Trying

My faith is getting slammed again and again and again this year. I am trying so hard, but as soon as I get close something else happens and I am one step forward, three steps back. I am frustrated, hurt, overwhelmed and just tired.

Here is to going up from this point on. Please.

 

 

All images found on Pinterest. If other source credit is needed please let me know.

Things They Don't Tell You...

Things they don't tell you about miscarriages...

Ok, maybe some of them are things they did tell you, but you were too numb/emotional/overwhelmed to acknowledge them. Maybe some things you stumbled on via the internet, like I did. But some things you don't really know until you experience them. If you are here from a google search, I am so sorry. I know my words do nothing for how you're feeling, believe me I know, but I still will extend it to you. So. Here we go.

Your first period after a miscarriage will suck.

Every person is different physically. Your first period may not happen for months or right on schedule. It may be super heavy or super light. It depends. But it will still suck. Me personally? It arrived right on schedule and was one of the most painful periods I ever had in my life. It was heavy and it hurt and it was hell. I woke up at 4:30am in so much pain that pamprin, my heat pad, and more advil did nothing to conquer. I ended up in so much pain it made me throw up. It. Sucked.

What was worse than that?

The last time I had cramps I was losing my baby. So to feel that again was hell.

It was also a giant middle finger to myself from, well, myself.

So many people in trying to help kept mentioning after you have or lose a baby your body is the most fertile. So many people get pregnant right afterwards.

Well, I didn't.

So my period arriving right on time like a barreling freight train felt like a giant middle finger. A lot of people may get pregnant right away. I am not one of them. It. Sucked.

Your hormones will screw with you.

I cried over the most random things. I cried at my own train of thought. I cried at commercials. I cried when I had more hair falling out than usual (another side effect). I cried when Mother's Day rolled around. I cried when people were nice to me. I cried when Ryan looked at me funny. I cried when the dog was nice to me.

You cannot make this stuff up.

If you are a faith driven person, it may be affected. 

It's not something I blog about often, but I am Catholic. I went to Catholic University so it really isn't a secret or anything, I just tend to not blog about religion/politics/controversial things. But my faith has always been a big part of who I am. And with everyone adamantly saying "It's not your fault." over and over again... so my horribly illogical brain got angry at God. I definitely have been failing. I prayed so hard to get pregnant, then to keep my baby when I suspected the worst.... and then it was gone. I know God guarantees us nothing, but my anger at him was enormous, like the hole in my heart.

It is slowly ebbing. I have yet to return to church, but I will. I am wearing my cross again and I have started reading a devotional book (Grieving the Child I Never Knew) that I got at the library. It is helping. Small steps. I admire people who can turn to God in the dark moments. I always have before, but this was a whole new kind of pain and I haven't handled it well. But I am getting there. You too may lose your way. Or you may grow even stronger... if you are the latter I envy you. If you are the former, you are not alone.

Being around babies may kind of suck. But it may help too.

My neighbor had a baby last month. Their baby girl was barely three weeks old when I miscarried. At first being around her broke my heart.

The first picture on the left was pretty much the week of my miscarriage. I sent the picture to my mom and she asked if anyone else knew I was crying in that picture. My husband saw it, my mom saw it on her phone, and I can see it, but not many other people can. The middle picture was a few weeks later where I am doing much better. Ryan holding the baby on the right was around the same time as the middle picture. He said it felt right to hold her, that good things were coming, that our turn wasn't far away. I wish I had my husband's faith sometimes.... but again I am getting there. Anytime my neighbors ask me if I want to hold her, I say yes. I don't want to be bitter or angry. I want to heal. It is not just a physical healing, it is emotional (and spiritual) too.

If you talk about it, others will.

Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.

Thank you to those who commented on my last blog. Thank you to those who emailed me, texted me, messaged me on facebook, or called me. Thank you to my family, my friends, my coworkers. Thank you to the people who don't know me well who shared with me. Thank you to those who said, "Me too. I'm here if you need me. I wish I had had someone." Thank you to those who listened. Thank you.

If you need someone... I am here. I am still climbing, still struggling, but I am here. I am moving forward, slowly but surely. It shouldn't be a taboo thing people are afraid to talk about. It is personal and it hurts and you feel so so alone, but you truly aren't. I promise.

Loss

I wasn't sure if I wanted to write this blog. Ryan and I talked about it for awhile and he finally looked at me and said, "Do you think it would help anyone else? Because that is what I think your blog does. It helps people." I thought about that for a bit and I remembered some of the "harder" things I had blogged about. I blogged about two surgeries, when my marriage needed some extra help, the Birthday Ball, PCSing, bullying, deployments, wedding planning, engagement.... and whether someone said it to me directly or in a comment or an email I know they helped others. So maybe this will help someone too. I know I felt pretty alone for some of this and finding some other blogs did help me. I've had my blog for nearly six years now and this is part of our lives... the good and the bad. 

Ok.

I wanted to blog about our fifth wedding anniversary on May 1st. I wanted to blog about Mother's Day.  But I couldn't.... not this year.

Right before our anniversary I had a feeling. I was late. We have been trying to conceive since July with out much luck. My being sick and having surgery probably didn't help matters but when this month rolled around I couldn't help but get excited as the days continued to pass without my monthly visitor arriving. On a whim I went and got a pregnancy test on my way home from work on a night when Ryan was lateman and on the range and wouldn't be home. I had gone with my friend Donna to buy Ryan his anniversary present (we do the traditional gifts if you remember, so year five is wood and he got a rocking chair from Cracker Barrel) and as soon as she left I took the test. 

Not even thirty seconds later it showed positive.

I screamed. I cried. I scared the hell out of the Dup.

Ryan had mentioned me bringing dinner to him so I texted him asking if he wanted me to bring him food. He replied yes and I was pretty thankful. I am awful at keeping secrets and I knew I was about to burst. Ryan had to be the first to know so I couldn't see or talk to anyone else before him! I wanted to do something cute and special but I was on a time crunch. I found an old bracelet box that I wrapped and put the test inside with a special message.

I had to drive almost half an hour to the range where Ryan was and my heart was racing the entire time. I sent him another text saying I really had to talk to him in private about something that happened today. He agreed. I finally got there and sneakily set up my phone on the dashboard to record his reaction. I told Ryan I had an early anniversary present for him and I couldn't keep it a secret. He was really funny saying he didn't even have mine yet and he had been on the range all day and he didn't think he could properly appreciate a present at the moment. I don't have the heart to post the video itself but you can see from the below screen shots he definitely appreciated the present. I was smiling like an idiot and we both probably cried.

We were very excited. We called our parents to tell them the news but decided beyond that we wouldn't start telling people until the right amount of time had passed. Ryan had to mention it to some of his coworkers when he got back in since he was worried and telling them about how we had to have a "talk". We also agreed some of our best friends could know too. I hung out with Ryan for awhile longer before heading back home and calling my best friend Sam to tell her the long awaited news. As I was on the phone the Dup promptly hopped up on the bed with me and snuggled in on my belly.... something she hasn't done in ages.

For a very, very short time.... things were perfect.

On our fifth anniversary I woke up feeling ok, but kind of crampy. I didn't really think anything of it and I called the Naval Hospital to talk to my PCM about what to do next. They told me just to head in to the lab that day and we'd go from there. Ryan got home after I got out of the shower and we started discussing what to do for our anniversary. My stomach was starting to cramp more and more and I started to feel a little nervous. I went to the bathroom and saw a little blood and my heart stopped.

I called my mom in a panic. Was I overreacting? Was this normal? She told me to call my doctor.

I called my PCM back, choking back tears, and asked what to do. After being passed around they gave me to a nurse who had had implantation bleeding and they wanted to make sure she was the one I spoke with. I described everything and she told me not to panic and to come in and do my test as planned. She also told me other symptoms to look for if things weren't good. Ryan had to go do a height and weight thing and take a MarineNet class and we agreed to meet up after I went to the lab. When I got to the Naval Hospital I went to the lab and they handed me a cup to give a sample. I went back into the rest room and my heart basically stopped. So much blood... it scared the hell out of me. I couldn't give a sample, all that was coming out was blood and clots and it was bright red.... the color the nurse warned me wouldn't be a good sign. I came out of the bathroom shaking and crying and the technicians walked me straight to the Emergency Room.

Not where I expected to be on my fifth wedding anniversary.

In the ER things were nuts for a bit. I finally managed to give them a sample, but it was basically red. They took blood samples and my vitals and it was a lot of waiting. I texted Ryan and he told me he was on his way and he arrived just as the doctor came in to talk to me. Based on some of the tests they knew I was pregnant, but early.... but they weren't sure if it was just a regular pregnancy, an ectopic pregnancy, or a miscarriage. An ultrasound showed my lining looked pregnant, but it was too soon to see if anything was there or had been there. They also did a vaginal ultrasound to try and rule out an ectopic pregnancy since I was in pain. Naturally in between all of these there was the endless waiting of the Emergency Room. Ryan crawled in to the bed with me and held me as I cried since I was so terrified. We nodded off for a bit too before all the tests came back... inconclusive. After hours and hours.

My doctor was wonderful. He had me at ease as much as can be but I was still a crying mess, but he was great. He scheduled me a follow up for that Wednesday. He basically said if my blood work went up (my HCG) then I was still pregnant, but if it stayed the same or dropped it would indicate a miscarriage. So with a follow up appointment and prescriptions for Tylenol, prenatal vitamins and zofran, we were finally on our way. Since we took separate cars I got in mine to drive home. I hadn't eaten all day so I stopped at Panera to get some soup at the drive thru. As soon as the bag got in the car and the smell hit my nose, my stomach turned and I felt sick. I drove home with all the windows open while secretly thinking, ok, this can be a good thing. Maybe it means I am still pregnant. And then I got home and threw up just in time for Ryan to walk in the door. Poor guy. I got into bed with some medicine and a movie and essentially napped the rest of the day. I had an ice pop for dinner and then we went to bed by 8:30.

I worked the weekend. I was off Monday. I cleaned and grocery shopped. I worked Tuesday. All along I took my prenatal vitamins. I bled for another day or so, but it got lighter in flow and darker in color. All good signs. By Wednesday I was hopeful when I went for my appointment in the lab to get blood drawn.

My arm did not agree with all the needles. It is still bruised and multi colored weeks later. Ryan had duty Wednesday but he asked me if I was ok to go alone. I was. I honestly thought deep down things were going to be ok so I didn't feel the need to have someone with me. I had prayed... our parents and my best friend were sending good vibes and thoughts and prayers. I thought I was still pregnant and around New Year's Eve (my estimated due date) we'd have a baby joining us for the New Year. My appointment with the OBGYN wasn't for two hours so I went home, showered and then headed back to the hospital for my appointment before I was supposed to go to work a closing shift.

Waiting in the waiting room my heart was racing. Women in various stages of pregnancy were all around me and I kept getting that small spark of hope. The nurse finally took me back and we went over everything waiting for the doctor to come out of surgery to see me. She eventually came in and looked at my blood results.

They were down to 5. Pregnancy is detected at 25 and up. I had dropped a lot. I had lost the baby.

A miscarriage.

Even typing the words makes me start to cry again.

The flood gates opened in the doctors office as they handed me the box of tissues. I had to do another ultrasound (of course vaginally) to double check and they said most of the lining even was gone from comparing to five days ago. Everything basically had already passed and she told me I may continue to spot for awhile but it was almost over.

I basically miscarried on our fifth anniversary. I just wasn't sure until five days later.

The doctor was very kind and I basically sobbed my heart out. Both the OBGYN and the ER doctor told me it was nothing I had done, it was probably due to a chromosome abnormality and something was not right so my body naturally passed it. There was nothing I could have done differently... it wasn't my fault. Logically I understood it all... I really did. But emotionally I didn't want to hear it and continued to cry. The doctor offered to call my husband's command to release him or to write notes for us both and I declined. I left and got myself outside and called Ryan to deliver the awful news. My husband had to hear I lost the baby on the phone and I felt awful for him as I sobbed. He told me to get to the car and stay, he was on the way. Duty be darned. I texted my mom and my mother in law and my best friend... I couldn't say it out loud again at that point. I was devastated.

I sat in the car and sobbed until Ryan arrived. He held me and told me again it wasn't my fault. It was ok. I was due to go in to work but I knew I couldn't make it through the day. Ryan got a call from his CO and was told to finish one thing and then to go home with me. I decided to drive over to the library to talk to my manager and see if I could go home. I calmed myself a bit and drove up to the library. I know I could have called but again, I didn't want to be on the phone either. And I wasn't sure we were covered staff wise either. 

I got to work and to the reference office and my boss wasn't there. Standing in the back hallway looking around like a trapped animal my good friend from work, Jo, saw me. She asked me if I was ok and I shook my head no. I told her I lost it not even realizing she had no idea what I was talking about. She figured it out pretty quickly as I once again sobbed my heart out, not realizing I still had tears left. We sat in the office as my manager came in and filled her in. My manager Tara is wonderful and she and Jo listened as I cried and tried to calm me as I waited to hear if Ryan could go home. I was told to take the day off, we were covered, and I was so thankful for the two of them so I didn't have to be alone. They both asked me why I went to that appointment alone and I told them... I honestly thought it would be the opposite outcome. I truly thought I would be still pregnant and ok. I stayed at work, crying with them, for maybe an hour before Ryan was dismissed. I drove home still in tears.

Most of that day I sat with Ryan on the couch and cried. And as unhealthy as it was, drank. I had a few beers as I sat there alternating between numb and sobbing my heart out. I don't really remember what else happened that day... if we watched tv or what we ate or anything. It all was in a haze. I talked to my mom, Ryan talked to his. I cried a lot. I didn't go to work the next day, Thursday, either. Ryan had to go back to work that second day and I stayed home and cried off and on some more. He dragged me out of the house that night for dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings just to distract me a bit, which I appreciate more now than I did at the time.

Ryan was worried for a bit when I said I was angry too... angry at myself, angry at the situation, angry at God even though I knew it was wrong. Sometimes it is just easier to want to place blame. I was angry at the one person who asked me if I had done anything strenuous to cause it, or if I was still on pain medication for something (and the answer was NO to both). I was angry at the one ER nurse who said "Oh don't worry honey, it was only a bunch of cells anyway. If you did lose it, it wasn't a baby." (Note: I am Catholic and we believe life begins at conception... that is my personal belief and I will not impose it on anyone else or make anyone else believe what I do... but wrong thing to say to me.) I was thankful Ryan saw my reaction and held me tightly, in a discreet way, so I didn't punch either of them. 

Anger, hurt, guilt, sadness, devastation, mourning, loss, pain, heartache... hitting over and over again.

My heart still hurts. Occasionally I still cry at the drop of a hat or get hit with waves of sadness. That's the hardest. The hormones make it difficult as I go through the waves of sadness or anger. Friends, family and neighbors have reached out and made me feel loved. Some days are harder than others. Mother's Day I had to work but I fought back waves of bitterness and sadness all day.

I know we can try again. I know this doesn't mean it will happen again... I can have a perfectly healthy and normal pregnancy someday as far as the doctors are concerned. But there is always that chance... what if? What if this happens again? To be honest I do not know if my heart could handle it. I have friends and family members who have had multiple miscarriages and I cannot imagine going through this again and again.

I know it won't always hurt like this. I know it will get less painful and less difficult. But our wedding anniversary will now be tied to this loss. Maybe it won't always hurt this badly, but I will think of it. New Years Eve, my due date, will have these thoughts crossing my mind again. It hurts. I still hate those thoughts that go into my head.  

I lost it. I am not pregnant anymore. I had a miscarriage. I lost my baby.

Ryan told me he tries to see the good in every situation. When situation A happened, situation B was able to... and it couldn't have had the first not occurred. But I cannot see any situation that makes losing a child ok. No good can come out of that. Even if and when we get pregnant again, it will not be a joy replacing a sorrow... it will be something separate. Yes it would be wonderful, but it is apples and oranges to me. I cannot see any possible good and I am trying so hard. I know this is where my faith comes in to play and I am trying to leave my heart open to grace at the moment. I am trying to let go of the anger and the bitterness. I am trying to heal. Even though physically I now feel ok, mentally and emotionally it is much slower going.

So, maybe this will help someone someday. Maybe you will see you are not alone, even though you feel like you may be. The hurt, the guilt, the anger, the pain and everything in between... I feel it too. If you found this because of a google search or anything, I am so sorry. I know nothing I can write here will help really, believe me, I know, but maybe it is a start. To any of my friends or family reading this and finding out the news this way, I am sorry I didn't tell you directly... it has been too hard for me to talk about out loud. I know my mom has handled telling some family for me, but I do not know for sure. I told her it was ok to mention it since I just am not up for it yet. Writing this has helped a bit (as all over of the place it is), sort of a catharsis, but I have a long way to go.

Faith and Love

Things have been busy, not quite routine yet, but slowly getting there! My work schedule and rehearsal schedule shift and vary but we are starting to get the hang of it! My blogging has slacked (surprise surprise) but I am determined to keep it up! Ryan starts Sergeant's Course next week which will also throw us some more curve balls but we can do it! And the looming sequestration is raising a lot of worry, my job having some ties in particular, yet I will not blog about it today.

This is an entry that has been floating in my head for awhile but I have never found the time or reason to feel the need to actually publish it. More recently it has gently been nudging me so maybe now is the time. I don't normally blog about religion or anything too hot topic, I know some bloggers thrive on that but I am I guess more of a fluffy blogger. I write about things that happen in our lives to keep people in the loop and very rarely have a rant or a very deep deep discussion.

I am Catholic, my husband is Southern Baptist.

No big deal.

But sometimes I find myself wishing we were both the same religion. We are both Christian and have the same fundamental beliefs, that is amazing, but every now and then I feel a small twinge knowing there are certain experiences, more so maybe in the Catholic faith, that we cannot take part in together. Would I ever pressure him to convert? Of course not! Would I be thrilled if he did? Hell yes.

I was born and raised Catholic. When I was in high school my mom started working at our Church as the Parish Secretary. My church in New Jersey was up the road from our house and I got so spoiled by the wonderful parish we had. The priest became like another uncle to me, he worked closely with my mom and I saw him all the time. He was around my mom's age and much more open minded than a lot of the older priests. Father Tom took the time to listen to people and really made our church a wonderful place to be. Ryan and Father Tom even spent hours at my graduation party discussing religion over quite a few beers. He is the man that married my husband and I and we still keep in touch with him. That church was like a second family to me. Almost everyone knew me and I knew them. I was in the youth group, a lector (reader) and always hanging around the office with my mom when I was home. Knowing this couldn't be the church I attended the rest of my life really ... well... sucked. I attended Catholic University as a theatre major, so I was able to keep my core beliefs and still be theatrical and a little more left at the same time. I always said I like to be Conservatively Liberal or Liberally Conservative (depending on the day you ask!).

By the way, please read this blog. I wish I wrote it! It is a wonderful tie in to being Catholic and because of that, supporting gay marriage. I agree whole heartedly.

Now when I met Ryan he wasn't routinely going to church. He was Southern Baptist but probably had not been since before boot camp (which when I met him had been about three years before). The first time he came to New Jersey with me to visit my family, he went to church with me... and every other time after that. If he spent the weekend at my apartment he'd usually tag along to mass with me. The first time I went home with him we went with his grandparents to a Baptist service, which I enjoyed but felt a little out of place at. When he deployed I never missed a single Sunday... regardless if I was sick or had an opening shift at Disney (hey 6am mass!) I went. I was determined to not miss the entire time he was overseas. When he got back and we got engaged he started driving form DC to New Jersey to see me every weekend. And he went to mass with my family and I every Sunday.

Once we got married I found a church in Alexandria and we continued to go. We learned quickly the first church we picked was not right for us so I found another one which we attended until our PCS. I know when Ryan was in 29 Palms he did not go to church, but I continued to go. When we moved to North Carolina I found another church and we have been attending that one since.

Ryan occasionally asks if we can go to a Baptist service and I always tell him yes. Just look up a church and find a time and we'll go. But he wants me to do it. I told him I wanted to go to Catholic mass, I researched and found the place and times and we went. If he wants to go to a Baptist service he needs to do the same. In the five years we have been together he has yet to do that even once. I know because of his grandparents, particularly his grandfather, he will always be a Baptist because that is what they were. He did go a lot when he was younger but now as an adult he is happy to go with me... but just as an observer. We did have a Catholic wedding service, not a mass since only I am Catholic and you both need to be to have a wedding mass, but we did have a Catholic service. Basically we did everything but communion and that was that.

He has agreed we can raise our children Catholic as we baptize in infancy and it is very important to me. I also promised he can take them to a Baptist service whenever he wants. And I promised if our children want to try other religions, anything from Baptist to Methodist to Buddhist, I would support it. But I want our children to at least grow up in a faith. I want them to know how important it is and go to church on Sundays and have that in their lives. When they grow up they can change their minds, but if they are under our roof they are going to church (whether with us or on their own).

I know this has been a lot of nonsensical rambling, I am trying here! I just wish on Sunday my husband could receive communion with me. Or want to go with me to mass on Ash Sunday or Good Friday or any other Holy Day of Obligation. Usually if there is mass in the middle of the week, that is it for him. He will either do that mass or Sunday, not both. More often than not I go to church alone for Days of Obligation. In all fairness he is not Catholic and therefore not obligated... but still. I wish we could do Lent together, it would be easier to not eat meat on Fridays if he didn't order a steak in front of me! Same for fasting the few days a year we do it. But, the thing is, overall he is very religious... his faith and core beliefs are there. He just doesn't always like to go to church to express it. Some days I am convinced he knows more about the bible, or even Christianity as a whole, than I do myself.
If I don't feel well or need extra motivation on a Sunday to get up and go he usually doesn't give it to me. If I don't push us to go to church, we won't. And now with me working weekends it is becoming harder for me to go every Sunday like I want to. If I don't go, he definitely does not go.

And that is what makes me sad. I wish we had that same central core to push one another to be stronger in our faiths. I wish we could share in the traditions I grew up in and together raise our children in them. I know if I ever drop the ball, that would be it. And sometimes it does feel like pressure when I know it shouldn't. Faith is not always easy, but it is not always supposed to be hard either. I know our fundamental beliefs are the same but is it selfish to wish for more? Even though we don't have children I am already fretting over godparents, at least one must be Catholic (and I'd probably ask my brother) but as for a godmother? I have no idea. The other person would at least have to be at least baptized as a Christian and practice in their faith. Catholic godparents are chosen as people to help lead the child in their religious lives... it isn't the same as a guardian or as some other religions do it. In Catholicism it is a secondary guide for faith after the parents. Of course I want Ryan to pick someone as it is a big deal, but I have no idea who that would be. Yes it is a major pre-emptive worry, but I still fret about it all the same. Don't even ask me about what to do if we have more than one child.

Sigh.

This became much longer than I intended and if you did read it, thank you. Has anyone experienced this before? Any thoughts? Sometimes I feel so petty for feeling this way... I really do. My husband is a great man and definitely has strong beliefs, I just wish ours were the same. Like I said, petty, but still existent.

Friiiiday

Join up with Churchy and Her Sailor


We are still pending. Every day this week has been agonizing. I am jumping at every text from my husband hoping it is something. After having such a bubble of hope on Monday I feel it slowly deflating. And now since it is the weekend we have another garunteed 48 hours of no news. UGH. Do they not realize how frustrating this is?! How our entire future is hanging in the balance here?? Just give us something here.

Every night this week we have made it to mass and I am proud of us for that. I even made confession Monday night! It has helped us greatly. The entire mass we're in our own thoughts and prayers but physically together... holding hands, his arm around me, my head on his shoulder, something. Although it is hectic to race home from work, eat and get out the door less than an hour later to drive up there in rush hour, it has been nice. Our church offers nightly mass every weeknight through Easter, and I may push for us to keep doing this the next week or two. After that there is an evening mass each Wednesday, so maybe we can do that.

Faith is what is keeping me from falling completely to pieces over this. Faith and my wonderful husband.

Enjoy your weekends all! Keep your fingers crossed for us for just a little longer.

Proud By Liv

My next guest blogger is Liv! I found her blog a few months ago and she has quickly taken off in the blogging world. She is one of the strongest and sweetest people I think I have ever encountered (and she has wonderful taste in shoes... if you change your mind on those red Prada pumps you know where to find me!). Make sure you show her some love!

Hey Yall, This is Liv from Simnply Sunshine and Daisys!

I am very excited to be blogging for Allie while she is away on recovery. She is such a sweet friend and I hope I can do her blog a great guest post!

So, a time when I was most proud is what Allie wants me to talk about!

I was most proud as a young child learning sign language to talk with a girl in my 3rd grade class that was deaf. We were not told to do it nor was it a must, but I did it because I love talking and I wanted to talk to this little girl so badly because I liked her dresses that she wore everyday! My grandpa was so proud of me that he bought me one of the dresses like hers once I learnt where she got them! He even started doing it with me! I was so very happy that whole year and proud!

In my middle years I was faced with drugs and drinking and I never once allowed myself to be taken down by it. I was a young teen when I was raped as a result of a young man being under the influence at a party, and I am proud that I have forgiven myself for going to that party and being a normal teen! I did nothing wrong, and that makes me proud.

As an adult I am proud that I still have my faith after I was diagnosed with many different forms of cancer. I have maintained my lady like southern grace of loving my lord and that makes me most proud right now.

Thanks Allie for letting me guest post for you!