Chatty baby that we have, Betsy is saying a whole slew of words I haven't blogged about. (It would get boring. For you guys, anyway.) For the sake of journaling, I'll quickly mention them here: Katie, Poppa, gigi, dah (dog), cracker (dah-dah), and Jesus (se-suh). I might have forgotten a few, but you get the idea.
Now. There is a word in her vocabulary that probably shouldn't be there: tittie. (It's a particularly interesting word considering that she's been weaned a full month now.)
But there's nothing like making a special trip to the pet shop just to hear her say TITTIES and DAH! There's just so much enthusiasm -- so much zest and joy in her little words. I can't get over it.
Okay, I'll admit: the title totally sounds wordy, pretentious, and overdone.
But it's an awfully important issue, and one that gets very little attention. Now, I'm probably preaching to the choir, knowing my (verrrrrrrry small) readership as I do, but I'd like to mention a few things about subfertility, a term I much prefer to infertility. It seems much more accurate - and hopeful. These are just my feelings, but I'm just opinionated enough to shout them from mountains if I thought it would do any good.
1. Infertility isn't a curse -- and I'm not helpless. It took me a long time to figure this out for myself. And (like most things) it might not be true for everyone. But I learned so much about myself and my body through taking charge of my fertility. It also helped me feel more in control and less like a victim. It's so easy for my inner-drama-queen to spiral further and further into crazy-land. But charting and reading up on fertility really gave me confidence in myself -- and (lovely segue way) helped me appreciate the wonder-creation that is my body.
2. Our bodies are of heavenly -- celestial -- design, even in our fallen and earthly condition. If there is one thing I've learned about the gospel, it's that the most beautiful, saving parts of our religion are always the simplest. Sacrifice leads to love. Obedience is always rewarded. Service makes you cheerful. Happiness is a decision. Likewise, our bodies aren't meant to be so sophisticated no one could truly understand them until the last days. Just as other religions have limited light and understanding, so too do other forms of medicine. (And, I think it's worth noting, at no time has God said that 21st century Western Medicine is the "only true and living medicine.") We are prideful and narrow-minded when we assume anyone with a differing opinion must be wrong. This doesn't mean I endorse your local crackpot. Just a small number of crackpots who personally helped me get pregnant and become healthier.
3. People will sometimes be thoughtless about infertility. It's usually just ignorance. In the two years of treatment it took before we finally conceived Betsy, I don't think we once went to a party at Scott's aunt's house without somebody saying something dumb to me. One time we went to my SIL's baby shower and this woman who had never even met me asked when it would be my turn. It shouldn't have been a big deal, and hardly qualifies as an act of cruelty. Nevertheless, I ran out of the room, in a race with the flood of tears I knew were coming. Didn't quite make it; looked like a total fool. Another time a woman (another stranger, this time her ward's Primary president) asked why we didn't have any kids. As the situation was far less emotional -- baby showers were always the hardest things ever -- I could just look at Scott and give him the "Why-does-this-always-happen-at-Leesa's-house?" look. He almost burst out laughing. "Oh, I get it," she said, "She doesn't want any yet. Right?" This comment did qualify as thoughtless.
I could go on for quite a while yet. Luckily for you, it's infertility week, so I don't have to post it all tonight. What joys! More infertility posts to look forward to in the coming days! (If I actually get around to blogging again.)
Showy blog posts and Christmas cards are not my favorite thing. And that's probably putting it mildly. (Not to worry; I'm talking in generalities here. Not about you.)
However, I am Scott's biggest cheerleader. It's what I signed up to do, and I take that part of the job pretty seriously. If he is to believe he can do great things, it will be because I had to tell him so a half-million times. I know this about him; I love this about him; and thus I share some happy news.
My words may border on braggy, and for that, I apologize. Profusely. However, the greater obligation is to my husband, who deserves to feel the full weight of my admiration and adoration. And that of his accomplishment.
Scott found out he received one of only two Ellis Mathes Scholarships today. He competed against many other students from Idaho, Montana, Utah, and Nevada who are also pursuing public transportation careers. (Scott actually completed the application, which required three pages explaining his career and academic objectives, work experience, academic records and financial need, while on the plane home from Zacatecas. Talk about a productive use of time.)
And here's the cool part: the $2,000. Okay, yes, that's cool. Given.
But also, he is invited to the ITE Intermountain Section Annual Meeting in Jackson, Wyoming, where his award will be formally announced. He even gets another $200 for travel expenses! May 16, 2009 will be a proud day for this wife!
(And also probably a lonely day, as the travel expenses will likely not provide for two of us. But we'll hope. And wait and see.)
We give thanks to our Heavenly Father, who saw fit to reward and bless Scott for his endeavors these past two semesters of Grad School. It is always humbling and lovely to know he is there, so anxious to bless our lives, even in our flimsy and faltering fallen state.
It's not the most thrilling of subjects, but I thought I'd mention that I have a job now. A legitimate work-from-home job. I do not make 20k per month. Nor are we retiring to an exotic island.
But I did make $18 in about 45 minutes yesterday. That's usually the exception to the rule -- I average about $12/hour. Still, that's not too shabby.
I call existing clients of a specific dentist's office and set up their six month exams and cleanings. I am paid on straight commission, which initially almost broke me. But the premise was so simple that I gave it an honest try. And what do you know? Most people with insurance are perfectly willing to set up an appointment! The hardest part is actually getting people to answer their phones.
Anyway, yeah. A good job. I only work evenings, once the dentists' offices are closed, and since I work commission, I pretty much only have to work until I've met quota, or am on track to meet it at the end of the month.
It's a good gig. They're occasionally looking for people. You need to go to quarterly meetings in Salt Lake, as well as for their interview and trainings. If anybody's interested, let me know!
(Betsy approaches me with a banana peel retrieved from the kitchen trash can.)
"Mother, I've been evaluating your work, and I really can't understand this obsession of yours with throwing things away. Take this banana peel I've brought to you. Perfectly good. Great for a teething baby like myself; wonderful texture, lovely smell -- and divine taste. Why on earth would we dispose of it? (Leaves me with banana peel, returns with new treasure)
Next, we have the soda cracker's plastic wrapper. Heaven knows how anyone could think such an item could be garbage! Think of its creative possibilities. The hours of entertainment. Here, you contemplate; I've more to show you.
Grapes. Perfectly good grapes. You know better than to think that just because I've turned up my nose at them for the past three days doesn't mean I don't love them. In fact, please feed me some now.
I don't care if they were in the trash. Please feed them to me.
Scott and I met about 16 years ago when we were in the same LDS ward. (Although, um, he doesn't remember me.) These days, he's a transportation engineer, a daddy, and a the highlight of my day.
I'm Mickelle, and I do most (all) of the blogging around here. I taught fifth grade for four years, and now I'm home with Betsy, our leap-year wonder girl and Avielle, the best sidekick and accomplice a big sister could ask for.