I'm a Facebook addict. It's true. I love being able to connect with someone, show that I relate to someone, and be witty with someone in an instant. I try to deny the addiction and in fact recently have said I would let it go. And then...I found the historical reference it holds. I dare say I'm hooked a little longer.
I just discovered...I joined in 2006. I was writing my posts in the 3rd person. "hopes her weekend will rock..." etc.And wasn't writing that much at all. Of course in 2008, I had gotten the hang of how to post and more importantly it records the year I got married to the love of my life. And then in 2009...when he left for Afghanistan.
I look back at the pictures during that 13.5 months that turned into 18. I read my captions attached to pictures of the dogs and it takes me back....like it was yesterday. The truth is - I had crazy strength and maturity to get through that time. And the pictures remind me of everything and everyone else that helped. In fact - shaped the experience.
First and foremost, the pups. They were my babies. I could focus all my energy on taking care of them and at the same time accepting their unconditional love. My friends invited me to Key West and we soon became even better girlfriends. I cut my hair. I.Cut.My.Hair....and I cut it SHORT! I gained weight and lost weight. I worked at a sinking company and got saved by the acquiring company. I stayed active in the Junior League, and met my dear friend Jessica Kendall. I had girlfriends like Laura, Kristen, and Bethany visit and even mom and dad came. We had a pool in our backyard..relaxing in the evening was a no-brainer with that as our backdrop.
Tampa holds such a special place in my heart. I grew up and grew on in Tampa. My rocks Tracy, Matt, Liz and Lindsay made it all possible day-to-day.
I love pictures. I love them the same as I love music. They take you back and allow you to step out of your current day to day and remember what got you here.
It's a host of emotions and every single one..I like walking through.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Would you really want to know?
I hesitated to write about this mainly because I wouldn't want anyone to worry. And then I decided: it's something any other woman could be faced with at/around my age. And as for sweet Georgia, my health history becomes hers and that's another reason to record this here.
This last doctor's appointment, I asked about mammograms and when I should start having them (great marketing piece in the lobby - or else I honestly wouldn't have thought about it since I'm still 18 in my mind). She spoke as if no sense of real urgency - just when I turn 35. I said - so within the next year? She thought about my chart and with an 'ah-ha' look on her face said..well, yea..in the next year unless you have a history of breast cancer in your family. I said well both grandmothers have had it.
She then got a bit more inquisitive and asked at what age. I thought hard and couldn't remember, but knew I could ask my mom immediately after the appointment. She shared with me a new test they can perform - a gene test. They take bloodwork to see if you carry the gene to make you more likely to have breast or ovarian cancer. We very casually discussed how I should get tested next time I come in - just to know. Of course I agreed - why not? Of course I'd want to know.
It's been a week since the blood was drawn and sent off. I'm not sure I want to know.
I was hit this weekend with a pretty definitive thought...that makes me think I don't want to know.
I asked my doctor what do women do who find out they are positive for the gene? She told me of two scenarios. One woman who's mother, sisters, grandmothers, etc. had breast cancer and some didn't survive, had a double mastectomy and hysterectomy....at 34 years old. I'm 34 years old. Another woman whose grandmothers had breast cancer - the doctor decided it best that she be examined each year more closely - MRI along with mammogram and ultrasound for ovaries. This second scenerio, since it's closest to mine, made me feel somewhat more comfortable.
Until a week later.
I'm not sure I'm capable of handling the information that I have a higher probability of fighting cancer than the general population. If I don't know, then I continue to do the yearly exams like normal and face the same wonder/worry that each and every person faces. If I do find out, and let's say - am positive - I face each exam with the more intense worry of 'is this the year?' If it's positive - would I live life more fully? I like to think I live life to it's capacity now. If it's positive - would I rush the second child before being faced with the potential of treatments and surgeries? Would I try to consciously intervene in a plan that I haven't made? Only He has made. But how would I resist myself?
If I don't find out and know my blood has been sent off for the test...I might always wonder. If/when it comes back negative and I agree to hear the news..I'll feel a sense of relief. The back and forth of finding out or not finding out feels urgent. I'm sure the processing of blood work is imminent.
So I ask...would YOU really want to know? Would you want to know if you carried the gene?
This last doctor's appointment, I asked about mammograms and when I should start having them (great marketing piece in the lobby - or else I honestly wouldn't have thought about it since I'm still 18 in my mind). She spoke as if no sense of real urgency - just when I turn 35. I said - so within the next year? She thought about my chart and with an 'ah-ha' look on her face said..well, yea..in the next year unless you have a history of breast cancer in your family. I said well both grandmothers have had it.
She then got a bit more inquisitive and asked at what age. I thought hard and couldn't remember, but knew I could ask my mom immediately after the appointment. She shared with me a new test they can perform - a gene test. They take bloodwork to see if you carry the gene to make you more likely to have breast or ovarian cancer. We very casually discussed how I should get tested next time I come in - just to know. Of course I agreed - why not? Of course I'd want to know.
It's been a week since the blood was drawn and sent off. I'm not sure I want to know.
I was hit this weekend with a pretty definitive thought...that makes me think I don't want to know.
I asked my doctor what do women do who find out they are positive for the gene? She told me of two scenarios. One woman who's mother, sisters, grandmothers, etc. had breast cancer and some didn't survive, had a double mastectomy and hysterectomy....at 34 years old. I'm 34 years old. Another woman whose grandmothers had breast cancer - the doctor decided it best that she be examined each year more closely - MRI along with mammogram and ultrasound for ovaries. This second scenerio, since it's closest to mine, made me feel somewhat more comfortable.
Until a week later.
I'm not sure I'm capable of handling the information that I have a higher probability of fighting cancer than the general population. If I don't know, then I continue to do the yearly exams like normal and face the same wonder/worry that each and every person faces. If I do find out, and let's say - am positive - I face each exam with the more intense worry of 'is this the year?' If it's positive - would I live life more fully? I like to think I live life to it's capacity now. If it's positive - would I rush the second child before being faced with the potential of treatments and surgeries? Would I try to consciously intervene in a plan that I haven't made? Only He has made. But how would I resist myself?
If I don't find out and know my blood has been sent off for the test...I might always wonder. If/when it comes back negative and I agree to hear the news..I'll feel a sense of relief. The back and forth of finding out or not finding out feels urgent. I'm sure the processing of blood work is imminent.
So I ask...would YOU really want to know? Would you want to know if you carried the gene?
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Dance it out!
Wow...little did I know I'd revisit 10 years of my life in 2 hours of dance competition this morning!
I had the awesome opportunity to go see my dear friend Kristen's oldest daughter Taylor, 6 yrs old, compete in one of MANY of her dance competitions. I sat in the audience eagerly awaiting her appearance and cheering her on the whole way. She's a great dancer with a vibrant presence. I can't wait to see where she takes it next.
As I'm watching the dances in between her performances, I remember what it felt like. I remember what frame of mind I was in. I remember the nerves, the excitement, the 'elite' feeling, and the desire to want to do my very best. I also remember wanting to be with my dance friends, do what they were doing, in an independent yet want to be included sort of way.
I can remember rehearsing my routines in the grocery store aisles. Mom really liked that. :) I can remember rehearsing them in the passenger seat of the car with just head moves and random arm movements. I'm sure that was enjoyable for everyone else too. Yet when you're waiting in the curtain, stage left, you all of a sudden feel like you have to pee AND that you've forgotten the entire routine. No seriously - forgotten the entire routine. You quickly talk to your dance friends and are reminded...you haven't forgotten. They're still there. It will be fine.
On stage, it's all about stage presence: pointed toes, relaxed hands, and precise moves. Today's performances were full of talent. Admittedly, I recognized "flexed feet," "bent extensions," and "tense hands" only because those comments were SURE to be on my score card - at some point - I know it for fact.
And when the 8 year old lyrical dancers were dancing with such emotion in their face and depth in their movements..I seriously thought I would cry. I'm at a dance competition of 6-8 year olds and I want to CRY?! What is WRONG with me?!
I just felt like I was 8 again..in an instant. And as I drove home and throughout the afternoon, I had reached 18. And then it was time...18. I had to move on from something I knew well and felt I was relatively good at. I considered a career in it, but wasn't willing to make the sacrifice. I had to leave a group I'd become a part of. I had to say good bye to a mentor and teacher I loved at my core. It was time to go to college.
There is no doubt about it - dance - is what shaped me. It's why I stand tall, shoulders back (as best I can), and abs in. It's why I love "performing" - public speaking, theater, making friends laugh. It's why I like good music - there's always a reason to 'dance it out.'
Thank you to my mom and dad who sacrificed more than I'll ever know to allow me to dance. Thank you to Jason too for being an awesome big brother through it all.
Love to dance. L.O.V.E. dance.
I had the awesome opportunity to go see my dear friend Kristen's oldest daughter Taylor, 6 yrs old, compete in one of MANY of her dance competitions. I sat in the audience eagerly awaiting her appearance and cheering her on the whole way. She's a great dancer with a vibrant presence. I can't wait to see where she takes it next.
As I'm watching the dances in between her performances, I remember what it felt like. I remember what frame of mind I was in. I remember the nerves, the excitement, the 'elite' feeling, and the desire to want to do my very best. I also remember wanting to be with my dance friends, do what they were doing, in an independent yet want to be included sort of way.
I can remember rehearsing my routines in the grocery store aisles. Mom really liked that. :) I can remember rehearsing them in the passenger seat of the car with just head moves and random arm movements. I'm sure that was enjoyable for everyone else too. Yet when you're waiting in the curtain, stage left, you all of a sudden feel like you have to pee AND that you've forgotten the entire routine. No seriously - forgotten the entire routine. You quickly talk to your dance friends and are reminded...you haven't forgotten. They're still there. It will be fine.
On stage, it's all about stage presence: pointed toes, relaxed hands, and precise moves. Today's performances were full of talent. Admittedly, I recognized "flexed feet," "bent extensions," and "tense hands" only because those comments were SURE to be on my score card - at some point - I know it for fact.
And when the 8 year old lyrical dancers were dancing with such emotion in their face and depth in their movements..I seriously thought I would cry. I'm at a dance competition of 6-8 year olds and I want to CRY?! What is WRONG with me?!
I just felt like I was 8 again..in an instant. And as I drove home and throughout the afternoon, I had reached 18. And then it was time...18. I had to move on from something I knew well and felt I was relatively good at. I considered a career in it, but wasn't willing to make the sacrifice. I had to leave a group I'd become a part of. I had to say good bye to a mentor and teacher I loved at my core. It was time to go to college.
There is no doubt about it - dance - is what shaped me. It's why I stand tall, shoulders back (as best I can), and abs in. It's why I love "performing" - public speaking, theater, making friends laugh. It's why I like good music - there's always a reason to 'dance it out.'
Thank you to my mom and dad who sacrificed more than I'll ever know to allow me to dance. Thank you to Jason too for being an awesome big brother through it all.
Love to dance. L.O.V.E. dance.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Our first fever
The irony of the day warned me. I just didn't know it until the day was almost done.
When I dropped Georgia off this morning she gave her normal anxious grunts to get out of the carseat as she eagerly awaits the view of the hallway at baby school. She smiled at the passerbys and 'waved' to her teachers when we walked in. Everything normal. As I'm leaving, she pulls a yellow ball to her open mouth. I comment how it 'matches her shirt' and think to myself 'no wonder they pass viruses so quickly.' Warning #1.
Warning #2. My coworker and friend who is pregnant and touring the pediatrician's office tonight says to me 'my one burning question is what do you do with a fever? How will I know when to take her in?' I smiled and comforted her questioning. However, I had to tell her - I don't know the answer either because 'Georgia has NEVER had a fever.' I told her I would not hesitate to call the doctor and speak to a nurse about what to do. Viola. Jinxed myself there.
An hour later - the call from baby school came. "Georgia has a fever of 101.3 and has been sleeping a lot." I stumble through the conversation, nervous all of a sudden, and say I'll call the doctor and be there shortly. Nervous and anxious to 'mom' her at the same time. Feeling confident in my ability.
Before leaving, I actually had to laugh at the irony and the signs along the way that this was coming. I did exactly what I thought I'd do and called to speak to a nurse. Annette was great. She spoke her advice to me as if she knew I was writing it down and was patient when I needed to repeat it to her to make sure I heard her correctly and understood.
I got GA home and she was just lethargic and glassy eyed. Once we got her in PJs, she just wanted to lay down. Although she was peaceful, I felt that feeling for the first time that I wished I could take the ick feeling away from her. I wished I could do more.
She took a good nap, got up to visit with Daddy, ate a good dinner (great news), and has now gone down for the night. Dr. just said to watch the fever and keep it managed.
She seems to be sleeping peacefully and for that and more we are grateful.
When I dropped Georgia off this morning she gave her normal anxious grunts to get out of the carseat as she eagerly awaits the view of the hallway at baby school. She smiled at the passerbys and 'waved' to her teachers when we walked in. Everything normal. As I'm leaving, she pulls a yellow ball to her open mouth. I comment how it 'matches her shirt' and think to myself 'no wonder they pass viruses so quickly.' Warning #1.
Warning #2. My coworker and friend who is pregnant and touring the pediatrician's office tonight says to me 'my one burning question is what do you do with a fever? How will I know when to take her in?' I smiled and comforted her questioning. However, I had to tell her - I don't know the answer either because 'Georgia has NEVER had a fever.' I told her I would not hesitate to call the doctor and speak to a nurse about what to do. Viola. Jinxed myself there.
An hour later - the call from baby school came. "Georgia has a fever of 101.3 and has been sleeping a lot." I stumble through the conversation, nervous all of a sudden, and say I'll call the doctor and be there shortly. Nervous and anxious to 'mom' her at the same time. Feeling confident in my ability.
Before leaving, I actually had to laugh at the irony and the signs along the way that this was coming. I did exactly what I thought I'd do and called to speak to a nurse. Annette was great. She spoke her advice to me as if she knew I was writing it down and was patient when I needed to repeat it to her to make sure I heard her correctly and understood.
I got GA home and she was just lethargic and glassy eyed. Once we got her in PJs, she just wanted to lay down. Although she was peaceful, I felt that feeling for the first time that I wished I could take the ick feeling away from her. I wished I could do more.
She took a good nap, got up to visit with Daddy, ate a good dinner (great news), and has now gone down for the night. Dr. just said to watch the fever and keep it managed.
She seems to be sleeping peacefully and for that and more we are grateful.
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