A little unsteady.

On July 17th, at around 1230 in the morning Nate pointed out to me that I was bleeding, and I was like what? And so I went to the bathroom. And then I called my sister in law to come over and watch Lexi for us. We got back earlier that day from my MIL's house in Springfield. And we went to the ER, but I already knew. I felt it in my stomach. I could tell. To be completely honest, I knew when I woke up that day. I could suck in my belly, I didn't feel the same. But I didn't know for sure and I didn't want to say anything just in case I seemed crazy. I felt my heart shattering. I couldn't breathe. I could tell. I knew in that moment that we had lost our baby. The ER doctor was very nice to me, tried to tell me that a lot of people experience bleeding like this in their first trimester and it is not a miscarriage. But I knew she was wrong.=, there was no way that I was bleeding that much and that it was normal. I went from feeling pregnant to feeling empty. We lost our baby. That I wanted so badly and was so excited for. And my husband, held me. And cried with me. And supported me. And I fell even more in love with him than I had already been. Talk about a steady rock- he is my life. I live and breathe Nate. If you love me, don't let go. Hold on to me, cause I'm a little unsteady. A little unsteady. We made the mistake of telling our families. Or, what some would call a mistake. But, we wanted our families to be a part of every moment. After all, we have been trying for quite some time. And this wasn't our first loss, but definitely the deepest and hardest. Nate is my soulmate, my best friend, the love of my life. All I want is to begin our family together but God has decided it isn't time. We know there will be a time, and that it is out of our control as to when that may be. But, God's got this. Even if I was pretty mad, and heartbroken. See- Nate and I are both fixers. We like to help people, we like to help our families, we like to help the youth in our church, we like to be involved in our community, our families depend on us. Losing this baby was really difficult. It softened me even more, and I am already a heart on your sleeve kinda girl. I used to hate that about myself, but I have really embraced that at 30. Take it or leave it, it's who I am, and my best friends love me for it. One of my best friends had a baby shower the next weekend, I was shaking being there the entire time. I was "excused" from going, but my loss shouldn't affect my love for my friends and their happiness. So, I went. And it was healthy and good for me. I realized I was able to be happy for others even in my darkest hour. This isn't a woe is me post. This is a, what I thought was woe is me, is actually I am able to be happy post. See, we haven't given up hope. We are still trying to have a family, to make our family complete. God knows that Nate and I are supposed to be parents. We both know it as well. Tomorrow, I am hosting a baby shower for my sister in law. We were pregnant at the same time, and it was so exciting. And she has been my biggest comfort outside of Nate. She even offered to carry a baby for us (Nate thinks that's weird- I think it's selfless and kind). I was in the room with her when she heard her little man's heartbeat for the first time. It was crazy emotional and so damn beautiful. I am still struggling every day. Struggling that I am watching my friends not only have their first child, but their second, third, fourth. I am protecting my soul, protecting my heart, protecting myself from opening up and hurting again. Being a mom is all I want in this life. I want to be there when they wake up sick, when they wake up with a nightmare, when they take their first steps, hear them say mama or dada for the first time. Time doesn't heal all, y'all. I've been running from this. I hate that I feel inadequate as a woman, as a wife, and as a friend. I miss my baby, I miss feeling pregnant. I hate that I have a broken heart that nothing and no one can mend. Hold, hold on... hold on to me. Cause I'm a little unsteady. A little unsteady.

When the sun sets in the evening.

After tons of paperwork, background checks of every kind, major communication with DHS, home visits (we had to baby proof our entire house), and prayer... we finally got approved to be a provisional foster home for Lexi. That Wednesday, they called to tell me that they were bringing her to our house. I was in my office at work, started jumping up and down, and laughing and crying at the same time. I was so happy she was coming "home". But I had no idea what I was in for. Nate and I aren't parents, we have no children of our own. Just us and Gus Dog. So many people were in and out of my house that day that I don't even remember who came over and who didn't. Lexi had no routine, she wasn't in daycare, she had one outfit and one pair of shoes with her. I don't think I got any sleep that night.Or the following month. She was up all night screaming and crying for her Mom and Dad. And Nate and I could do nothing to console her. And how do you explain to a 2 year old that mommy's bye bye? The next morning, we went to daycare. I was so nervous to leave her there. What if something happens, what if she doesn't make friends, are they going to feed her enough, etc. The kid barely spoke. But we picked her up after work, came home and really began our new lives as a family of four (I count the dog). I feel like this has been so long ago, but only yesterday at the same time. I don't remember what we had for dinner, but she probably didn't like it. I was told she liked mac n cheese, corn dogs, and blueberries. Turned out, not really. She likes chicken, bananas, yogurt, toast, tacos, red beans and rice, tomato soup... not just... crap. So in March, we learned what it was like to be parents. It is tough. I remember calling my friend Amanda asking her if I could Lexi children's tylenol, calling Cendy at work because Lexi is apparently allergic to cinnamon, calling Kayla to come over because I don't think this is just diaper rash. Our support system is out of this world y'all. April came around and a friend at church was like "hey, is she going to dye eggs?". Well, Lex and I went to Tiffiny's and learned how to dye eggs. She became a huge part of our church, and then in June, Melissa threw her a "welcome" party where she got a lot of clothes, toys, and stuff she needed that we hadn't gotten to. After all, we were basically winging it day by day. Oh, we need a thermometer, and a bath plug... text my brother Kyle and he picked them up at WalMart for us. My parents were taking her every weekend in March since they were before when my sister wasn't in jail. We didn't want to change the little routine that she did know. Then she only went every other weekend, and then we kinda pushed it to every third, and now it's more of a they get to be normal grandparents and take their granddaughter when they miss her, wanna do something fun, and not HAVE to take her every weekend to make sure she is okay. We had to find babysitters for youth group (thanks again to the worlds best brother), had to figure out who was going to be our "FFSS" which is Foster Family Support System. You can have three families, and we have my parents, my grandparents... and no third. In June, Lexi turned 3. She had her friends at the park- her friends have become all of my friends kids, our family, and friends she has made at church. She loves church so much, it makes me so happy. Actually, we pulled in one Sunday recently and she goes "Me Happy!" because she loves it so much. We started making her go to bed at 8:30pm every night when she first came to live with us, and taking a nap every day from 12-2 (same as daycare). We read a lot of books, we researched potty training, we became consumed with how to help her grow (physically and mentally), we basically lived and breathed Lexi and nothing but Lexi. One Sunday we skipped a nap, moved bedtime to 8pm, it happened again on another Sunday, and now we are in bed at 7:30pm. And when we wake her up in the morning, usually around 650am, she is still tired. She prays every night before dinner, and we all sit at the table together and enjoy dinner as a family. We had to go to the doctor a lot, she was pretty consistently sick. Felt like every week, we either had a stomach bug, or strep, or a really bad cough, or another stomach bug. It was awful. But now she takes a paw patrol vitamin every day and has gotten much better. She used to wheeze really bad, that has basically disappeared. All in between this we are also attending court dates, meetings at daycare, state required doctors appointments, having her case worker stop by, her CASA worker stop by, keeping in touch with her attorney ad litem, getting her started in speech therapy, making sure we were CPR certified, attending therapy sessions, buying the right fire extinguisher because the first one was wrong, getting locks for medication, moving up our laundry detergent, and we had six months to do this all in. We officially "opened" 08/31/2017, I turned 30 the next day. But in July, my heart got broken, very bad, very deep. And I haven't recovered from that yet, every day is a new day, but the sun sets in the evening and I get up the next morning for the 3 year old all over again.

I think I've had enough.

The last time I wrote something here, was at least three years ago. Wow. And I feel as though I am always here writing something deep, personal, and about my family. (forgive me y'all- one day it'll be a book & I *might* change your names. I already have my title picked out). Yesterday I had a really rough morning. I didn't get to work until 0815, because I was too busy sobbing at home to even get mascara on. Y'all need to remind me to write when I am feeling bad, down, happy, excited, etc. Writing has always been my outlet and yet I have wasted my time by not doing so and instead being an ignorant female who thought I could handle everything without putting my words down on paper. It's basically 1am, and I should be in bed. Technically, I am in bed. But I need to go to sleep. Ever have those days/weeks/months where you just can't sleep until you get it all out? This is definitely going to take more than one or two posts but I am going to try to keep it short (lol- nothing in my life is ever short, it takes me 18 stories to get to one so I can make my point). The first thing I ever wrote on here was about resentment. And how I resented my sister for doing meth and being in jail on and off again since I was 16. And I am still battling resentment, 14 years later. I don't get drugs. I don't get meth. I don't get not wanting to sleep and eat... I mean, food is delicious! Resentment is a strong word. Is it really what I meant four years ago? I guess we will delve deeper into that here. We are currently in October of 2017. I'm going to take it back to at least December of 2016, and make this all about myself, of course. In December, on vacation visiting my in-laws in Springfield, I was in the middle of accepting a job at a private practice. But, I logged into my e-mail to fill out some paperwork and had an e-mail from my current boss- asking me to come into Mercy and interview for a different clinic with her. I had been in contact with her for about eight months at this time. So, I went. I was so happy to go. I walked out of the hospital knowing that that is where I was supposed to be. Later that day, I gave my notice to my old employer and said peace out homies (well, after a brutal we aren't even speaking to you three weeks). It wasn't an easy start. I was used to knowing everything, being the go to girl, the one who created all of our forms, implemented ideas, did clinical evaluations, vendor contracts, report guru, etc. to basically.... how do I pay this bill?! Talk about culture shock. But, my boss had (has) faith in me. And right when I feel like I was getting it all, in the end of February 2017, my sister went back to jail. (Refer to blog called "resentment"). But this time was different. She now had a 2 year old. The cops showed up to my house after midnight asking me to come get Lexi. I just said yes, and Nate (my husband) and I went to go her. With zero clothes, no car seat, nothing for her at all. But my friends, they pulled through. And my work was super cool about it all- After all, I how have a two year I wasn't expecting. Nate, my parents, my brother- all rotated taking a day off because I couldn't miss work (I was brand new!). But my sister got out of jail after one week and I was told that I had to take Lex back or be charged with kidnapping. So, she wen't back to her mom and dad (punitive father- not her bio dad, but on her birth certificate. Bio dad wants nothing to do with her- sucks for him, she's a super cool kid and is REALLY good at eye rolls). ONE WEEK LATER: My mom calls me, Nate and I had just sat down at Bentonville Brew Co (two in the afternoon) to have a beer: "Is Lexi with you" she asked me? Me: "No, I thought you were going to go get her for the weekend?" Mom: "Your sister is back in jail and I don't know where Lexi is, I'm on my way to your house". Me: "Nate, chug both of these beers, we have to find Lex". But Lexi was in foster care already at this time, a minimum of 14 hours since we had talked to my sister last, but we didn't know that. We didn't know anything. The police department wouldn't share any information (rightfully so), so phone calls to the children's shelter led us to DHS. I met them there at 5pm to find my niece... on a Saturday. **If you want to know more, stay posted. This is going to get long, nitty gritty, and deep down into my soul. Just trying to give some background first.** RESENTMENT>METH

A thousand miles.

Dear God, make me a bird. So I could fly far. Far, far away from here. I used to think this all the time when I was a little girl, after the first time that I had watched Forrest Gump. It wasn't that I hated my life, or hated my family, but I always felt like I was meant to be somewhere else, be someone else. This life has knocked me down so many times, has made me feel so inadequate, and frankly exhausted me. Something that some of you may know already, but most of you do not... is that I have severe PTSD, I suffer from anxiety and depression as well. This has caused me in my life to become an introvert. I get so worn out being around people and having to deal with them that it takes seriously every ounce of energy out of me. I get tired, I close myself off, I shake really bad, and I feel that it would be so much easier not to deal with them at all. I have a hard time making eye contact, I don't know what to do with my hands, and I never feel entirely comfortable around anyone. Mental illness is incredibly overlooked, while there has been a lot of progress made in this country, there will never be a complete understanding. This time last year, I had sunk into a very deep depression. I began cutting myself again, something that I hadn't done since high school, I talked to myself constantly about suicide, and a few others as well. No one understands the feeling that ending your life would make everyone else's life easier. I broke my husbands heart, my families hearts, and I sunk farther and farther every day. Then I woke up one day, and I didn't feel as bad as I had in a few months. So I put my notice in at my job, applied for jobs in Arkansas, and moved home. At this point, I realized that getting better was more important than trying to save a marriage, or protect someone else's heart. I had to protect my own. I didn't want to cut myself anymore, I didn't want to take pills every day to numb the pain, or drink until I passed out. I wanted to live my life. It's hard to live a life when you don't feel accepted or loved. It's hard to feel anything but pain. I look back to a year ago and where I was in my life and how happy I am that I have moved passed the people and things that made me feel the way that I did. People who make you feel pain are not worth your life. Don't end your life for anyone or anything. Change your circumstances, it may be hard, but it'll be the best thing you've ever done for yourself. Thank you Jesus for believing in me and giving my life a purpose that I can be proud of. Thank you for giving me a second chance with my family, my friends, my husband, who have all stood by me through this all. Please pray that whatever this heaviness is that is weighing me down tonight, is not the same thing I was struggling with last year. It's not something you can control, it's not something a shrink can help you fix. But with prayer, I do believe that God will help bring me through once again. I thank God every day for giving me a second chance. Don't miss yours.

Resentment.

My sister went back to jail 52 days before I got married. Right after her ex-husband killed himself. The first time she got busted was the day before my senior year in high school (August 2004). And over the last 9 years, she has came home and went back so many times, they are too numerous for me to count.
Meth. Comparable to a giant sinkhole that just shows up one night when you are peacefully sleeping, and then BAM! your entire life is down in some dark hole and you can't seem to dig yourself out. Meth.
I am so resentful towards her for bailing out on me all the time. When your a little girl and you have a big sister, you look up to and idolize that person more than anyone else. But my sister choose meth. Or did meth choose her?
In August 2012, I got a phone call really early one morning before work because our mother thought she was high. She had been out of the regional punishment facility for about one year at this time, and I honestly didn't think she was using. And I ALWAYS knew when she was using. I asked my sister, and she denied every bit of it. But her denial, only confirmed it for me.
52 days before I got married, I got a phone call at 6:30am from my mom, crying hysterically. My heart dropped, my life was flashing before my eyes. I thought my sister had finally pushed it to far and died. But, thankfully, in a weird way, she went back to jail. And now she is a current ward of the state prison system in Newport, Arkansas. 
Is prison a rehab facility? No. Is prison where a meth user should be? No. Do I honestly think that my sister should be sleeping no less than five feet away from a murderer? Absolutely not. But could my sister have potentially harmed and possibly killed innocent people with a mobile meth lab in the trunk of her car? Yes. And can I forgive her for that? Maybe, one day.
The mobile meth lab as the police called it, was just one of the multiple charges she has faced since 2004. There are so many, felonies & misdemeanors ,that I can not even count them. Who know that at 16 years old, I would learn more first hand sitting in a court room about our judicial system than any teacher could have ever taught me?
Which leads me back to resentment. I resent the bad choices that she has made and all of the things that she has missed out on. But last month, the parole board decided that it was okay for my sister to come home. So come November, she will move back into my mother's house, at 31 years old. While her 16 and 13 year old children, live with my grandparents who adopted them earlier this year. Resentment. (If your good at math, you just realized that my sister had her first child when she was 15. That was the first time I lost her. The girl who should have been helping me with my homework and walking me to school, became a mother. That is when my resentment began.)
I keep getting asked if I think that she will mess up again when she gets out. What am I supposed to say to this? No? But, with her wonderful track record, do I honestly think that no she wont? It's a hard question to be asked. If I say yes, have I lost all faith completely in her? Because that is how I feel, faithless when it comes to my sister.
Meth. Resentment.
The parole board told my family that this is her last chance. If she messes up again, she will face the rest of her life in prison. My first thoughts upon hearing this are that I don't want my sister to die in prison. So maybe I have no faith in her after all. But in less than three months, she will be back among us and all of the evil and all of the temptation will be once again knocking on her door.
Bad things happen to people, and while she has had her fair share of bad things happen, she needs to rehabilitate. She needs to learn that you can not turn to drugs or use them as your clutch when these things happen. She needs to learn to live without using any sort of substance. But I am unsure if this is possible for her. Is there a silver lining that I am just not seeing yet?
I am scared of my sister coming "home". I am scared for my sister, for her kids, for my mom, and for the rest of our family.
I resent her coming home, I resent myself for having those feelings, but most of all, I resent meth.