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Monday, April 13, 2015

fertility: waiting game

I sat down to paint with a fresh pitcher of water, clean, crisp paper awaiting me, and a vase of brushes that probably should be replaced but I’m too cheap to think about. I grabbed a smaller brush, soaked it in the water, dipped it in black paint, and dragged the bristles across the page.  The result was awful.  Sketch after sketch produced recognizable images, but nothing seemed right.  My mind was racing, filled with thoughts and emotions.

Paint was not the proper medium.  Words.  I needed words.

So here I am.  Typing away amid my art supplies that cannot seem to harness all that I am feeling.

I have been receiving inquiries about our fertility journey.  Loving, sweet inquiries by people who want to know if we have made any progress.

We haven’t.  At least, not in a way that seems tangible in the slightest.

We are both working with doctors and figuring out medical needs, all of which seems to personal too share, though none of it really is.  There just isn’t much to say about it.  But we do know a little more.

The progress has come more in attitude.  This year has been filled with medical journeys and vast preparations for business school.  The latter has commandeered most of our time, energy, and resources.  I have been fighting this.  I have been jealous of my husband having this opportunity to pursue his dream.  It’s taken me the better part of the year to realize that jealousy is because I’m not sure what my dream is.

I am quickly approaching my 30th birthday.  It is staring me down like a target that I have to hit dead center or all will be lost.  The age doesn’t worry me as much as goals and aspirations that I feel I should have accomplished by now.

At the top of this list is children.

And yet, even with our endless visits to doctors and the persistence to conceive, neither of us feel like the time is right.  What does feel right is waiting.  Does that mean giving up?  No.  Stopping medications and doctor visits?  Absolutely not.  It means, waiting.  Putting more trust in the Almighty and His plan.  Eliminating an area of anxiety over something that should be joyous, not stress filled.  It means finding joy, new dreams.  It means going to business school hand in hand and gleeful with my husband, rather than jealous and downtrodden.  Something keeps saying that this time is precious and not to be wasted. 

I don’t check the comments on this blog very often, mainly because there aren’t that many and when there are, they are typically spam.  I received notice of a new comment and ignored it until moments before writing this piece.  The comment was from an anonymous sender on my letter to my fifteen year-old self.  This is what it said,

Dear "Me", You can't begin to imagine all the beautiful adventures that await both of you in the intervening years on the way to becoming the "45 Year-old Us". Hang in there, sit back, and enjoy the journey.

While I am positive this message was not from a time travelling future version of myself, this comment brought me to tears.  Fat, necessary, grateful tears.  The words resonated with my feeling to wait right now.  To be happy.  And if it is from Future Me, all the better!

Dear 45 Year-old Us, Okay.  I will learn to embrace the journey, to savor the moments and stop worrying.  Someday we might live somewhere longer than a few years, we might have more than 500 square feet to house us.  Someday might bring an MBA, a garden, art classes, financial security, and even children.  More than likely it will bring even more moves, rentals, rental trucks, friends gained and lost, family events, quick holidays, and probably a few rainy days.  But today is happening today, and I’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes.

Monday, April 06, 2015

easter 2015

photo from last year's Easter decor arrangement in our apartment

I have no pictures from yesterday.  Not one.  All I have are memories.  And they are sweet.  We spent the afternoon with family, playing games, catching up, and eating more than is healthy.  As wonderful as the day was, my favorite part was the drive home.  Mr. F and I talked the entire time.  Peacefully.  Over the past year, our conversations, no matter how mundane, have had a tendency to escalate and leave tensions high.  Anxiety over school, work, and fertility have left both us strained.  Over the past couple of weeks, that strain has felt like a rift that would not heal.  

During that hour drive home, we spoke, we talked, and we listened.  The conversation was extremely intimate, both of us sharing personal matters that had been weighing on us.  About halfway home, I realized how calm I felt.   No anxiety at all and I could tell Mr. F felt the same way.  This was usually the point where all hell would break loose, but it hadn't.  We kept talking.  The rift was being filled and replaced by a reservoir of trust.  So peaceful, so loving, so good.

Not only was this weekend Easter, but it was General Conference, a weekend of learning and faith building in our religion.  Leaders of our church speak to us via television, radio, and internet broadcast over the course of many hours spread out over two days.  They teach and preach of Christ, of a faith-filled life.  They teach us how live happy lives and to have Christ-centered families.

I only listened to one session of Conference this weekend. One of four.  And yet I felt the same strength feed me that comes during the broadcasts.  While I have every intention of listening to everything this week, probably more than once, I know this weekend was inspired.  I feel lighter than I have in ages, closer to my husband, my Father, and even myself.  It was a weekend of deep meditation and self evaluation, a perfect fit for this season of renewal.

So, I'm sorry if you were looking for photos and stories of egg hunts and delicious recipes, or even a fun DIY.  I have none of that.  What I do have is a grateful, happy, heart full of love. 

Monday, March 23, 2015

lazy homemade pizza

Hi, my name is Bekka and I have a serious thing for Little Ceasar's Pizza.  I think it is equal parts it's cheap, fast, and from Detroit that gets me.  It's not that it is good.  Heavens, no!  But oh, the cheap, greasy pizza!  One of the few downsides of living in the city is that the big LC is really, really inaccessible.  I'm sure my husband sings, "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!" every time I realize that, but so it is.  No cheap pizza for me.  This has lead to a serious need for pizza alternatives for the budgetally inclined.

Insert homemade pizza!  Homemade, as in we use store bought dough and sauce.  But stick with me people!  This has become our Sunday afternoon go-to meal.  Mainly because it's really easy to throw together, we can each personalize it, and we're so hungry after church that there isn't time to think of anything else before World Ward III commences in our household.  Food, it's a virtue.  A serious, freaking virtue.

So here's how you do it.



ball of fresh pizza dough
jar of favorite tomato sauce
grated mozzarella
cherry tomatoes


Preheat oven to 350* F.

Throw a bit of flour on a dry, clean surface and place dough onto it.  Cut dough into four equal parts.  Roll out each quarter individually.  This should give you four good sized personal pizzas.  Roll to desired thickness.  I err on the side of a thinner crust, or at least as thin as the really yeasty dough from Publix will allow me to go.

Place dough on a cookie sheet.  Dollop at least 2 heaping tablespoons of sauce on each pizza.  It may require more.  Cover sauce with mozarella cheese.  

Cut 5 or 6 cherry tomatoes in half and sprinkle, cut side up, on to the pizza.  This allows some caramelization of the tomato that is just awesome.  For extra goodness, julienne some basil and sprinkle on or add a few pieces of fresh spinach.

Place cookie sheet with pizzas in oven and bake until cheese is melted and crust is lightly browned, about 15-20 minutes.  Best served straight out of the oven.  (: