Where I am now.

This is going to be a very different kind of post than what I've been writing. There's no house update, no craft project, and no book to cross of the list. I want to instead share a little bit of personal information about something pretty big that the hubs and I have been dealing with over the last four months.

Last January sparked a lot of discussion between us about when to start a family. We had always said going into the wedding that we wanted to wait about a year so we could really spend that time investing in us and our relationship before throwing a whole new set of adjustment and change to our marriage. But with the start of the new year came a really incredible opportunity for me to go back to teaching. The decision then had to be made to either go back to teaching in an environment that would be healthy and supportive - and that I would want to stay in for more than a year or two - or to start trying to start a family instead. Our pros and cons list was long, and every discussion seemed to just go back and forth. After a month of listening for the Holy Spirit's leading in every sermon, every time in the Word, and every conversation, we decided that starting a family was definitely more important to us than me going back to teaching. We decided May would be the magic month to start, and I spent the months in between praying earnestly for peace and trust with whatever God's will would be. Between the two of us, I'm definitely more of a stresser and a planner, and I also have a hard time handling situations that don't go the way I've planned (although marriage has been a great opportunity to grow in that area). I spent so much time praying that God would prepare us, but mostly me, for anything He has planned. I knew that it could take us months to get pregnant, it could take years, and it may never happen. We had no way of knowing how it would go, and I truly wanted to surrender the process to Him.

So when we got pregnant that very first month, I felt such relief. We couldn't have been more thankful, and to some extent I really felt like we'd gotten through the hardest part. The Fourth of July was right around the end of my first trimester, so we thought that would be as good a time as any to announce. First to extended family during a Melchione reunion on Long Island, and then to our friends during various coffee and lunch dates, and then the rest of the world. We had told almost everyone when we went in for a routine 12 week doctor's appointment and found out that our baby no longer had a heartbeat. Our doctor was casual and flippant in delivering the news, and we were left speechless, stunned, and extremely emotional. We opted to let the miscarriage happen naturally so we went home to mourn and wait.

I wish I could describe for you everything that those next several days were. When I look back to that week now, it's mostly a blur of tears, questions, and more tears. The texts, emails, and cards that came from so many of you were so comforting and thoughtful. My mom was able to come stay with me for about 24 hours a couple days after the appointment while the hubs had to go to work, which I deeply appreciated. It was hard to be alone during those first few days, even for a couple of minutes at a time. I was just so confused, and so hurt, and so angry. Neither of us understood why this had happened, and we did our best to comfort each other. When the miscarriage actually happened the following weekend, he held my hand and cried with me while I went through the worst experience I've ever had. He was my rock throughout that entire night, and there is no way I could have done it without him. I definitely wouldn't have wanted to.

There was a part of me, although I never would have admitted it out loud, that assumed that when we were able to start trying again we would pregnant right away like last time. That has not been the case, though. Those first couple of months of getting to the end of the month and realizing that we hadn't been successful were really hard. Something in me changed when we didn't have the immediate success of last time. It became my obsession, and truthfully it became my idol. I was ruled by the calendar and all of my thoughts were about planning for when I would be pregnant (if we get pregnant this month then we could announce it this month and I would be having the baby this month...). It just never ended, and there was no relief from it. During the weeks when we were waiting to find out if we'd been successful that month, I'd live as if I was pregnant just in case and stay away from caffeine, alcohol, and the motorcycle, etc. I can't even describe the heartache each time we got a negative symbol on a pregnancy test. I was so frustrated. We were doing everything right, we were trying so hard, and we should be pregnant.

But then came last month, when I felt multiple pregnancy symptoms during the weeks before I could test. I tried to put it out of my mind, but we all know how hard that is. By the time I could take a pregnancy test, I was fully and 100% convinced I was pregnant. You can imagine how I reacted when it came up negative. I was broken, angry, confused, and beyond frustrated. I wouldn't listen to the sound wisdom and encouragement from my husband; I was borderline inconsolable. I had to go to work at our old church that morning though, and I am so thankful I did. I spoke with some of the ladies there about it and as I talked and shared with them - who were intimately aware of our struggle by this point - it felt like a curtain was lifted. I was finally able to see what my dear and wonderful husband had been trying so hard to tell me: I had made this an idol, I was harboring deep resentment and anger towards the Lord that I'd never dealt with, and I was not in a healthy place. I spent a couple of hours talking all of this out with these women, and then had the gift of going to a coffee date with a friend right after where I got to talk it all out again with her. With each word that I spoke, I felt the weight lifting from my shoulders. I was mad at God: we had prayed so much and felt so strongly that He had led us to start trying for a family in May, and He had allowed us to get pregnant right away, only to take my baby from me in July. I was holding on to that anger and was refusing to let it go, no matter how hard I worked to act like I had. Instead, I had tried to take things into my own hands, planning and counting and scheduling everything in order to make God give me a baby. And every baby I saw (in public, on television, in friends' families) added to my resentment that He wasn't doing what I wanted. To say it out loud and to type it now seems utterly ridiculous, but it's what I did. It's the process I went through, and I'm so thankful for it.

I went home that day feeling free. Free from my calendar (no more counting days, no more planning anything), free from the "maybes" (I drink caffeine and I drink wine although I do it responsibly and in reasonable amounts), free from the pressure. I got to go home and go through all of this again with my husband, and then apologize to him for the unfair pressure I'd been putting on him (without even realizing it) to do this for me. I wanted to release it all to God once again, and to truly learn what it means to rest in His timing and His timing alone. I've said this to quite a few people, but I really wanted to grow into a place where I would be surprised with pregnancy rather than expecting it or watching for it like a hawk.

With His grace, it's happened. I have found that for me, doing things like eating and drinking like it's business as usual has helped me stay in a healthy mental state: if I'm always thinking "maybe I'm pregnant so I'll hold off on the glass of wine," I start to think "maybe I'm pregnant" all the time. I painted the nursery because we'd had the paint for months and it occurred to me one day that I'm not afraid of that room anymore. I started a running training app this week to get into better shape, which was a big deal for me because I'd been putting off exercise with the thought of "there's no point trying to lose some of this weight I've gained if I'm just going to get pregnant and gain again." It's little steps like that, giving myself the freedom to just live my life, that has made such a difference for me. I truly feel good. I feel patient and I feel at peace. I trust Him. I trust Him.

Earlier this week I was at a Bible study that I've joined here in Berryville, and Beth Moore was talking on the corresponding DVD about wounds and scars that we carry with us. She was talking about how we all have them, and how they have potential to do so much damage in our lives if we don't release them to God and allow Him to work through those wounds. As I watched, I felt blessed that I couldn't really think of any real scars that I've gotten in my life. It took me until about three-quarters of the way through the lesson for me to remember that I actually have a huge scar. I had a miscarriage this summer. My husband and I lost a baby, and we were completely devastated by it. But rather than dwell on that pain and on that very real wound, I just sat in shock of the fact that it hadn't jumped right to the forefront of my mind. I'm someone who can turn every song on the radio (happy or sad) into something about my life. I'm someone who can find a way to relate every sermon to some obscure facet of my life and every difficult time someone else is going through into something about my own life. I'm someone who has a lot of pride and really struggles with not making everything in the world about me. But I sat through three-quarters of a Beth Moore lesson about the wounds that damage and stay with us, and I didn't even remember that I'd experienced a horrible wound just four months ago. To me, that's not a sign that I've forgotten about our baby and that I don't care...it's a sign that God is healing and restoring me. He is actively working in me and has done exactly what I've asked of Him: He has taught me how to trust Him, and He has granted me an incredible peace while we continue to wait. We're still trying, and we're still waiting, but we're waiting in peace. I can't even describe to you how thankful I am for that.

Miscarriages are not uncommon. My doctor told me that it happens in one in five pregnancies, but a friend's doctor told her that it's one in three. That's a lot. We are not a rare case, and I fully realize that. But it happened, and we have mourned our baby, who we named Sam. We can't wait to fill our beautiful new home with kids and to start the next chapter of our life...but God is doing so much with us in the meantime. God taught us more than I can express with Sam, and He is teaching us so much now while we wait.

Divergent: coming to the big screen

I've talked a lot about how excited I am for Catching Fire to hit the big screen (at the end of this week!), but there's another one coming out this spring that I'm equally excited about. Even though Veronica Roth's Divergent series doesn't tug on my heart strings quite the same way as the Hunger Games series, and even though the end of Insurgent totally ticked me off, I'm excited to finally read the third book soon and I'm definitely excited for the movie. Since it's not coming out until March, we've got plenty of time to reread the first book or read it for the first time, and get totally hyped. Something that makes me especially excited about these movies coming out is that I convinced hubs to read Divergent this summer, so he's going to be just as excited as me to go see it and we've already done our fair share of analyzing the first trailer together. Two thumbs up for getting the man in your life excited about Young Adult dystopian novels!

Here's the first trailer. For those who are interested (all of you, I know), me and the hubs have similar reactions: Shailene is an unexpected choice for Tris but will be great, I thought Jai was a terrible choice for Eric at first, but then I saw him in Jack Reacher and 100% changed my mind because he's terrifying, the trailer certainly makes it seem like they stuck to the book closely and that it will be pretty awesome, and that trust fall into the pit of blackness gave us both the willies to watch. And I still remain unconvinced in their choice for Four. In my mind, he is and always will be Pearl Harbor-era Josh Hartnett (hubs might not agree with me on that one). What do you think?

Catching Fire: a brief [reread] review

Guys, I am so excited. And being a huge dork. And I know that I already have a post from a month or two ago about how excited I am about this but...

I finished rereading Catching Fire - the #2 book in the famous Hunger Games trilogy - today, and to say that I'm excited for the movie to come out next week would be the biggest understatement ever. (Not the biggest ever, just the biggest in most recent history.) I loved it back when I originally read it, but holy goodness do I love it even more now. I actually think Catching Fire is my favorite of the three. The surprises are bigger, the shock factor is way bigger, and the hatred you feel towards the Capitol and President Snow is off the charts bigger (or is that just me?). And that ending? I'd remembered generally how this one ended but I had forgotten that it ends with such a bomb dropped and then no additional explanation or comfort, so here I am just freaking out and crying on a plane wishing it was already time to go to the theaters.

There's that line in the first book/movie that has become pretty classic and repeated, because it's so representative of the spirit of the books as a whole: Peeta tells Katniss the night before the games that he doesn't want to be just a part of their games. He wants to show them somehow that they don't own him. Well the line in Catching Fire that sends equal shivers down my spine is not nearly as epic or mockingjay-worthy, but it made my heart absolutely melt when I read it this second time. Katniss and Haymitch have just received some pretty earth-shattering news, and I'm not going to say what it is just on the off-chance that someone who reads this hasn't read the book and is going to be surprised by the movie. But as the two of them sit and mourn over a bottle of some kind of hard liquor, Haymitch turns to Katniss and says, "You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know."

Team Peeta, y'all. November 22.

PS: according to IMDB.com, my source for everything, Taylor Kitsch was a possibility for the role of Finnick. I'm guessing I don't have to share my thoughts with you on that one. (But just in case, I would have absolutely loved it if Taylor Kitsch had been cast as Finnick.) As it is though, my personal opinion is that Arnie Hammer, also listed as a possibility, would have been the best choice. A Winklevoss is pretty much exactly who you want to be battling robot monkeys and/or the Capitol with.

How I Finally Got my Nightstand

When the hubs and I got married, he already had a fancy bedroom set that we now share. He had a bed, two dressers, and one nightstand. When he bought said bedroom set, he didn't think he needed a second...much to my sadness after we got married. I went a couple months without a night stand at all, and nearly lost my mind. You really take the ability to put a book or a drink right next to you for granted, until that ability is gone anyway. I snagged a $7 Lack side table from Ikea and stuck it next to my side of the bed, and that's how it's been since. It's not the same color and therefore doesn't match anything else in the room, but the much bigger issue is that those $7 don't buy you a drawer. Another thing you really take for granted is the ability to put something in a drawer. More than a year and multiple swaps in who gets what side of the bed (and therefore who has the real night stand and who has the dumb drawer-less one), and we finally settled into a firm and concreted ownership pattern, with hubs getting the drawer-less table. He didn't mind, and I didn't either. But in the back of my mind, I also wasn't going to turn down a potential "real" nightstand to replace the Ikea one with one day. At some point this summer, I found it. In my favorite antique shop, at a reduced price, I found this absolute beauty.

That's kind of how everything in my favorite antique shop looks: covered in a thousand other things that I want. Because it's a little hard to see under all that stuff, it's not very wide but is quite long, and has two large drop leaves (one on each side). It also, you might notice, has a drawer. I left it in the store, took hubs back the next day, and took her home for $50 to be my new nightstand. I was ecstatic...until about six minutes later when I realized that because it's not very wide, it would be a perfect side table for the end of the couch where hubs has been begging for a place to put a drink and/or remote. It's not a huge amount of space next to the couch there and most tables would cut off the entire walking path into the room, so we'd been on the lookout for something narrow. And this table was narrow. I pulled up my big girl pants and gave hubs my new nightstand so he could have an end table.

(Sorry for the weird colors in that photo...it was really dark and I had to do some editing.) It fit really nicely, but you better believe I've been on the lookout for a replacement ever since so I can have my nightstand. Months passed, and I really didn't have any options (or available money in the budget). I'd all but given up for the foreseeable future until I had a brain wave one day that nearly knocked me over. I had a bar stool. A bar stool I'd been meaning to paint. A bar stool we bought in the middle of July and I never got around to doing anything with. Remember this Instagram photo?

Yup. The one on the left was one I painted in college and love, and the one on the right was picked up in a thrift store this summer for the purpose of also painting. (The rooster's not really my style.) I went back and forth and couldn't decide what I was going to paint on it, and then did decide but never made time to actually paint it. So it's been sitting in our extra room since...until it hit me. Bar stools are narrow. Bar stools are reasonably stable and won't be knocked over by a rambunctious Captain. Bar stools provide just enough table space for a drink AND a remote. A 500 word, rambling text message to hubs later, and we were on our way to getting me my nightstand back!

The first step was to sand all that green off. This is the part where I'm super thankful for the man I married, because he knows how lazy I am when it comes to important steps like this, and he knew that I would want to skip it. I totally could have painted over it...it just would have taken about seven coats. So he volunteered to - and insisted on - sanding it all down and getting it ready for me.

My photo skills are lacking, and I didn't feel the need to get a shot that didn't also include my own shadow, but hey, you can see how great a job he did. In the end, there was still some finicky green showing but it was almost all gone and I was ready to start painting. $7 of paint later, and this is the finished product.

In that second picture there, you can see why it was so important to find a narrow table that wouldn't block the entire walking path. And this guy delivers! We went with the beige because it matches a lot of the colors in the room (the stone fireplace, the huge map covering the wall above the couch, the future curtains we will one day hang...) and the shade of red we picked was inspired by both our brick house/fireplace and a table we had seen at that same antique store that we wanted to work but wouldn't have been sturdy enough. It looks great next to the couch, and complements the green wall color without making it too Christmasey.

And yes, I got my nightstand!

Other than the ugly cord conglomeration that needs desperately to be hidden, I'm in love with my new nightstand. And the extra space on that wall let me move a dog bed from the dining room (where I never really wanted it to be) and into our room.

So that's it! The night stand was $50 (in August), the bar stool was about $20 (in July), and the paint was $7 (last week). Because it was all spread out though, I like to just believe that I got a new nightstand and end table for the cost of the paint. And I'm going to stick with that.