That something.

I sat down last week and began to write about a relationship being surmised in "eight pages".

How odd that all of the things that you did and said and had can be summed up in "eight pages".



That is what I had titled the blog, "eight pages".


Then just as it always does, life got busy and I didn't hit publish post.


But as fate would have it there was a reason inside me that I just didn't understand yet.





Some of the most important relationships in your life will end, and you won't get "eight pages".

They will just end.

With no pages.




For whatever reason you might wake up on a Wednesday morning and realize that you aren't that close to "so and so" anymore.

When and how did it happen?

Why at one point in your life did they feel like your everything, and on this morning... you can not even remember the last time you talked to them?


Relationships evolve.

They change.

They end.



You might not want them to, but it is inevitable.


For me, the strangest part in all of this is that my heart can still ache the exact same way as it did two years ago.

For people that I will get no pages from.

People that I love so deeply, but can drift from so easily.

When we chose to let people into our lives and give them all of ourselves we are taking a risk....

We are trusting that they are always going to be there, that they are always going to pick up the phone when we call, or show up when we need them to.

We are trusting our hearts with them, trusting that they will never do us wrong, trusting that they will always just stay the same.

That things will always remain as they had been.

Somewhat perfect if you will.

But then...

It happens.

Life happens.

We are all busy with work, family, commitments and things that are beyond our control... and sometimes things that are in our control.


So we drift, not always easily but we drift all the same... away from each other and closer to others.

It is change.

I fear change.

It makes me feel alone and scared.



But maybe along with evolving, change and ending... there is something new around the corner.

That "something" is what keeps me sane today.

turn the lights on.

What happens now.

What happens when your heart feels full of love but your brain still fades to that dull dark place that feels impossible to shake?

What happens when your surrounded by the best kind of people there are, those that want nothing else but to love and care for you, but you repeat the words "you are alone" over and over again as you get ready for bed?

What happens when you commit to everything, but want to do nothing?

What happens when every smile you give feels forced, unless it involves her?

What happens when everything is going right, but you still want to go left?

What happens when the days start to lose light, you feel the light inside you flicker as well?

I don't know.

I just don't know.

Andy.

I am shy.

Have I said that before?

Seeing those words written make me shake my head at myself.

I know those of you that have met me are thinking what in gods name is she talking about?

But, I am shy.

Painfully so.

I am loud. I have been loud my whole life... I am often told to quiet down at Christmas, Easter, birthdays, BBQs and any other family gathering because I am so god dame loud.

My loud covers up for the fact that I don't say much.

I don't want to say anything half the time, I just don't want you to ask me anything.

I'm loud... So you can't.

It is too hard for me sometimes to come up with the answers that you want to hear or the stories you want to be told.

So, I'm loud.... because I can't.

Not many get past this. It can probably be too much.

I am most likely a hell of a lot of work to get to know.

I have felt my guard slip recently, having a conversation with someone I didn't really know all that well....

I heard myself talking about things that I only really share with the closest of the close.

It scared the living shit out of me.

I don't know how to deal with letting it out without feeling like I am giving too much of myself.

Like if I say it all out loud, I'll lose part of myself.

I'll lose it and I won't get it back ever again.

So, I am a painfully shy... and painfully loud girl. Who often says inappropriate shit at the most inappropriate times.

I have almost grown to accept this, Now... It's your turn to.

Apple is doing amazing.

She is so much like me that at times my future seems very difficult.

She is so strong willed and very temperamental, but by far she is one of the funniest people I have ever met in my life.

Last week we had heat lightning. She had woken up from a bad dream so I opened up her blinds and showed her what the sky looked like.

I said " look it's heat lightning"

she said " grease lightning?"

I said "no heat lightning"

She said "NOOOO MUMMY, Grease Lightning"

I asked her how she knew what "grease lightning" was, and told her that Mummy hates the movie Grease... ( I know she is a little young to be told that... but come on.... I hate the movie Grease and I am silently judging those of you who lllloooovvveee it)

She said "uhhh the wiggles mummy"

I told her that was fine and put her back to bed.

She stayed up for the next 45 minutes singing the god awful grease lightning song.

I went in and finally told her to stop and she had the largest 2 year old shit fit I have ever seen.

She even got the "fists of furry" going... which means she means business.

She said " I won't stop, I won't stop"

I left the room and rolled my eyes and shook my head at what the next 18 years have in store for me.

Today was a huge milestone for us.

She started at her new day care.

I have been worried about this day for weeks.

I think I probably slept for 3 hours last night.... All I could do was imagine the worst.

I ended up with the largest stress zit (some may call it a goiter) on my face that my co workers and I gave it a name.

Andy.

It was super fun all day to say things like "Andy and I are headed for lunch" or "Andy has a lot of paper work to get done this afternoon"

Andy came for no reason though.

She killed it at day care today.

Not one cry, Not one 2 year old shit fit with "fists of furry"....

Nothing.

Just a great report from her new friend "Caffee".

She was loud.

I could hear her as I walked up the drive way to get her.

It made me smile.

My girl is loud.

importance.

The word shots being screamed at me from across the room used to mean something different.

It used to mean get "get your ass over here, we are going to drink something that is going to make us sick later"

Now, it means "get your ass over here.... you need to get in the net so I can take shots on you with my pink mini stick"

I will willingly admit, that my life had been about christian louboutin shoes and my gucci purse.... about the nice things I had or the nice things I wanted.

Now, it has become about the ways I can make her life better, the things I can do to make her happier.

My girl is demanding. My girl is impatient. My girl is the 3 foot version of me.

Before you have kids people constantly tell you "having a child changes you". They warn you how tired and how busy you will be....

But no one warns you about what happens to your heart.

This girl has changed me from the inside out.

Some where along the way it happened, I can't pinpoint the time exact time......

all I know is it did.

From a distance I witness love differently now.

I see it so clearly in the smallest things... that I would have never noticed before.

As I sat and talked to a friend of mine she described to me how her husband took two hours to shave her head before her first chemo treatment.

Her hair is curly, and he took so long to do it because he didn't want to hurt her.

That is love.

It is strange to me that it took this little girl in my life to change my perspective on just about everything.

Things that I never would have noticed before seem so important now.....

She is the answer to the questions I have always had in my mind.

She is the answer to me.

The one about the polysporin

Months ago before I had moved back home, there was a moment.

A moment that stopped me dead in my tracks.

Apple took a small fall.

It was nothing major. All she had done was scrape her knee.

I went to grab the polysporin... and realized that she was too young for me to use the adult kind... I would have to go get some of the kids kind......

and with that, I was done for.

That was the moment.

The first moment in my life that I could not just go to a store and buy what I needed.

Financially, it was over for me.

I had used every ounce of savings, I had used every credit card.... I had used everything.

I had nothing.

I sat on the step in my living room and cried.

My brain told me to call my parents, to tell them.... to ask them for help.

But my pride as usual got in the way.

They had no clue how bad it was. No one had any clue how bad it had gotten.

I was carrying the weight of the bills on my own most months, with no job and no source of income.

Things with my support had not been going easily, and I was not receiving regular payments.

I had already started to work part time at my new job, but it wasn't enough.... I had yet to miss a payment but I knew that would only be a few short days away.

That night I laid awake in my bed for hours, hoping for a miracle.

Wishing that something would change.

Words he had said to me earlier that day echoed in my mind..... "no ones coming to save you"

"no one" he kept repeating.

What he said lit some sort of fire in me.....

I started to think to myself.... No one might be coming.... but I will save her and I.

I will fix this.

No one would ever again tell me I couldn't.

The next morning, I went through my normal routine--- but two huge things happened.

I got an email from a friend, just a random forward that I would normally delete, It was one of those email this to three people and something good will happen.... but that is not what caught my eye.

It was a line at the end that read... "You must be the change you wish to see in the world"

I thought about that for a long time... that I had to become the change.

I realized that you can't just sit back and wait for the change, you have to take charge and see what you want out there and go and get it.

That morning I decided that for good, I would be in charge of what was going to happen to us.... and that the best way to do this was easy.... to simply DO IT.

Get out there and get it done.

I did not forward the email for the "good thing to happen"

I just knew it would.

Minutes later I did what I always do, and checked my banking online.

There had been a rather large deposit, from my former employer.

I checked and re checked and called human resources to make sure it was mine.

It was.. infact mine, Some holiday pay that had gotten lost in the shuffle... something that I had not been expecting.

I could breathe.

For the first time in weeks.

I got myself and my best girl ready for the day and we headed out to shoppers.

Where I bought 2 tubes of polysporin, the kids kind.... that we probably didn't need at that point, but I needed it to feel safe.

I still have the two tubes of polysporin.

Each time I use one, I remember.....

I remember that I had to stop wishing for a miracle and make one of my own.

I'll Promise you this.

There are cracks in my mind formed from all of this.

Cracks where one story starts and another begins.

Cracks where I have pushed a memory so deep inside me that it is hard to recall. But it is there, waiting patiently until I am ready.

Day three of being left by him I got myself to the doctors.

I was a mess, I had not slept in days, I had not eaten in days and all I could do was sob uncontrollably.

He was kind and immediately gave the guidance that I so desperately needed.

Since I had yet to tell most of the people in my life, he encouraged me to reach out..... the help I was going to need with apple beyond important.

I needed rest, and I needed to eat.

I could handle most of that.

It was rational.

I could still be rational. I just needed a plan.

We put a plan in place for the next few and agreed to meet up the next week.

It was going to be ok.

When I stood up to leave... he quickly with one hand on my shoulder sat me back down.

Looking me dead in the eyes, he said " you are both going to need to be tested for stds"

I shrugged it off and told him, " I will, but you will have to talk to him about getting one for himself"

"No, not him he said... Apple. You will have to get Apple tested for aids. She was breast fed"

A whole new kind of rage filled up inside me.

It was never something that crossed my mind.

Ever.

I fought him on it.

I rejected the very thought of it.

No, No way would I do this to her.

No way would I put my baby... my beautiful 9 month of baby girl through this.

But he reasoned with me. He explained to me that it was what was best for her, that without question it would need to be done.

I told no one.

I said nothing.

But we went.

I held my daughter down for more than 4 minutes while they drew the deepest purple color blood I have ever seen.

It took 4 minutes.

4 minutes that felt like 6 hours.

She screamed and cried and stared at me with her big worried eyes.

She would try to them stop by rolling on to her tummy and reaching out for me... all the while I could do nothing but hold her down.

It killed me.

I put my head next to hers and told her over and over again how sorry I was.

I promised her .... that this moment would be her worst.

That everything after this would be better, everything after this would be ok.

When they were finished we sat together on the chair.

I stroked her hair, and she slowly settled.... when she became calm enough to get back home

I put her in her car seat and sat in the parking lot of the medical clinic and sobbed.

Our tests came back clear of any problems.... and for that I am grateful.

Those 4 moments broke something in me that will never be fixed.

They changed me.

But those 4 moments also gave me the strength I needed to complete the rest of the journey,

To keep the promise to her.

"That moment" will be her worst.

Everything. Means, Everything.

When I was about nine I broke a china doll, I shattered her face while trying to give her a tighter pony tail.

I was scared for my life.

I knew my parents were going to kill me.

I had been warned not to play with the china doll, but I had a hard time with rules even then.

I was so ashamed.

I worried constantly that I would be found out, that my parents would actually kill me and bury me in the backyard by the birch tree.

Months later my dad and I took our first solo trip to Toronto to see the Leafs play.

We took the train and talked the whole way down, I probably annoyed the crap out of him with my questions and my stories but he sat there and listened patiently with his arm around me the entire time.

I was so happy and so comfortable with him.

It was my nine year old heaven.

As we got closer to Toronto, I can clearly remember thinking......

"this is it, this is my chance to tell him... he can't kill me with all these people around"

The confession started with the words no parent ever wants to hear:

"I have to tell you something really really bad"

It came out in the same sort of "verbal diarehha" way I speak today.

In haste I also copped to the fact I was the one that had called the WWF hotline to hear the macho man randy savage tell me to have a good day.... several times actually... over the corse of a single day.

I know I cried and he held me for a long time and promised me that as soon as we got home we would fix that china doll together and that he nor my mother would not actually kill me and bury me out by the birch tree.

He wasn't kidding either.

The next day he and I went and bought the glue and sat out at the kitchen table and piece by piece glued the china doll back together, all the while my mum stood in kitchen telling me how everything was always fixable."Everything" she kept repeating.

The relief I felt was overwhelming.

I knew it was going to be ok.

I have spent most of my life reliving the same cycle with those closest to me.

My actions are typical when things aren't ok.

I push.

and I push.

and I push.

I live in a dark world alone, with brief phone calls and quick bullshit email updates, and excuses of why I can't come or how tired I am.

But, it's no longer just my parents that can spot this happening.

It is those closest to me.

They know.

They always know.

They know when my mind starts to fade to that dark black part that I can't seem to shake some days.

And what I've learned is that they collectively push harder than I do.

They fight the way into that dark place and drag me out of it kicking and screaming the whole time.

They smother me like you would with a blanket when someone's on fire.

I love them for it. All of them, More than I could ever explain.

Because they know it's not "me".... and they want "me" to be here with them.

The support that I have in my life is not something that is easy to explain....

It had always been there, but a lot like my confession to my dad on the train that day, I just to learn that needed to say it all out loud.

I shake my head in disbelief most days that this is my life because things are good.

Really good.

The darkness still finds its way into my mind.

But they know.

They always know.

And they come to get me.........even when I push.

The Leafs lost the night my dad and I took our trip..... but I think you could have guessed that on your own.

A little bit older, A lot wiser.

I turned 33 on tuesday, and nothing changed.

But there is a change in me that I find hard to explain.

The changes came late on a wednesday night when I saw something clearly for the first time, or early on a sunday morning when I woke up to apple calling my name.

It was never as fast or as easy as I would have liked it to be, but it happened.

I became, however slowly... the person that sits here today.

More confident.

More settled.

More patient.

More alive.

More aware of what and who I want around me.

My birthday itself was a reminder of both the love that surrounds me and the loneliness inside me.

When I shut the door each time people left from a visit, the silence was still there.

It's not as loud as before, and it's manageable but it is still there inside me.

I wonder every single day if it will ever leave me.

If there is something that will change this.

I'm not sure.

I got a phone call from a friend to wish me happy father's day today.

It surprised me.

He explained to me that I'm both roles to my daughter, even if she may see her father....

I am the one daily that is both her mother and her father.

I cried a bit, like I always do when we talk... and realized he was right.

My girl is upstairs where she belongs, sleeping soundly after a day at the park with my parents and a golf lesson from my brother.

We had an amazing day together

Tonight, I don't hear the silence.

two years.

This weekend marked the two year anniversary of this mess starting.

Regardless of the time that has passed, anniversary's of events still get to me.

It is not as consuming as it used to be, but it weights on me. Like when you get a bad case of the chills that you can't get rid of.

I know how much things have changed in the last two years, and I am grateful for how far things have come.

But somedays.... well somedays it still hurts.

Some times I still lay awake at night and wonder how or why.

What upsets me is that i will never ever know the truth.

Recently I heard, you can't find peace until you find all the pieces.

I'm searching.

I am trying to fix what was wrong with me then, and what's wrong with me now.

I am coming to some sad conclusions about who I use to be.

That is the piece of the puzzle that I can fix-- the piece that I was never knew that was broken until two years ago.

I am working on this daily, sometimes by the minute, and when I have it sorted in my head, you'll be the first to know.

That chill that followed me around this weekend was warmed by that beautiful girl of mine.

We enjoyed the sun, and the rain but most of all our time together.

It's full sentences and meaningful conversations on a daily basis here. She likes to pick her own shoes and tell me the colour of elastics that go in her hair.

Lately when I am laughing or smiling Apple will look at me and say..

" look mommy...... your happy"

She sees it, which pushes me to not just look it, but to be it.

She can see my happiness even on the days I can't.

where we are.

Resentment is a dangerous thing.

I don't feel it everyday, but I feel it.

Alot.

Some days I feel it when I am racing home after work to pick her up from day care.

I am never fast enough.

I can never seem to get diner on the table or get changed out of my work clothes or do just anything..... with out a struggle.

Sometimes I feel it when I am doing a million things well, but nothing great.

Like I am never enough.

Sometimes I feel it when I am sitting at my desk at work, wishing I was at home with her.

But I had no choice.

Some days I feel it when he tells me he can't take her on his weekend.

He has a choice.

I don't.

I just need to make it all work.

I need to shuffle things around and back out on commitments.

The resentment builds frustration, anger and stress in me.

I can't stand it.

It is not who I am.

This week something very important dawned on me.

I truly believe that if you are not frustrated, angry or stressed sometimes as a parent, then you are probably not doing your job right.

Most parents are.

Most of us are constantly any or all of those three things at any given time.

What I am feeling is ok.

It's right.

It is where I am right now.

Recognizing this makes me hopeful.

just another one.

I want to be able to tell you i am ok everyday, but I am not.

I still struggle some days, and I still feel weak others.

It is days like tomorrow that I find it hard to deal with.

It's mothers day, and I am a mother that will have her daughter with me all day long.

I am grateful.

Beyond grateful that I will be able to spend the entire day with my best girl.

Beyond grateful that I have friends and family, that will call not because they feel sorry for me, but because they love me.

But days like this are a constant reminder of this life that was meant for three, now being lived by two.

I feel a tremendous amount of guilt even mentioning something so seemingly trivial.

My brain tells me to push this out....

My heart reminds me just how alone you can feel.

Even when your not.

Not her. Me.

As I lay in bed tonight I hear the same music coming from her room that I have played for her every night since she was born.

It tones down the sharpness of the dogs bark and makes the sound of the washing machine fade away in the distance.... but mostly it is a familiar sound that both of us like to hear at night.

Being here has settled us both. We are calmer versions of who we were a few months ago, very quickly we have gotten use to this new routine.

I am back to work four days a week, and she is with her sitter and my mum for those days.

She has come leaps and bounds since day one.... now going with out much fuss, and enjoying her time while she is there.

I have not.

I miss her.

I miss her so much every day that it is painful.

I cry most days at some point, when I look at the time and wonder what she might be doing, or when I think of the way she ate her breakfast like a big girl in the morning.

Mostly I just wish it was me that could take her to the park or open her raisin box.

Mostly I am resenting the person that took that away from me.

I understand the bottom line well.

This is what happens; this is what has to be done; this is the sacrifice that I have to make;

But I miss her.

My god do I miss her.

I have been blessed with an amazing boss, and a great work environment.

They are BEYOND accommodating to my situation, and they are 100% on board with my "apple comes first" attitude.

I have also been blessed with the most amazing parents.

They pick up the slack and more on a daily basis.

Not a single day goes by when I don't regret being an asshole to them when I was a teenager. (and maybe early 20's... ok and maybe my late 20's early 30's.... come to think of it I was probably an asshole baby too)

So, I get it.

We all have to do this, and it sucks..... and not many people are as blessed as I am.

I will get through this.

I should also probably re think how much of an asshole I can be.

But that's another blog.

A letter to my friend.

I know you are not ok.

The truth is you won't be for awhile.

I know that you are in more pain than you ever thought possible.

The truth is this is the beginning of a very long road.

I know you just want to hit rewind and get it all back.

The truth is there will come a day when you won't want any of it back, you'll just want to move forward.

I know that some days it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to get out of bed.

The truth is you have to, for those two beautiful children of yours.

I know that you are blaming yourself for all of this.

The truth is none of this is your fault... you have always been a dedicated wife and mother who never wanted anything more than the best for her family.

I know that you don't understand.

The truth is you never really will.

I know you think it will never be the same.

The truth is it won't... it will be different, then better.

I know you feel alone.

The truth is we all do, but none of us every really are, there are so many people who want to be here for you, not just through this... but forever.

Most of all I know that you feel lost.

The truth is you are.... but those two children are your map.

You will get through this.

I promise.

Moving recap.

Home.

It's weird to say, but even weirder to feel.

The last day at my old house was painful and full of a profound sadness that I knew had been waiting in the dark shadows of my mind.

I was blindsided by how empty the house looked as the movers took everything out of my house, piece by piece I watched it all leave the house....

easily remembering the days that all of it came in the house.

I was alone.

In our house.

I was alone.

Again.

And then, out of no where I wasn't.

My neighbours who have now become more like family, were there beside me.... just like they always had been.

My last memory of the house on Farmhouse Road will always be of them.

Standing in the garage hugging so tight that I didn't want to let go.

My first memory of my new house will always be of my dad, standing on my driveway waiting for me.

It already felt like home.

Seeing him standing out there felt so familiar, mostly because I never came home on time as a teenager so when he was really pissed he would stand outside on the driveway and wait for me....

The weekend flew by and by the time Sunday came my best girl and I were comfortably living in our new house.

It's more real now for me than ever before.

That I am alright now.

I slept better my first night here then I had slept in years, and when I woke up.... I instantly knew I was home.

We love it here.

This was the best thing we could have done..... It has already started to change things for us.

I feel it slowly but surely, a new normal.. that I adore.

The bittersweet.

It's been too long. Bottom line.

Life gets ahold of you sometimes, and I tell myself I will write tomorrow... then tomorrow turns into next week and next week turns into next month.

But, here I am... living in a half packed house... trying not to go nuts.

The last month has been so overwhelming in so many ways.

The memory's from a life gone by are everywhere I look these days.

As I pack, sort and throw out parts of our life I am constantly reminded of a life created by two, is now being lead by a different set of two.

I have been stand-offish and I have been distant to those closest to me.

I have not been myself... for weeks.

My ability to clearly recall moments of "us" in this house is paralyzing, and I am often left in tears.

No longer because I want my life back, but because of the pain I feel that someone I had loved so much hurt me this badly.

I have come to a very clear understanding that this pain is a part of me and no matter how much time passes I will always shake my head in disbelief that this is what he chose to do to Apple and I.

The more good things that happen to me soften the edges of my heart... my happiness is daily and I am comfortable in my own skin but I believe the process of packing and moving has taken it's toll on me.

In the middle of all this Apple and I got sick.

She was first.

It was fast and violent and with 100% certainty the most frightened I have ever been in my life.

It came on so suddenly and with such force that I was beyond shocked.

I had never seen her like that and pray every night that I will never have to see her like that again.

It was 7 solid hours of getting sick every twenty minutes.

At around 345am as we layed in my bed... she reached out for my hand and held it tightly, she used her other hand to brush her little fingers over my eyes, as if to tell me to shut them.

That it would be ok to sleep for a bit.

When I woke up she was cozied in beside me like she used to when she was a baby, the dog and cat had joined us on the bed at some point after we both fell asleep....

Easily I forgot about the night before and layed there with my family and felt content.

It is nights like that one that I understand more why I am going to be ok.

Because I stayed, for better or worse, in sickness and in health-- I stayed, and I make this life great for us every single day, without him.

But not without help.

My parents were unbelievable through out the entire ordeal... ( I got sick a few days later, and they kept a pretty miserable Apple occupied for the day.)

The weekend also brought some good times that I need to mention.

Some great friends of mine had a party for me on Friday night.... one that I am sure they... or I will not easily forget.

We laughed and we cried....and I made a middle eastern man say the f word.

Not because he was mad at me, but because I pressured him into it.

It was amazing, and exactly what I needed.

I also got a suprise sleepover with one of my besties on Saturday night, so all and all great weekend.

I move in 10 days.

I'll do my best to keep you updated on how we do over this next bit,

but bare with me....

Everytime a bell rings.

A few weeks ago, while in therapy I was asked a very interesting question.... one that I think we should all ask ourselves.

If you had to chose one... and only one which would it be.

To care for... or be taken care of by your partner.

Right there....

I know you think your answer just popped in your head

So did I.

I was wrong.

Let's see if you were too.

At first my gut said "to care for". Because that's me.

That is what I do. I care for those around me.

My therapist stopped me when I tried to answer.

She told me to give it time. Two whole weeks in fact.

So I did.

Until Today.

I kept my feet firmly planted in the "care for" column for about 3 days.

Then I wavered.

I started to think about all of my past relationships and why they never worked.

Mostly I thought about the one I just got out of.

I have "cared for" in every serious relationship I have ever been in.

I don't remember a relationship that I have been in that I have been "taken care of".

I think most of it stems from the fact I have a really hard time giving up the control of what is going on around me.

Most of the time, I know I let myself think that I was being taken care of....

but being taken care of based on what someone else thinks you need is not really being taken care of.

I didn't make my voice heard, I accepted what someone else thought I needed as fact and continued to let myself believe that I getting all I needed.

When really I was just accepting what someone else thought was enough to give.

I need to be taken care of.

Bottom line.

It is difficult and almost shameful for me to admit, but I do.

I am told that the more I say it the less shameful it becomes.

I need to be taken care of... NO, still feels shameful.

Collectively my family and I love the movie "It's a Wonderful Life",

That movie is so full of love, strength, faith and friendship.. that I try to watch it a few times a year, Not just at Christmas.

We called it "looking for your Mary".

Trying to find that one true person that will walk with you through the fire.

George needed his Mary. Just as Mary needed her George.

I need to find my George.

127 includes 2 swears.

I wonder what she dreams about at night.

Sometimes late at night I wake up to her talking to herself.

I roll over and watch her on the video monitor with amazement.

Some nights she will lay there and talk to her self for twenty minutes before she falls back asleep.

I love this.... more than I could ever explain.

With each day more words come.... and so do some of the most profound... yet simple moments of my life.

A few nights ago, when I was tucking her into bed... without being prompted she said "love you mummy" as I was closing her door.

I told her I loved her and ran back in to give her another kiss.

After I shut the door that night, I sat at the top of the stairs and cried.

I honestly never imagined those words having any affect on me ever again.

Because "i love you" had become something that had been so callously said to me.

Just words, with nothing behind them.

But hearing them from her, my beautiful little girl was enough to melt my "cold dead heart".

There is a word that she doesn't say all that often.

Dad.

She still sees him once a week and every other weekend.... but he is just not a subject that comes up when she is with me.

It's odd to me that at two, maybe she knows he is not something I am ready to talk to her about.

I pray for the strength and the restraint when the questions come.

As recently as three weeks ago, he said to me in a heated argument

"you have no clue what it's like-- to be dealing with my life"

He is right.

I don't.

I have no clue what it must be like to not know all 127 words(yes i keep track) that she says off by heart... or that she jumped off the edge of the pool at swimming into my arms last week.

I have no clue what it must be like watch her grow up right before your eyes and not get to be a part of it daily.

So yeah.... I don't have a clue.

Thank god for that.

As I began to pack tonight I was filled with a sense of closure.

This close to last step of the puzzle is finally taking shape.

We are closing in on the last lap in our journey to get back home.

We can't wait.

Getting older.

I officially have a two year old.

Her birthday was the 19th.

We had a party for her over the weekend with a lot of our friends and family.

She was happier than I have ever seen her.

Her love was boiling over that day.

Most of her favorite people were in the room that day and she could barely contain herself.

Neither could I.

The joy I get from seeing her like that is like nothing I can explain.

All I can tell you; is that it is worth every ounce of pain that I have ever felt.

I felt a sense of pride that afternoon; one that I have been able to carry around with me most of this week.

As we all sang happy birthday; I whispered to her "we made it".

I know now she doesn't have a clue what I mean.

But one day she will.

One day she will know that I didn't break.

That I kept going for her.

I sat down last week and read my whole blog start to finish.

I had been meaning to focus on the entry about Apples last birthday; but I got stuck.

Stuck trying to remember what it was like back then.

Stuck with all those same emotions weighing heavy on my heart.

It has been one hell of a year since I started to write this blog.

It has provided me with some really amazing opportunities, and above all else strength.

I can only imagine what the next year holds for us.

I am finally in a place where I am excited and at peace with what is to come.

The one about the house; and the girls.

It's been some time.

I waited for a reason.

I wanted to be sure that I could tell you this.

It is SOLD and we are going home.

I have not yet been able to fully come to terms with what this means or let it sink in.

I am have been really down the last few days, a lot of it is financial stress but some of it is coming to terms with the fact that this is it....

This is the home I almost died in.

This is the home that I learned I was pregnant.

This is the home we brought her back to live in.

This is the home that she took her first steps in.

This is the home where she called me Mommy for the first time.

This is the home I came back to life in.

But my heart tells me that this isn't home.

Our home is anywhere we go together.

The place we are living in is just that.

A place.

Where promises were made and lives were changed forever.

March 15th will be a difficult day; But March 15th will also be the first day of the rest of our lives.

I know my life has had some serious ups and downs in the last year; but nothing could have prepared me for today.

Today we made some new friends.

One of my closest friends teaches at a high school, and has been sharing the blog with her students.

Today we met.

Today they made us feel welcome and special and loved.

These are beautiful girls, each and every one of them with different stories to share; who wanted nothing more than to sit and talk and watch Apple destroy there classroom.

I struck me today on the way home from this; that I wish at 15 or 16 someone would have pulled me aside and told me that at 32 I would feel just as lost some days as I did then.

I am so glad to have had the opportunity to talk to them today.

It is not a day I will ever forget.

I won't forget the message that my friend left for me when I got home either.

Her words were some of the kindest that I have ever heard; and today for the first time in a really long time I not only listened to the words that she said but I felt inside of me without doubt that they were true.

These are some of our new friends; with my best girl.

I know you are probably reading this in your last class of the year today with that amazing teacher of yours.....

So from the bottom of our hearts;

Thank you.