Relinquish...

This has been a really difficult post to write. I'm still not 100% sure I've said what I want to say in the correct way, but it gets my feelings across adequately for now, I think...


Hannah's story has always given me anxiety (1 Sammuel 1). While I know I want my children to belong to God, the thought of GIVING my child away makes me twitch. Always has. 
Let's fast forward. I have a friend that has this, cause (for lack of a better word), OneWord365. It's a challenge to not make a New Year's resolution & instead to ask God for a word for the year. A word to meditate on, to pray on, & to grow in. Last year my word was "Go" as my husband & I are feeling a serious pull to foreign missions. This year, I couldn't escape "Relinquish" which kind of ties into last year's word. Because how can you Go without first *letting go*, right? 
As many of you know, I suffered the loss of a sweet unborn baby last year. As we approach the due date of that lost baby I've been taken over by a sea of emotion. And while it has been an excruciatingly painful journey, I know I have never once been left alone with it. I've struggled, a lot, with trying to see exactly what lesson God had in all of this for me. Why? And I'm still not 100% sure, but something that keeps coming to mind is that these children of mine, were never MINE. That's a tough pill to swallow. Hannah was willing to literally HAND OVER her son, a son she begged & pleaded to God for. Not just to God, but literally into the hands of another person to guide that child & use him in God's will. I have prayed over my children, that God would use them to do His work. I have prayed that they would belong to Him. But the moment my unborn child's life was at stake, I prayed that this child would be mine, I needed this baby! I LOVED this baby! How could You want to take this from me?!? And I broke. My soul shattered the moment that loss was made permanent. Through my suffering & searching I was lead back to one of my favorite chapters in the Bible, Job 40 (the God smack down). And in these last few months, God whispered, "I LOVE YOU, Tricia. I'm here for you. I love this child too. Do you think you're more capable of love than I am?"
And then I broke again, but in a beautiful way because I broke into a wholeness, a completion. Because I KNOW God's love. And I know that there is no possible way for me to love a fraction of His love. But I want to! It still hurts, and I still find myself crying, grieving the loss of my child, but I know that God's love is so much more than my own. And I find a peace in that. 
And I look at my daughter now with new light, the fact that she's on loan is so much prevalent in my day to day. It is my responsibility to GIVE my children to God. You can't give a little bit of a person, it's all or nothing. It's a relinquishing of control that I only thought I possessed to begin with!  "My" children are God's, they always have been, I can only pretend they were ever mine at all. Or that I have any say as to what God has planned for their little lives. So I'm working on new prayers for her & her future sibling, for myself. That God would help me relinquish my hold & that I would wholeheartedly seek His will for them, to wholly hand them (back) over to the God I know is in absolute control! Hannah, who has been one of my least favorite stories in the Bible, has become so in my face I can't help but continue to pour over her story to gain understanding & peace.
This time in my life has also brought truth to some of my favorite worship songs & I find myself crying, singing, & praising in a new way...

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering 
Though there's pain in the offering 
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out 
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
-Matt Redman

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
- Horatio G. Spafford

Because I Still Cry...

Because I still cry. I still cry for you & about you, little RaneStorm. I still miss you & all your lost promise. And sometimes it makes me feel guilty because I should be excited & focused on your sibling, RaneMaker, growing inside me. And I am, we are SO excited, beyond excited! And we know how very blessed we are, I promise. RaneMaker, you are so loved, anticipated, and absolutely miraculous!
But sometimes I feel as if I didn't give you enough of my mourning, RaneStorm. And that makes me feel like an awful, awful mother. And I wonder what the three of you would have been like together. And I get lost in thought of your potential shenanigans before I realize the tears are streaming down my face, again. And I have to quickly wipe them away before your sister sees, or I wake your Dad with my sobs. It's a hard line to walk, mourning & celebration, but we're walking it with grace. I hope you two know I'm just as in love with you as I am your sister! RaneMaker, I pray you will always know just how cherished you are! And I hope that you never mistake my tears for RaneStorm to be anything regarding you, or your importance to our family; YOU ARE CHERISHED!

I'm a lucky girl, and I know that even in my mourning & loss He has never once left my side. And I relish in that, in His embrace & love. Because as lonely as loss can make you feel, I have yet to be left alone. And I know that is because He is forever placing hugs in my way, because He knows how my heart is still a shattered piece of a thing. And He knows I need Him and others, even if I refuse to ask for myself. I'm grateful for our relationship & how He knows that He often has to force His great love on me because I'm do dang stubborn. I love His understanding of me & His endless patience with me. And I rest, I rest in His unwavering grace! I still don't have a clue as to why He chose this journey for me, but I don't doubt for a moment this pain will have meaning & purpose down the road. And I'm thankful for that promise. As I cling to Him & His grace during this time, I am continually praying that I keep eyes focused on Him and that I would be prepared & aware of what He's working on.

I love you, all three of you!

All The Questions...

So I have this one reoccurring thought about RaneStorm: Where are you?

 The more time I spend with our darling RaneDrop, I experience her becoming more of a person & she's learning about Jesus and bible stories & her prayers break my heart, in beautiful ways, every night. But these are also things that remind me that RaneStorm never got to hear any of those things. That baby was never offered a chance to invite Jesus into it's heart.
So I'm afraid. And I cry a lot. And I search the Bible for something. But I keep coming up short & my heart breaks a little more.

But then, on anther level, I wonder if, even if RaneStorm ended up in Heaven. Will it matter to me? Because isn't the whole point of Heaven to praise God for eternity? So once I get there will I even know to think about this sweet baby I never met? It's a double edged sword. One that keeps leaving shark bites (that's what we call injuries in our house) on my tender heart.

These are the things that plague my mind in the dark of night while I'm avoiding sleep & drowning in tears. Do you have any words of wisdom? Any Bible verses, I'm missing?

RaneStorm...

     Sometimes, I find myself believing because you lived and died in my body, I’m the only one hurting. Then I find your dad with tears in his eyes and we stop and talk about you. Or I see him mad just because he needs to be mad at something within his control, because there was nothing about you we could control. I listen to the silence that was once his voice singing, because his song has been stolen.
     There are so many questions that will never be answered; some just sad, others haunting. Were you in pain? As your tiny life bled from my body, did you hurt? I can’t stand to think of you enduring such pain with no comfort. Who would you have been? We wonder if you would have been a snarky little rug rat, or would you have been quiet and bookish? Maybe you were destined to a mass murderer and that’s why you were taken? Or did your early death keep you from a life of suffering?
     I don’t know that I will ever get over not being able to touch you, not even for a second. I’ll never get to see you. I cannot wrap my mind around that fact. We were head over heels in love with you and we never got to tell you. To whisper it in your ear after bath while we sniffed your lavender scented hair.
Your dad and I had already disagreed where you’d sleep; if you’d have your own room or share with your sister. Just so you know, I voted to share! I’m sure you would have given her heck, but she probably would have slept through most of it.
     Mourning the loss of you has been a grueling journey. It's a hollow process, sometimes feeling as if I might be a little crazy for being so broken. Sometimes I feel like I’ve drowned in your death. My struggle for sanity and against the tears often makes me feel isolated. Because life moves on, the world only allows so much time for grief, but I don’t know what that time is and I’m sure I’ll more than exceed it. But what do I know? I’m not alone. We’ve been incredibly blessed by the people, the family, God has placed in our lives, at my darkest moments I’ve received a text, a card, a hug, some gesture that says, “We’re thinking of that baby too” and I fall apart for completely different reasons. I’m humbled, incredibly grateful for such understanding and love at such a confusing time in my life. I’m not really sure how we got so lucky.
     Your father, he’s an amazing man, and I’m so sorry you never got to meet him. He has literally bent over backward grieving with me, desperately trying to help me in this healing process. I couldn’t imagine this journey without him. You would have been so in love with him!
     I haven’t been angry. Overwhelming sadness, yes, but no anger. And I'm thankful for that. I know this is part of a greater story, a bigger plan, I’ve been through enough with Him to know that. I felt disappointed, abandoned at times, but it hasn’t stolen my prayers. In the past month, I feel God has kept me from being able to worship him in a large setting, forcing me instead to be intimate and quiet, and broken. I don’t do well with silence or intimacy, and I think that’s why He’s forced me into it. Constantly bringing me back to the very building the spotting started and forcing me to be silent and reflective, to break down, fall apart. He knows how I hate vulnerability, but it’s that weakness that has given Him the opportunities to reinforce His love & assurance that He does indeed have a plan. I’m not good at weakness, or tears, or depending on others. Despite all the pain and death in my life, I’ve never been good at dealing with or talking about the emotions that come with it. He brings me crashing back to my favorite verse, 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

That’s a lot to take in, huh? We’re still not okay, and I’m sorry if that bothers people. I’m still broken, but not bitter. I’m doing my best to remember to lean on Him and be content during these weak moments, these hardships, because I know it’s His strength, not mine, that will bring me through it in one piece. 

Thank you for your prayers, patience, and love! We have appreciated everything, truly. We will never be able to express the gratitude with which our hearts are bursting, thank you.

Broken...

I can't sleep in the dark anymore. It's deafeningly loud and overcome with what ifs and questions that can never be answered. Which pain is worse, the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will? I'm not sure. We were so excited. Excited isn't even a good enough description, but I've found the English language lacking a lot lately.
I started spotting two weeks ago, but it didn't seem a big deal. Then clots appeared that Thursday while I was at work. I had to call & inform my boss that I needed to leave immediately. I'm incredibly thankful that God has placed amazing & understanding people in my life. She didn't hesitate in telling me to close the store & do whatever was necessary.
The drive to the hospital was a blur of panic & prayer. We were ushered to a private room & taken into have a sonogram. Almost immediately we saw that tiny circle with a white spot, our BABY! And our hearts soared & we gasped for breath we didn't know we were holding in. Everything looked as it should for this early! And they even detected a heartbeat! Not strong enough to measure, but it was there! Elated we headed home.
Friday, the cramping started. It was the most intense pain & quickly had me on the phone with the nurses. They told me everything I already knew. There's nothing you can do but wait. Wait, and hope, and pray. So we did. And I took it easy, even though that's not proven to do anything at this point. But it helped me feel like I was doing *something*. Over the weekend the pain would increase & decrease never really leaving. I knew I just had to make it to Monday so I could call & move my appointment up.
Monday came, the earliest appointment I could get was Tuesday at 3:30pm, I sighed with relief, I can do that. But Monday night the cramps got worse. I laid in bed twisting and turning through the pain.
With every pulse, every cramp it became painfully aware these weren't normal cramps but contractions. Contractions that we're draining the tiny life from my body.
And I cried. And I prayed sobbing prayers. Convinced if I prayed hard enough, this would be nothing more than a horrid nightmare. As I writhed in pain, I bargained, I begged to feel pain my whole life if it meant our baby would survive. I don't remember falling asleep, but I drifted off at some point after three.
•••
Brue woke up at six, far earlier than her norm, I groaned, exhausted from my long night. Begrudgingly, I sat up feeling the intense need to pee I'd grown accustomed to. I shuffled to the bathroom, calling out to Brue I was on my way. It was a dreadful moment. I felt something drop from my body. In that instant I knew it was my baby, I just knew. I leapt up in shock and fear, but there was so much blood, everywhere, that I couldn't confirm my worst nightmare. I convinced myself that it was just a clot & the cramps from the night before were just to pass that clot & that my baby was fine. I had to. I couldn't face myself. I had to believe that I hadn't just flushed my baby down the damned toilet. What kind of mother does that?! And how do you come back from that? How do you forgive yourself? How do you mourn?
I busied myself for the rest of the day. Trying to forget I was no longer feeling those perpetual cramps, I wasn't feeling anything at all.
•••
As we sat in the waiting room with four hundred other couples waiting to see the precious life they had growing in their bellies we busied ourselves with denial, watching the beginning of the World Cup match of Brazil & Germany until they called our name. As we made ourselves as comfortable as you can be covered in a paper sheet, the most precious of sono techs made small talk, remembering the joyous moments of seeing our last baby in her room, sharing in our joy & pride. But as images appeared on the screen I knew immediately it was wrong, terribly wrong. It didn't look at all as it had last week. That instant, the world crashed into my ears shooting straight to my soul, shattering it. It crumbled and broke as sobs escaped our bodies filling the room with wretched sounds of grief. You could tell from her face she was struggling, she didn't, couldn't, deliver the news, but she was fighting for what words she could offer to us, the broken.
The rest is a fragmented memory of tears and agony while we waited in a private room of grief. Reassurance from the kind, empathetic eyes of my beloved doctor as she assured me this wasn't my fault. The explanation of what had happened to our baby. More tears. More consolation. A stunned walk to the car. The darkened sky which felt all too appropriate as the rain & tears mixed on our cheeks and the sobs continued to make ragged sounds as they escaped our mouths.
•••
The friend that can be silent with you in a moment of despair, stay with you in the hours of grief, not knowing, not trying to heal, not trying to fix. Those are my friends, true friends, I will forever be grateful for the hours of tears, silence, & pointless rambling they allowed me.
•••
We cried together all day. Leaning in and into each other, desperate for a consolation that may never come.
Brue was nothing but smiles as we walked in the door, squealing, "Mommy! Daddy!" while rushing us with hugs. As if she had some intuition as to how much we needed her love at that very moment. She gave us constant hugs for the next ten minutes filled with giggles and "luh you". At one point even asked me to sit in her lap. As I laid my upper body across her tiny legs, she wrapped me tightly in a hug and patted my back. I nearly broke right there. How in the world?! It was that moment I knew God was hugging us, offering a consolation He knew we needed at the most perfect time.
•••
I don't know why we have been chosen for this journey & I'd be lying if I told you I'm okay. We're not okay. We're struggling. Hard. There are moments we're fine & then moments we're struck by such grief we can't even catch our breath. But we're pressing on & we're learning to breath through the pain. And one day, maybe, we'll understand where this journey is supposed to lead us. In the mean time we ask for your prayers. We covet them. Not sympathy or looks of sadness, but prayers for strength and peace and understanding.

Onesies & Nicaragua...

Hand drawn onesies for sale!!

As some of you know, I will be traveling to Nicaragua this summer with my church for some mission work! We will  help with building homes, repairing an orphanage, working in the orphanage, & working with a feeding program they have in place! Exciting, huh?
Here's where you come in. To help fund my trip I have designed 4 onesies (pictured below) to sell at $10 each, or more if you're feeling generous. ;)
You could buy these for your own little, a sister or brother's child, that cute kid down the street, or choose to donate your purchase to the orphanage in Nicaragua! If you choose to donate, I will change the wording to Spanish (I've already worked with a Hispanic native to make sure wording format is correct!) and pack it in my suite case. There is a big need for donations for the orphanage ranging from clothes, to cloth diapers, to blankets, so these will be a great blessing! 

Later I will post a list of items you could donate for me to pack in my suitcase, if you'd like to contribute to that as well!
So check out the designs & let me know which one you would like! Also, if your purchasing as a gift, what size you would like! Thank you so much!! 
If you'd like to use PayPal see the link at the bottom of the page!

 

Plan B, we're pregnant...

Part I

Yup, you read that correctly! Adam & I are expecting...now for those of you that know me, that may come as a bit of a shock. And it's ok, I felt the very same way! I ran to the window to see if pigs were flying...

Let's start from the beginning:
When I was young, I proclaimed to the world that I was going to have twenty children! My plan was to birth ten & adopt ten, I know, a bit ambitious! As I grew older and experienced just how difficult children could be I decided that maybe ten was a better number, I'd birth five and adopt five. Life went on, I learned more about kids and childbirth and the cost of living...and I quickly decided I'd rather adopt and maybe keep my pint sized desires to around four.
And that remained my plan for years. I've made no secret of my desire to adopt rather than enduring childbirth. Especially after I married into a family of VERY large craniums...::shudder::
But I'd like you to notice something I've said, *MY PLAN*. I made these decisions, and then my husband & I made them, but if I were to be totally candid with you, I didn't really consult the Big Guy, I just assumed He was on board.

For the last while I've been undergoing lots of doctors visits, testing, and all kinds of fun stuff. Some of you know more than others about what all this entailed. It was hard, it was defeating, and it was absolutely terrifying at times. There were times when the possible diagnosis' would have meant we wouldn't be allowed to adopt in many countries, and for those of you that know anything about adoption, the more open you can be, the better. It's a grueling experience, totally worth it, but heart wrenching and heart warming all at the same time. Anyway, there were weeks and months even that I wasn't sure I'd ever get to experience the joys of motherhood. The doctors told us our chances of conceiving a child were minimal to non-existent. I took this news well, considering it proved my adoption plans were the "right path for us anyway". So we soldiered on. We kept making plans, for us, by us.

Then God rocked. my. world. I won't bore you or gross you out with the details, but things led to me peeing on a stick. I barely paid attention to it because, well, that wasn't for us, it was merely a step I could assure the doctor I'd taken. When I bothered to glance at the test I was *completely* stunned to see the word Pregnant with out the Not preceding it! I stood there for what seemed like hours, shocked. Then I quickly went through more tests waiting for one to give me the right answer. Silly, I know, but I just couldn't wrap my head around this miracle.
I was shocked, overjoyed, bewildered...and so ridiculously giddy.

reactions...

     Have you ever noticed that when you tell people something new or exciting 60% of those people don't congratulate you or bask in the awesomeness of your new adventure, they go on a seemingly never ending spew on what could go wrong. Adoption has proved to be no different. I've planned on adopting my whole life, and no one really cared or paid any attention when I was making such claims at five years of age. But now that I've reached the age that most people think the hubs and I should be starting a family, the questions--demands have begun. When I explain what type of child I hope for, people get this quizzical look, but how? As if the *only* way to procure children is through ones own body. You can't help but laugh. Laugh, that people still have such limited views of what make a family. Laugh, that people think every woman desires to host a fetus in their body for nine months. Laugh, that as a society we still fail to see that we've *all* been charged to care for the widows and the orphans.
     Once we've moved past the perplexed look, the one after I announce I willingly choose adopt my children rather than birth them, that's when reactions really start to change. The ones I love the most are the ones that mirror the reactions of my best friends, the jittery excitement, the genuine desire to be a part of my future children's lives, the absolute inability to contain their overwhelming joy. That's my favorite reaction, it warms my heart and my soul, and it makes me know I've done well in choosing those in which to surround myself.
     There's also the mediocre response, the, "Oh, adoption..." Those are the people that don't really know what to say because they don't understand adoption, they've never considered it, they've never known anyone adopting or adopted. So they stutter, and they smile, and they tell you that's awesome. I can appreciate these people, because I feel that way sometimes around pregnant women, or in a room full of mothers discussing poop, and nap times--I've got nothing to contribute because I'm not there and I don't want to say the wrong thing.
     The absolutely most heart-wrenching reaction though, is the automatic launch into adoption horror stories! Mostly the pity I feel for the person talking, not ourselves. Now, I know from experience this dooms day reaction is not only for adoption, I've heard equally horrific accounts for birthing, and world travel, and even mission work. So please don't think that I believe this reaction is solely a burden for hopeful adoptive parents. It's more of a plea, if you know me, or you know someone that is in the process of adopting or considering adoption, hold back the horror just to have something to say. For every story you want to tell me about the families you know that have behavioral problems with their adopted children, I'll give you ten more of biologically born children that are just as bad if not worse. When you warn me that kids from a certain country are destined for problems I'll give you countless examples of children I know from that country that are happy and healthy and belong to amazing families.

I'll tell you that no family is guaranteed happiness. I'll tell you no parent is guaranteed the perfect child. I'll tell you that no matter what, family is never traditional. I'll tell you that only those willing to be helpful & supportive will be allowed to be a part of this family. I'll tell you, I hope you want to be that part, but if not, I understand. And then I'll kindly ask you to leave...

when dreams hurt...

Last night i had a dream. i don't dream often, or remember them, or whatever. But last night i did. I dreamed that my husband and i were given our referral child for two days as a trial run. now i know that is *not* the way things work, but it did in this dream, so we'll roll with it. this orphan we received, it wasn't the child i see when i picture our future children, for starters it was only one, but i was instantly in love! he had my full attention every moment of each day, he was "ours". i fell headlong, over the top, crazy, unconditionally, in LOVE with this child.
and then we had to return him.
not because the trial period went badly, but because we weren't ready to complete the adoption. we didn't have an actual room for him, we didn't have all the finances lined up, it was TERRIBLE. i felt my soul had been ripped from within! i sobbed for days...i actually woke up sobbing. i spent the day mourning an orphan that was a figment of my imagination.

i feel this is the beginning of my life. adoption & orphan care has been emblazoned on our hearts & we're about to jump head first into it!

i don't know what to title this one...

Once again she pulls  it out from the back of the drawer. The box is covered in dust, which is a good sign, but she wonders if it will ever cease to taunt her. She slides the lid off the warn box & its contents shines in the light. She sighs, frustrated that she’s once again succumbed to the pull of the contents of this tattered cardboard box. She gets that tingling of desire as her fingers reach into the box. She pulls the tiny blade from within & every fiber of her being wants to drag it across her skin like old times. To feel it as it reaches deeper separating skin from skin. She knows it’s a sick & twisted desire, but it’s a desire none the less.  She sighs. This simple piece of silver was a best friend to her for years. It never failed to be there for her, to be by her side when no one else was. It was a comfort when her life had to be hidden from the rest of the world. It provided solitude. Shaking her head, as if such a simple action would loosen the thoughts threatening to strangle her sanity, she flipped the blade over in the palm of her hand. So many memories swarmed through her head. Her hand fluttered out grabbing a chair to help steady her. Those damned memories! Those are the moments that drove her to this piece of metal to begin with. The times in life when curling up in a little ball of protection never helped. It was these memories that corrupted her soul & shattered her person. She held the cool metal between her fingers and wondered if she would ever be whole again. She always tried to keep it together but right now, here, alone, she broke. She broke like she had so many times before, screaming out in pain & anger to the God that had cradled her so many times before. But sometimes in her weakest of moments her anger outweighed all common sense and she begged for a different life, a different past, for different memories. She shuddered as the sobs, they racked her body, and those wretched memories ravaged her mind. How did she get here?  When did that control she’d fought for her entire life escape her grasp? She choked on her own tears as she slipped from the chair to the floor. How had so many years passed and yet she was still so broken? How did the smallest of gestures make her insides shudder and quake like a helpless child? She let the waves of pain and agony sweep over her body. She knew it was pointless to fight the tears once she let that first one fall it seemed like forever before she could pull it together again. She knew the process, she would cry, uncontrollably, until she had cried herself to exhaustion. Then she would pick herself up. She would slide that shiny blade back into its box of protection placing it delicately it in the back of the drawer hiding it, protecting it, from the world.

Inside the Mind of a Half-Marathoner...

...or at least *this* half-marathoner. so Sunday, February 13, 2011 I ran my first half marathon, the Rock N Roll Mardi Gras Half Marathon!

Mile 1 – Crossed the starting line. Wow these people are pretty hyped. It’s cold yo.

Mile 2 – What?! Mile 2?? They were right, the adrenaline totally took care of mile one! I *never* even saw mile one! This is going to be a breeze! Ooh, water, sweet!

Mile 3 – Dude, I totally just finished a 5k! Oh, crap! That means I still have…why am I even *trying* to calculate that? We all know I suck at math…and math while you’re running?! That’s just ludicrous! We’ll just say I still have a long way to go. “You got dis!” I love looking down & seeing that! Knowing my best friends are cheering me on!

 

(i totally just realized that perseverance was misspelled on my arm! ha!)

Mile 4 – Wow, that guy looks like Jace…whoah! That is Jace! And Jan! And Jerry! Aww, Cohen’s got a sign! Who’s that girl yelling my name? IT’S MITZI!!! Aww! This is awesome!  I really thought Emily would have already passed & they’d have moved on..but it’s SO great to see familiar faces! Why did I tell Mich & Adam to stay at the finish line? Ah, oh well. I have officially completed one lap around the lakes! Woot! Woot! Was that a toenail? DID I SERIOUSLY JUST LOSE A TOENAIL!?! Well, there’s not a red spot on my shoe…maybe I’m just being paranoid, but my toe really hurts. IS THAT BLOOD? No, just a shadow. Ooooh, Creole Creamery! Dang it, now I’m thinking of their Salted Caramel ice cream mixed with their Mexican Hot Chocolate! Ugh, ice cream isn’t all that appealing after all…

Mile 5 – “Stacey’s mom has got it going on!” Man, this song makes me think of Yecats! This is a great song to run to. Ah, look another band...maybe if my headphones weren’t in I could hear them, oh well, I put a lot of thought into this play list & I’m loving it so far.

Mile 6 – Only SIX?! Well, I guess it makes sense…six *does* come after five, but still! Run with perseverance Heb 12.1 Ahh, thanks, God, way to throw me one! Linkin Park! This reminds me of running Hwy 19 with Nita! If I didn’t have a million miles left I’d totally sprint to this song! What? Callabria, it’s like Mich is here too! Awesomesauce! This might just be the best mile yet! Aww, there’s the family again! How do they have so much energy? Oh, yeah.  I’m almost half way! Why am I crying? Pull it together, Tricia, you still *have* halfway!

Mile 7 -  Look! That’s Emily! She seriously just back tracked *just* to cheer me on & tell me I’m doing a great job? I love that girl! Yet, if it weren’t for her I wouldn’t even be out here! Ha! Next year, I’m totally NOT telling Adam to stay at the finish line. How did I underestimate the encouraging power of seeing familiar faces along the route? Wait, did I seriously just think “next year”?! I must be hitting the delirious stage. Mmm, I smell hamburgers! Who would DO that? That’s so cruel! God, if you could make these boobs just fall off right now, I’d totally appreciate it! No, really… I can’t believe I’m almost on mile nine!

 Mile 8 – Mile eight!?!? Ughgh!! I swear I’d already passed eight! Are you kidding me? This sucks! I’m *never* going to finish this! Ha! I can hear April telling me I have to stay positive! Ah, April, I’m so glad she warned me about this whole mental destruction. Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe I’m only on mile eight! Jeeze, it’s really loud under the overpass! Is that guy seriously street sweeping that parking lot? It’s like a huge dust ball under here! Stupid head. Gah!

 Mile 9 – No, really, this sucks! I’m never going to finish this! And my time is just getting worse & worse!  Why did I sign up for text alerts so that everyone can see just how terribly I’m doing! (I’m hearing April’s reminders to stay positive) “Let me tell the story, I can tell it all about the mountain boy who ran illegal alcohol…” aww, Papa used to sing that song all the time. I’m. Never. Going. To. Finish. This. Race. Hmm, maybe I should pray a bit…I’m seriously beating myself up here. Hey God, I could seriously use some help here…
Stand In the Rain by Superchicks is playing now..Thanks, God, I really needed that! ::tears:: Maybe I’ll make it after all…

Mile 10 – MILE TEN!!!!! I only have a 5k left! I. Can. Do. This. I can totally do this! Alright, Tricia, time to pick up the pace! Another song with whistling in it! That always makes me think of Adam…like he’s right here cheering me on! Gosh, I love that man! He’s been so supportive during all this training..he even encouraged me to get in miles when I didn’t want to, just because he knew it would make me feel better! Gah! *Why* do I keep tearing up!? Are they seriously handing out Mardi Gras beads?! Who wants to run with Mardi Gras beads on? Crazy. Dude, I’ve got some serious blisters going on these feet!

Mile 11 – Water! Is that water boy eating a bag of chips? Dude, I could really eat those chips…if I push him over & steal his chips would that be a bad thing? I mean *I* am the one running a half marathon here...just saying. God, remember when I asked you to make my boobs fall off? I really meant that…my back is *killing* me! Did you know I wore like four bras today!?  Holy moly! I’m PASSING people now! Move outta my way! Trix is coming THROUGH! God, you totally keep playing the right songs at the right moment! Thanks!

Mile 12 – Can’t touch, this! Da na na naaah! Ha ha ha!!! I totally forgot I put this song on my playlist! Ha ha! I wish I could hammer time WHILE walking, that would be sweet! What’s that smell? FRIED CHICKEN? Oh. My. Gosh. I have never wanted fried chicken so badly in all my life! Water! That means I’m at 12.4 that means I’m so close! Why is that girl stopping to sit? Doesn’t she know how close we are?? Wow, these blisters really hurt!

Mile 13 – Oh. My. Dang. I just did THIRTEEN MILES! Why can’t I see the finish line yet? You’d think that you’d be able to SEE .1 miles...or is it .1 mile? Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m almost done! This is crazy! I’ve almost completed a HALF MARATHON!  I can hear the finish line! Did that man just fall!?! Do I stop? No, he’s got people with him, whew! Is it selfish I didn’t want to stop because I wanted to keep my time to a minimum? I’m pretty sure that’s terrible…
Hey! There’s Jess!

.1 – Wow! This is exhilarating! There’s Adam! And Mich! Cory, April! Seester! Gabe! Oh my gosh! Adam made me a poster! Holy crap I’m sobbing! I just finished a half marathon! I seriously can’t stop crying! Did Adam just say he was proud of me? I didn’t think I could cry any harder! I’m starving. I’m tired..boy do these blisters HURT. My MEDAL! (more tears) aaaand photo time! FOOD!

Official Time: 3:55:

 

a runner's best friend! 3am...

 all ready! 5am

 Encouragement...

 Seesters!

 Sisters (in-law) after Emily's AWESOME accomplishment of 26.2 miles in 5:14:56!

 We even have the same shoes!

 So. Close...

 Run, Run!

finish line in sight!