A Letter to My Daughter

My Dearest Child,

You are about two months away from being born. Every day I feel you move inside me and I find it difficult to put words to the feelings your movement evokes. It is both thrilling and peculiar at the same time. Being pregnant has been a most surreal experience as I contemplate the fact that a living being – you- is growing inside me. Just two days ago I saw my belly move and contort with your movement. I have to confess it was one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever witnessed.

It dawned on me today how much closer we are to meeting you. It feels like it was such a short time ago that I learned I was pregnant with you and dealing with all the emotions that came along with that knowledge. While you were not something your dad and I tried to create, you are certainly not unwanted. We both are anticipating seeing your face when you are born.

The closer we get to seeing and meeting you, the more eager I become. When I see young daughters of all ages with their mothers, I wonder what you will be like. Will you have your dad’s eyes and lean, tall build? Will you have my dark hair and freckles? I have no doubt that you will be beautiful, both inside and out. You have no idea how much your dad and I have discussed how we desire to raise you. We long for you to be confident in who you are, to know what you believe, and not be easily swayed. We want you to be able to resist the pressure to conform to what society suggests you should be, think, and do. You are who you are. Create your identity as you grow. And be comfortable in that. We will do our best to instill our values in you.

It is my heartfelt desire to have a close and open relationship with you, so that you can always come to me with any concern. I want you to know that I will not freak out, or at least I will try not to, when you need to express your thoughts, opinions, or anything else that is occurring in your life. I truly hope you never feel like you cannot confide in me or share things with me. And the same goes for your dad. We want you to be able to talk to us – honestly. You may think that you will surprise us, but let me assure you that there is not much that will surprise or shock your dad or me. We have lived quite a bit before you, my dear.

So while you continue to grow for the next few months, we are preparing a place for you. It may not be the cutest with all the trappings (sorry, honey, but you don’t get your own room yet), but it’s not like you will know or remember anyway. Regardless of where or how we live, know that our home will always be a home of love, tolerance, and respect. And that is the best home we can provide for you.

With much anticipation and love,

Momma (and Dad)

Check Up

Just got home from my doctor's appointment. I'm currently at about 15 weeks. In four more weeks we will know what we're having. That is the appointment I am eagerly anticipating. Then we can decide on a name. I want to get used to the feel of the name before Baby Bollinger makes his/her way into this world. I want him/her to start hearing the name. "They" say babies can hear their parents voices in the womb. How "they" know, I do wonder. But if it is true, I want to take advantage of that.

I was a little worried since I wasn't feeling sick anymore, but today I heard the teeny rapid heartbeat and my anxieties were assuaged. Funny how I used to be more concerned about becoming pregnant without wanting to, and now I'm concerned that everything is alright with my little one inside. Such is life, I suppose. I'm just glad to know that all is fine. :)

Strange Life

Sometimes I wonder about life. How much is fate and how much is dumb luck (or just dumb)? I have had a series of events occur in my life that I would never have envisioned, yet they all are true. Currently, I am grappling with a life-changing event, but there is a little back story.

Back in March, I had a minor surgical procedure done for female issues I was having. The specialist that performed the procedure informed me that I had a low egg count and that conception would be difficult for me, especially if I waited a few years (I'm 35, fyi). That was not terribly tragic news to me as I was not certain I even wanted children (which is a whole other issue I was vacillating over). As it turns out, conceiving was not that hard at all.

You see, my ex and I had not really cut off the ties of our relationship. While we were technically "broken up," we still saw each other regularly. I think we may have gone for two weeks without talking to or seeing each other. Breaking up was just not that easy. In our carelessness, it turns out that getting pregnant was not impossible.

So now we are working through our relationship. Not wanting to rush into something else without considering the consequences, we are taking it slow. He is amazingly supportive, caring, and here for me. He did not run. We have both had our emotional breakdowns over the matter, but accepting of our new reality. And disappointing as it may be to some, I do not need or want to hear it.

I'm still not to the "I'm so happy" stage. And when people say, "Congratulations," I reply with a tentative "Thanks." I am worried how it will all work out. "How will we afford this?" is the looming question in my mind that just tends to hang like a dark, ominous cloud.

I am currently at about 10 1/2 weeks. While at first I would not have been saddened by an early miscarriage, now I am concerned that I could have one. It's weird. I am eager to go back to my doctor in a few days to ensure that all is well.

I still cannot envision me having a baby. But like I said: other life events have happened that I could never have imagined. So maybe it's not terribly unlikely that I can be a mom. And a good one at that.

Man (or woman) up

Sometimes life applies a lot of heat and pressure. It really stinks when it's all at the same time. As if one thing happening was not enough, life decides you need one more helping.

But the thing about being pressed is you find out what you are really made of. How strong are you, really? How much can you bear? Being pressed allows you to realize a part of yourself that you would not have known otherwise. And I should know. I've been through these times once or twice. While in the situation it is often hard to gain perspective, I know from experience that the ugly bits of life make us wiser, stronger, and are opportunities to grow. We just have to try and see it that way.

It's times like these that you have to dig in your heels and refuse to succumb. Grow up. Face and accept reality and deal with it like an adult.

Settling In

Well, here I am almost a week later and I'm finally feeling more settled into my new apartment. I had my reservations about how I was going to fit into a smaller square footage, but it has worked out pretty good. So my microwave is kind of in my living area. What of it? It doesn't look too bad.

The smaller kitchen is starting to work out. I had to get a little creative with the space, but it's working. I did have to actually buy some items to make it a workable solution, so I ended up spending money I didn't really want to.

I had some great help moving last Sunday. A couple of guy friends were kind enough to donate a few hours of their Sunday to tote boxes and furniture in 90+ degree heat. Bless them! N actually was with me all weekend and was such an immense help. He was also my calming voice when I was feeling frantic and overwhelmed. Plus, he put my new bed together and my TV stand. The dear young lad stayed until there was a good stopping point with the chaos. It was a little weird because even though we are "broken up," we still get along remarkably well. That was never the issue anyway. Anyhow, I digress.

Kirby has had a bit of a hard time settling in. He appears to have a difficult time just relaxing. And he can't get under the bed anymore, so he's kind of sulking about that at bedtime. I think he's getting used to it slowly.

I do love the area and being so close to so much. I plan on getting out on my bike a few times a week over the next few weeks to gain confidence and comfort with riding on the street and with cars. I've had some experience, but not alone. Yay for independence! (with a hint of sarcasm)

What does this apartment hold for me as I reside here for at least the next year? A lot can happen in a year and a year goes by faster than we realize.

Moving Emotions

I started packing yesterday. I move next Sunday to my new apartment. This morning, as I scanned the boxes that are beginning to pile up and the boxes yet to be filled with my life, I became a bit saddened. It's the end of a period of my life and the start of another. It's funny, because I wasn't sad about my last move of apartments. I think I am having a bittersweet reaction to this one because of the memories of the last three years that this place holds. What have these walls seen and heard?

They have seen me cry after losing my mom. They heard me talk to her. They've looked on as I curled up into the fetal position to let my emotions loose.

They have seen me laugh with friends. They've heard the sharing that has taken place between people that trust one another to be honest about who we are and what we struggle with.

These walls saw me as I hunched over Dusty's lifeless body early one Sunday morning in December of 2009. They heard me wail, "Please don't go!" as I held her body at the same time rigor mortis was setting in. They watched me carry her out to be cremated at the vet.

They heard the words, "I love you" from N for the first time. They also got to watch and listen as he told me ten months later that he no longer loved me and wanted to end the relationship. These walls have seen me shed countless tears as a result. They have heard my anguish.

The walls see and hear me as I greet Kirby upon entering the front door. They see what he does during the day, which will always be a mystery to me.

These walls have witnessed my transformation. I am not the same person that moved in here three years ago.

The one thing I have that walls don't, though, are memories. I get to take them with me. And as I move forward and into another apartment, I will make more memories. That's the thing about life. Memories are made every day.

"Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose." ~ Kevin Arnold

As I Grow Up

You know, I don't know why I ever thought that I would have life figured out by this point. In all honesty, I am really just getting started. I am learning more about myself as I get older and truly developing my own identity apart from what I have always done, thought, and believed.

It's a very freeing thing to not feel constrained by what I perceive as other people's expectations. To break out of a mold that I feel like I was trying to fit into for so long but just had trouble conforming. The shape didn't take. It was a constant, inner struggle. And now I don't feel that way. There is no mold, except the one I make for myself.

Who am I? Really?? What do I believe? What are the beliefs (morals, if you will) that are unshakable? Which beliefs (ideas, positions) am I willing to let evolve or let go? Believe it or not, these are questions I ask myself on a regular basis. And it didn't take a single person to evoke change. It took an inner discontent with the way things were. Have I been influenced by others? Without a doubt. But I see their influence as a positive because it offered me new perspectives. I don't believe there is anything wrong with being willing to say, "You're right. I've never thought of it that way. Thank you for showing me another view." Being open to another point of view does not mean I have to accept it. But if it's logical, rational, sensible, truthful . . .

As we continually grow (both mentally and chronologically), we learn. We can be changed by what we learn or not. I choose to be changed. I choose to allow what I learn to possibly alter certain ideas I may have. If there is truth to it, then I must accept the truth and not live in denial because of stubbornness or pride. I have to be willing to admit when I'm wrong.

"We grow neither better nor worse as we get old, but more like ourselves." ~ Mary Lamberton Becker