Our romance didn’t change the world, it didn’t make the world a better place. Our romance won’t go down as sensational, or scandalous, or to many even memorable. But to me, your love changed my world, it’s made me a better woman, a stronger woman. I borrow from your strength daily. To me, your love will be what I always think of no matter how dark things may get. No, your love for me didn’t change the world around us, but it changed the way I see the world and interact with the world.


In the years to come our love will continue to flourish, it will nurture our children.

Our love is as quiet as a whisper, as deep as the ocean, and as solid as a diamond.

Gvgeyuhi … with all my heart.


“Just” an EMT.


My husband is an EMT as well as beginning his firefighter training. As such, a lot of our friends are now EMTs simply because that’s the circle that he runs in.  I’ve seen a lot of facebook posts recently about how there is no such thing as “just” an EMT. I’ve also seen and heard nurses call them just ambulance drivers.

I would like to go on a more personal explanation of why EMTs are not a “just” anything. They have the capability to make a bad situation either bearable or a horrible event that will stick with you the rest of your life.  Because I took care of both my parents, I had a lot of interaction with EMS and sometimes it wasn’t a great interaction, but sometimes it was all that kept me from having a panic attack in the middle of a crisis. They’ve been both my lifeline and the person I wanted to slap.

Let me start with what was by far my worst experience, because I want to get it out of the way as I think the good interactions far outweigh the bad.

My mom had a stroke in 2008. My dad came to my room and woke me up saying simply that something was wrong. I get to their room and Mom is laying on her back staring at the ceiling, not quite able to focus on either of us. The side of her mouth had a noticeable droop as did her eyelid. She was unable to move the right side of her body, and all she could say was no. She literally could get no other word to come out. We immediately called 911. Mind you, we live in the middle of nowhere so we knew it would take time for EMS to respond. 

One of us started calling my brothers and sisters, though I honestly don’t know who. 

I will forever remember feeling desperately helpless, and then when the EMTs finally got there they sat outside and worked on paperwork before they came in, and then when they came in they looked at my mother and said, “Well, we don’t see any signs of a stroke, but we’ll transport if you want us to.” 

Looking back on this, I wish I had the understanding that I do now. I wish I had remembered names. My mother was laying there unable to move one entire side of her body, saying a very slurred no over and over with the side of her face drooping, and yet they saw no signs of a stroke. It terrifies me what could have happened had we listened to them and not pressed to have her taken to the hospital. We ended up having only about a year and a half with her after that, how much shorter could that have been? How much longer if she’d been able to get to a hospital quick enough to get the proper medicine?

This was the one and only time I ever can remember a truly horrid experience with the EMTs and first responders who seemed to become a part of our lives. There was a time before Mom’s stroke that Dad and I had went to town to get groceries. We came home to find mom passed out, laying half over the kitchen table with the phone off the hook by her feet and sick-up all over the floor. Mom never remembered this so she couldn’t tell us if she was trying to call for help. We called 911 and I think they must have grown wings because it’s the fastest I ever remember them getting to our house. The feeling of relief when they came in and took over the situation was indescribable. They administered oral glucose to bring Mom’s blood sugar back up and then we were off to the ER. (That one turned into an adventure which led to a stay in Roanoke.)

There was the time I had an allergic reaction to a medicine I was prescribed by accident and my face swelled up along with all the muscles randomly spasming and almost biting my tongue off. The EMTs spotted the rash on the side of my throat quicker that even my mom.

There have been many instances where EMS became involved in our lives, not just emergency situations either. After Mom’s stroke, it was the three times a week trips to the dialysis center. It was Mom calling and canceling her appointments and the EMTs who normally worked her calls calling back or showing up anyways and talking her into going. It was her usual team getting her a little surprise for Christmas that made her day. When she was hospitalized (because she often refused her treatments), they would call and check on her or if they saw me out they’d stop and ask how she was doing.

It’s because of this that we have never thought of the EMTs in our life as “just” anything. This continues even more now that my husband has made this his career. I’ve seen him jump from a moving vehicle to get over a bank to someone who wrecked. I’ve seen him go days without sleep while he runs calls. Going out anywhere with him is going out with the knowledge that he’s an EMT first and foremost and that if we run into any situation, he will pull over and do what he can to help. It’s being in church and knowing if his pager goes off, he will answer. It’s who an EMT is. Their first instinct is to do whatever they can to help anyone in their path. There is no such thing as “just” an EMT. It’s not “just” a job to them. It is so very much an integral part of who they are.

It’s a New Year…

So, I thought I’d take a minute and talk about my plans for 2017, try to get a little more positivity and planning in my blog. everyday

First, I want y’all to know that I plan to blog more often. 2016 was rough, and the depression kept me questioning whether or not I should post most of the things on my mind. Actually, I’m planning to do more writing in general. I miss writing. I’ve always loved it, even more than reading as I get to do with the characters as I want to.

Next, I plan to be more active physically. I say this every year and it fails, but I’m hopeful that I have a friend who will ride bikes with me this year and help keep me on track. If I could find someone who will walk with me around town that will be extremely helpful as well, although even I’m not gonna do it in the middle of winter. Way too accident prone for that idea.

(Although, as soon as we have enough snow I fully plan to ambush my cousins in a snowball fight.)

Third, I want to work on my relationships this year. With God, with family, with friends, with anyone that I love. This last year I’ve been distant with pretty much everyone, and a big part of that has been the depression and anxiety.

I would say fourth, but I think this ties in with my relationships too much – try to find a way to get the depression and anxiety under control. I’m tired of it keeping me from doing things that I want to do and things the hubby wants to do. We had so many things planned in 2016, and when it came down to it either I couldn’t do it because of my issues or hubby was also having to back out of arrangements because I needed him.

Last I think is trying to be more thankful. I’m always worried that those around me aren’t aware of just how much I appreciate and love them, especially my “inner circle”, but if it wasn’t for these people that God has put in my life I can’t help but to think that my world would shatter sometimes. So to all of you – thank you.

Let’s try to make 2017 a better year,  a happier year.

(PS – There will be a lot more looming as well!!!! I have plans y’all. )


Being the childless friend…

It’s hard. I’m not gonna lie. There are days I just don’t want to go around any of my friends who have kids, because I never know is this a day where I’m going to simply enjoy my friends and loving on the kids… Or will this be one of those days where I paste on a smile and when I get home I cry myself hoarse? It’s an emotional teeter totter, and honestly I never know which way my emotions are going to swing.


I’ve backed off of how much I visit some of my friends because of that, which has hurt their feelings, but it makes more sense than being like “Well it hurts my feelings that you have what I don’t!” Because that’s dumb. It’s just dumb, and I know for a fact I shouldn’t be upset because they have babies. They adore their babies, and of course I would never actually say such a thing… but it doesn’t stop looking at those sweet faces from hurting. And it certainly doesn’t stop me from comparing how close in age our children would have been. The thought that while we sit back and chat that there should be two little ones romping around the floor, not just one.

That’s the most extreme “problem” with being “that” friend. There’s little problems too that leave me feeling frustrated and embarrassed at the same time.

If one of my friends asks me to diaper their child, I have no problem doing so, but… there’s always these teasing little comments about the speed at which I can do it. I’m sorry that I don’t have baby dolls at home that I practice on just for the odd happenstance that you might need me to diaper your kid’s butt. I will gladly do it for you, it doesn’t bother me, but feeling like I’m being judged and found lacking because I don’t have experience… that does bother me.

I suppose I could practice on the husband, but I doubt he would be very amused with the idea.

You wanna do what now?

I’m afraid one of these days my filter’s not going to engage and someone’s going to get a snappy, “Well, I’m sorry I don’t have any to practice on to meet your qualifying speeds!” Seriously, is there like a baby diapering Olympic sport or something?

Going out with the friends who have kids is a hazard all of it’s own. An example here is I went out with a friend/cousin today with her grandbaby, and ran into someone I used to work with. I was pushing the buggie with the baby because I enjoy playing with him. The co-worker looks at me and says “Well, that was quick!” Leading to me hastily assuring that the baby was not mine, and is in fact a little cousin. Even afterwards she still made the comment that he seemed to have my hair.

She meant nothing by it. She meant nothing mean. It didn’t stop me from being embarrassed, uncomfortable, and somewhat hurt from the encounter.

It’s an emotional minefield being “that” friend.

That being said, there are some upsides to that as well. I get to play “auntie Angel” to kids that I absolutely adore. I get to spoil them rotten any time I want, and play with them until they’re too tired to hold their heads up. At Christmas, I’m the first to admit I will be the one in the baby/child section looking for the perfect gift to both amuse the child I’m buying for and mostly likely to annoy the parents at the same time.

As much as I try to keep those things in mind, it’s not always easy, and I’ll be the first to admit to being tenderhearted. I always have been, but conversations with fellow cysters and other women struggling with infertility tell me I’m not the only one struggling. Please, if you have a friend you know is fighting the monster of infertility – choose your words and actions carefully. Chances are even if you do hurt our feelings, we’ll never say anything.

We’re All Just Human Here

I apologize that my posts are so scattered and far apart, but I find myself censoring a lot of the thoughts that go through my head and trying to filter through what would be a good topic and what wouldn’t. Today I overheard a conversation that I thought would be a good place to start this particular topic. I won’t go into the whole conversation, but the topic itself was concerning clothing vouchers.  This person was going on about how much of an inconvenience it was to have to go shopping and deal with the people who have them, and how wrong it was that the clothes weren’t taxed for people who received that assistance.

This ties in to several posts that I have made on Facebook in the past about the way that society treats anyone who receives assistance from the government. So, I have a few points to make on this entire subject.

First, my primary question has always been – why is it your business if someone is receiving assistance? Do you know their life story? Do you know if they are sick or disabled? To this I’ve often heard comments along the lines of, “Just look at them. You can tell there’s nothing wrong with them!” Oh, really? So you can tell the person who is manic depressive, who has tried to take their lives multiple times, is just hunky dory by watching them walk into Wal-Mart?

Not every diseases manifests in a physical way, and not all health problems are 24/7. My brother has a health condition called Myastenia Gravis, and this thing attacks his body on a different degree every day. You might see him one day and he’s fine, and see him the next day and he can barely walk.

So, let’s assume that you’re right. There is no health condition stopping this person from working, but they still receive government assistance. “They should get off their butt and work a job. I’m tired of supporting them!”

I have a friend who works more than full time hours, his wife works full time hours, and they have three children. To afford a home, cars, food, etc they still have to lean on government assistance.

What about the single mother with three children who receives food stamps, clothing vouchers, and Medicaid? She’s working two jobs, feels like she only gets to see her babies for bed time, and wonders if she’s failing her children even more by working these hours just to be able to afford a roof over their heads.

Are these things considered when we, as a society, make this rash judgment that everyone who is receiving assistance is just a drain on society.

What bothers me even more is it often seems that these sentiments are ones that are expressed by fellow Christians. You know, those of us who are taught Love thy neighbor. This is not meant to literally mean the person who lives beside you. It’s supposed to be for us to love everyone.

Something else I often hear, and I won’t deny this is problem as I see it everyday in my little community, is why should the tax payers support the druggies and pillheads?

This might be a little harder for some of you to swallow, and I’m going to come at this from a Christian perspective as that’s the way I think about it. Instead of just complaining about the junkies and gossiping about them, have you tried to help them?

Have you offered them food or drink? Have you offered to be their ride to a rehab facility? Have you offered to even do something as simple as pray with them?

I know I’ve gotten slightly off topic here, and I do apologize for that, but to me these things wrap together and are all part of the same huge topic, this problem we have with judging each other based on what are very superficial levels. When are we going to stop seeing each other by what we have, what we need, what level we fall into economically, and just see each other as human beings?

To my husband this Father’s day

Dear Husband,

It’s that time of year again. Last month we congratulated all the women for being mothers and grandmothers and consoled women who have yet to conceive that “it’ll happen when you’re ready.”

This month the same will happen for all the fathers and grandfathers, but will anything be said to the men of the women so desperately trying to conceive? I’ve never heard it. Not once.

So let me say it now.

I’m sorry we’re not there yet.

I’m sorry that this is another year that we will go through without holding our own precious bundle in our arms.

I know the desire in your heart for a child is just as great as mine.

I know when we miscarried it hurt you just as much.

I know you refuse to get your hopes up every time I take a test.

I’m sorry we’re not there yet.

But let me say this.

I know that when that time comes, when we are finally blessed, you will be the very best father.

I see it when you play with our friends’ children. When they run up to you and use you as a giant jungle gym and you just go along with it, grinning and laughing. I see it when you get in the floor with them or on the ground and you’ve never once cared about getting dirty.

I see the desire in your heart and I know it aches just as badly for the one thing we’re missing.

But it will happen, I hope, I pray everyday.

Until then, I already know you’re the #1 Father, because I see it everyday.