stay... I knew I deserved better and was willing to wait for it, but.. horse, water, etc. Even still- it felt wrong. It's the one decision that can seem right, but feel so absolutely awful. There have been no happy dances or divorce celebrations over here. I've been consumed by grief and loss, but am moving forward. I've said and done things that I'm not proud of, and seen sides of myself that I didn't know existed (and they aren't pretty). I've said hurtful things to the man I once loved more than anything else on this planet, and I can't take those things back. I tend to have a great ability to filter the hell out of my mouth, but not over these past few months. Emotional pain has a tendency to bring out the worst in people, including myself. My own therapist (and the marriage counselor during a subsequent couple of sessions with her to help me wrap my brain around all of this) told me that it's textbook grief and loss and that I'm moving forward at a steady pace, but I still wish I was able to keep my head on a little more straight. And my crown too. I'll get there. I am just forever grateful for the people who have seen me at my worst lately and still choose to love me anyways, because they know it's not the real me. It's the hurt me.

But the biggest thing I've learned: divorce is just one big, nasty pile of loss.

I didn't just lose my husband. I lost my home that I worked so hard to get. Packing up my belongings, throwing away my wedding mementos and pictures of my once happy family, and divding up furniture and household goods was indescribably painful. I knew it would be, but I didn't realize the magnitude of that kind of pain until I was experiencing it. Day by day, my once cozy and happy home was being dismantled and packed into boxes until it was restored to the same empty state as the day we moved in. I'll never forget the last time I went to that house... I remembered the day we moved in and how excited I was to fill it with my furniture and decorate the walls. I was brimming with joy and couldn't wait to settle in and make it my own happy home. And there I was that night, sobbing as I walked through each and every room in that house remembering the good times and the bad times. The room where my daughter took her first steps. The room where she said her first words. It's where we shared family dinners and made lots of memories. But it was also where I sobbed as I looked into the eyes of the person who had betrayed me and my trust. It was where I sat in disbelief after hearing that my surgery hadn't gotten all of my cancer cells out. It was where I said "I don't love you anymore," and where I heard the words "I need to set you free from me."

I lost people, too. People who I considered family, who suddenly disappeared. I want to ask "what did I do?" but I won't. I have to let them make that choice, even if it means I will forever miss people I love. I wish I could have the chance to explain it to them. Tell them how much they still mean to me. But I can't.

I lost an idea. The idea that my life would be lived happily-ever-after as an intact family under one roof. I lost the idea that I'd fall asleep with and wake up next to the same person until I was on my death bed. I lost the idea that I'd never experience heartbreak again. I lost the idea of family vacations, holidays, and family cuddles on the couch while watching a movie.

I lost half of my time with my child. This has been the biggest struggle for me in all of this- my very first blog posts were heavily underscored by complete desperation for my child to survive. I spent the better part of two years hoping and praying that I would have a child of my own... countless needle sticks, blood work, ultrasounds, pills, and a surgery all to have a chance at bringing a baby home from the hospital culminated in a four-week hospital stay and more hoping and praying about bringing that baby home. I finally brought her home- all 5 pounds of her- after another three weeks of hospital life. I spent another month or so watching her turn blue in my arms and being terrified that she wouldn't start breathing again. For almost three years of my life, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to throw a first birthday party for a child of my own. But I did... and now she's a sassy preschooler who is the center of my world... half of the time. It kills me. It absolutely kills me as a mother to go a single day without her in my arms and time is not making this part any easier for me. And it may not ever get easier for me, especially when the other half of her life is going to be spent with my replacement. It'll be a hard pill to swallow, for sure. I can only hope for the best case scenario for my child, despite how much it may hurt me.

I briefly lost my faith in love. Because love doesn't quit, and love doesn't hurt. Love doesn't walk away and metaphorically put a middle finger in the air while doing so. Love isn't neglectful and self-serving. And yet, that was what I experienced with love. But... somehow, despite all of the loss and pain, I've discovered my worth. Which is not normal in this kind of situation- I often read facebook posts in a divorce group of women who are shattered and left with no self-confidence. I have those days too, believe me. But mostly, I know I'm lovable and capable of loving too. I believe in true love, I know it exists, and I know my life will be filled with it.

And that's where the gains begin. Despite the epic proportion of losses, there will be gains. They are already starting to happen, even as I continue to grieve all that has been taken from me in the past six months.

I've gained my independence. Yes, my apartment is small compared to my house, but it's MINE. I don't have to ask permission to go anywhere, or hang something on the walls. I decided how I wanted my bed frame to look and had a dear friend help me pick out the color and I didn't have to get approval from anyone. I can make whatever I want for dinner (well, at least on the weeks that my benevolent dictator isn't home lol) and can sit on the patio with a beer any night I want. That patio is filled with lots of succulents and I don't have to ask permission to add more. No one will tell me it doesn't look good.

I've gained back parts of me I lost. I had a momentary freakout recently when I worried that I've started changing myself since the divorce. I thought "wait, why am I suddenly listening to country music again?" then realized... I grew up with country music. I still had two stations on my presets in my car that were country stations... it's just that, over time, when "that awful music" would immediately get turned off in my car in favor of the music he preferred, I just stopped listening to it altogether. That's kind of sad. Ok, that's really sad. But now? I open my sunroof and crank some Kenny Chesney with the sun on my face. I also started spending time outdoors and camping. Another thing I grew up doing and had lost touch with because the main person in my life wasn't interested. I remember suggesting a local hike and being told no. I never asked again. But now? I've gotten in a lot of mileage on the local trails and seen some pretty amazing sights, while breathing in the fresh air and enjoying nature. Shoot, I spent the majority of my childhood outside. It's in my blood.

I guess the only thing I can't fully justify is my sudden need to turn my body into a tattoo canvas but whatevs. I always wanted them, just didn't have the motivation to take the plunge. And once you realize that having a needle dug into your back for three hours straight isn't so bad, it does kind of get addicting. Woops.

I've also gained a better idea of who I really am. I am spunky, sarcastic, energetic, quick-witted, and full of life. I hide my sadness and anger from the world as much as I can. I struggle to ask for help, and sometimes assume the worst of people. I take things too personally sometimes. I am driven and motivated. I am (pardon my french) really fucking strong and feisty. I will not go down without a fight. I will pour my heart and soul into those I love, and will sacrifice anything to make someone else happy. I love taking care of people. I am a damn good woman, but I am not perfect.

And while I've lost some people I love, I've also gained a better appreciation of the people who stayed. And gained a better perspective on how amazing those people are. I cannot even count how many people have said "if you need anything at all, please let me know." And meant it. People have offered me a bed to sleep on, a shoulder to cry on, alcohol to drown my sorrows, and there have been lots of ears that have just listened to me vent. I've had people drop everything to be by my side in my moments of despair, and practically demand that I let them help me. It has been a very eye-opening experience for me to see the magnitude of love that surrounds me. And my goal is to give every bit of it back, and then some.

This is just another chapter in my book. It's a really sad, depressing chapter, but it's my life and there's no turning back now. Divorce changes everything. It's going to be quite a while before the dust completely settles, and this week was certainly a clear indicator that things will continue to pop up and cut me back down temporarily. But I'll keep getting up. Many people have told me that great things are in my future- I'm being prepared for them. And this struggle will make me appreciate them even more, whatever they may be. But I know that I will be fine. Not every second of every day. I will have more struggles. But as I've always said, I will not just roll over and wait to die.

"When you get where you're going, don't forget to turn back around and help the next one in line. Always stay humble and kind."

2015

Moment of honesty: I struggled with the idea of writing this post this year. I figured I'd skip the yearly tradition for fear that my post would be dominated by bitterness from being in the midst of the divorce process. But I put on my big girl panties...

Here is what I will say: divorce sucks. For everyone. I have never felt such pain and heartache in my life, and it's not over yet. I have good weeks and bad weeks, days that I feel I may break and never be whole again, and days that I know I'll be alright at the end of this. I may struggle to trust someone for a very long time, and I know I will never be the same. I'm grieving the loss of my promise of forever, my visions of happily-ever-after, my financial stability, and my intact family. But I'm also gaining the chance of being truly happy, and appreciated, and loved. I have the opportunity to find myself again and not settle for anything less than what I deserve. I will trust again. I will love and be loved. And I will be happy.

After this hard part is over.

Pardon my blog French, but I've been through some shit in my life. Like hysterectomy at 27 kind of shit. And worse things that I'd rather not announce to the world, but you get the idea. I am the girl who dreamt of being a mother and had to fight to make it happen, and then watch as my hopes of having more than one child slowly slipped through my fingers and dissipated into thin air.

So I know that this too shall pass, and one day I'll look back on these dark days and be glad that they're over. I spent countless days sitting on my couch feeling helpless as my tiny preemie would turn blue and stop breathing in my hands and wondering if she'd ever take another breath. Seconds stretched out into what seemed like hours and I thought my life would freeze in those days that would clearly never end. But they did end, and now they are distant memories. These days of being stuck in torturous limbo will some day be distant memories as well. The pain will fade and the anger will be worked out... this I know for sure.

I also know that I will not roll over and wait to die. I am not that kind of person. I will, however, cry and whine. I will shout from the rooftops that what is happening to me is just not fair because it isn't fair at all. I will take melodramatic bubble baths with tears streaming down my face while listening to sad Mariah Carey songs (pass me the wine bottle, please. No need for a glass). I will lean on the shoulders of the people who choose to love me, and I will put one foot in front of the other. I will still be sarcastic and witty, I'll still smile a genuine smile because dammit, there's still a lot to smile about. I'll also curse a lot because that's just what I do.

And that's where I'm at. I'm having my struggles as a result of being hurt and I've cried more over the last week than I've cried over the last couple of years. But as I sat thinking tonight, and debating about making my New Year's post, I thought about what would be my favorite memory from the year. And when I struggled to pick just one, I realized that even though this year was shit-tastic in so many ways, there were still so many things that I had to smile about. And that's why I'm writing this tonight- to remind myself of the positives from this year. Just focus on the positives, KT.

Ahem. *cracks knuckles*

I will have to start by saying that this year was a bit of a year of self-discovery for me. I spent some time doing things alone. Took two solo trips to MD to see my best friend and thoroughly enjoyed doing things on my own. I remembered my love of being outdoors, which resulted in two mountain hiking trips, and three camping trips. And a bunch of nature walking days, and caving twice. Which all reminded me that I absolutely hate spiders, which are hell-spawn creatures that have no place in my life. I should invest in a flame thrower. And grenades. But apparently I looked darned adorable when flailing and shrieking because of a surprise spider.



"1. What did you do in 2015 that you'd never done before?

2014 answer: too many things I didn't want to do, that's for sure. But I took my first solo plane flight and first solo trip out of state! And it was marvelous.
2015 answer: rode the DC metro by myself. Picked a random bar in a strange city by myself.

2. Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
2014: I don't make New Year's resolutions, for good reason.
2015: ^^ what she said^^

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
-2014:Yep! One of my best friends had her second kiddo recently and she's so stinking adorable I can't handle it.
2015: tons of people, it was the year of cute and squishy babies.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
2014:  "No. And I'm so completely grateful for another year without a significant loss." that was my answer from last year, and it still stands this year. Whew.
2015: another year without a loss, and I'm so grateful for that.

5. What countries did you visit?
2014: 'Merica.
2015: Yeah still America, and Chmurica. 

6. What would you like to have in 2016 that you lacked in 2015?
-2014 answer: "Free time. My job has consumed my life, and I'm regretting the lack of 'me time'" was my answer from last year. Completed. New job, more free time. Yay! This year's answer: I'd like to have my health back. And more happiness. Less tears.
2015: definitely would like more happiness and less tears. More time spent with people I love. More smiles. 

7. What date from 2015 will remain etched in your memory, and why?
2014: 3/11/14, my first biopsy; 3/14/14- getting the "we have your biopsy results and you need to come in as soon as possible and bring your husband" phone call; 4/24/14- my first surgery; 4/25/14- Emma has a seizure; 5/2/14- the "cancer... remission... oncologist" visit with my doctor; 6/17- my hysterectomy, 7/2- bleeding profusely and going into shock.
None of those are good dates. 2014 sucked.
2015: 8/28... the day we separated. Sigh.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
2014: I got another promotion at work! Livin' the good life now. Oh, and I didn't die. I feel like, considering the crap I went through this year, that's a huge effin' accomplishment. And I'm pretty sure I champed through my surgeries like a boss... I was up and walking around within a couple of hours of coming out of anesthesia after my hysterectomy. LIKE A BOSS. And potty training the kiddo. *bicep flex*
2015: I survived in one piece. Made some good strides with my job. Didn't murder anyone! 

9. What was your biggest failure?
2014: Being healthy? Not bleeding profusely after a surgical procedure? Finishing the damn artwork I've been working on for Emma's room.
2015: relationships.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
2014: Obvious answer here. Moving along...
2015: Illness for sure. Still no answers, and probably years of tests and doctor's appointments ahead of me yay!

11. What was the best thing you bought?
-2014: Wow these were much easier to answer last year... hmmmm. I guess my iPhone 6. 
2015: My couch? That's such an adult answer, ugh.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
-2014: A lot of people, actually... my big brother, who always checked in with me to make sure I was ok, and was genuinely concerned for my health. We haven't always been close, but over the last few years he's been so supportive in my most trying times. My in-laws, who were always willing to watch the baby so we could have a break. My step-mother-in-law, who came up to our house on short notice at like 10:00 at night (when she had to work the next day!) so someone could be with the baby overnight without having to wake her up, so Josh could rush me to the cancer center while I was bleeding out (literally, omg still traumatized by that). My parents, who also helped tremendously with watching the kiddo during the week and driving up to my office to pick her up and drop her off, which was so helpful. And my mom for making an hour-long drive to my house a few times to watch the baby so I could rest and recover. Some of my coworkers, who supported me when I was sick, let me vent when I was stressed out, and made me laugh on my darkest days. 
2015: My best friend, Lauren, for always being there for me and loving the worst parts of me. For never judging me, and never making me feel like a bad person. And those who quite literally swooped in and helped me pick up my pieces, gave me shoulders to cry on, and did whatever necessary to make me smile. Everyone who sent me funny or sweet texts just to cheer me up. And all of the people near and far who texted/messaged/called me when they heard the news and offered their support and encouragement. Really, you all are amazing.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
-2014: "Let's not go there." ditto from last year.
2015: *crickets chirping* 

14. Where did most of your money go?
-2014: Medical bills. So many medical bills.
2015: bills. New tires. Responsible things.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
2014: Christmas with Emma. And never having a period again! Hah.
2015: Christmas with Emma! Even though it was bittersweet and riddled with tears. My two trips to see my BFF. And some much-needed relaxation time on some camping trips.

16. What song will always remind you of 2015?
2014: Ugh, I don't know.
2015: "Elastic Heart"

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
Happier or sadder: 2014: Sadder in some ways, happier in others, if that makes any sense. It was a really trying year in so many ways.
2015: sadder by far. 
Thinner or fatter? 2014: Maybe thinner still? I don't remember how much I weighed this time last year, but I know I haven't gained all of my weight back. Some, though! With my health issues, I went all the way down to 92 or 93 pounds. Definitely not good.
2015: Fatter. But I feel healthy and strong like the ox.
Richer or poorer? 2014: Richer. Pay increase, paid off one car. Cheaper insurance for the kiddo... but daycare. So maybe we're about even. Feels like we're ballin' though... jk jk.
2015: somewhere in between. I'm about to be broke AF though.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
2014: "Blogging. Crafting." ditto. And taking time off work that wasn't related to medical issues. 
2015: making myself a priority. Doing what makes me happy. 

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
2014: BLEEDING. omg. And being in a hospital/doctor's office/cancer center
2015: crying. Apologizing for wanting to be happy.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
2014: "Christmas Eve at my parents' house. Then gifts at home on Christmas morning. Then Christmas afternoon/evening at the in-laws' house." same routine this year. Except way more enjoyable, because Emma had so much more fun. She even did a present-opening dance Christmas Eve because she was so excited. 
2015: Same routine again. Plus lots of crying, so let's hope 2016 is a little more cheerful, eh?

21. Did you fall in love in 2015?
My cheap answer: I fell more deeply in love with my baby girl every single day ;)


22. What was your favorite TV program?
2014:   "The Office" and "Parks and Recreation" FOR SURE. 
2015: Orange is the New Black, House of Cards, Eastbound and Down

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
-2014: I still don't hate anyone, but there are some people that I've willingly deleted from my life.
2015: still no hate. Anger, yes. But no hate.

24. What was the best book you read?
2014: I was slackin' on my book reading. But "Gone Girl" is pretty good so far. I'll go with that.
2015: I slacked even more on my book reading this year UGH

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
2014: I don't think I had one this year... sad! Lots of great music, but no "discovery"
2015: Sia, I guess. 

26. What did you want and get?
 2014: My new job. Effing yes.
2015: Lots of quality time with my daughter

27. What did you want and not get?
2014: Well I always want diamonds... 
2015: That's too personal of a question this year.

28. What was your favorite film?
2014:  "I'm not sure what movies I watched this year! Bah!" This is always going to be a problem for me. I really liked "The Lego Movie" (hah!) and The Hunger Games, duh.
2015: I actually really liked Ex Machina. 

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
2014: I continued my streak of terrible birthdays. I was three days out from surgery. I spent the majority of the day in bed, in pain. That was it. No birthday celebrations at all this year. But hubby bought me a nice massage table that he gave to me early so we could use it before I wasn't able to lie on my tummy for weeks on end.
2015: I turned 29- my last year in my 20's. Went out to dinner. 

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably satisfying?

2014: To be honest, the year wasn't immeasurably satisfying. But, having my family and being alive today are wonderful things :) 
2015: pass.

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2015?
2014: "Working professional by day, mom by night" pretty much sums it up. I finally ditched the idea of putting on makeup for a quick shopping trip. I've finally made the transition to skinny jeans. And I'm definitely dressing more for my body- finding things that fit better and aren't too big on me.
2015: More dresses and pencil skirts. Which was the result of working out my legs more, and having more of a tan, so I wasn't showing off pasty chicken legs anymore lol. And yoga pants and tank tops at home ALWAYS.

32. What kept you sane?
2014: My friends, for sure. 
2015: music. Friends. Family. Being a mom (counterintuitive, I know. She drove me to the brink of insanity at times... but no matter what, I always hold it together because I have her)

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
-2014: Chris Pratt. Swoon.
2015: Chris Pratt forever. And J Law.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
-2014: Marriage equality. And companies having more rights than women. Ugh.
2015: marriage equality for the win! 

35. Who did you miss?
-2014: My best friend! Saying goodbye to her was the most sad moment of the whole year. We could't let go of each other... but seeing her again was one of the most joyful moments of the year as well.
2015: My best friend again. 

36. Who was the best new person you met?
2014: Some people at work who quickly became friends. 
2015: ditto! And a few people I previously knew, that just became much closer to my heart this year.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2014:
2014: I am in control of my own happiness. I can let something destroy me, or I can conquer it and move on.
2015: Life is too short to let anyone ruin your happiness. It is vital to be independently happy. 

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
2014: "Even the stars, they burn. Some even fall to the earth. We've got a lot to learn, but God knows we're worth it"
2015: ^^ouch! but this year... "and another one bites the dust. It's hard to lose a chosen one. You did not break me, I'm still fighting for peace. I've got thick skin and an elastic heart. But your blade might be too sharp. I'm like a rubber band and if you pull too hard, I may snap and I move fast. You won't see me fall apart. Cuz I've got an elastic heart."