Sometimes there are just no words

I was given permission by Sundy to write my own thoughts about the following. But some things are too sacred. Some are too heart-breaking. Some are too hard. Some are just too overwhelming. Some things in this life just can't be summed up in words...answered in words...consoled with words...or understood through words. This is especially hard for me...someone who has centered her life on words.

So, I've been sitting on this blog post for a while. I've wanted to write it to express my sadness. To contribute my own heart-ache to the much bigger heart-ache felt by the two people with me in this picture. But again, I'm very limited in my words.

Sundy and Tyler...honestly two of my favorite people. Sundy is my cousin...much more like a sister. We've been through the roughest of the rough together...and had some of the happiest of times together. No matter what we go through, we've remained close friends, and I love her for it. For her caring heart, her guidance, her patience and her love. Tyler is Sundy's husband. He's sincere, honest, kind-hearted and has accepted me into his life whole-heartedly. I consider him a very close friend.

They have been married since the summer I got home from my mission...I believe June 2008, and they've wanted children from the very beginning.

Their first baby's life ended at 14 weeks. I won't go into details, but I will just say it was a pretty traumatic miscarriage. I lived close to them when it happened, and I remember the deep sadness I felt and the helplessness I felt due to my lack of understanding.

They tried for a long while for a second baby. They finally got it. This time around fear was running deep. But, the 14 week mark passed. And the 15th. And the 16th. And the 17th. And they were safe. Tyler was finally accepted to med school (it's about time...he's a flippin' genius...and I'm seriously NOT exaggerating) and they were pregnant. They could breath. They'd find out the sex of their second child at 18 weeks. Things were good...great. Clouds were clearing and the sun was shining.

Three days before they were to find out their baby's sex, Sundy's water broke. At 18 weeks. They lost their baby. Their perfectly formed baby boy. They named him Truman.

I know a woman who gave birth to triplets at 21 weeks, and they survived. Truman was close...so close. But God has other plans, I suppose.

To say I'm upset is an understatement. Again, while I have used many words to explain what happened, I really have no words to express my feelings about it. It's heart-breaking. Emotional. Sad. Unfair. Confusing. I've decided these feelings are fair. We don't always need to immediately jump to the "It's okay...the Atonement is real" thoughts. Because even though I know the Atonement is real and can heal, it hurts. It hurts and it's hard and it sucks and it's painful. So right now...those are my words. Emotional. Sad. Unfair. Confusing. Sucky. Hard. Heart-breaking.

I love Sundy and Tyler. Lots and lots.

I downloaded Daughtry's latest album this morning, and while at work I listened to this song for the first time. I strained every muscle in my body to keep myself from bawling, thinking about Sundy and Tyler's two silently born children, Sterling and Truman. This is my contribution to the grieving.

What I want to be when I grow up...

Ira Glass.

This man is brilliant. Look him up. Aside from him being a man, I want to be him...or just like him. :)

Here's a thought

When I was a child, I always felt like an adult.

Now that I'm an adult, I always feel like a child.

I've got it all backwards. Do you feel like an adult? What's the secret? Marriage, kids, success? All three of those are out for me right now...what else ya got?

Thoughts

*I'm only down 1 1/2 lbs from 4 weeks ago. Booo

*I should have been keeping track of my measurements this whole time, because I know I've lost inches.

*Does the fact that my dad died from a brain tumor, but I've never been inclined to get heavily involved in "Cure for Cancer" type things trouble anyone? It troubles me sometimes. You see so many people who have lost loved ones to diseases, and they immediately jump on the awareness and find-a-cure bandwagon. I guess I feel like sometimes things are just supposed to happen, and it was my dad's time. I'm not mad at God, and I'm not mad at cancer. Maybe it's my knowledge of the Plan of Salvation. Who knows. But I do think awareness and cures are good.

*Social Work, journalism, social work, journalism. I'm going forward with the journalism school, but looking at my options in social work. Who knows...

*My niece, Perry, is adorable.

*I want to have a big get-together for my birthday this year...ON my actual birthday (Dec. 26th). But instead of a party and gifts, I want everyone to bring sack-lunch fixings, and then we'll all make lunches and give them to homeless people in downtown Portland. I REALLY want to do this. I think it would be soooooo much fun. So much. So so much. Then we can come back and have cake and ice cream. Except I don't really like cake. So, I'll think of something. I hope people will want to come to that. I'm doing it.

*Homeless stats: Families make up over 50% of the homeless population.13 % of those leave their homes because of violence or abuse. It's estimated that between 23% and 40% of homeless single adults are veterans. Within 2 to 4 years of exiting the foster care system, 25% of those foster care youth experience homelessness. About 20% to 25% of homeless single adults have a chronic mental illness.

*Homeless people have been on my mind A LOT lately. I feel for them.

I'm craving...

Sugar.

Specifically, chocolate covered raisins. I know. Weird. But I want a huge handful...really bad...right now.

Since starting the paleo way of living 2 months ago, I really haven't craved much junk food. It's really gotten rid of my sweet tooth. But, for some reason, I really want some chocolate covered raisins.

I listen to a podcast called "Latest In Paleo" and the host, Angelo Coppola, always says something that's really helped me think differently about food and about my body. He says if we give our body the nutrients it needs instead of all the junk, our body will give us something amazing in return. Freedom.

I believe it. As a Latter-day Saint I'm always hearing and learning how I need to give my spiritual self the nutrients it needs, abstain from the bad, and in turn, my spirit will be free from bondage. What makes my physical self any different? The Atonement of Jesus Christ covers me both spiritually and physically. My bodily habits are important and how I treat my body is important to God. I should treat it with the same care as I try to treat my spiritual self.

Thinking this way helps me fight the cravings...most of the time. :)

This just in...

I may go into social work instead of journalism.

I'm having an "all my friends are married-I'm 26 with no marriage prospects-I have to figure out my freaking life for myself-what will make me happy and keep me progressing if I never get to be a wife and mother" crisis/melt-down/freak-out.

I love to write. But only about things I'm passionate about. And I'm passionate about people and their struggles and triumphs. So...social work. I'm serious about this idea.

I have waisted today

I have absolutely waisted this day.

I told myself at the beginning of the week that this Saturday, today, would be the day I dedicate to writing my admissions essay for my grad school application. I've been dragging my feet on this for so long. Why? Because I'm scared. I'm scared to actually put thought to paper, send it off and get rejected. As long as I haven't done that yet, there's still a possibility of me getting accepted. The desire can still live. As soon as I actually write it and send it, it's over. No more possibility. Reality will set in.

I love to write. That's what I want to do...WRITE. I'm trying to write a paper about why I want to be a part of the school's Journalism Masters program. I'm writing about why I want to write. Write write write...the word is becoming ridiculous to me.

So, I sat in front of this laptop all day. With several breaks, mind you, but basically all day. And do you know what I came up with? Two paragraphs of crap. It sounds lovely...easily read...but has no meaning behind it. It's honestly a bunch of crap.

Brother Bennett, one of my favorite professors at BYU-Idaho, once said that there are two types of writers. The one type of writer writes and writes and writes....until finally the writing is good. That type doesn't care about crap. S/he writes several drafts of crap and plunges through til s/he finally gets a good draft. The other type of writer sits at a computer and punches out one line...then rewrites that one line until it's perfect and then moves on to the next line. The second type is more exhausting. I know, because I am the second type. I can't just forge through knowing that my work is crap. It drives me crazy. But it's a LONG tedious process.

I told myself I'd have everything submitted by the end of this month. The deadline is December 1. I'm going crazy. I need to submit this stuff. I need to be moving. I need to move. I need to live my life the way it should be lived. I need to be progressing toward something.

Why can't I write this paper? Why can't I find an intelligent, creative, intriguing way to express my qualifications and reasons for why I want to be a part of this program? Fear. Dang this stupid fear.

I need a breakthrough.

I waisted today. It makes me mad. I wanted to have a paper completed by now. Instead, I have a blog post completed.