A new life: Six months in Durham

Source: designsponge.com via Libby on Pinterest

The time flies when you’re working hard and having fun.

Living in Durham, 1,223 miles away from our family, friends and the city we grew up in has been an interesting adjustment, but I feel like everything is coming together now, like we’ve broken in a pair of gorgeous heels.

Things I’ve learned in the past six months:
1. No one is a better sidekick and supporter than Travis.

2. Who my good friends are: Distance makes the heart grow fonder or apart. Realizing that the ones who I thought would always call, do, and the ones I was on the fence with, don’t. Perspective is easy this far away.

3. That Travis and I can stand on our own two feet without the help of connections or family.

4. That life in Durham is easier, less complicated and life in Oklahoma City is full of heart-swelling proximity to those we love.

5. That sharing a car with your spouse takes away a level of independence and gives you one less thing to worry about or take care of.

 6. That I will always be a planner, no matter how much I want to be someone who lives by the seat of my pants. “Enjoying the ride” is the toughest part of my daily activities.

7. That I have a sincere appreciation for all things lush, green, nature and organic.

8. That my health is better served by taking better care of myself instead of others.

9. That I’m not five. I no longer have to invite everyone to my birthday party, rather I can chose who I am friends with and have a conscious choice of who I allow to be in my life.

10. That sometimes, it’s easy to feel forgotten being so far away.

New lives are possible and stronger decisions make it best. Overall, it’s been a growing experience and one that I wouldn’t trade for anything. We’re planning travel over the next few months and look forward to our continued journey through a life “away” from home.

Mess, 11: A new day

Source: google.ca via Twila on Pinterest

If you are just starting to read this blog, you should start at square one.

Since sitting next to each other at our job together, Travis and I have dreamt of living “away” from Oklahoma City. In fact, it is something that brought us so close that we had no choice but to fall in love. It felt like a destiny waiting to be filled and an unachievable dream, at the same time.

My boss called me on the way to work that sweaty July morning.

It was 7:45am and I was enduring my monotonous drive to work. Sitting on Portland Avenue, dumb-founded and in shock, I received the call. My counterpart in our Durham office had been unexpectedly deployed. She wasn’t supposed to be, but someone else had extenuating circumstances that forced her into the position to fight for our country, again.

We turned down this opportunity just a short year before, choosing to stay in our home and start a family. Ironic, considering the day following our last chance at this dream, I received a call offering a position in Durham, again. With traffic standing still, providing me a moment to think about it, I felt in my gut that this was the path laid out before us, the one chosen for us to take. Travis agreed whole-hearted. The answer to our prayers.

This was the move that we called our God move. We put all of our natural fears and trepidation within Him and followed what we felt we were called to do – despite it being so far from our comfort zones. Each decision was made with ease and literally, everything fell into place. It was as if it was a row of pristine dominoes were set to fall perfectly, one on top of the other.

It’s been 10 months since that decision was made. It has been a nice distraction from the perils that consumed our hearts and minds.

After stepping out of the tunnel-vision, I can’t say that I’m surprised that we didn’t get pregnant. Our minds, particularly mine, were so consumed with the end goal that we missed the forest for the trees. It feels as if we were holding our breath for two years, forgetting to breathe. Forgetting to live.

As I drove home from work last June, I thought of what pep-talk I would give myself. What would the real me say to the hormone-sadness-induced me? She’d say, “This isn’t your story. You are bigger than this and this is but a chapter leading to the next that shows a tale of survival, of living. You are not defined by this and your love is not dependent on producing a child. You are going to push through this and realize that there is sunshine on the other side of these clouds.” 

Life is in general a struggle of choices, its how we choose to harness and empower those choices that make us who we are and what we stand for. This is not the story that defines me or my love.

I’ve (we’ve) pulled ourselves up by the boot straps. Now what?

The lifetime planner and the fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants husband have to ask themselves what they want for their lives. We have chosen and accepted a new journey, a new adventure, a different way to look at life. We remember that all things, big or small happen for a reason.

We live.

Note: I wrote this "mess" section as a way to heal my heart, to take control of and purge the feelings that once consumed me. After the months have passed, I'm happier and healthier. Together, Travis and I are looking forward and realizing that life is a journey, not a destination. Cliche as it may be, it's true. If our thoughts are what consumes us, then I'm happy to have completed this chapter of my life, to put these sad thoughts behind us. Onward and upward. Who knows what life will bring us...

Mess, 10: One more month

One more month. That’s all we had left in us – financially and physically. With the monthly costs of health and wellness, drugs, doctor visits, medical tests, pregnancy tests and ovulation kits, we were thousands of dollars deep into this.

Additionally, I was not physically responding well to the hormones. Despite my constant monitor of caloric intake, I was gaining weight. Moods and down-right bitchiness ruled my days, night sweats and terrors ruled by nights. My anxiety was at an all-time high and the side effects were taking a toll.

As I drove to work one day, in the middle of non-stop 60 mile-per-hour traffic, I had a full-blown anxiety attack and felt like I was fainting…while driving…60 miles per hour. This (figuratively) stopped my heart in its tracks. The attacks carried on with no possible control for the months following. Driving, sitting in client meetings, flying – you name it, I was having fainting and blackout moments continuously.

We decided to give this one more shot with IUI. You may ask if we considered IVF. We didn’t. The cost was too great to afford and to rationalize due to our many failed attempts and the comparable money spent to date. Writing that large of a check and having a possible negative outcome would have sent us to an asylum. At this point, we knew that the following month would be our last month of “trying” medically speaking.

I’d detail out the experience for you, but I honestly don’t remember it. It’s like I blocked it out. My mind has recalled so much of the pain from this journey that it could not contain it. The sadness consumed me when the outcome was the same as the previous month. The details, the response, the pain – all the same. I felt paralyzed with emotions.

I left work that day, too consumed by sadness to carry myself through one more agonizing moment. I don’t know how I drove home that day, tears filled my eyes to the point of not being able to see. Everything was going hazy, blurry, and incoherent.

As I arrived home that day, I laid on the living room floor praying for a response, an answer to my question of why. I was literally on my face demanding a justified reason. Throughout this journey, I stayed steadfast in my belief that I would be a Mother - that was the one thing in life I was meant to accomplish. My Faith grew through this journey relying upon the comfort of the one Being that knew my pain and comforted me. I held steadfast knowing that my true sadness was coming from not understanding and not knowing why we weren’t successful.

Physically, there is nothing wrong with us. Travis is an over-producer (and his wife an over-sharer, apparently). My lady/baby parts are mostly ideal. Everything is in place as it should be. There isn’t a striking reason why this should not happen.

We cried throughout the night as if we were mourning a loss. I haven’t shed tears or felt such strong tremors of pain since losing my Grandfather. I could feel my heart breaking and my body shutting down.

That night, I felt like I had lost more than just this month’s baby, rather I felt like I had lost a dream, a lifelong image of what my life would be.  It was the stark reality that the life we had worked towards for so many years, was suddenly not the path ahead. There was a cold, gnawing pain in the pit of my soul that warned me of this.

Then next morning, the answer to came calling at 7:45am.

Part 11: changes.

Mess, 9: Word purge of thoughts on support

Support during this time was difficult. It seemed like there was no one to really talk about this with.

If you were someone who hadn’t started trying for a baby, I didn’t want to scare you. If you were someone who had gone through this and were unsuccessful, I didn’t want to face those facts. I didn’t want to turn to the internet and scare/depress myself. If you were someone lucky to have a child, then you couldn’t really sympathize with me unless I explained it like this…

Imagine that you know you have a child; you know they are out there. Now imagine that you cannot be with them. Imagine that you have every ounce of your body and home ready for them and they are not a part of your life. Imagine the sadness that pours through your soul at the possibility that you will not meet them. Imagine a constant physical and emotional pull towards them, but you cannot see them.

In all honesty and hindsight, I don’t know that I was able to be supported during this time. This was the one thing that every female is allegedly suppose to be able to do - reproduce. This felt so internal, yet so unimaginable. This is not how I dreamt my life would be. I, sort of, banked my life on the idea that I would have a child. It seemed like the easiest, most natural thing that was supposed to happen. Who knew this would be...hard?

During all of this, I was aware that others were hurting too, but I couldn’t rationalize it. Friends were sad for us, family prayed for us and our parents genuinely cried for us. They knew the pains we felt, the realities that sat in the back of our minds.

Travis tried to be supportive during this time, but he was going through his own emotions too. He offered support in his own, kind, way. He held me when I hurt, distracted me when I had tunnel vision, talked when it was the right moment and got angry when I needed someone to be angry with. All of this he did as he put his own sadness aside.

And he never ever said… "when you don’t think about it, it will happen.” Folks, this is number one wrong thing you can say to a person in this situation. Why? Because there is no way to stop thinking about it, no matter how hard you try it is always there. If the thought isn’t there, there’s someone announcing they are pregnant, someone walks by with a baby or someone complains about their kids/baby/etc via social media. There are babies everywhere and in this situation, you are hyper-sensitive towards it. You cannot escape the “crazy” as I call it – not while you are in the trenches.

This “crazy” was changing my life. I no longer enjoyed anything and focused on a life of without, than a life of with. I could feel my mind shaping around this process and thoughts. I was so in-tune with my body that I felt everything – from a bubble of air moving within me to the full process of ovulation. “Crazy” was turning into my worst nightmare, insanity.

Our friends, Zach and Kathy tell their stories much more eloquently than I do. 

Part 10: try, try again.

New addictions

I’m addicted to olive oil, I admit it. While usually that would include something with food, this time it doesn’t. Shocking, I know.

When I moved to Durham, my 34 year old skin was starting to look like a little saggy and dried up. When Liz told me that I needed to wash my face with olive oil, I swore that she was nuts.

“You want me to wash…my face…with oil? Nope, not going to happen.”

Two weeks later, I accepted that Greeks bathe in this stuff, so it couldn’t be that bad.

Skip ahead five months later, and my skin has never looked so good. In fact, I’d say “olive it.” As someone who longed for a bed time routine and the desire to wash my face consecutively, this cleanse is the answer to my prayers.

My skin looks improved. I’m in a routine and happily addicted to olive oil.

Find out more, here. Just don't be scared of castor oil.

Durham places: Guglhupf

Top: The patio at Guglhupf, (in the late Fall) one of our favorite weekend stops in Durham.
Next two: Bakery cases are packed with the most amazing desserts, pastries and breads.
Second to last: The patio (in the early Spring) draws quite a crowd. Me, I'm just there for the amazing chocolate cookies.
Last: Each visit isn't complete until I've picked up a coffee and fresh baguette. Usually, I sneak in a sweet treat like macaroons.

Garbanzo Bean Salad

I love to make what I call refrigerator-drawer salads. Basically, it’s everything left over from the week’s vegetables tossed together to form a harmonious recipe.

I have an equation that I (sort of) follow:
1 part starch to “bind” it together (pasta, faro, beans)
1 part crunch for texture (celery, bell peppers, toasted nuts)
1 part acid (tomato, onion, lemon, vinegar)
1 part soft vegetable (cucumber, mushroom, beets, squash)

One thing that I do not add to my salads is garlic. After a few days of macerating together, the garlic tends to mask everything else.

This week’s salad is one that I am super in love with and enjoying every last bit of it! Yesterday, I mixed it with rice and pork chops – perfection on a plate!

Here’s the recipe:
1 can of organic garbanzo beans (I find that the Bush’s ones are too gritty and many of the other varieties are too oily, so I stick with this one), drained and rinsed.
2 stalks of celery, finely chopped
1 green bell pepper
1 cob of fresh corn, cut from the cob after cooking
15-20 grape tomatoes, halved
2 scallions, finely chopped greens only
3 TBS red wine vinegar
1 TBS olive oil
2 TBS fresh chopped parsley
1 English cucumber, finely chopped (The skins have all of the nutrients in them, so I prefer these over regular ones.)
Salt & pepper to taste

Mix together and add additional vinegar as needed. It is best after sitting for a least an hour.

This recipe would also be great with some orzo or Mexican “watermelon” pasta added. What’s watermelon pasta? It is a great alternative to orzo and generally less than a dollar for a bag. Look for it in your grocer’s Mexican/Ethnic aisle. It resembles the white seeds of watermelons, but is in fact just pasta at a fraction of the cost.

Mess, 8: Waiting (rooms)

Again with the feelings, I felt pregnant. More than that, my temperature tests told me I was pregnant. All signs were leading to go.

The morning of my monthly ultrasound was a lesson in patience. I woke up bright and early – it was the first day of my missed period and I was ready to test. Mister anxiously waited as I peed on that lovely electronic stick. I was ready to finally see “pregnant” after months of those damned things laughing at me and basically saying “try again” or “better luck next time!”

“Not pregnant.” How could that be?! I felt like I thought I should. The cramps on the 26^th day were fairly minor this time. My temperatures were hitting the correct numbers. Everything seemed like it was on track. I immediately called a friend and she assured me that those pesky electronic tests aren’t as sensitive as the old-fashioned kind and to wait for my doctor visit.

As I stood on the scales at the doctor’s office, the nurse asked if I felt pregnant. I recapped the monthly, temps and test debacle that morning. She looked at my charts and confirmed that by the numbers, I looked pregnant. Cautious joy ensued.

As the ultrasound magnified my baby parts, I felt a twinge of hopeless happiness envelope my body. There it was, the sign I had been looking for all along – the baby. It was there. The doctor would not fully confirm it.

The doctor called for a blood test and reserved his gladness for those results. It felt like he was walking away from me with this underlying sadness that I couldn’t pinpoint. Had he had a bad morning? Was he tired? Why wasn’t he as happy as I was?

The nurse asked me to get dressed and to report to the lab immediately. As I sat in the waiting room of the lab, my emotions overcame me – pregnant, not pregnant, pregnant… why was this not as easy as you see in the movies? Why was my usual jovial nurse not jumping up and down with me, picking out nursery colors with me and doing the “I get to wear maternity clothes” dance with me?

Something wasn’t right. Something was so emotional, so raw about the moment that I couldn’t take it. My body jerked, heaved and poured tears the size of golf balls – all while sitting in that damned lab waiting room. A person of usual crying control, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I had a full melt down in that antiseptic waiting room.

Waiting for the blood test results to return was like watching the remnants of ketchup drain from the bottle. I returned to work that afternoon physically, but my mind remained a teary mess sitting outside the lab. I refused to break Mister’s heart again, as far as he knew, we weren’t successful by the morning test.

The ringing of my cell phone and seeing the doctor’s number made my stomach drop so quickly I was sure I would pass out. As I answered the phone, I suddenly knew that the news on the other side wasn’t going to be what I wanted.

“While you were successful, it does not appear to be sustaining.”

Apparently, when I thought I had hit rock bottom, I dug myself a basement to rock bottom. The saying there’s nowhere by up, was in fact a lie in this situation. 

Part nine: support.

Duke Gardens-love

There's something so magical about having a 55-acre park at your walking/viewing disposal that makes life grand.
Each time we visit, we find something new like a new sitting area, or species of tree/flower or even just a new outlook on life.
We have a thing for large parks really, it's in our nature.