B for the Beatles

I decided my “B” word today would be Beatles.

To me there is no greater band out there in the world of music. Some people consider them over rated or not that great but; to me they are the cat’s meow.

I think I like the Beatles so much because I share a love for them with many friends and family members. Some of my favorite memories are listening to The One cd in the car on our way to the mall with my family. My mom really enjoys the Beatles so she introduced them to me at a young age. Now that I am older my love for the band has deepened. My close friend Emily had Beatles Rockband and we spent many nights at her house sharing a bottle of wine and a gaming microphone singing our hearts out with the Beatles. When my son was born a coworker of mine who also shares a similar affection for the Beatles purchased me Beatles Lullabies for my baby shower gift. I played that cd while Max would fall asleep in my arms. I’d silently sing the words along with the lullabied version of their music. Then I switched to just listening to the regular Beatles songs with Max. We would lie in my bed at night and fall asleep to the sweet sound of Paul, John, George, and Ringo working harmoniously together. The lyrics to the songs always find a way to touch my heart or open my mind. To me they just are the best for so many reasons!

One post I made months ago is about the song “In my Life” and how I think that song ideally depicts the feelings I have about my son! Check it out if you get time. In My Life I Love You More

If you have never really gave the Beatles a listen I recommend you do. There is a song for everyone.

  

A is for Abortion

My friend Emily does the A-Z Challenge and since I have all but forgotten my blog I decided this might be an easy way to get back into it. So here we go….

A

I decided my A word would be abortion. Not because I want to initiate debates or tell the world my moral stance on the issue, simply because I want to share my experience.

I recently found out I am pregnant with my second child. Yay! (As I roll my eyes into the back of my head and sigh heavily) Don’t get me wrong the rolling of the eyes and the sigh have drastically decreased over the few weeks I have known (13 weeks and 6 days to be exact). However, this hasn’t been a pleasant surprise. Cue the back story….

I’m pregnant by the father of my son, him and I are about as stable as a contact on the tip of my finger in a tornado. We didn’t work out so well after we had my son but, my ridiculous obsession with love keeps me coming back time after time. He just isn’t mature and he is a runner. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. I think he misunderstood that quote and took it literally….he gets going alright, to the point that he is gone! That is neither here nor there, just a slight back story to set the stage for my “A” word, abortion.

I stuck the stick underneath the stream that I had held the whole way home from Wal-Mart. Sure enough a pink positive sign faintly appeared within seconds. I wanted to cry. I stood staring down at the stick in my bathroom of the apartment I just rented. I sent a picture message of the dreaded stick to the father and was met with the reply of “what are you going to do?” For the first time in my life something that I thought I could never do crossed my mind as the only solution.  Fast forward a week or two…. I go to a friend’s house and breakdown. She isn’t judgmental, probably because she herself has had too many incidents where she could be judged and judged harshly on. This is the friend you go to when you know what you’re doing is wrong but, you know she won’t tell you otherwise. She is a listener and sometimes you just need someone to listen until you make the choice you need to make. Fast forward a week… we are driving to a city a hour away because I called and made an appointment with an abortion clinic. I can hardly speak and my throat feels tight and dry. Our GPS gets us to the street and I am praying that the protestors decided to stay home today. (I’m not so lucky) As we turn onto the street a large poster size sign sits boldly in the back of an old pickup truck. It’s the mutilated body of an infant, laying in a pool of blood. I turn my head but the picture is burned into my mind. We drive a little further as we near the building there is a crowd of protestors. On the sidewalk in the cold snow sits a child, he might be seven or eight and he is holding a sign that reads “God loves your baby”. The others around him are holding signs but surprisingly none that are harsh nothing like “murderer, baby killer” just sayings about God and choosing life. Perhaps with my background this is even harder to take in. I know this is against everything I stand for morally and yet here I sit in the passenger seat of my friends SUV pulling into a parking lot of a building I never thought I’d ever step foot in.

We pull into a space and a skinny girl probably early 20’s meets us at our car door. She is an escort for the clinic. She is in a neon green vest which compliments her tall combat boots. I know this girl; she is the one who probably stands up for women’s rights. Her friends are all the same and they get together and talk about girl power and maybe even burned a bra once or twice. She is nice and she makes small talk about the weather and points out how weird the protestors are and how it’s even more weird when they shout out prayers. I thought to myself it wouldn’t be weird to you if you knew why they were doing it and I do know why they are. I’m led to a waiting room where its only my friend and I and 3 other people. I expected there to be a few other people but, I didn’t expect the massive amounts of people who would start filing through the door. Hours passed and by the time they call my name I am in a crowded waiting room with 20 other people. I couldn’t wrap my mind around this, 20….. 20 girls….20 babies who will never see the sun…20 babies who will be in a red plastic bag labeled biohazard. I felt sick, very sick. I kept looking at every girl there and trying to create a story in my mind, justify their reason for them. One girl stuck out to me. She was a heavy set girl who looked to be my age or maybe a bit older. She was there with her husband. He sat there playing on his iphone and she sat there crying. She couldn’t stop crying. They looked well to do, they could afford a child, they were old enough, they were married so why is she here? Is something wrong with their child, perhaps an illness that was detected? They can’t fathom raising a child with a disability so they opted for this? Justified. My mind was racing and I just wanted to ask. Then in the corner was a young black couple, joking like they were in 5^th period study hall. The fact they were there didn’t faze them and perhaps the act that was going to happen wouldn’t faze them either. They looked so young, they were probably there without their parents knowledge. She probably was heading to a college this fall and he was probably doing the same thing, a child in a dorm room doesn’t work. Justified. Another black girl sat quietly in the rocking chair. She didn’t get on her phone, she didn’t look at the papers on the coffee table, she didn’t look away from the hall. She came alone, the guy she was pregnant by was probably in complete agreement and they probably didn’t speak anymore. She didn’t get on her phone because maybe she didn’t have one. So she probably couldn’t afford a baby or afford emotionally doing it alone. Justified. I started to think of my reasons. Because I have a son with this guy and he isn’t around…but I do fine without him. I just got promoted at work and my pay increased…money is there. As far as I know this baby is healthy and if it isn’t then so be it. I couldn’t justify any reason being here. I spoke with the counselor and scheduled the appointment for the procedure for the following week. I got into the car and began to sob. This isn’t me; this isn’t something I can do. No judgment to any of those who can or have. It’s a safer option than a back alley whack job. I just couldn’t live with that choice. I called that Monday and cancelled, turned around and called my OB.

I’m not proud of my actions or even that I allowed my doubt in myself to carry me as far to walk inside a clinic but, I am glad it happened. I am glad that when I hold my new baby in my arms that I will cry harder knowing what I possibly almost gave away to doubt and fear. I will know that I made the right choice by following my moral beliefs and doing what is right even though it means a harder road ahead. I told a friend recently of my pregnancy and he had this to say. “God has a plan for everyone and maybe right now the big picture is cloudy but, one day it will all make sense”. I believe that. I believe that maybe now and for a while things will be tough and I might spend some nights crying. I do know I will spend many nights adoring my children, I will spend days at the park watching them play, I will sit up nights worrying when they are sick. I will still be the mother I am today but to two wonderful lives that God wants on this Earth! So for all of this I have another “A” word, appreciation.

2013

I fell off the face of the blog world, I am sure no one noticed ha! A lot has been happening that has required more time to be spent away from my blog.

I got a new job! I like my new job. However, it is way more demanding than the previous and therefore I don’t get to spend an hour or two trolling Pinterest or blogging.

I started back to school. I was doing really well and towards the end of the semester I got a bit lazy. My grades should have been all A’s.  I’m a hair disappointed in myself but, I plan on really pushing myself all the way this time around. Online classes tend to not keep my interest. They are very convenient though and I need to do more to keep myself focused on completing and studying.

Love Life, still a bit shaky with a dash of questionable normalcy.

New Year’s Resolutions are silly to me. I never keep them and they always have to do with becoming a leaner, meaner me! Let’s face it Me….I don’t think you’re going to get back into those jeans from high school. Nothing about your body resembles anything from high school….so even if you make it smaller the packaging isn’t going to be as great. You’re a little bit stripey but, it works for Tigers and Zebras…so why not you? That was me talking to myself in case you didn’t get it.

Instead of trying to make myself smaller, I believe I want to make myself bigger. I want to make myself bigger in heart. I want to strive to be the best me that I can be. The best mother, daughter, friend, employee… I want to be good to myself as well. I want to be the best me! In order to do that I think one needs to do a bit of self-reflection.

 What am I doing now that I can do better?

As a mother I have plenty of room to be more involved. I come home and I am tired and I want to relax and love on my son but, when he wants me to sit and play cars….that is the last thing I feel like doing. It isn’t about me though. I need to spend time with my son because he isn’t going to be 2 forever. He isn’t going to want me to sit and play cars forever. I can’t miss out on these time due to my laziness.

As a daughter I need to be better about visiting my parents. I need to move out from my mom’s so I am able to be her daughter and not someone she is caring for. I need to make time to get to my dad’s and spend time with him.  I need to do the same about visiting my grandparents. I used to be there every day, now I am lucky if its 1 time a week.

As a sister I need to do more to let my siblings know I care about them. I need to take time to visit my sister and do fun things. Like dinner or go to the movies.

As a friend I need to let my friends know how much I appreciate them. How much they mean to me in my life. I need to do little things for them and visit them more. I would like to schedule once a month outings where we can just go out and carefree. I have always wanted to do this but it is hard.

As an employee I am so lazy ha. I hate getting up early. I am the girl who hits snooze 12 times and then panics and throws on clothes as she is running out the door. I am going to be 26 years old. It is time to make that shift to becoming a morning person. If I got up and took time I wouldn’t be rushing. I’d have time to do my hair pretty and put on nice clothes. The job I have now is serious and I need to be more serious about it. So I was late today but, starting Monday….I will make honest attempts at being a morning girl.

With myself this is the hardest. I am a people pleaser. I have gotten into the business of trying to make others happy regardless of my true feelings. A lot of times I don’t know my true feelings but, I think I do an okay of sorting them out. I want to be able to be honest and sort them out on my own time and via my own ways.

However, my biggest me improvement is to not be afraid. I am afraid of EVERYTHING. I am afraid to make choices and stick to them. I am afraid that if I stick to them what the outcome might be. I’m scared to go to my trip to Florida because I hate flying; I hate the idea of being away from my son. I harbor a lot of fear and I just need to be trusting!

Last but certainly not least. My relationship with Christ. I have fallen so far away that I know most of my fears and lack of trust have to stem from the fact I am not leaning on God to help me. I really would like to spend 2013 rebuilding that relationship….and truthfully building. I am not sure if there has really been a true relationship with God.

 

So here’s to a better me for 2013. May the odds ever be in my favor.

 

31 Days Through a Lens (Day 1)

Definition of PERMANENT

: Continuing or enduring without fundamental or marked change

Recently, I took a few photos of my friend getting a tattoo. I personally do not have any tattoos but, I appreciate the art. I wanted to join in on the 31 days of blogging and I haven’t been snapping a lot of pictures lately. I decided to do 31 Days Through a Lens. This way it will get me to blog and take pictures: )

I don’t know if I could get a tattoo because I don’t know if I could choose a picture or words I’d want permanently on my body. Then I thought to myself tattoos aren’t really permanent these days. There are ways (painful ways) to remove them. Then I asked myself is there anything in life that is permanent? So I looked up the definition of permanent and made the choice that there isn’t a lot in life that is.

Family.

Is family really permanent though? People are always changing and that includes the members of your family. Sure they are always there but, they don’t exist without change. Watching my son grow is proof of that. A family feud that has separated my aunt and grandparents is proof. You add people and you lose people. Family is not permanent.

Friends.

This was easy to answer. If my family can’t be considered permanent how could my friends be? I thought I would have my one friend forever. We recently had a falling out. I get on peoples nerves and they get on mine some days haha.

Change is always possible, even with something as permanent as a tattoo.

God.

The only thing that is permanent in our lives is God. How comforting knowing that there is one thing in our life that is steady, that is constant and is without marked change. The words in the Bible might be unique to the Bible you buy but, they always convey the same message. You can’t take away or change the fact that Jesus died on the cross for our sins.

Through the Lens I learned that although life doesn’t promise us permanence, God does! How lucky are we?

Baby Boy

It's a boy!

Today my sister found out that she is going to have a little boy! This will be the 2^nd grandchild in our family so I think secretly everyone was a bit hopeful for a girl. However, how exciting for Max to grow up with his cousin and all the fun stuff they can share as boys!

Growing up we lived next to our aunt and her two boys. We all were very close and spent our summers outside together. We created our own baseball team and even made shirts. We played Power Rangers and mighty morphed all summer long. In the pool we played Sea World and mermaids. My best summer memories were the ones I made with my cousins.

My sister is having a child with my best friend’s brother-in-law. My best friend has a son 3 weeks younger than Max. So this means there will be 3 little boys to watch run around and cause trouble ha! Although it would be fun to dress up a little girl and have someone to buy Barbie’s for, it’s very exciting thinking of all the fun these 3 will have!

I couldn’t be happier! Plus I get to finally don the title Aunt! I’ve always wanted to be called Aunt Jessilyn and now I will be!

I Just Have to Go

In the past I have mentioned the split between my son’s father and I. It has been something that I struggle with everyday. Some days are better than others but, everyday he crosses my mind. Admitting that and seeing it in print kind of makes me gag! It is the truth though, the sad truth. How can someone so wrong for me and my son cause me such grief? I should be jumping up and down on my bed and celebrating that someone of his kind does not want to be a part of my life. Instead, I relapsed. I like to refer to my relationship with him in terms of addiction. A drug addict knows that the drug of their choice isn’t good for them. The drug harms their body, their mind, their entire life (family, friends, children, and job). My drug of choice is a man or lack of one that he is. I have never publicly ridiculed him this much but, I am to the point of no return with my hurt and anger. I don’t want to be angry anymore and I definitely don’t want to be hurt. Secretly, more than anything what I do want is for him to change. That hasn’t happened and probably won’t, at least for me. Maybe down the road he will change for himself or for some girl but, not for me. I think this is the part that I cling to. The “what if” that the future holds. What if he changes, what if he becomes the husband I want or the dad his son needs? I worked so hard, I put in the time, I am the one who was stepped on, and shouldn’t I reap the benefits? He doesn’t want me! He doesn’t want that life! He wants multiple women to hang on his every word; he wants the bar and the circle of people to laugh at his jokes. He doesn’t want me!

When I said I relapsed, I did. I consumed my drug and I had my temporary high and now I’m coming down. I ran into him the other weekend. I was having a great night and he showed up to the same establishment, alone! He lives with another woman now, and he was meeting a different woman there. We ran into one another at the jukebox and he started in with his same old stuff. He jokes with me and makes me laugh. He asked if I missed him. I stay strong, I try to be nice. I try to control my addiction, I try to walk away. My feet are glued to the floor with hope. Hopefully, tonight he realizes he is wrong and wants to come home. He mentions how cute our son is, how we make a beautiful baby. How he has been thinking that if he never moves on that we should have another child. I got a taste of my drug and I wanted the whole high. I wanted to sink so far back into those feelings and have it be real. We walked to the next room so we could speak alone. (Much to the dismay of the other girl waiting for him at the bar) We catch up more and the lies roll so sweetly off his tongue that walking away now is impossible. I want him, I want him to know how much I love him, and I want him to know how badly I want him in my life. He kisses me! I cried. I broke down and I cried. This man who a few months earlier blackened my eye was now wiping my tears away. This man was kissing the same lips he made bleed. I don’t fear him and I should, I wanted him to hold me. I wanted to hear him sing regrets. He did and he made me believe every single one of them but they are lies. We spent the rest of the evening together. We laughed and kissed and I stayed high and hopeful. I was dropped off and I went to bed hoping in the morning he would feel the same way.

His parents and he are taking Max to the train museum. He text me to tell me they are on their way. He sends pictures and is kind. Then he goes home to the other girl and doesn’t try to speak to me. She must have fell asleep early, so he text me at 10 to say sweet dreams. I smile, I text back. He text me feverishly while he is working, asking for pictures of me and telling me what I want to hear. 3:00 rolls around and he is silent again. This is where reality sinks in and starts to hurt. So I get brave and ask what Saturday meant to him….he responds wanting to know what it meant to me. He is very good at leaving doors open. I tell him all my hopes and desires like a teenager who just fell in love. He doesn’t respond. Finally, later in the night he tells me he is confused. He doesn’t know what he wants. That just means…he doesn’t want me! The sooner I realize that, the better off I will be.

Read this blog, she has inspired me this morning and I thank her.

Why We Have to Go

I will go on the plane to Florida even though it scares me.

I will go to school until I finish my degree.

I will go to see the beauties the world has to offer with my son.

I will go out on my own and make my way.

I just have to go.

A Love Story

A story I love to share.

Recently I read a blog about an old high school sweater that belonged to a loved one that passed away. If you want to check it out you can find it here A Collection Of This And That. I loved the sweater and I loved the story behind it. Dayle mentioned she likes to think of all the good memories her loved one had in that sweater. It got me thinking about the memories I ask my grandparents to share with me. I love asking them to tell me stories from their youth. I treasure those stories just as much as I treasure the stories on my bookshelves.

My favorite story ever is how my Grandparents met. They have a Storybook Romance.

My Grandpa just finished college at Ohio Northern and had lined up an interview for a teaching position in Kalida, Ohio. When mapping out his trip he made an error and mapped his trip to Clyde, Ohio. (they sound similar) He drove all the way to Clyde and showed up on time for his interview only to be told that he was at the wrong school and worse the wrong town. Haha! Fortunately, Clyde just happened to have an opening for a Health & Physical Education teacher. My Grandpa interviewed and he got the job.

Meanwhile, my Grandma who is from a large family (she has 10 other siblings) was working as a waitress at the local diner, Bechlers. Next to the restaurant and still stands today is the Winesburg Inn. Grandpa stayed there while searching for a place to live.

Grandpa would go into Bechlers and eat dinner and Grandma would wait on him. My Grandpa always laughs because he said my Grandma would put her hand on his shoulder to ask if everything was okay with his meal. (she always blushes and denies this accusation my Grandpa makes) Finally, Grandpa asked Grandma on a date and they only dated a whopping 3 months. My Grandpa popped the question in the car one night when he was dropping her off from a date.

My Grandparents are still happily married today! I asked my Grandma how she knew Grandpa was the one and she answered very matter of fact “I sat in the middle of the bench seat right next to him in the car, I never felt comfortable to do that with anyone” haha!

Their love story is my favorite story to hear and tell.

I originally was going to end the blog there but, I felt necessary to explain to the world how much I love my Grandparents! My Grandparents are the glue that binds my whole family. They had 3 kids. Robert, Paul (my dad), and Ann and of course they all had children. I am the oldest grandchild of 11. We spend every Sunday at my Grandparents house. It makes for a loud house full of laughter and multiple people talking at once. However, throughout the week it isn’t uncommon for any of us to stop over on multiple occasions to visit for an hour or two. When I go there one of my cousins are usually there too. Especially now that some of the younger ones are able to drive. Then sometimes my cousins and I all get together and plan a surprise visit. They stay up and watch the 11:00 o’clock news so a few months ago we all drove over at 10:00 and surprised them! They loved it! We stayed till about midnight and even then my Grandma was saying “you kids don’t have to rush out, we stay up pretty late.” My Grandparents are the ones who introduced me to God. They are the ones who taught me that it is okay to laugh at myself when I make a mistake. They are my biggest supporters. Even now typing this out I get teary eyed just because I love them that much! I am so incredibly lucky to have them in my life.

When I was little I was kind of scared of my Great Grandparents. I didn’t see them often and my one Great Grandma had her leg amputated so for a 6 year old that was a bit much ha. I didn’t want my son to be like that around my Grandparents. He isn’t! He is obsessed with them haha probably just as much as I am. When we pull into their house he squeals and bounces in his seat. They adore my son (at times I think they want to see him more than they want to see me and I get jealous haha).  I just can’t stress how much I love those two people! If you have Grandparents or older relatives, take the time to ask them stories from when they were younger! You never know what great story they might have to share!

 

Jessilyn

My Grandparents and I when I was blonde and pregnant ha.

Christmas caroling when my brother was home from the Marines.

Elsie & Ralph

Grandpie and Max in the garden