The Bystander Effect

Have you ever seen that show "What would you do?"  It airs on ABC and is a hidden camera TV show that sets up all sorts of awkward scenarios/dangerous situations just to see how people will react. 

 

I find it fascinating. 

 I think it's because I've always been an observer.  I can remember my parents and teachers telling me countless times in school to raise my hand and ask if I had a question.  But being quiet, I always preferred to try to answer my own questions versus having the attention that comes when you raise your hand to ask a question.  I've been labeled shy.  I'm a better wall flower than a social butterfly. 

 

The older I get the more interested I become in people's personalities.  What makes people tick?

Do we view ourselves the same way others view us?  Does it really matter how others view us?

 

For example...I've never considered myself 'shy'. My quietness in social situations does not stem from a place of social anxiety.  It stems more from the fact that I am a thinker and I'd just simply rather be observing.  It's my biggest asset and my greatest downfall.  People often misinterpret my quietness for bitchiness & bitterness.  But on the flip side, I've been told that because I am not a chatty Cathy people actually listen when I speak.  I've also been told that my quietness and my observing personality lead to giving pretty solid advice.  I have a few friends who said I should have gone into counseling.

 

When I first started watching that TV show, I realized I had the personality for being the perfect bystander.  Not necessarily because I wouldn't care about the situation at hand but I would probably become so consumed with curiously observing how others react that I would simply forget to step in and step up.

 

The more I watch that show accompanied by growing older and being on this infertility journey longer and longer, the more my heart has been convicted. 

 

I've taken a harsh look at where my personality downfalls come into play. (Welcome to the Lenten season!) My overly logical brain has a hard time connecting with people who are all emotion.  I don't easily connect with others because most people connect through the heart, not the brain. 

 

I've been trying to teach myself to be compassionate, to actively listen to my heart and quiet my brain.  It's not easy and I've got a long way to go. 

 

It is this growing and learning process that makes me grateful for our infertility journey.

Without it, I wouldn't be aware of other people's passions...what makes them tick.

I wouldn't feel the need to step in "What would you do" type situations because 'feeling' doesn't come naturally to me. 

 

This race has really opened my eyes to the whole Bystander Effect.

455 people read my C'est La Vie post and 40 people commented when I posted it on facebook.

86 people liked and 27 people commented on my facebook post where I announced we would be in the race.

That positive support gave us the encouragement we needed.  It was wonderful and uplifting and humbling to see how many people were in our corner.

 

But here we sit, a month and a half into registration time and out of all that original support we're at 44 race participants with 5 people who have donated. This time last year we had broken 60 race registrants...with less weeks of open registration.  Now...please realize that I am not complaining at all.  This is merely part of my observing, inquisitive, logical personality.  We are incredibly grateful for those people who have signed up for or donated to Team Yellow.  Your enthusiasm and encouragement is worth more to us than any financial amount. 

So, all I can figure is that most people have a case of the bystander effect.  Perhaps thinking that someone else will step up to the plate or that they don't matter. 

 

 But you do.  You make a difference. 

Not just specifically for our journey, but for other people's causes, too. 

I'm usually the first person to try to logically justify other people's plights (homeless people on the corner, the random go fund me accounts, etc.) and then I ended up on this infertility journey.  And I realize without the kindness, the support of others....emotionally and/or financially we wouldn't be able to handle it.  I feel my heart start to soften and it's an awkward and weird place for me to be in...uncharted waters and uncomfortable territory. 

My head still takes the lead, but my heart is finally catching up.

 

Perhaps it's all the Jesus music I've been listening to for two years now.

 

So, what if we all learned to focus on the positive aspects of each other's personalities?

What if we became so aware of the bystander effect that we refused to be a part of it...instead choosing to stand up and step in for what convicts us...what is good and right?

How awesome would this world be if we took what mattered to others and made it matter to ourselves...consistently helping each other instead of pointing fingers or looking the other way.

 

I once heard you should never ignore a kind thought or a generous act. 

 

I'm reminded of the blind man Jesus encountered on his way to Jericho.  The people Jesus' was with tried to tell Jesus to keep walking and tried to quiet the blind man, but Jesus turned to the blind man instead.  It's the simple visual I have of Jesus turning towards someone in need. 

It replays over and over in mind. 

 

Over the past seven years, I have grown in more ways I ever imagined.  Isn't that what a struggle does for us? Makes us realize aspects of ourselves we didn't know existed.

 

There's this little checklist in my brain.

*The visual of Jesus turning

*All the various "What would you do" scenarios

*Never ignore a kind thought

*Care about other people's passions as much as if it's your own

 

And somehow my logical brain is teaching my heart to take the lead.

 

 

(Side note: I do realize there is a whole group of people who plan on coming to the race and who just haven't signed up yet.)



Putting a price on a family.

I have this memory of my mom getting ready for a yard sale and those little stickers with prices laying around the house.  My sisters and I thought it was hilarious to find those little stickers and try to sneakily stick it to another sister's back.  The joke would go on and on…each sister being tagged with a lower price.  After a period of us carrying on, my mother would inevitably get the last laugh by writing "FREE" on a blank sticker and sticking it to the child closest to her (or who was annoying her the most). 

I bet if I asked you how much your child was worth to you I would be met with a dumbfounded look. 

Although there may be some days where you'd like to give them away, you know the bottom line is that they're priceless to you.

You can't put a price on a child.

Or can you?

Every person walking through the world of infertility is forced to decide how much a child is worth to them…without the guarantee that they'll even end up with a child.

Obviously the financial cost is a huge part, but what about the other costs people going through infertility face?

Is the potential to lose your marriage, your identity, your friends, your figure (from pumping yourself full of fertility meds), your mental sanity….worth it?

Yes….because you can't put a price on a child.

Humor me and really think about your kids.

If someone told you that you would need to front upwards of twenty grand to bring them into this world, could you have done it?

I bet the obvious answer falls directly in line with how you feel about them in regards to every situation…You'd move heaven and earth for your kids, wouldn't you?

People going through infertility have to have this blind faith, this unending hope, this fierce love for a child they don't even know….that they may never get.

At what point, though, do the costs start outweighing the benefits?  

This ultimate question of knowing when to call it quits is probably the hardest decision people going through infertility face.

Do you stop for physical reasons or emotional/mental reasons or for financial reasons?  

I'm willing to bet it ends up being a combination of all three.

It's not a decision we're planning on facing anytime soon,

though it does always linger in the back of our minds.

In the meantime, we'll keep our heads and our hearts trained on the fact that

 you can't put a price on a child.

Game Time

Imagine yourself in your middle school gym....or even your elementary school playground.

It's time to play a game involving two teams.

And two of your classmates were chosen as team captains.

What stinks is that they're not really your friends...in fact, you hardly know them. 

You definitely can't make them choose you.

If this is middle school, you and all your peers are probably standing there silently praying

"Please don't pick me last."

If this is elementary school, you and all your peers are probably jumping up and down with your hands in the air shouting

"Pick me, Pick me!"

 

That's the mental image I can't seem to shake from my brain.

 

On one hand, I feel like I'm frantically shouting from the very deepest core of my being as loud as I possibly can to please pick me.  Pick us.

To our family, our friends our peers.

Please choose to support Team Yellow for the Race to Parenthood 

 

And I kind of start to feel that desperation kick in.

Like when game time is right around the corner and there's only a handful of kids left to choose from and picking the next teammate becomes a choice of which kid can do the better "in your face pick me dance" instead of a choice based on the qualities of the actual person.

 

And that's hard for me because I've always been more of the silent pray-er type.

 

I have a very firm belief that God is orchestrating the most very perfect of circumstances for how and when we will finally bring a child into our home.

That belief provides me with comfort.

 

But when I'm in the trenches of everyday life surrounded by women who have already been chosen for team motherhood, it's really, really freaking hard.

 

Some days I'd really like to walk up to those team captains and slap them and say

"What the hell?" to them.  "Why didn't you choose me?"

 

 

 



Transparency

When I made the decision to go public with this blog and our story, I also vowed to be as open and honest with our journey as I possibly could.  Sometimes those posts involve a little TMI, sometimes they involve talking about the ugly side of infertility, sometimes they involve sharing my most personal thoughts. 

 

So, in keeping true to my feelings, this post deals with finances.

Sounds boring, I know. 

Especially since money usually falls into the same category as politics and religion; otherwise known as 'the list of subjects not to talk about with acquaintances....or friends you want to keep as friends'.

 

I had this same feeling last year when race registration opened, but I didn't have a public outlet to express my feelings on this topic.

This year I do.

 

I feel as though I need to be transparent when it comes to our financial situation. 

Not necessarily all the nitty, gritty details, but the general overview. 

I know I really don't, but it goes against my personality to not be totally honest.

 

And if I'm asking you to support us financially, then I feel you need to know why.

Because I know I think things like "How on earth did they afford to go there/do that, 'cause I know they're broke!"...etc. and those are valid questions.

This is partly due to the technological society we live in where everyone displays the good on social media but typically leaves off the struggles. After all, it's so much more fun to say "Hey, check out my new car!" than "Hey, we had to decide which bill we were going to not pay this month."

 

  A month into our relationship, Paul bought himself a new car...which was paid off back in 2008 or 2009 and is currently the car he still drives 11 years later. When Paul and I got married, neither one of us had any credit card debt.  Paul was essentially debt free and I only had my student loans. But I didn't own a car...so we bought me a minivan....anticipating our future children.

 

We moved into an apartment together and started the house hunting process six months into our marriage, believing whole heartedly that renting was 'wasting' money. 

In the summer of 2007, we bought our house. 

Right before the housing market bubble burst.

We had a minimal down payment on our home...essentially depleting Paul's savings.  Our down payment wasn't a full 20% and in order to get out of having to pay PMI, we opted for an 80-20 mortgage.  At least that's how it was explained to us.  80% of our financing was in a 30 year fixed rate mortgage.  20% of our financing was a variable interest-interest only payment plan home equity line of credit.  We were duped into believing we'd only be in our first house for 5-10 years and then we'd sell and be able to pay off that home equity line of credit before it actually became time to really start making a payment on it.  When the housing market crashed, we instantly lost about $60,000 in equity and technically we currently live in a house that is upside down in today's market. 

It's a good thing we love our location, cause we're not moving for a loooonnnnggg time.

Thanks to being young, eager and led astray, this was our first financial mistake. 

Of course, none of us knew at the time that the housing market would crash so horribly.

 

In 2009, Paul and I pinched pennies every month in order to be able to pay for four IUI's.  An average IUI back then cost a little less than $500 when all was said and done.  And we did that four months in a row.  When 2010 rolled around, we knew IVF was in our future.  And we had every reason to believe that it would work.  So we opted for the cheapest IVF option...one fresh cycle...around $13,000 for the procedure and another $3,000 in drugs.  The frozen embryo transfers would cost between $2,000-$3,000. Being naïve, we didn't feel the need to save up for a Shared Risk Cycle of IVF...otherwise known as the smart option. Essentially, it's way more money, but you get more chances and some money back if you don't have a baby after a certain number of tries. Following our hearts deepest desire to become parents as quickly as possible, we threw common sense out the window and put most all of it on credit cards.  We pretty much maxed out two credit cards. And then we paid just enough off to add some more for our frozen embryo transfer that summer.

 

Since then we've been actively paying off those cards.  We've managed to get one almost completely paid off and get our balance down to about 3/4 on another one. 

 

Two weeks after we had maxed out our credit cards, our sewer line broke...resulting in a $6,000 bill we couldn't afford. We called Paul's parents and begged for money.  They lent us the money and then we started repaying them little by little, which means we couldn't put as much as we had hoped towards our credit card bills.

 

By the time 2011, rolled around Paul and I were emotionally, physically and financially exhausted.  We were on the brink of losing it.  We had no idea where to turn or what to do and so we started to pursue other avenues to fulfill our life together.  Paul bought a Harley.  He justified it by offering to pick up one extra overtime opportunity a month so it wouldn't be an extra financial burden on us.  He chose a Harley over a new car.  Though, in hindsight, picking up one extra shift would have helped us pay down our debt quicker.  I've always considered myself to be emotionally strong throughout this entire infertility journey. But, by the time the summer of 2011 rolled around, I could not physically or mentally bring myself to drive my minivan anymore.  It represented all my hope and innocence lost since the beginning of our marriage.  I literally felt a little piece of me die inside every time I drove it.  It became the symbol of shattered dreams and it turned into the one thing I loathed.  So, choosing my mental sanity over making a smart financial decision, we traded it in for my beloved Dodge Journey.  My new vehicle is still a symbol of renewed hope (even though I've had it for over three years now and there are still no kids!)

 

I also started baking cookies in 2011.  What first seemed like a silly side hobby to occupy my childless hands has turned into the one thing that helped us keep our sanity.  Most people don't realize that it has actually become a second full time job. Please know that when I say I need to work on cookies...I really am needing to work on cookies.  Cookie money allowed us to do our travelling.  It was the one area from which we let ourselves live a little. 

 

Since 2011 we have walked a fine line between working towards paying off our debt...and actually living life...all while trying to take advantage of not having kids.  It's been a tough road to be on, in all honesty.  And it's a journey that every person going through infertility must face.  How much do you choose to continue to live your life (date nights/vacations/etc.) while trying to save for or payoff fertility treatments? 

 

It's this exhausting back and forth battle. 

On one hand, your head is screaming at you to do selfish things...to do things you really won't do once you have kids, but your heart is telling you to pay off your first attempts so you can get to your next round of fertility treatments.

 

In 2013, we participated in Financial Peace University.  I've briefly talked about it before, but I can't speak highly enough about the program.  It was an eye opening experience for us.  We learned about simple things that we had never considered....major mistakes we've made along the way. 

We attempted to get smart and tried to roll our mortgage and our home equity line of credit together, but the house value to market value ratio is still too great and we couldn't do anything to our home equity line of credit.  Which means we actively need to work on paying that down instead of getting by with interest only payments.  Nothing like trying to be smart eight years ago only to realize you made a major mistake.  Luckily, we were able to make the smart decision to refinance for a shorter loan term on our fixed mortgage (though it actually upped our monthly payment.) 

 

While FPU helped us develop a budget and made clear all the areas we needed help on, it also gave us the stark realization that we couldn't actually afford to do anymore treatments for a long time.  I mentioned it in another blog post...we simply refuse to go into more debt.  That means thinking we could afford things by putting them on credit cards (outlandish things that can't be paid off at the end of the month) has been taken out of our thought process.

 

I think FPU should be a requirement for all engaged couples. 

I wish I would have had the knowledge I do now back then and I know Paul feels the same way.

 

When Jenn came up with the Race to Parenthood idea, it was the biggest Godsend to us.  Many families will tell you that they feel helpless when it comes to their loved ones struggling with infertility.  Financial support is always what people on this journey need the most. 

The race allows for families and friends to give back.  To help ease this most difficult weight resting on our shoulders.

 

Paul and I have a hard time coming to terms with the fact that we carry debt because we were only trying to have a baby...what most people get to do for free. 

We don't have expensive things, outlandish wardrobes...we don't spend frivolously. 

 

Sometimes I get really fed up with the fact that financial decisions made by your ancestors can impact whether or not you can afford an extra fertility treatment.

I know it sounds silly, but there are no inheritances or wealthy relatives around these parts. 

I also get annoyed when I think about decisions we made in college about our career choices also directly impacts our ability to pay for treatment. 

And, let's be honest...the human service fields don't exactly pay a lot. 

 

This is how the race is so wonderful.  If each person pitches in just a little bit, suddenly, something really big can happen. 

Like trying to have a baby or start a family.

Something a lot of people do without thinking twice.

 

It's really, really humbling to put financial struggles out there...especially since we're aware that everyone has their own personal financial issues.

 

In time, Paul and I will have our debt paid off.  In time, we would have saved up enough to do another round of treatment.

 

The race acts as a catalyst to get us to that next step sooner,
with support from those that love us and/or feel our pain.

 

Every tick of the clock sounds louder to those on this infertility rollercoaster and we are so grateful that this race allows us to continue to move forward (sooner) towards our dream of becoming mommy and daddy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



The 2nd Annual Race to Parenthood 5k

 

I've been writing and re-writing this post in my head for awhile now.  I've been dying to blog about the Race to Parenthood since I reopened this blog four months ago.  I never, ever imagined I'd be writing it in this context though.

 

Some of you may know all about the Race from our involvement with it last year. 

Some of you might know about it just from my hundreds of facebook statuses about it in 2014.

But it may be new to some.

 

Of course you can read all about the actual race, including the breakdown of race registration/donating on the actual website. 

 

But, it's so much more than just a 5k to us.

 

About two years ago (give or take a few months), Paul came home from work one day and started telling me about a co-worker of his named Brad.  Brad and his wife were also struggling with infertility.  I vividly remember Paul telling me about their second trimester miscarriage and my heart instantly aching for and connecting with these two unknown people.  This conversation was nothing short of miraculous. In general, men don't often talk about the really hard topics.  Police officers really don't talk about the hard topics.  Their job is so difficult on a day to day basis that infertility doesn't usually fall into the 'shoot the shit' type of convos between police officers. 

I have no clue now how Brad and Paul came to have that conversation.

What I do remember was Paul passing along Jenn's (Brad's wife) blog.  Paul knew that writing was my major coping mechanism and he was encouraged someone else was blogging about their journey, too. 

Somewhere along the way, after stalking reading Jenn's blog, Tricky and Peep, we somehow became facebook friends. 

 

In September 2013, Jenn emailed me and asked us if we were possibly interested in helping her plan a 5k to raise money for couple's on their journey to parenthood.  We jumped at the chance.  The race planning was happening at the most perfect time for us.  We had suffered alone, silently.  We had already spent $19,000 of money we didn't have.  We were living in a state of complacency, unsure of where to turn to next. 

 

Jenn's little idea snowballed into this massively fun and hugely successful 5k.  It not only happened, it happened HUGE!  5k's are a dime a dozen nowadays and I'm not sure if any of those original 2014 couples had any idea it would be as big as it was.  The guys who operate the RaceIt website were apparently shocked by how many registrations there were for it being the first 5k. 

 

Jenn and her idea are a Godsend to so many people.

Paul and I were elated to be in it from the very beginning. 

 

Paul and I posted about it incessantly on facebook. 

And we'll do it again this year.

 

I never once dreamed we'd be back in the race.

 

Infertility is a lot like being a runner.  People who 'do races' and continuously run slowly build up enough endurance to tackle the next race length.  And they keep going.  5ks become 8ks become 10ks and before you know it you're at a half marathon.  So maybe you stop at the half...maybe you press on to a full marathon.  Maybe you go a little batty and do a full triathlon (or a lot of them).  (Dan & Ann Marie-I'm talking about you! My two most favorite athletic nuts!)

You always remember your first of any of those races. 

5ks are still an accomplishment.

But the main thing that runners talk about it is just actually getting out there TO run.

Some days it's more walking than running.  Some days it seems like every obstacle is thrown in your face....blisters, no charge on the ipod/phone, weather, your favorite running attire is dirty. 

It's about throwing away the excuses and refusing to give up.

And there's no room for quitting in infertility.

You have to keep moving.

Every actual race step is hugely symbolic of overcoming this most difficult journey.

 

 

It is such a huge blessing for us to be back in this race again.

I refuse to try to put it in words because there are no words to adequately do it justice.

 

The Race to Parenthood registration opens on January 5th (if all goes according to plan). 

I cannot believe that's only three days away. 

 

When we weighed all of our possible fundraising options the race definitely came out on top.

All of the proceeds from the race registrations/donations go directly to whichever couple you choose.

Which is awesome considering most races keep a portion of registration for themselves. 

You can also donate if you want nothing to do with the actual race. 

I'm also excited for the new cheer option for those that can't physically participate in a 5k, but still want to go and be a part of the day.

 

Paul and I are in the unique position of having done this before.  We were ECSTATIC with the amount of support we received last year and if we come even remotely close to that we'll be so, so amazed.

No matter the amount raised we are already grateful for our second chance to be a featured couple.

 

While our obvious goal is to raise money towards funding our path to parenthood, we are most excited to simply be a part of something that gets people talking and thinking about infertility. 

We always hope that this race spreads awareness and compassion. 

 

Be loud.

Be proud.

Go Team Yellow!

 

 



When all the stars align...

Do you ever have those moments where you're not sure which direction you're heading but you do know it's the right way?

That's how this past year has felt for us. 

We have absolutely no idea where our story will take us.

We have no idea in which direction our life will go.

Will we have no children, one child or multiple children by the time our time in this world is over?

Who knows.  

Doesn't matter.

What does matter is that we keep putting one foot in front of the other.

What does matter is that we love and appreciate each day as it comes.

What does matter is that we keep our eye on ultimately ending up with the title of mommy and daddy.

And I feel this hand on my back gently guiding my way…our way.

I get giddy when I have those opportunities to look back and actually see the way God's hand has been in all of it.  Like a puppeteer orchestrating the perfect show.

When Paul and I were asked to be in the 2014 Race to Parenthood, I knew it was because Paul worked with Brad and the race was Brad's wife's idea.  But I hadn't thought much about it after that.

But getting us BACK in the race?

Now that's where the magic…the perfectly timed pieces all fell into place.

When the applications came in for the 2015 Race to Parenthood, each past 2014 couple had to choose their top choices for couples to mentor.  Based on our choices, we were each given a new couple.  

What are the odds that Paul and I felt so connected to one specific couple and that they were actually given to us to mentor?  How was it that this particular couple became compelled to fill out a race application?  

We were thrilled for the newest team yellow.

We were also thrilled for them when we found out that through their own miraculous reasons they needed to back out of the race.

The morning we found out that the newest yellow team was pulling out of the race was almost exactly one month after one of our darkest days of despair.  I'm referring to the day when my third chemical pregnancy was confirmed.  When all hope seemed lost because we didn't know how we'd get to that next step in our journey.  And in one month we toyed around with several options.  T-shirt fundraisers, yard sales galore, a gofundme account. Unsure of which path we'd choose, we trusted our instincts to hold out until after the holidays.  

Insert God's hand steering our hearts and our heads.

And in one short month it looked like an amazing opportunity was possibly presenting itself.

I was in Pennsylvania at my uncle's house when I got the news.

When the conversation began about a possible second chance.

I asked my family for their opinions.

I weighed all the options, both out loud and in my heart.

I prayed.

And I put one foot in front of the other and went to visit my grandma for the first time in her new home…the health care unit of a retirement community.

When we got there my grandma had just been wheeled into lunch. 

My two sisters and I left my mom to eat with her and we went to scout out the facility.

Just outside the elevator doors a nurse and a CNA were having a conversation. 

I was in my own little world…critiquing the facility in only a way another retirement community employee can do.

As the elevator doors were closing my sister looked at me wide eyed and said "Katie, did you hear what they were talking about?"

Being in my own world, I hadn't. 

She said the conversation went as follows.

Nurse: "So, how far along are you?"

CNA: "12 weeks"

Nurse: "Have you found adoptive parents yet?"

CNA: "No, I just started looking at adoptive parent profiles."

And the elevator doors closed.

I immediately hit the up button and told my sister I was going to talk to that CNA.

If you know me, you know this is a break from my norm.  

I absolutely loathe talking to strangers.  

Us introverts are usually exhausted and strained by conversations with people we don't know.

But I felt that hand guiding me and pushing me forward and so I went with it.

The doors reopened and luckily the CNA and nurse were still there.  I went to her, apologized for eavesdropping, and told her what a beautiful, miraculous, amazingly gracious thing she was doing.  That I didn't know her or her story, but the world needs more like her.  That the gift she was about to give someone was going to be more wonderful and beautiful than she could ever imagine. I briefly shared our story with her and then she hit me with a question I didn't expect.

"Do you want to adopt?"

I told her that we didn't know which direction our life would take us. I gave a shameless plug for the Race to Parenthood.  I told her that my main reason for speaking up was to provide her with some gentle encouragement and reassurance. I thanked her for her selfless decision.

And then I went about my day.

It was one of those days where I looked up and told Him that I was listening loud and clear.  

That I was grateful for a day in which all the signs seemed to be pointing us in the right direction.

Back to yellow.

Back to home. 

'Tis the Season

Every now and then when I'm in the middle of doing something incredibly ordinary I get an in-the-face reminder of how long we've been on this journey.  And, honestly, it kind of makes me stagger back a bit, lose my balance, my heart jumps into my throat and then I have to work through that momentary shock. 

 

I think those brief reality checks will always have a way of creeping up on me and there just isn't a way to guard my heart against them because I never really expect them.

 

Back in 2009 I bought an awesome Christmas book and I have detailed every tiny little thing about our Christmas season in it for the past 5 years.  I'm sad our first two years aren't in the book, but I'm grateful for the years that are and the memories it provides. 

 

So, when it makes its yearly appearance I usually read through it.

And that's when it happened. 

The very last sentence I wrote in 2009.

 

 

And I realize that was FIVE years ago already. 

The house was still and quiet while I was reading, the only sound I could hear was the flickering from the candle flame.

In that moment, as I felt time actively slipping through my fingers, the newest addition to our house chimed.

 

How appropriate.

 

 

My grandmother was recently moved out of her apartment and into a Health Care Center at a retirement community and consequently many of her belongings were divvied up between the family members.

Somehow no one had yet claimed this clock.

Every time it chimes, I'm reminded of my grandfather who passed away a little over a month after we were married.  I'm reminded of all the times, as a child, I would open the glass front to stop the arm so it wouldn't chime all through the night and keep me awake at my grandparent's house.  

I'm happy it somehow found it's new home at my house (not that I gave any of my other family members an option to take it). 

 

 

Luckily for me, my reality checks are usually fleeting.  I've learned over the past seven years how to regroup myself very quickly. 

It helps that I love everything about December.

 

Like celebrating my marriage to this man.

     And embracing the world through my niece's eyes.

 

 

And being silly and childlike.

 

 

 

And embracing all the Hope that surrounds this time of year.



 

Just as quickly as it came, it passes, and peace settles in.