Mistaking comfort for happiness

One of my favorite books of all times is "Ultra Marathon Man". The man is Dan Karnazes and he not only runs marathons, he runs them back to back. Like six marathons in a row, in one day. Only the marathons are through the rocky mountains, death valley or other forsaken real estate.

The book chronicles how and why he became an ultra marathon runner. The man started running to escape the pain of losing a sister. He started running after a night of bad tequila and almost starting an affair. He put on his gardening shoes and took off.

It's a read I return to again and again for inspiration.

I read it because of how he talks about the pain. Not so much the emotional pain but the physical pain he endures while running. About how, after a triple marathon, he went pack to his car and his body seized up. Then he proceeded to puke all over his dashboard.

That's awesome stuff I dare say! It's awesome because he's not mistaking comfort for happiness. He's going for it. Again and again.

Which brings me to this.



At one time I had a passion for yoga. It was my first brush with facing down the mental game of sport. If you think about it, yoga is putting yourself in poses and staying there. Just like running is well, running. Both sound easy but once you get into it, it doesn't stay easy for long. Thus begins the mental game. Of not listening to that voice that says stop. This is too hard.

Because I'm not listening. I went to kickboxing and dammit, I can't really walk today because of it. Seriously. I.can't.walk. I hobble and limp and wince and really OW OW OWOWOWOWOW I'm just trying to sit down on the couch. . . . It's awesome.

I've been mistaking comfort for happiness.

So I'm going to class again.

Once I can start walking again I'm heading back to class.

:)

What if I didn't?

What if I didn't call my doctor on Monday?

What if I didn't say, "I've had three negative pregnancy tests-and my period hasn't come-and it's day 35 of my cycle-can I stop the progesterone now?"

And what if hadn't taken the progesterone in the first place? Then I wouldn't be calling my doctor, asking to start my period.

And why am I taking this in the first place? Because I've been pregnant four times and carried two babies to term.

I wonder why my doctor asks me to do these things. To take these pills and use other supplements. And now I'm using yet even more pills to start my period. Yet, I was normal before this. Those two babies, that I carried to term, they are eight and four. Sleeping across the hall. My system works.

Why is my doctor asking me to mess with the system? I suppose I could ask.

Why didn't I ask in the beginning? I was just scared- so I did what she said to do.

What if I didn't feel scared? What if I tapped into a power I know has healed so much of me already? What if I prayed for God to help me? What if I trusted God with every last bit of all of this?

That would mean stopping. And letting go.

What if I did?

This is me, and this is how

This is me, after a vinyasa yoga class. I'm wrung out from the inside like I always am after hot yoga. I'm looking at a flyer for a special prenatal yoga program. I'm wearing a tied dyed tank top that I made with my daughter. I'm looking and feeling all of it.



I'm feeling what this prenatal program means to me. It means I'm at a different place, in my heart, than just a few months ago. To get here, I've prayed, gone to yoga, cried and talked about what has happened. I've embraced the sad and loss of two babies. I've even been part of a healing ceremony. And here I am, in my car, looking over this flyer, getting all excited.



But how do I tell the teacher my history? Should I tell her? I don't want to give her my sadness-this sadness I've worked so hard to work through. And I'm sitting in my car, in my sweaty yoga clothes, doing this scan from head to toe. Looking for pockets of the sadness. Pockets that can bubble up and make me all explodey when I tell the teacher I've had two miscarriages.

And I'm scanning and feeling my heart and body. Scanning, looking and feeling. Closing my eyes and breathing in this flyer and all that it means. Looking at the big preggy woman on top.

And I'm feeling such joy, such happiness. Such crazy love for all of it.



And I realize there's no pockets anymore. I'm not sad anymore. It's just crazy happy. And I'm feeling all this love and hands of providence holding me. Feeling all this divine love. It's so much power that I'm literally overloaded for a while. I can't move.

And then I put the car in drive and drove on home. And Mr. Hall and I got back to the business of letting all this hallowed love grow.

That is odd for me.

My blog is changing. I can feel it. I use to write a lot of evocative stuff. Crazy, saucy stuff. Almost daily. It's different these days. It'll probably cycle back to that. But . . at this point, I do a lot of speaking in random thoughts and sentences.

Por ejemplo:

1. We bought our daughter a corn snake. They're itty bitty snakes. My daughter loves snakes. It turns out, the snake is helping me with my Henry sadness. He's a friendly fellow that makes me smile. And I say this: no matter who you are, GET A PET. They rock!

2. I put pink streaks in Pancake's hair. It wasn't that hard since she's a blonde.

Yes, I am the coolest Mom evah! (at least for now)

3. My Mom and I are getting along like gangbusters. It certainly helps that when she makes me mad, or says stuff like, "I don't think I was there for you enough when you were growing up"--when she says stuff like that--I don't start yelling and blaming. I don't yell because that's not going to help. And I'm not that angry anymore. She is here. She is here now. Maybe I'll even facebook friend her. ;)



4. Been thinking about my trust in God during this whole getting pregnant stuff again. I've not been focusing on the fruits of my labor-what with the pills, inserts and such, I've just been doing and trusting the Lord. The race to get pregnant was central conflict in my life. That conflict is now absent because of my faith. Pretty cool I must say.

Actually, as I grow in my faith, I become much, much quieter all together. Which is odd for me. I mean, I have ADD. I vibrate and chatter and hyper at baseline. And the more I go to women's bible study, go to Church, the more I turn my life over to God, the less I struggle and thrash around. And now Mr. Hall and I are going to couple's bible study starting this week. Woot!

Maybe that's why this blog as been thin as of late. This blog is me, telling my story, working out my inner chaos. And my inner choas is becoming less so.

Well . .


Huh . . .

Here's to growing some inner peace ;)

Touching God in dark places

This is a repost, slightly edited though.



We're trying to for a third baby again . . . or, as Mr. Hall says:

"Game on!"

For us, first came the love, then came the marriage, then came the baby in the baby carriage.

And make no mistake, there is no love like married love. Living together doesn’t even come close. At least not for us. Then there is the love I have for him- because he made me pregnant. Our babies grew inside my belly because of him. There are no words for this. Just paroxysms of joy and permeated bliss.

Which I find myself feeling, over and over again, in the dark. We turned off the lights and we crawl into bed, feeling the warmth of the burgundy comforter. We nuzzle and spoon in our cherry wood sleigh bed. Our babies snoozing sleepily across the hall. Babies we birthed. All of us here, home.

In the dark, during these nights, I feel whole and full of God’s grace. I feel the swirling energy emanating from inside and outside our bodies. In the dark, when we are bound round each other, smooshed and warm, I feel touched by the hand of God. I feel the miracle of our marriage. A miracle we've been blessed with.

And maybe, just maybe, before next month, we will be blessed with yet another miracle still.

last night 12 women laid hands on me

Last night, at my women's bible study group, we were studying The Book of Acts. At the end of the meeting, as is our want, we take prayer requests. We all take turns and ask the group to pray for us with something that we need. It was a lovely meeting with pastries and pleasantries. I was light hearted and smiley. Then it was my turn. I was going to cop out and say something about praying for more patience with my patients.

Instead, this came out:

"Well, maybe I should talk about what's really on my mind."

Then, I could barely choke out the rest. The rest being that in the prior six months I've had two miscarriages and we are trying again and I'm scared. Then I seriously lost it. Snot bubble cry. One of the women came behind me and started rubbing my back. Another ran and got a tissue. It just came out like a hurricane and then I lost the power to use my words. I COULDN'T USE MY WORDS.

Then one of the women said, "I want to do a healing ritual. Let's do a laying on of hands. Is that ok?" She looked at me. This particular women had hugged me in church the week prior. She's a hugger. I let her hug me.

I really didn't know what "laying on of hands" was, but I said yes. And that photo up there, that's kind of what happened. Only that's not me. But, that up there, that's what happened!

Then the hugger said the words I couldn't say, all wrapped up in prayer. "Please Lord, let her lay down all the hurt and pain from losing her babies, let her give all the pain to you. Let her heal Lord. Let her know your love. Let her feel your presence her now."

At that point I was kind of freaked out because well, do you see the photo up there? Then I made a conscious decision to deep breathe and let it all come.

The women went on, "Lord let her know she doesn't have to carry this, this is yours, let her lay it down, right here, let her feel your arms lifting her up. Let her feel the joy of making another child, of creating a miracle. Lift her up lord, right here. Let her feel the joy."

And did I mention one of the women started speaking in tongues? DID I??
Speaking in tongues was a freshly explained concept to me, just that night in fact. It's in the Book of Acts.

This went on for about 15 minutes. All the while these hands were laid on me. Some where gripping, some were lightly touching and some were just laying there. It was kind of crazy but I let go and let it all happen.

And I can say this. Today I feel absolutely fabulous. I am joy upon joy. Praise be indeed ;)

P.S. Maybe these are my sister wives in disguise no?

Then Mr. Hall got me really really drunk and I love him so much for that

Mr. Hall and I are at dinner. Babysitter booked, night to ourselves. Oh Glory Be.

I was kind of blubbering, softly though. We were looking through the menus and I was trying to not to talk about ovulation apps I downloaded on my phone. He doesn't like me getting obsessed. But I have to keep track of things now, closely. And part of me is still scared.

"What? What's wrong?", he says.

"Well, I just find it too much sometimes. And I want to sign up for Mamaste, the prenatal yoga, with the special yoga teacher. But, do I tell her what happened? I don't want to weigh her down with knowing that me, one of her students, has had two miscarriages. I don't want her to be sad and watching me during class. I've been thinking about it a lot and I don't know what to do. I know it's silly, I'm not even pregnant yet. But I can't not tell her. But I mean, I mean, it could happen again.", I say.

(The waiter takes our orders, I order a strawberry daiquiri for my dinner drink.)

"Nothing's going to happen babe. It'll be alright.", he says, staring. I can tell I've prickled him.

"Look, it's foolish to say that. I mean, chances are, everything will be alright this time. But there is a chance it won't. And I'm still sad about the last babies. I mean, it's ok sad, but I'm still sad. I'm happy though, more happy then sad. Still working my way through all of this." And I'm looking at him and he has softened.

He's smiling now and says, "There is one way to know things will be alright."

"How's that?", I ask.

"We can have faith." He said this, looking directly at me.

Then I feel so happy because he makes me so happy when he says stuff like this. And when he says stuff like this I believe him. Then I realize I'm kind of sobbing so I saunter to the loo and clean up a bit. I come back to the table to find a king size, pale green margarita where my strawberry daiquiri should be.

"Don't sip this. Drink it.", he commands, "I told them to make it strong. And don't be slow because there's another one after this for you. "

The taste of the thing was crazy. It was really, really jarring. Strawberry drinks are so much different then the pale green monster before me. I sipped and shook my head involuntarily from side to side. All the while making a pucker yuck face. However, I knew I was in no position to argue.

So I breathed out, like fogging up a mirror, held my breath and sucked the juice in. Taking big gulps and hoofing it down. And I must say, the pale green monster gets the job done nicely. About 3/4 of the way through I was giggling. I giggle ferociously when I'm drunk. Everything is just so funny. The table is funny, the drink cups are funny, the lighting is funny, the food is funny, I'm funny, Mr. Hall is funny. I laugh and laugh.

I finished off the one. My belly was bursting with margarita goodness. We munched on chips while that absorbed a little. Then the next one came. And I was able to finish a good half of it.

Then I noticed the car was funny. Well, not the car, but the fact that we parked right outside the door of the restaurant but now it seemed to far away. That was so funny. Then I noticed Mr. Hall was kind of holding me up. That was hilarious. I must have laughed the entire ride home over this.

Maybe this is why Mr. Hall limits my adult beverage intake while in public. I am a mess and can't walk very well. Huh, well, anywho . . .

Another thing I noticed was my lack of pain. I had been hitting the yoga mat hard lately, beating it like it owed me money. My legs, belly and calves were throbby sore all week. But with that much booze on board, I knew the meaning of feel no pain. It was wonderful.

I was put to bed and that was funny. Mr. Hall napped beside me for a while. It took a good hour for the room to take a square shape again. It was a surreal night all clouded in pale green goodness.

And nights like these, this is why I love Mr. Hall. ;)

I need booze ideas people-BOOZE IDEAS!!!!

These are things I need to do to get pregnant:

Clicken to see the manliness, if you think you can handle it I mean.

I'm so excited! SQUEE!!! So let's get on with the plan shall we?

1. I must dye my hair back to it's original brownish red. It's really red right now and my roots are almost black looking. Jaw dropping red is not a style I can maintain while preggers-so back it goes. :)

2. Low dose aspirin, to be taken every day until I deliver. It's enteric coated. Nothing but the fanciest 81 mg aspirin for Mrs. Hall!

3. Progesterone supplementation. To be started upon ovulation and through the first trimester.

4. + 5. The sponge bob dixie cups to serve as a um, reservoir. A specimen cup to dip the ovulation sticks into if you will. Because iffn I'm going to have to pee in a cup every day for 20 days, I plan on making it fun!

6. Prenatal vitamins. yum. bleah. gag. Wait, noo noo!! yum, I said yummy it's ok, I didn't need to poop anyway!!

7. The booze I drank tonight.

THIS IS WHERE YOU ALL COME IN . . . .

For the next two weeks I get to booze it up. And OH MY GOD I plan on boozing it up. But, I need ideas. Cocktails, microbrews, anything you know and love and will be leaving my face kinda numb . . please, share with me in the comments!

:)

O AND ONE MORE THING . . .

That's a half nekkid Mr. Hall right there. Cause he's the most important thing to do! hee hee hee

Do I dare disturb the universe? (Oh yes I do)

There's this poem called, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". It's about a scared man, who wishes to live life anonymously. But he has wants and needs, just like the rest of us. To fulfill these needs, he must first say them out loud. But to say you want things out loud, this is scariest of all. So he says:

"Do I dare, do I dare disturb the universe?"

And let's just say I took my last birth control pill this morning. Which I did. And let's just say there is power in my thoughts and feelings. Which there is. And let's just say I want things so badly, I am so scared of even asking for them outloud. Which I am.

But I don't want to be afraid any more. So here goes.

(me after yoga)

I say my body is full of womanliness. I have all this ovary and womb and boobie power. I am have all these wonderful parts working in concert. I am made this way on purpose. I have the power to make life, to make breath. I have all that I need to make another baby. I say I will get pregnant.

(my last positive pregnant test and other proof of 'with child' status ;)

I say things will go well. I will swell accordingly and the baby will grow and grow and I will be so happy. I will be full of joy and silly with pregnancy giggles.

And I shall not be afraid.

It's not mine to carry, this fear, this worry. My two ton boulder is where it belongs. Last night, I rode my bike with the stone in my basket. I pulled over and handed it up to God. He took it, held me a while and put me back down to play. I rode off all free. I am free to be what I'm meant to be. I've let go and I am letting it be. And what it will be, will be a miracle.

(My daughter-seven years ago)

(my son-three year ago)

Those miracles happened, and it will happen again.


Now, if you'll excuse me. Mr. Hall and I have some work to do. ;)