Ah Ma Zing

It has taken me days to get back in here - apparently my Internet browser does not support Blogger any longer, so go figure, I finally have things to say and can't get logged in to post... 


While I figure this techie stuff out, (and do it somewhere outside of work ;)), check out this AMAZING video link that a friend passed along to me recently (thanks LA). I have been waiting to share it with you since, no matter where you are in your life, I believe this touches most of us on a very special level.  and really makes you appreciate the miracle of life.

Enjoy...have a great day.

PLG ~ JKF

Rainbows Update: Pot of Gold

I know, it's been a while... and I know I said this blog wasn't meant to be about babies...but it is about bumps along the way, and dreams coming true...(and for those of you you may have read/followed, my rainbows journey), this long overdue update is yet another testament that things happen for a reason, in their way, in their own time.

The countdown clock from that journey may have ticked away its last minute, but I am FINALLY expecting!

Since our failed IVF last summer (2010) and the many difficult years prior to that, of probing and prodding, tests and diagnoses, we had decided in was in our best interest to STOP. So we did. We stopped all of it: the visits to the clinic, the acupuncture, the herbal treatments, needles, checking in with doctors in general. We were out thousands of dollars, devastated and desolate. We had reached our breaking point and had had enough.  

This led us to the crossroads, I referred to in my last post, compelling my husband and I to truly step back and look at our lives: where we had come from; what we had been thru; how much had changed for the better, and for the worst; the challenges we had endured, specifically with starting a family; the tribulations we had put our bodies thru, our spirit thru, our relationships thru, our marriage thru…We sat there on the porch reflecting, on that momentous, sunny, warm July evening, and decided that it was time to make a big change, to take the other fork in the road. We had no idea just how big and important and life altering this change would be. We only knew it felt right.

Call it an A-Ha moment, if you will. 

Literally from the minute we got the keys to our new home, in our new town, ready to start our new life, we became just that, new. Renewed. As though, after 8 years of marriage and 5 years of trying to conceive, that we ourselves had inhaled for the first time, found that breath that had been lodged in our chests. We had our second chance for the life we always imagined to be ours. Nothing from the past mattered any longer, only the bright future ahead. For the first time, we were finally home, sweet, home, and there to stay.

As the sun set and we watched from our newly painted, box-filled garage, we toasted champagne and enjoyed the breathtaking Northumberland views. Our hearts were filled with joy and gratitude, certain we had found where we belonged, where we were meant to be.  That is not to say that we had been wasting time previously. Quite the contrary. Rather, as hard and daunting as it was, we had to go thru all of that, lose what we lost, walk away when it was time, let go and not look back, to get to where we are now.

And where we are now, is 5 months pregnant! Enjoying the rest of a blissful, beach-filled, sun-kissed summer, we conceived naturally, at no one’s greater surprise than our own!

Never allowing myself to be set up for disappointment as we had done for so long, I ignore the fact that my period was slight and unusual. But the time came when I could no longer deny the exhaustion, dizziness, nausea and acute sense of smell I had been feeling for weeks. Secretly taking a home test, the digital screen flashed “pregnant” and I almost fainted. My husband was in complete disbelief. We did 3 more home tests that weekend until we finally got the lab results several days later that it was true. Our baby had found its way to us. When the time was right.

It has taken until now to write about it since it’s only now just really becoming real, but has consumed me completely. I have found it hard to think about much else, particularly hard to write. You would think as a budding writer, all I would want to do was write, write, write about this miracle. Oddly, I felt protective and private...and really, really dog-tired exhausted, motivated only for rest whenever I could get it...until now. The magic and wonder of this new life still has us in awe, but the dream-like, fearful, nervous weeks are passing, as the bump in my belly begins to show. We’ve seen the flicker of a heartbeat and the movement of knees and elbows. The spine is formed and the brain has come together. There is a child in there. Growing. All on it’s own.

Miracles happen everyday. Dreams do come true. We may have stopped ”trying,” but I always believed in my heart we would be parents… someday…

JKF

(Sidenote: for more back stories, see Rainbows & Babysteps)

Forever, with peace, love and gratitude,

9 Drafts, 2 Towns & a Million Boxes Later...

Here I am. Finalement! This is the FIRST ENTIRE DAY in weeks (!!!) - literally - that I have had to myself, to buy pads and deodorant, to wipe my tears, to pluck my eyebrows, to  think, to plan, to write, and to hopefully make it from draft to post...

I don't know about the rest of you, but this summer has been a blur. I cannot believe it is the 15th of August already. Between packing and unpacking, re-packing, packing again, cleaning, storing, celebrating, sleeping, packing and unpacking some more, painting, cooking, organizing, re-organizing, organizing again - the weeks have gone by so quickly that I actually wish it had all been filmed on a reality TV show (it could be The Northumberland Hills," or "The Cobourg Shore," lol) so that I could now watch it back and actually take in the last 2 months.

I have said before that moving is one of the top most stressful things in life, but I don't think even I knew what that meant. Since meeting my husband, this was the 8th time we have moved in 8 years, from Mexico where we met, to France where he's from, to Canada where we have been hopping, skipping and jumping all over...to land, atlast, here in this "feel good town" of Cobourg. I think I can finally say I am home sweet home, and mean it. Dorothy was right, there is no place like it.

A dream come true, really. I have imagined living here, near its glorious beach and surf side main street, with its smiling faces and friendly neighbours, since I was a little girl. I feel every bit that I am where I belong.



Me, Victoria Beach, 1977


That in no way means that it has been an easy move or transition. The stress, tension, exhaustion have taken hard knocks on me and even my marriage, so much that I wondered this morning if I had indeed stepped into my dreams like I believed, or if I had instead taken a million steps backwards rather than forwards by mistake...

But these insecure doubts come to mind only due to a fragile heart. A fragile heart due only to the above stress and tolls mentionned. A long, heavy build up of challenges which my husband and I continue to plow thru, and which sometimes leaves my heart wounded in our wake.

When our hearts hurt, everything else is a little darker too.
I know that by tomorrow, when the rains dries and the clouds clear, when the sun shines its bright head again, that the doubts and tears will dry up too.

Our dreams (marriages?) are not supposed to be easy to attain and hang onto, they require hard work and dedication and persistence and patience and love and forgiveness. But so often our dreams (marriages?) are crushed, devastated, let go simply because it is easier and faster to give up.

Well not me. I will fight on for my dreams and my marriage and everything I believe in.

This experience has opened my eyes further and made me take account all of the things I have gained and lost during the last decade; it has made me see how I have evolved, and how, in some ways, I have digressed. It has shown me that there is no "post" button on my life or my dreams or my marriage, to put it out there and call it "complete" - it is forever a "draft" in progress, with a whole lot of editing yet!

For now, I will keep breathing, deeply, closing my eyes when I can, and smelling the near-water-fresh air as much as possible. I will look thru binoculars and explore and learn more about birds and flowers. I will ride my bike and walk my dog. I will turn off the self-destructive broken record in my head, a.k.a. Guilt, that gives me crap all the time for not writing, writing, writing, (and various other things) since I will write and keep writing all of my life...and I will enjoy what is left of this most wonderful season of the year, in my new home sweet home, near the beach sweet beach, you know just feelin' good as best I can...

I hope you will too...enjoy the rest of the summer... breathe...take it in...

Peace ~ Love  ~ Gratitude

Making Time for a Quickie

Keeping up in the theme of yesterday's motivational speakers, I am making time; making time, right now, to do what I love. And I feel great.
Relief.

By making time, right now, I mean that I am finding the good in the chores that have to get done in this short window of time. Somehow, as I multitask, I am finding new ways of being grateful and doing things I love.

For example, this very minute, I am sneaking in a moment for this quickie post - even if only for a minute, writing soothes my soul; while catching up on Y&R - for me, the sounds of Genoa City in the background represents comfort; in between rounds of washing the dishes, and tidying the kitchen - I feel warm enjoying the sun going down out the window and grateful that I have dishes to wash and a kitchen to clean; Husband is outside chatting with a new neighbour, surely drinking a(nother) cold beer - instead of being bitter that he is out there and I am in here cleaning, I am thankful for these stolen moments to myself, inside where it's cooler, to clear my head and take a break from the thick, scorching evening heat outside.

What wiseguy said that "when we're multitasking, we're not acutally getting anything done?"  I disagree.

It's just about making time. Doing. Breathing.

I was feeling slightly embarrassed about my emotional diarrhea from yesterday's post, and now, not so much. I am happy to have reminded myself that a breakdown is sometimes required to turn that page.

...
 PLG ~ JKF

Rough Patch

We all have them, hit them, live them. Rough patches that is. Some longer than others, some shorter, some that whip you off your feet from out of nowhere. I'm in one now. Again, go figure. I keep telling myself what I have to do, to just get it together, snap out of it, don't be a baby, get back on the program, we all have bad days, get on with it already!


Today I tripped though, slide (shoved?) down the depression stairs into a pit of self-doubt, and then further into more doubts in general. But this time, it's not for the reasons you might first think. To be fair, I'm not quite sure of the reasons myself and keep asking how I even got here. I thought I had left these particular types/triggered patches behind, thought I was past this place, had already moved on to greener pastures with warmer beaches...?


Stress. All kinds.
Blows our minds.
I guess we always have stress.
I guess, I guess, oh stress oh stress,
I guess we always have stress.
Sometimes good, sometimes bad,
but surely something we've all had.
Stress. All kinds.
It blew mine.


Stress it makes us crazy.


Today we, my colleagues and I, drove past a man losing it on the road, heading southbound toward the 407 ramp. And I mean L-O-O-O-o-hooosing it! Cursing at the top of his lungs and punching the air with his pink, angry fists, while spizzle flew out of his mouth and his appalling, offensive words bounced off the surrounding, traffic-jammy vehicles echoing for all  to hear. The woman beside him was motionless, either frozen by fear or humiliation or anger herself, her face hidden by her pale arm resting on the window.


And all for what?


We couldn't help but notice the plates were from Ohio, since at this point we debated if it were necessary to call the police, and the car looked in tattered, rough shape. Maybe he was lost, we guessed. Or the car was about to putz? ... Given, he may have had his reasons to yell. We all do. 


But does yelling ever really help? Even when it's the cork popping and releasing tension? Or even then, aren't we better without it? I say yes. Yelling never helps me. It only ever feels awful, and changes nothing.


To see me, you wouldn't think I was going crazy, definitely not like that guy, or even that I showed signs of a rough patch. You would likely think the contrary, since I usually always manage to put on a happy face, turn that frown upside down! I am known to be a smiley face, optimistic, bubbly kinda girl, and I will do my best to keep that side of me - my best most authentic side - up, even when everything else is dragging me down. T


Haters will say that "ain't being real," meanies that put people down will judge and say that it's being fake, a façade. 


I say, it's making lemonade, since even if it too is sour, it is still better than nothing, and refreshing either way. I'd always say it's being me, just not letting on to the full show of emotion going on behind the scenes. It always feels better inside when you're smiling outside, even if it takes more effort to make it happen.


They also say that it's all in the power of the mind, positive thinking. I agree. Earlier tonight I had a meltdown, one which has been brewing for days (weeks? longer?). It broke me and I crumbled, literally. I heaved myself in a long, hot, cleansing shower, and devastatingly bawled my head off, since when our hearts are aching, so are our thoughts. Sometimes there just ain't any juice left, ya know?


In any case, sometimes the triggers are less the issue. It's what you do about it that matters.


Besides, the beauty of rough patches is that it's our own sweat and tears that enrichens the soil for the new patch growth just ahead.


Numb, still in the shower, swollen eyes and hot water spilling over my face, I heard a soft voice squeak from somewhere, reassuringly saying "things will be okay, everything is as it should be; it has to rain some days, not all days can be sunny..."


I thought of the motivational speaker, Lesley Andrew  I had the honour of hearing earlier today, who moved me to full wells of tears in my eyes at least 6 times, and with whom I connected to the minute she mentioned my Alma Mater.  She won over the audience with her open, honest, powerfully educational presentation on Beating the Odds, openly discussing her own battles with dyslexia and various forms of learning "differences." With light humour and silver linings, we heard about other struggles she has long since overcome, everything from social barricades, bullying and abuse, from painful relationships and heroes, to triumphs and little everyday successes.


When she teared up in the question period about her own fight to have a baby, a sob escapd me into my coral pashmina. I left feling deeply touched, moved and motivated by these two hours, and other common threads we shared. If she can overcome all that she has, to be where she is today, than so can I. So can you. So can we all...(don't even get me started on the other speaker...)


And then in a moment, I found myself here, writing again. Finally.
Finally, thank goodness. For me. For you, whomever you may be, this round.


I leave tonight, as always, with peace, love and gratitude ;)

 "Always make time, everyday, to do something you love" - Lesly Andrew

Sweet dreams,
JKForfait

Belly Flop

So starting anew ain't that easy. Could swear I have heard that somewhere before...


I have been fumbling around now for weeks, from one blog site to another, stuck on layouts and colours, names and themes, when all I really want to be doing is writing and posting and inspiring, not wasting time on aesthetics. Without a "project" per se, I have been lost, unfocused.

But we do that, don't we? When we're nervous or afraid, or feeling stuck, frozen, unsure, we procrastinate and tip toe closer, when sometimes we would be better off just diving in already! Like at the lake, looking down at the cold dark water from up high above on the bridge where the jump itself (the first step) is the most frightening thing. But once you go, even if you belly flop, smacking hard and sharp on the frigid water world below, it turns out it wasn't so scary after all. One might say it was exhilarating even.

Our own fears are so often so much worse than whatever is really at hand. So this here is my belly flop, finally I am jumping in. No more dragging my feet. Doesn't matter if it hurts a little, once you're all wet, the water isn't that cold and the fun is just about to begin...

PLG ~ JKF