Carter Julian Gregory Eldridge Watermelon Dumptruck Sky

Why, oh WHY am I up blogging at 6:30 a.m? I rarely get a chance to watch an entire 30 minute television show uninterrupted, so (considering that I've been up since 5:40 this morning) I kinda would like to be in the bed with my coffee catching up on Guiliana and Bill or REwatching Duck Dynasty. OR (even better) still sleeping. But, as nature would have it, I wake up every single year on April 27th at 5:40 in the morning with cramping. Strange? I don't know. I think maybe my body remembers that this day is the anniversary of something so very special and it wants to make sure I don't forget. How could I?

It was 5:40 a.m... April 27th, 2005. I was 12 days from my due date, when I woke up to some pretty intense cramps. Looking over at my sleeping husband (who would be getting up to get ready for work in a couple of hours) and seeing him sleeping peacefully, and knowing that our 2 year old daughter would probably still be sleeping at least until her Daddy woke up, I climbed into the bathtub and ran warm water over my belly trying to ease the discomfort. It still wasn't quite pain, but it was extremely uncomfortable. After more than an hour of sitting in the tub, my fingertips were sufficiently prune-like but my "cramps" were stronger, so I carefully climbed out of the tub and quietly sat on the bed trying to gently wake my still sleeping husband. {side note: my L&D with Harley was induced, so I didn't get to enjoy "starting labor" on my own at home, so I was loving every minute of this!} I don't remember the exact way it all happened. I remember telling him that I was about 99% sure that this was "baby day" and telling him he needed to call work. Then I remember getting to the hospital and being brought a wheel chair and everything seeming so surreal- like a movie. Because things really were happening (for the first time ever in life) just like they do in the movies. What I DON'T remember is what we did with Harley. I do know that she ended up with Ruthanne (my mother-out-law), although I don't remember exactly if she came to us or if we dropped her off. I suppose that's irrelevant, but the fact that I can't remember bothers me.

Once we got to the hospital, things moved pretty fast. Ruthanne must have taken Harley to Mema and Papa (HER mother and father, Harley's great-grandparents) because it was kind of important for her to be in the room with me. We had our "L&D crew"... the same group as before, with Harley- me (obviously), Reuben, Ruthanne, and Erin (his sister). We had a system, but this time I didn't want to crack jokes as much as I did when I was laboring with Harley. Could have been the lack of the epidural this go-round. Who knows? ;) I remember being mean to Reub this time, which is something I made a point NOT to do the first time. But, every time I would say something mean, he would laugh which would make more mad. (guess he thought I was cute when I was mad... anger is not in my nature, so I guess it probably was kind of funny...) I remember the nurse checking me & saying that I was at 9 cm and that they would come back in a little while to check again. I told her I felt like I needed to push & she told me not to. The GREAT thing about NOT having an epidural is that your body KNOWS what to do. Your body tells you when it's time to push. I'm convinced maybe that nurse had stupid fingers and just *thought* I was 9 when I was 10. Doesn't matter. She walked out, I got up and squatted on the bed (yes, squatted)... and started pushing. After a couple of pushes, I reached down & could feel his head. Ruthanne looked at Erin and said "Is she pushing?" and Erin said "I think so..." so Ruthanne ran to the door & yelled that someone needed to get in there to catch the baby. It took no time & Carter was out. My beautiful, healthy 2 ounces away from 9 pounds baby boy... :)

I had learned a lot from my first delivery with Harley. I learned to rest. I think another perk of NOT having the epidural is that your body instantly goes into recovery mode. I immediately wanted to go to sleep. So I did. And I think that was the best sleep I have had to date. I remember Reuben coming in to tell me every time a new out-of-town family member arrived, but I was out of it. I was not up for entertaining. PLUS, they were there to see the baby. Not me. And I was glad for that. A few hours after Carter was born (heck, it could have been 12 hours, I have no concept of time from that day), Reub came to tell me that his dad was taking him & his sister to Red Lobster and asked if I wanted anything. All I said was "sleep".

I won't go into the specifics, but a few hours before I was supposed to be released from the hospital, I ended up getting verrrry sick. I had a 103 degree fever and developed 2 types of e.coli (which I freaked about initially because all I could think of was the ebola virus. I thought I was going to bleed from every orifice and die.) which settled into my lungs and gave me pneumonia. I was in the hospital for 9 or 10 days after Carter was born. Thankfully, Carter was able to stay with me. I even had a couple of extra days to decide on a name. We knew it was Carter. (If Harley had been a boy, she would have been Carter, as well.) We both wanted to name our son after our mutual best friend, JG O'Connor. We had played around with middle names and knew we wanted to add Reub's dad's name (Greg) in there. Ruthanne's daddy, Papa, is one of the greatest men I've ever known. His name is Julian. So, when Reuben came in a few days after our son was born and I told him I had just filled out the birth certificate information and that he had a full name... he looked at me expectantly. "It's Carter Julian Gregory Eldridge. Carter JG." :) I thought he was going to cry. It was so perfect. So much name for such a little fella, but still so perfect.

I think being in that hospital for the extra week is what cemented my bond with Carter. Most people have to "share" their baby after just a few days. I got an extra week where it was mostly just the two of us. :)

When Carter was 3 he asked for some mighty strange gifts for Christmas. One was a watermelon dumptruck. I had NO idea where he got that from, but knew that I had to find one. I thought maybe he had seen it on tv or something... Nope. The kid made it up. So, I bought a toy dumptruck, and made watermelons out of modelling clay and painted them up to look like watermelons. This was, of course, his favorite gift that Christmas. I even made a little sign to go on the back of the dumptruck that said "Carter's Watermelon Dumptruck". Harley came to me a few hours later and said "Mama, now I KNOW Santa Claus is real because there was NO SUCH THANG as a watermelon dumptruck!!!"... a few weeks later, Carter "changed" his name to Carter Julian Gregory Eldridge Watermelon Dumptruck Sky. (I dunno where "sky" came from. He probably, literally, looked up and said "okay, sky, too.")

Not even *I* can find the words to describe how much I love this crazy, funny, beautiful, smart, selfless child. He owns me. 

my surro journey {thus far}

so many of you have asked about surrogacy. i've posted a little about it here & there (on facebook, various blog posts, etc), but so many people have asked why i decided to do this and how i even got started. i've had numerous women approach me saying that they, too, have always considered being a surrogate but have no clue where to begin. so, this is my story. of course, every surrogate's story is different. but, this is mine.

i knew pretty close to ten years ago that i wanted to do this. i'm not even sure that i really knew, at that time, what all would be involved, but i knew that i enjoyed being pregnant (i was currently pregnant with my first child) and found it utterly ridiculous that *I*, an eighteen year old girl working at Hooters, was able to so easily get pregnant (despite even being on birth control that, yes, I took regularly) when so many women who did things "the right way" struggled with the exact same thing. why would God allow *me* to carry a child to term, yet millions of grown women suffer from infertility or the inability to maintain a healthy pregnancy. of course, i still don't know the answer to that question, but i feel it's similar to "why does Christina Aguilera have those killer pipes, yet so many people who want it just as badly (auditioning for American Idol & such) can't carry a tune to save their life??" i just don't know. it's a gift, maybe. and i'm of the mindset that a gift is useless if you can't share it. now, please don't get me wrong & think that i feel that anyone who doesn't choose to "share her uterus" is being selfish. absolutely not. there is a lot that goes into carrying a child for someone else- both physically and emotionally. but for ME, personally, i've just felt compelled for so long that this was kind of my calling- just something i was meant to do.

so, after a failed journey (that i will talk about in another post at another time) several years ago, i decided to try again. honestly, i had almost given up, but i knew that if i didn't do it, i would always regret it. so, i hopped on surromomsonline.com (will be referred to as SMO from this point on) which is an online community for egg donors, sperm donors, both traditional and gestational surrogates, and IPs (Intended Parents) in search of the same. there are a LOT of surrogacy agencies. i, personally, chose to not work with any for the main reason that i really wanted to develop a personal, intimate relationship with the IPs beforehand and i feel that, through the agencies, it's all so much more "clinical" and business-like. many surrogates choose to work with a clinic, as do many IPs, primarily because it does make it a bit easier. you have a middle man who basically does most of the leg-work and paper pushing for you. there is no cost to the surrogate either way, but with a clinic- they will pre-screen you (questionnaires), then you submit medical testing that is necessary (recent paps & other gynecological testing), then you complete a psychological evaluation and they proceed to "match" you with IPs. it is not necessary to have your own health insurance prior to becoming a surrogate, although it does make it much easier to be matched quickly, as that is a requirement for some IPs. another benefit to the agencies is that they already have a fee schedule in place. a first-time surrogate can expect anywhere from 18-25,000 (on average) as compensation for the pregnancy when going through an agency. there are also what are called "compassionate surrogacies" where a surrogate may choose to not ask a fee at all, and simply require that the medical costs be covered. there are also instances where an IP may want a surrogate to eat a certain way throughout the pregnancy, and in those cases usually the IP will provide enough compensation monthly to cover those eating habits. but, the agency covers all of that for both the surro and the IP. again, i chose to not go through a clinic, so i went to the "classifieds" at SMO and began replying to ads from couples and individuals that i felt i could help. i "talked" via email to many, many, many couples until i "met" adriana. somehow, i just knew she was "the one". we clicked instantly & when we spoke on the phone for the first time it was like talking to a girlfriend i had known for years.

at this point, as most of you know, i spent the entire day in jacksonville, fl yesterday for doctor visits. adriana and i both had our psychological evaluations (we both passed! wooohooo!!) and then we had to go to the RE (reproductive endocrinologist) for our physicals. during my exam they did what is called a "mock transfer" where they "transfer" a saline solution through the cervix and into the uterus just as they will later transfer the embryos. that is to make sure that my cervix is favorable for the procedure and that my uterus is in prime condition as well. unfortunately (and fortunately) the doctor did find some issues with me, health-wise. neither of these conditions will interfere with me being able to carry adriana's baby(ies), but they are issues that have to be dealt with. first, he pointed out to me that my ovaries are covered in cysts- a condition called polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). thankfully, this is something that can be treated after delivery. it also explains many "issues" that i've had over the past few years, so i'm extremely thankful to finally KNOW what the problem is. the other issue he found is a polyp in my uterus. this can be a more serious problem, but we are confident that it is nothing and (again, thankfully) this is something that can be treated easily. within the next few weeks i will have surgery to remove the polyp in jacksonville and recovery will be a snap. there is no "downtime" that is necessary after the procedure before we can do the transfer so that is wonderful news!!! :)

i am MORE than happy to share any more information with anyone, so if you have any questions- please feel free to ask. you guys know i'm an open book. :) and, as always, i will update you all as things progress! :D

Carter's House Rules

This is my Carter. Well, Carter Julian Gregory Eldridge Watermelon Dumptruck Sky. What a name, huh? Well, his name really IS a mouthful, but to be completely honest, the "Watermelon Dumptruck Sky" he added himself when he was about 3. He is a giant handful in a tiny little package. He has a huge heart and is incredibly sensitive, but is *such* a boy at the same time. The kid loves bugs, frogs, anything creepy & crawly. He's loud. He's super hyperactive. And, to be completely honest, if you spend more than a couple of hours with him, the majority of that time will be spent saying "Carter, stop." "Carter, calm down." "Carter, NO!" "Carter- STOP RUNNING/YELLING/ANNOYING YOUR SISTER!!!" But, I love him. I love him so much. He, actually, is the only one of my three children that was planned. We knew we wanted a son & I'm pretty sure that about 20 minutes after deciding we would start trying for a second child- I was pregnant.

Carter will be 7 in 20 days (side note: today Braydon is 19 months!!). That will merit a whole other post. But, for now, I just want to share with you something Carter said the other day. As I was sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to get him moving for the day, I asked him what kind of Daddy he thought he would be when he grew up. "A really fun, cool Daddy." "Really?" I asked him. "What kinds of rules will you have? Or will you not have any rules?" "Mama!!! You HAVE to have rules. But, I'll only have important ones." So, I grabbed a pen & a sheet of paper & asked him to start making a list of his rules.

Here is what he came up with:

Carter's House Rules

1. No breaking t.v.s
2. No riding bikes in the house.

3. No playing ball in the house unless we have a basketball goal in the house and a basketball.

4. No playing with hooks. (really sharp hooks)

5. No drinking drugs. (because that is a bad thang)


And, there you have it. :) The rules you will have to follow should you ever want to go stay with grown up Carter. :)

mind ya beeswax, right??

so, with social networking and all it is soooo easy to jump on a bandwagon or follow certain trends. some times it's out of curiosity {like that stupid standing broom trick--- which will work any day of the year & has nothing to do with an equinox or planets aligning or anything like that}. some times it's political {rallying behind a specific presidential candidate and trying to persuade others to do the same}. some times it's about something going on in our world. Just one example {and I'm only using this because it's recent} the Kony 2012 videos, news reports, articles, etc. I love that social media puts things out there that many of us may not hear about otherwise. {my news comes from the E! network & I consider it completely legitimate, but I don't hear much about "real world" stuff} the frustrating part is that {as with most ways of obtaining information} you only get one side at a time. So, about the time you rally behind something & profess your unwaivering support {and I am HUGELY guilty of this, because I don't do my research on most things} you find {usually on Facebook} information from the other side. See, I don't have a problem with any of this: supporting something until you hear the other side, then saying "wait a minute, maybe I don't support this after all". in my opinion, it shows that you are willing to look at all sides & are able to admit that you may have been wrong. or that you still believe you were right. either way. but, so many times i read people commenting saying that we {America} basically need to mind our own beeswax and leave them {any place NOT America} to their own problems. now, i'm all for fixing our own problems. Lord knows we have our fair share. however, does that make it okay to not raise awareness or try to help those from other countries just because they aren't America? just because it doesn't directly affect us? i don't think so. i'm looking at it like this: i have problems in my own house. i do. i really do. but, if my neighbor {as in my next-door neighbor} was hungry and couldn't afford to eat, would i deny them food? would i turn the other cheek and say that i didn't need to be concerned with helping them because i had my own problems? would these same people be okay with that? would they tell me to mind my own beeswax and not try to fix anyone else's problems until i had all of my own taken care of? because, in that case, i may never have the opportunity to help anyone. i'm certain i will always have problems. on a slightly larger scale, take for instance the recent storms that passed through nearby communities, ripping through & leveling them to the ground. should those of us in surrounding areas ignore it because it doesn't directly affect us? should we say that they need to rely on people from their own area for support because we couldn't be bothered with it until people in our own community were completely without problems? because, again, no one would be helped. if that's okay, then where does it stop being okay? when we're talking on a state level? should Georgians not be willing to help Floridians? because that just sounds absurd. Regionally? Should the South and North be completely separate and refusing to help each other on anything? because, i remember {as a NATION} us pulling together after the attacks in New York City. After Hurricane Katrina. I remember other nations doing the same. even if it's just prayer- even if it's just awareness... every little bit counts. i'm a firm believer that "where two or more are gathered".... i just don't know where i'm supposed to stop caring. so, because we're talking about Uganda... or Australia... or Zimbabwe... or Afghanistan... or Taiwan.... I shouldn't care??? Because we {America} have problems of our own, right? that's the point that's being made? because it seems mighty pointless to me. we're supposed to be teaching our children to love & to be compassionate human beings and be accepting of people... but then by example we're teaching them that the only people we really have to help are those who are like us. those who we deem are "worthy" of our help because they were fortunate enough to be born into our country. i don't feel it's my place to say who should be helped or who shouldn't. if i knew that something was happening to my next-door neighbor and didn't say anything, that's no better or worse than knowing that something is happening across the world and not saying anything. i may not be able to do anything more than open my mouth, but if enough people open their mouths, eventually someone WILL be able to help.

....and just one last thing before i get off my soapbox.... most of the people that i've heard make comments like "lets fix the problems in our own country before we try helping others" aren't doing anything {to my knowledge} to "fix the problems in our own country". not volunteering, not taking in foster children, not doing much of anything except complain about people getting something for nothing and the poor being taken off the street (yes, the same people complaining about how we need to fix the problems in our own country are the same people complaining about Medicaid and birth control and other things that actually serve to help those in need in our country). okay, there. i'm done. for now. if this tells you anything about where i stand politically, or spiritually, fine. it wasn't my goal, but this was something that has been on my chest for several weeks (if not forever) now & since this is my blog, well, i can pretty much say what i wanna. you don't wanna read it? well, that's a-ok. you don't have to click the link. :)

love,

the one never incapable of minding her own beeswax,

kayla

where have i BEEN???

geez... i disappeared from the blogosphere for a minute.... {don't worry, i was still facebookin' it up} but for good reason. i've been one busy little mama recently. and sick. one busy little sicky mama. today is day #5 of this crud in my face and my chest, but i *am* feeling a teensy bit better... i feel about like i did on day #2... which was "like crap, but still functioning..." i just feel like i could use a good 15 hours of sleep & then i'd be back to normal {well, my version of normal, anyhow}... but, i have an 18 month old (as of tomorrow!!) and that means no sleepy time for the mommy.

other than wanting to shoot my face off, i've been keeping super busy with work. "work"... it seems odd to even call it that. don't get me wrong, there's a lot of actual work that goes into it, and when i calculate the actual amount of hours that i put into my sessions now (the research, prep work, the session itself, editing, and all of the other post-production stuff like creating slideshows & previewing with clients, ordering, etc) I probably actually make less per hour than i did at my very first job at a day care center (and those of you who have worked in day care facilities know just how little they pay).... but, that's not why i do it. i mean, yes, i want to be successful and self-sufficient and make money to help support my family... but i really love this. i am so proud of my last session because i can see just how much my work has improved. i look at things i was doing just a month or two ago & am so pleased with the amount of growth i've experienced as an artist already. i know i have a lot to learn & hopefully will *never* stop learning, but what i've had to accept is that i am me. my art is not unlike the rest of my life. i have to discover who kayla is as an artist (just as i had to discover who kayla was as a person... and that changes constantly) and just run with it. so what if my husband thinks it's too much light? i do what i like. and when potential clients see my work, if they love it- they will use me. if they don't love it- i will be more than happy (no sarcasm) to recommend someone who i think will better fit what they're looking for. because everyone deserves to have quality portraits that they can be proud of. and i don't want to stress myself out over worrying that i'm not going to please everyone. because i'm not going to be able to please everyone. and that's okay. i'm getting better (at life, as well... i think), and i'll keep on getting better.... and hopefully i will continue to love my "work" as much as i do now. i know i will.

the other thing that has kept me away from my blog is surrogacy. {heard that from me before?? yup, i'm at it again} actually, i've been looking into this again for several months. really, only jj knew that i was thinking about it so many months ago, but i pushed it off for a little while... then i found them. "the couple"... the ones that i just know i'm supposed to carry a baby for. i'm excited, and a little nervous, but this is going to be a wonderful journey. i'm not going to talk about that a lot on this blog, primarily because i have another blog devoted solely to that journey here. feel free to check that one out, as well. i really started that blog for the unborn baby and his/her parents. this way the mother can kind of experience this pregnancy vicariously through the blog, but also that the child can someday read exactly what thoughts & emotions went into bringing him/her into the world. no, i'm not pregnant yet. we just got the insurance stuff handled, and i will be travelling to florida in a couple of weeks for preliminary ultrasounds & we will possibly begin the procedure next month or the following month.

*deep sigh* whew. that's a lot. on top of being sick. and taking care of the wee one. hopefully i'll be well before girl's night on thursday. i desperately need a night out with my friends & this group of girls are definitely some of the best!!!

...just thought i'd let ya know i haven't given up on blogging altogether. did ya notice i was gone? ;)

hate

i hate it. i absolutely hate it. and i NEVER use that word. i usually stick with "despise" or something similar, but in this case- hate may not even be a strong enough word to describe how i feel about it.... 

"it" being that feeling that you get when you think about someone you used to be close to... someone that chose to no longer be a part of your life. for some people it's an old lover, ex-spouse, a family member- perhaps even their own parent or child or sibling. i said the other day {on Facebook} that i love the feeling you get when you see someone like that and you look better and you realize that you're over it, so to speak. and i do. i really do *love* that feeling. what i don't love {ahem, what i hate} is the feeling of overwhelming sadness when you randomly think about that person. remembering that they weren't looking their best that day suddenly doesn't make you feel much better because you know that they are so much more than what they look like. your memories aren't based on what shirt they wore or how their hair was... it's things like late night conversations... staying up with them til 3 a.m. on the phone when they called you crying... riding out to the middle of nowhere and parking and just talking for hours, telling each other things that NO ONE else knew. it's dancing like idiots and not really caring what anyone else thought. it's "inside jokes" and certain phrases that were exclusive to your relationship. i hate it. and i hate when you call that person over something that they told you before that NO MATTER WHAT they always wanted to know about this particular part of your life... and they just don't care. like, they care so little that you can't even get out what you were calling about. they want to know "what it pertains to". seriously? you have to have a reason to call someone who used to be one of your best friends. i hate it. 

"it" being the knowledge that, despite what once was, this person is no longer your best friend. they're no longer your friend. hell, you're barely acquaintances anymore. if so, that's all you are. you know each other's name, phone number memorized no matter how you try to forget it, deepest, darkest secrets... but you just don't know that person anymore because they don't want you to. i hate it.

"it" being the feeling of being insignificant. the feeling that you put yourself out there completely, gave everything you had- and it wasn't good enough. it didn't matter. it was worth walking away from. i hate it.

"it" being the phone that doesn't ring. the unreturned messages. the picture hidden in a folder on the computer that shows us laughing and just being "us". the shirt that i eventually just threw away. 

"it" being the sound of your voice, but only because i don't get to hear it anymore. "it" being every restaurant we ever ate at. i can't even drive by top corral without getting angry now. angry at you for lying. for telling me that we would be friends no matter what, but really not even taking into consideration what that word "friend" means. obviously. angry that you don't care about any thing that you cared about not so many months ago.

i hate it. "it" being my heart that still refuses to stop caring. it keeps holding out hope that some day you'll come around & we'll go back to being friends again... like we were. but, i hope and pray that by that time i won't care. that maybe my heart will know better. hearts don't think, though, do they? i hate that.

"what's on your mind?"

I've posted blogs before trying to be candid about *who* this "plain ole Shealey girl" really is... {for those of you who do not know, "Shealey" is my maiden name & despite the former "Eldridge" or the current "Brooks" at the end of my name, I will *always* be a "Shealey" girl... in fact, many of my friends still call me Kayla Shealey & will never refer to me as anything else}. In fact, you can find a couple of those posts here and here. I pride myself in being an open book, but in reality- there are some things I don't talk about at all. Maybe because I don't like the way they make me look. "Since when has Kayla cared about what others think??" you're probably asking yourself. Oh, only since forever. I think that people who say that they don't care are lying. Or selfish, inconsiderate ass holes. (if you're offended by the language, I apologize. It is not my intention to offend anyone, but I do tend to use some "inappropriate" language from time to time because sometimes "butt head" just doesn't cut it) I try to just be who I am and not let what others think change that, but I do care what people think of me. I don't want anyone talking about me when I'm not around, saying ugly things behind my back (or to my face, for that matter) because I'm a sensitive person. I get my feelings hurt easily. I'm a wuss. Fine. And, ya know, maybe *every* thought I have isn't meant to be expressed, but if I'm saying that this blog was created as a journal for me... an outlet for myself... shouldn't I write about whatever is on my heart... mind... whatever?? Heck, maybe I'll find that I'm not the only person who feels the way I do. There is some sort of validation in hearing "girl, I know exactly what you mean". I suppose, when you have a blog, you're opening yourself up to criticism and you're letting people judge you. Putting yourself out on a proverbial platter... waiting for someone to accept or reject your thoughts, emotions, etc. Anyway. That's enough talking about talking about my feelings (did you get that?)... time to actual talk about them... errr, type. Whatever. Same difference.

*deep sigh* What's on my mind?? Facebook asks me that a lot. Every time I get on. I could be honest and say "Oreos." but that would just be my status. It would just say:
Kayla Brooks Oreos.
That would be it. And I'm sure no one cares that Oreos are on my mind (and they usually are. I love Golden Oreos.)... so I don't bore you guys with that sort of stuff. Usually. Sometimes I can't resist. But, those of you who know me really well know what a sickeningly hopeless romantic I am. I absolutely am addicted to the feeling of being in love. I fall fast and hard and without hesitation. It seems, to me, to be beyond my control. When I tell you I'm addicted to it, I really think I am. I think it's an illness of sorts. Of course, this makes me a wonderful partner in that I'm very affectionate and attentive and loving, but makes me a terrible partner in that I crush a lot. Usually just on "out of reach" people like {my love} Josh Wolf. But, sometimes on real-life people that I get to actually have conversations with. I've heard married people say before that once they fell for that "special person" that they just couldn't see anyone else "in that way" at all. That they weren't even attracted to any member of the opposite sex. I call bull shit. I mean, I could be wrong. (Again, this is just *my* personal rant... feelings as experienced by yours truly... please do not crucify me for calling bull shit on something that may or may not actually be bull shit.) I have a hard time believing that there is ONE person out there for everyone. That would mean that either I didn't really love my first husband or that I don't really love my current husband. Or that I won't love the next one. (ha! the next one... that was my attempt at a joke) I'm a lover. It's what I do. I believe I mentioned that.
Exhibit A: I fell in love for the first time when I was ten. Yes, ten years old. This month was the eighteenth anniversary of the first time I saw his face. I know I was a kid, but boy did he make my stomach do this crazy mexican jumping bean thing... His name was Josh (but most of you already knew that, didn't you?) and I was gonna marry that boy. At ten. We went trick-or-treating together... shared a dum-dum sucker before we had ever had our first kiss and that was *such* a big deal to me. My world revolved around Josh. He used to ride his bike to my house after school and we would walk around the yard holding hands. I heard the term "puppy love" used so many times and I seriously despised the term. We were not dogs. We were kids. But, we were kids that were in love. And that lasted far longer than anyone (other than myself) had imagined. At seventeen, we were still holding hands. I still loved that boy. But, as I have said a hundred and twelve times. Life happens. Things change. People change. And things are only good until they aren't anymore.
Exhibit B: I moved on. I loved Reuben. Oh, how I loved that boy. And then that man. We had something that people dreamed of having. No one could tell us anything. We were young and so in love... and it was going to last forever. We had a baby. Things were more difficult than we had ever dreamed, but life was still so, so good. We had another baby. Life was better. We were still young. We were still in love. We loved each other, it seemed, more and more with each passing day. Some times, at night, I would hold him while he was sleeping (cheesy, I know) and think about what I would do without him lying next to me and my heart would literally ache to the point to where I thought I would throw up. I needed him like I needed oxygen. But, life happens. Things change. People change. And things are only good until they aren't anymore. It's not like I woke up one morning and said "I'm going to cheat on my husband. I'm going to start a relationship with someone else." That's not how it happened at all. I could try my best to justify it, but the truth is- there is no excuse good enough to explain what I did. How I hurt him. How I hurt my children as a result of my actions. I think I didn't really expect the consequences as they played out. It didn't seem real. I wasn't getting attention at home. So what? I felt like he loved his stupid video game more than me. And?? I just wanted to feel loved, and wanted, and needed, and pretty, and special, and all those things that he made me feel not so many years before... Doesn't matter. Still not an excuse. But, at that time, I thought it was. I defended myself and my decisions and I had friends to back me up. I had people telling me "Girl, I don't blame you!! He deserved that. Doesn't he know that a woman has needs?? He didn't appreciate you so you found someone who would." It doesn't matter. I know now that it was just a season that we were going through in our life. It would have passed. That mantra "this too shall pass" kept me from losing my mind in the early days of new motherhood with a colicky newborn... why didn't I think of it when my marriage was falling apart? I was selfish. I believe that I thought that we would take some space- each do what we wanted for a while- and that we would both realize what we truly wanted... and that would be each other. Only, by the time I realized it, it was too late. He had filed for divorce. We were no longer separated. We were divorced. I was divorced at 23. I cried as I signed the papers. It sucked. It makes me want to throw up, even to this day, thinking about everything that I could have, should have done... but I suppose all the coulda, shoulda, wouldas in the world don't make a bit of difference now. So, I don't dwell on it. As always, I moved on....
Exhibit C: Brandon. My husband. The reason for the "Brooks" at the end of my name. Yes, he was "the other man", and as most of my friends know, it has been rocky from the start. Things are bound to be rocky when you start a relationship the way that we did- with lies and deception. Each of us hurting the people that we swore before God that we would never forsake. I can say from a place of  "been there, done that"... a person never really recovers from beginning a relationship the way we did. There will always be trust issues. Always. If he works late, some times I wonder if he's really out working... after all, that's what he said when he was sneaking off to see me. When he's working out of town and I call and he doesn't answer immediately, I wonder if some other girl is out of town with him... because I can remember driving to Columbus to spend several days with him while he was working. If he's more affectionate than usual- I wonder. If he's more standoff-ish, I wonder. Rarely do I feel so secure in my marriage that I'm not concerned about it. And, it's no one's fault but my own.
Now, in between those examples, there are exhibits A.2 (Ryan), A.3 (William), A.4 (another Ryan), B.2 (Brad), B.3 (Matt), and B.4 (John)... all guys that, for a brief moment in time, I thought coulda been "it"... and when it was over (as it obviously was), I thought that my world might end. It never did. The world keeps a'turnin'.... the sun rises the next day... despite my tear-stained pillow. And, now I'm still on friendly terms with all but one of them. I wish them all nothing but wonderful things and I can honestly say that I feel more than just a little bit silly thinking about all of the time and energy that I invested in crying over them... and, more than once, actually begging them to stick around (not my finest hours, undoubtedly)... I don't know what any of this has to do with anything. Maybe nothing. Maybe it's all just random, empty thoughts running around in my head... but I figured this was all a little much for a status update, so when Facebook asked what was on my mind today, I decided to blog it up. :)

judge away.