Post #100. A Day In The Life.

This is our 100th blog post! That is crazytown.

I'm finding it really hard to blog lately. I have this new theory about adoption. Well, our adoption. I am starting to think that this is some social/psychological experiment to see how long it takes two perfectly sane people to crack. Like really crack.

How much can two happily married, middle class, suburban (only by location, not mindset!) people take before losing it? A lot. We can take a lot. Adoption, you are trying to break us down, but you can't win.

Can we talk about the day to day of adoption? A day in the life. Note: I am leaving out some of the stuff that can happen day to day that are adoption related for privacy reasons. And for optimism reasons.

Alarm goes off. A moment of peace in my warm bed. Restroom, put coffee on, feed the cats. I pick up my phone (admit it, you all do about this time) and my email begins to update. Eight new emails in my personal account. Smyna Vinings Patch with their vague headlines. A coupon from World Market, nice! Updates from my grad class. A thought pops into my head "Sarah, don't think it, if you think it, it won't happen". But I think it anyway "I hope this is the morning"....

I nervously (this feeling doesn't get better. Always nerves firing) look to see if there is a 1 or 2 or 3 next to sarahandjohnadopt@gmail.com . The number 2 appears. "Sarah, you thought it, so it's going to be junk mail", but hope sticks around as I hit the account...

"Dearest Pleasant One" oh yay. A scam email. "Hello I am emailing of the baby Saint Bart's Orphanage. We have all the blondest haired, bluest eyed babies in Cameroon (personal note, this is not important to us.We are open to all races and ethnicities). Of the sincerest email us. Baby waiting for you sincerely". Two scam emails. Hooray. I close it, disappointed I drink my coffee. I force myself to get dressed. One mismatching article of clothing at a time. I mean who cares right? It's not like today will be the day. Besides, maybe if I'm horribly unprepared and look a mess it will happen.

I park quite far from work, so I have a nice calm walk in to the office. It's early, the elementary school is just opening, so I'm surrounded by little kids, holding hands, chattering about recess and who is friends with who. It hits me again. Warm heart feelies. Maybe I should refresh the email. Maybe I should check google voice in case we got a text and google didn't email me. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

I park my rear at my desk and refresh my email, check google voice, triple check our adoption Facebook page. Nada. A deep sigh.

Meanwhile on Facebook another couple from our agency has adopted. They announce it on their page with such joy and relief. They waited 7 months. We hit 28 months two days ago. My chest hurts for a minute. The underlying grief of our wait rears it's ugly head.

Grief. It's a theme of a long adoption wait. People you meet and love adopt before you. People you love have failed adoptions. You feel grief for both. Your own adoption fails. Grief. Babies being abandoned in woods, dumpsters, high schools on the local news. Grief. If they had known about us, would they have chosen us? If they had known about our agency, would they still have abandoned their babies? So much grief.

The rest of my day is distracted mostly by work. The thoughts pop into my head between students "Check your email. Check adoptimist. Check it, check it check it". more thoughts "What if our lives change tonight? Ugh no Sarah, you thought it, it's not going to happen now".

I know I am not that powerful. I can't think us into or out of an adoption.

The drive home is full of music that triggers emotions. Life gives you demons, but I made friends with the devil, so I am invincible. Revved up, yes Frank, I am invincible. Adoption, you can't crack me.

At home, evenings are my favorite. John and I watching whatever we recorded while we have dinner. We talk about our day, an undertone of "it didn't happen today". I refresh my email. My chest hurts again. More TV, homework, bedtime.

I wake up at 1am in panic, a dream that we had a baby. A girl, 4 months old, chubby as can be. It takes a full 3 minutes to orient myself to realize it was a dream. Back to sleep hoping to be stronger tomorrow.

It's tomorrow and I feel stronger.


Working on a new Q&A since we are getting a lot of the same questions. For now you can review the first three Part 1 Part 2 Part 3


Some Monday tunes. 

I Am Skinless. I Am Raw.

I am in love with a child I've yet to meet. I am in love with the idea of a child I may never meet. I am terrified of that thought. 

These are the words I tell myself when either someone else we know adopts or a possible match for us falls through:

You are not good enough. You are not pretty, fun, smart, thin, ANYTHING enough. Not enough.

But this is not okay. This is not what teenage me overcame self-esteem issues for, or what a functional adult tells herself. The adoption wait is hard. The longer you wait, the harder it gets. It’s not you! It’s not me or John or anyone for that matter, it just is. 

I hate the word “just”. In our battle with infertility people would often say “just adopt” or “just hire a surrogate”. There is nothing “just” about any of these paths. They are filled with trials, grief, and financial hardship. In this case, I think the word just is acceptable. It just is what it is. It’s a hard pill to swallow. It doesn't make it okay or more tolerable.

We have done all we can outside of hiring a facilitator who will charge us thousands for who knows what level of ethical behavior. We have accounts on just about all social media, I keep this blog, we have networking cards, we redid our letter with a professional designer. Our letter goes out often from IAC due to how open our profile is. Despite our efforts, here we sit two plus years later, waiting.

Wondering if we will ever be parents. 

I know there is nothing wrong with us. (I wrote that and felt a twinge of “but is there?”) No Sarah, stop it. We are young, healthy, fun, educated people. We are ideal for this. We have more love in our pinky fingers for our future child than there is love in the rest of the entire world. 

My heart hurts. Literally. There is a heavy deep ache in my heart where our child belongs. It’s been there since May. I can remember the first moment I felt it- after the nearadoption fell apart. I miss feeling lighthearted. I miss being my goofy self. I’m now serious and solemn. There is a darkness following me around. I miss the person I used to be before I knew this level of grief. My chest hurts and my guts are in a constant state of being twisted. 

I want to call up our agency and beg them for the answers. Tell us what we are missing! Tell us what we can do to make this happen! Tell us the secret to it all! I'm not surviving this and I need answers. (FYI, there are no answers). 

Friends and family don’t know what to say to us anymore. See: What We Need: A Guide if you have that problem. Invitations to events with our friend’s kids are dwindling, because no one wants to hurt us. Honestly, sometimes that’s a good thing. There are days I could snuggle my friend’s kids for hours and then there are days that the thought of being around children makes my entire body ache in longing to be a mom. Nephew excluded- nephew time welcome all day, every day. He makes my heart feel joy and love and all things light and wonderful about the world.

The problem is no one, not even myself knows what version of my adoption world I will wake up to each day. A Facebook post from a friend about her successful adoption (Yay...and cue to the self criticism). It's not under my control. I feel selfish, but it happens without my permission.

I am skinless. I am raw. My nerves are exposed and the world is poking at them with sharp fingernails. I wear my grief on the outside of my body these days. I have cried until I just don’t have any water left in my body to cry.  It’s apparent and ugly and drives people away. Please stay strong for us, please understand it’s not intentional. Please stick around for the end of this, as I believe the finale will be remarkable.

Until you have walked in our shoes, you just don’t know. Until you have wanted something this bad and had it dangled just out of reach, you can’t judge. There is no grief like feeling like you have a hole in your soul that may never be filled.   

This is the point in the daily adoption emotional roller coaster that I feel a little better. I got some stress out by writing this post. Some steam has been let out, I'm letting myself fantasize about "what if". Feeling a little exposed for what all I wrote, but I'll probably publish it anyway, because my goal is to be completely transparent. I'll blast my headphones as I work to drown out my own judgments of myself.  I'll stress about any judgments that may be flung my way and then scream away those judgments to music or maybe just a nice long stress relieving scream in the car. Yes, that would feel good.  

Any Time Now, Universe!

This post was inspired by a friend I met through our agency. This morning she shared a post from a year ago.

Shared with permission.

Just last night John and I had a conversation about Christmas. How its four months away, but it seems like there is no hope for us to adopt before then. It was a 30 second conversation, yet it felt so heavy.

We are basing our view of the future based on the past, but no one can really know what the next four months hold for us. 

Our last adoption situation that fell through happened so fast. It went from watching TV, not expecting to do anything but sleep that night, to calling the after hours answering service for our agency in mere minutes. I certainly didn't sleep that night! Of course, that situation didn't work out and that's fine. It did in fact give us hope and remind us how quickly life can change.

But it's so easy to lose sight of that. When day after day goes by with no inquiries about us- no emails, texts Facebook messages, nothing. No calls from our agency asking "Can you get to (insert town/hospital here) ASAP?" Not a peep. Unless you count "Lung" who wants to "do a project with us". Real email. That was all it said. Thanks, but no thanks Lung.

But look at what a difference a year can make for a fellow waiting adoptive family (now a family of three!). Weeks before they were matched with their daughter's birth mom, Chelsea and I were messaging each other wondering if it would ever happen for either of use. Wondering what we could do to move this along. She didn't have to wonder much longer.

There is hope. At any time, that could be us. 

This has not been my favorite part of life. The waiting, the longing, the ups and downs- it's all just so incredibly stressful. Talking to friends and remembering how life was before this undying urge to be a mom kicked in, it makes you long for those days. When your biggest worry was who you are going to hang out with that weekend or what coworker is giving you grief at work.

It's not easy, but I can't help but think it will be worth it. When adoption friends post pictures of their longed after children, or relay stories of how they met the children's birth parents, or "firsts" of everything being parents- it's all giving me the energy to keep at it. Yes, your stories of diaper blow-outs somehow still encourage me to stay the course.

Here we sit, still waiting, still trying to pass the time. I'm back in grad school, trying to make something more of myself and John is about to start curling again. John is also looking forward to football season. It's not really my thing (I know, don't judge me!). We will hit two years live with our agency next month, many more years than that trying to become parents. We will mourn it, even though it will appear to just be a day like any other. You have to mourn things to get past them.

Here's hoping our lives change in an instant too, preferably tomorrow? next week? Universe, are you listening? 

All The Feelings: The Feeldoption Process

Who know one person could experience such a range of emotions in such a short time? I'm not even talking about the waking up positive and immediately opening an email from an adoption scammer in Cameroon promising BABIES NOW (really?! so scammy).

I am talking about the emotions you experience throughout the entire adoption wait. It goes like this:

You decide to adopt. There is likely relief that your battle with trying (and failing) to get pregnant is over. You mourn a little, because who doesn't mourn the loss of a part of your body not functioning as it should? You cry, but it honestly feels pretty good. You throw out all of the ovulation tests and pregnancy tests in the house (you think- but somehow those show up on bad days, whilst you are cleaning out the bathroom cabinets). Good timing pee tests...

You go to the weekend intensive session at the agency and it just.feels.so.right. You leave so hopeful, so excited, you are FINALLY going to be a parent.

You start the paperwork for the home study. You might buy one teeny little blanket, because your heart is so full of hope that a baby will be bundled up in it soon. You tear up a little, the good kind of tears, as you pay for the little ducky blanket. Man, you can practically smell the baby poop, that's how close you think you are!

Every step of the home study you complete, you feel accomplished. One step closer to holding that sweet baby. Paperwork..it feels orderly and so very doable. You get to make lists and cross things off- so so satisfying!

Your home study gets completed. Interviews went well, a little nerve wracking, you wonder how that other person's name slipped in and why no matter how much you said you loved your aunts, why it says you aren't close to family... but these things get corrected immediately. A lovely letter and certificate come in the mail proving that both the state and the country find you fit to parent. Party on.

The letter writing process makes you literally roll around on the floor crying out of frustration. Picture after picture is declined. "Smile with your teeth", "Have one of your cats with kids" hahahaha, if they only knew...our cats disappear if a kid is within hearing distance. Trade "our home" for "our house", cut 23 more words. The excited parent-to-be inside you is screaming "please, please, please, just approve it and let us go live".

The letter is done, your official profile is online. With great excitement and fear, you sit with your significant other and write up a Facebook post to announce to your friends that "Yes, we will finally be parents... through adoption!!!!". Your friends offer words of congrats and support. They start spreading the news, eager to help out. It's a love fest. We love them, they love us, we feel warm and safe and determined.

Three months of dead silence. Worries arising, but spirits up. But then a close call. A very sick baby, too many unknowns, and baby's mom wants a closed adoption. Low Apgar scores and some googling and talking to doctor friends. Heartsick, we pass on the situation. The hardest thing ever... so we thought. If we only knew then what we know now.

Boot straps pulled up, you find peace that the sick baby wasn't your baby. Your baby is has yet to be born. Positivity and excitement find you yet again.

Scammy email after scammy email. Even some scammy phone calls. Someone pretending to choose you. Someone you got close to and cared for. Someone who had you picking up the phone to check on them even after the truth came out. Someone who wants to pray for your soul (and also sell you embryos?). At first you laugh it off, saying "people are so weird". Then you cry it off "people are so terrible". Then you get past it "I feel sorry for her that she has the psychological problem that causes her to lie so much".

Drama. Miscarriages, house fires, car fires, drug raids, deaths... or so they say. Your emotions get all wrapped into their lives, but it's all made up. You want to help, but you can't, because it was all made up. You feel for them, but you shouldn't, because it was just someone messing with you. Your faith in the process dwindles. Your faith in humanity wavers. Another hopeful contact turns bad and you are exhausted. You cry, you get mad, you shut down, then you pick yourself up again and move along.

All this time, you have to tell friends and family... "yes, we are still waiting, no there is nothing wrong with us, yes, we could still use your help spreading the word, please don't make me beg for help.. it's just too hard"

The shares on social media slow down. People start avoiding the topic all together at dinners with friends. People have lost interest.

A near match... a neardoption . You were at the top of the world, but then it failed. You got too many hearts involved and therefore too many hearts broke when he wasn't your baby. Not our baby. You swear to never tell another soul about a possible situation again until baby is home for good. So many hearts to protect, but who is protecting yours?

Your adoption friends start getting matched with expectant moms, some adopt practically overnight. The weird feeling of yaaaay....no....yes...no overwhelms you. You sob for the babies that aren't yours. You sob about the expectant moms who chose other waiting adoptive parents over you. You sob until you are heaving, can't see straight, can't hold your eyes open anymore. Then you go out and buy your friend's new baby cute little onesies and hats, because that's what you do right?

And it's healing. Positivity finds you again. If the process worked for them, it will work for us too. They waited longer or almost as long, they had scams, they broke down too- over and over again. They often asked "Why not us?"

You get up the courage to start asking friends to share your adoption info again and it's just dead silence. They've moved on. Your friends are tired of hearing it, their friends are tired of hearing it. Waiting to adopt is so isolating.

Just so isolating.

I'm finding a new normal in this adoption wait. One where I feel like I can't tell my friends and family about how it's going. Good or bad. Good, you risk breaking their hearts when it goes bad. Bad, you just sound like a downer all the time and start alienating everyone.

These days we cope with making ourselves busy. I'm working on my book more, albeit mostly in my head or in jotted down notes. I'm getting these feelings out by singing as loud as possible along to music in the car or shower or even in front of the cats (they love it. so weird). John has curling stuff that keeps him distracted.

We are up, we are down, we are up, we are down. We will be parents one day.

 I'd love to say I'm not posting another Frank Turner song, but I am. For those who care to listen, the man wrote yet another song that is better at expressing how I feel than I am. I know, I'm soooo emo.

The Beginning Of Something Good

I have been dealing with quite the dilemma.

You see, I truly believe that you get back what you put out into the world. It's a real issue, because I think I've mainly been sending out frustration and grief. I'm so frustrated with the adoption process and I know John and I have had to grieve for many situations that fell through or were revealed to be fake. It's so easy to let those feelings dominate your life.

Quite honestly though, isn't it easier to be happy and positive than to wallow in anger and self pity? Isn't it more fun to laugh than to cry? Isn't life too short to let stuff get you this down?

Now to figure out how to push the positive to the forefront.

First off, more distraction. More concerts, movies, museums please. More nights out with friends, more playing with our nephew. More food truck evenings and lazy strolls around the neighborhood.

This is hanging on our fridge to remind us:

I have people say all the time that I need to be more positive, or I need to put on a front of happiness for prospective birth mothers who might read this blog. To those people I want to tell them that they haven't experienced the things we have in this process. That the adoption wait can steal the light right out of you if you let it. Well, I let it. I let it steal my light, my optimism, my self confidence. Ridiculous.

Nothing and no one should be able to steal the light from within you. So here it is: I'm on a mission to get myself back. I'm sending love and light and confidence into this world of ours. I'm taking back control of this situation and no emotional scammer or failed placement will stop me. It's time to look at these things as learning opportunities, as steps to creating our family.

It's not that things wont be hard. It's not that we wont still feel some level of defeat if we speak with another emotional scammer or have another close call. It really is just a matter of re-framing it all in our heads. We are at 22 months waiting and counting. In the scheme of things, 22 months or even two years isn't all that long. People wait much much longer than that.

We also have to remember that we are not the only ones struggling with adoption. It is likely that the woman who chooses us to parent her child is facing much more than we are. It's important to remember that. It's all perspective. The best thing we can do is to stay strong for her, our future child and ourselves.

I'm going to find the light in all of this.

There is hope again.

Selfish Selflessness And Other Oxymorons

First business, then thoughts, feelings, updates...

This week will be a busy one on the blog. As of this morning, I have two guest posts to share, one of which I plan on splitting up into two posts if it makes sense when I finally get it sorted. I'm still waiting on a couple more, but those may come over time, since I don't want anyone to feel rushed. Feel free to send submissions to sarahandjohnadopt@gmail.com if you want to share your thoughts on adoption in general, John and I, or ya know... something related would be best. 

So many thoughts and feelings. Here it goes.

Just adding some sunshine, before I get all introspective in this post.

I'm constantly having to remind myself that I, and WE, are stronger than this struggle.

Let me repeat that. We are stronger than this struggle. When I want to throw my hands up in the air and quit, oh and I soooo have, I have to remember that this is our dream. This is a dream that we cannot give up on. Someone I met through IAC once said to me- paraphrasing here- that the only thing that guarantees that we wont adopt is quitting.

I hesitate to share, because my feelings are not all that positive right now. Well, some are, but overall I've been having a bit of a pity party for myself and John. I am working hard to end this mindset, believe me. I'm sure I am repeating myself, but sometimes it needs to be expressed again. Waiting to adopt comes with extremely complex emotions. Joy and grief, hopefulness and hopelessness, feelings of great support and feeling utterly alone.

July is apparently THE month to adopt. Multiple friends have adopted or are matched with an expectant mom due in July. Of course I am so happy for each and every one of them, but with that happiness comes that little selfish voice of "Why not us?". I have found in this waiting process that it is impossible to be entirely selfless. I am selfish with my emotions. I am trying to be selfless with my friends and family.

When people waiting less time than us adopt, immediately self doubt comes rolling back in, introspection begins tearing up your self worth and ruining your days. I get where I want to stay home, where it's safe and judgment free. Where no one can get to us to ask why we haven't adopted yet (though with the internet, that still happens, but at least it isn't face to face). Home has TV and music, games, beds, cozy couches... all safe and secure...all comforting.

Those feelings of "I must be doing something wrong", even though you know you aren't, come to the forefront. I've seen many families wait years and they never did anything wrong. They all were awesome and beautiful and seemingly perfect people to be adoptive parents. So why be so hard on myself? I cannot answer that. I guess blaming yourself is easier than blaming others or blaming luck or lack there of.

I refuse to let this beat us down. I think it's ok to grieve, but then find your inner strength and keep at it. I know that whatever amount of time we have to wait for our child will be worth it. It wont erase what all we have been through, but our child will be loved and cherished more as a result. I want to end this post with how hopeful we are, but I'm struggling with getting those words out right now. They are caught in this heavy place in my chest.

All we can do is try harder. Put ourselves out there more. If you can find it in your heart, please share our information. Mention our adoption wait to just one person today. I have pass along cards that I can mail anywhere in the US. If anyone has any unique ideas about how we can network, we are open to suggestions.

We are going on vacation soon. Expect photos and some renewed energy and positivity shortly. Also, see our new slideshow here: SLIDESHOW OF FUN!

Now music, because music can change your entire outlook on the day. And I do love a bearded man with a guitar.

Hits And Misses: A Story of a Neardoption

I've been told by more than one person that I don't put enough of a positive spin on this blog. Problem being, I am trying to keep it real and keeping it real means showing how desperately hard our path to parenthood has been.

I have had my venti cup of liquid encouragement (I'll take mine with cream, no sugar if anyone is picking up!), so here goes my Tuesday truths and with some rainbows and maybe a passing unicorn for what really could have been the hardest adoption week yet.

This is my therapy post. Releasing it and moving on to us really finding Baby Farrar.

We had a neardoption (my new word). I wont give details, because the who's and how's are noneya business. I'll just say it lasted a week, an intense "oh crap our home study docs are expiring" sort of week. An "oops we never quite bought everything we need to bring baby home" sort of week. And mostly a "who the heck do we tell? work? family? friends?" sort of week. Breathe in, breathe out.

Anyway, it ended. I had a gut feeling towards the second to last day. I gave my tension and anxiety over it up to the adoption powers that be and tried to relax. Got the call the next day that he would not be our baby, leaked a few tears in the car, ate ice cream for dinner like two nights in a row, had some times with friends and then hung out with my brother for distraction purposes (there may have been a Monday Night Brewery, Drafty Kilt mixed in there somewhere- local brewery, dark beer, my fav occasional treat). And I bought this for my ever growing onesie collection:

Because hangry is my favorite word.

I had to be the one to break it to John, which I dreaded more than anything. He was at work when I got the call. He was delayed getting home and I was texting him that he was needed ASAP. Then in my lack of thinking, I sent " I have some really bad news" to him over text. Insta-regret. Not cool, Sarah. Of course he knew what said news was. You know when John is upset, because he sighs heavily at random. He isn't one to get angry or cry. It's just a lot of silence with random sighs chucked in there. Saturday John busied himself with yard work. We both did really, but he did the bulk of it. We spent a fortune on mulch and new shrubs, since ours died over the last two winters.

We are trying cardboard as weed barrier. Free and biodegradable

 We emotionally shopped and bought a seven foot "beanbag" type chair thingy out of just wanting to feel better. Darn you Amazon Prime! Now, where to put it? Maybe in the music room? For record listening? Like, it's massive and not really grown-up life compatible. That's a story for another day.

Seriously, what have we done?

So, where are we now? Back to waiting of course! We are truckin' on. Hopes high and spirits blazing. I mean, we had a legit contact! That's something! We know that even though we really would have loved for this baby to be ours, he is with his family and that is beautiful too.  

In other news, Brew at the Zoo is this weekend. I will be that crazy 35 year old who rides the carousel 20 times (Free rides with entry fee to the event!). We have been going every year to celebrate my brother's birthday. It is tons of fun and you get to sample beer from local breweries, while seeing zoo animals! What? Yes! Next weekend if the National Kidney Foundation Kidney Walk. Our team is um...bare.. this year. We haven't raised nearly as much as we usually do. I have admittedly been super distracted. To donate or join and walk with us follow this Linky Dinky Doo 

You don't have to be our BFF to join us. We will be happy to have anyone. You can walk as little or as much as you want while supporting a great cause. Speaking of kidneys, next month I celebrate five years with my second kidney transplant! All thanks to my brother for being kind enough to pop one out and give it to me (if only it was that simple!). There will be some sort of celebration. June is also the month I had my first transplant in 1999, thanks to my mom. There will also be some sort of commemoration of that! Maybe I just like to celebrate things, ok? 

I leave you with another picture of Earl Nutters Esq., the office squirrel. He found himself a rice crispy treat! Get it Earl! 

If You've Got My Back I'll Go On

I really don't have an organized train of thought for this post, I just really need to write to get some feelings out. I struggled with whether I should say anything at all about recent adoption developments, but it just helps so much to get it all out there. We've had a loss. A pretty major one. Without being too specific, we were talking to a potential birth mother for about three weeks and it ended abruptly. Abruptly and in a really sad way. It's just so hard to go from thinking of names, travel arrangements, holidays, birthdays to absolutely nothing. I'm not putting this out there to get sympathy, I just need it off of my chest. Right now I am still carrying it around with me and I am sure John is too to some extent. I let my brain go there even when my guard was up. I am hopeful that this post will help me let it go. Taking a deep inhale now, letting out an even longer exhale.

So yeah, there it is. We must move forward, we must stay strong, we must stay hopeful. Our adoption coordinator (who is just so awesome, by the way) reminded me that it is okay to mourn this as our loss. She said it is okay to miss speaking with the potential birth mother, no matter if it was all real or not, because we got close so fast, building a bond that generally seemed rooted in truth and mutual respect. No matter what the whole story is, there is a feeling of loss there too.

You know, I do feel better writing it all out. To our friends and family who didn't know, I apologize, but we knew the risks of things not working out and wanted to spare many people from that heartbreak. Adoption is love, but adoption is also hard as hell for all involved. It will be worth it in the end. IT WILL. It has to be or no one would ever do it.

We are back to waiting and waiting for something to happen. October we will go on the last minute hospital list, upping our chances for a last minute placement. We have necessities for baby in case we have to grab a bag and go. It is 5k season, so I am back at trying to be in shape for those, which is great for getting my mind off of this huge loss. I have one race in October and two in November so far. I tried and failed miserably at curling (FYI: lunges in yoga and lunges on ice are not the same AT ALL). Mad props to John for being strong enough for that craziness. I on the other hand, sweat in a way I can only describe as "fountain-esque" and three days later can still hardly use my legs. More on that when I complete my challenges requested on Facebook in exchange for sharing our adoption stuff. So close to finishing the last challenge, but I have needed extra time due to distractions (see first paragraph for distraction).

Something funny is this week's soundtrack. Since our loss started Friday night and we had to buck up and celebrate birthdays Saturday and Sunday (John and his mom are a day and some sorta years apart- happy birthday John and Susan! More on John's birthday in a bit.) reality didn't start setting in until Monday. Monday I felt only the need to listen to music that screamed at me or cussed at me or took me to a place I could feel what I needed to feel. Tuesday I couldn't help but listen to music that took me to dark places- solemn, lovesick and hopeless songs. Wednesday was starting to get a little more upbeat- with hope in the melodies and rebellion in the lyrics. Today, I allowed full on shuffle, not cutting out the happy tunes or feeling bitter and sad at those bouncy, feel good songs that are usually saved for a sunny day off. What I learned? I can read my own moods, even when I am not in touch with them, based on what is playing in my headphones. Good to know, self.

Geez, this post is going on forever. I canna help it (Outlander fans? Anyone? Canna? Didna?). Some happy as heck things... I baked a cake from scratch for John's birthday. It was dark chocolate with dark chocolate icing and too rich to just sit and eat. Lesson learned. Next time I will go more fudge that dark chocolate. We had lunch at Big Chow Grill, compliments of my parents. We loafed around on the couch despite plans for activities, mostly due to being so full we couldn't move. We listened to records on the living room floor and stuffed some more food in after a while. All in all, I think he had a good birthday. Next up is out 7th wedding anniversary on October 6th. I am sure we will eat more foods that we shouldn't and do something out in Atlanta or something. It is TBD. Seven years married and 13 years together! Go us!

Cake!

And a Frank Turner song, because I'm feelin' it. Today's mood, we are gonna make through this and come out on the other side better than ever. If Ever I Stray: