That's NOT a kitty-cat...

So I've been trying to figure out how to share this part of the story.  I haven't really come up with any solid ways of doing it, so I guess I'll just get it out there.

Let's hop back in time a few weeks...

A couple of weeks after we learned we were pregnant, my sister called me.  We were chatting more than usual, since she'd found out we were going to have a baby.  She LOVES LOVES LOVES little kids and was thrilled to hear our news.  I was cooking in the kitchen and I could tell something was different.  We were talking, but she wasn't really following the conversation.  Her questions, although normal questions, were coming out different than usual and I got the feeling that she had something she wanted to share with me, but for some reason, wasn't saying it.

I needed both of my hands in the kitchen, and since she was being a bit weird, I told her that she could feel free to call me back when she decided to say whatever it was that she wasn't saying.  The normal goodbyes were exchanged and before she hung up she said that she was going to send me a picture and she wanted to know what I thought.

Usually the pictures I get from her are of her cats, like this one:

The picture I got this time was different:

This isn't the exact picture, because my phone got replaced between now and then.  But you get the idea

So I called her right back.

Is that yours?
Yes.
You know you're going to have to tell mom, right?
Yeah.
Oh boy.

Needless to say, this was unexpected.  And did I mention that my little sister is 18 years old and that this was 3 weeks before she graduated high school?  And... And... And....???  All I could get out after that point was, "Well, you need to start taking pre-natals if you haven't already and you need to schedule an appointment with an OB-Gyn."

Woah baby.  Or, babies, I guess.  We would have been due at the same time.

So there will be a Brekke family baby--but not coming from the person people were expecting.

My feelings are conflicted.  I could list the reasons why I think this is not a great idea, but that won't benefit anything.  What will be, will be.  Apparently God thinks that this is a great way to connect with Courtney, otherwise it wouldn't have happened.  My job is to love unconditionally, and to be the best aunt I can be.

As her sister, I've done what I can to protect her from the realities that this world can offer.  We've talked, yelled, hugged, cried, etc... together over the years.  Like me, though, she is stubborn.  Learning the hard way is her way.  We all make choices, good and bad, and some of them have more obvious consequences--this would be one of them.  I want to put this out there now though.

For those of you who are friends with me, who know my sister, who know my family, and some of you who ARE my family... think before you react.  Courtney does not claim to be a Christian, so according to her beliefs (or non-beliefs, depending how you look at it) so you cannot hold her to that standard.  Obviously nobody who truly loves her would choose this for her, but a child is a blessing, and needs to be viewed as such.  This is just part of her journey.  Hopefully part that shatters her misconceptions of God's love and that brings her to a place where she can see it for herself, raw and real.  True.  Untainted.

Because in that form, and ONLY in that form, it is beautiful.

Surprises in May

The original purpose of this blog was to stay connected to friends and family back in Iowa when Isaac and I moved to Michigan for his medical schooling.  When I got diagnosed with cancer a few weeks after moving, it took on a new purpose--being open with people about our struggles while navigating through them.

This year, we celebrated our anniversary on May 8th.  It was awesome.  I had to close at Nordstrom and Isaac worked in the morning, so we didn't get to do anything the day of.  However, the morning after, I had my routine PET/CT scan and then was off for the day.

Since we were no longer preventing pregnancy, the hospital had to do a blood test for pregnancy before I could get my scan.  Had I realized how long they had to wait for the labs to get back, I might have stopped by the morning before so I didn't have to sit around for an hour, but lesson learned.  While I was waiting to get injected with the radioactive glucose, the tech and I were chatting about life.  When you get tests like this done regularly, you start to get to know the people at the hospital pretty well.  This guy was new to me--I'd only had him once before--so we were talking about family and how long he'd been working as a tech.

At some point in the conversation, he started talking about the statistics of how many people have actually been pregnant when they come in for their PET/CT scan.

Zero.

In his 12+ years of working as a radiology tech, he said he'd never had a result come back positive.  That's not exactly comforting.  I wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but it indicated to me there's a pretty strong correlation between people who get PET/CTs and not being pregnant.  Maybe it's because a majority of the people he sees are older, maybe it's because there's an unknown side effect of getting them regularly, or who knows what.... but I was kind of bummed when he told me that.

When the lab finally called, he went into the other room to hear the results and I was straining my ears to see if there was any surprise in his voice that might indicate I was pregnant.  Nope.  None at all.  By the time he hung up the phone I was settled in and ready to get injected, even though I was bummed.  He came back in the room and surprise, surprise: "Well ma'am, you're not going to be able to get your scan done today because we don't want to bake the baby!"

I'm sure I had a really big smile on my face but the only thing that absorbed at that point was that I wasn't going to be able to get my PET/CT.  Still, I walked out of the hospital grinning like a goon.  And I still smile now remembering the feeling.  I started to process it on the way home and screamed and cried a couple of times in the car on my way home.  Isaac was supposed to be at the hospital that morning, so when I pulled into our apartment complex and saw his car there, I was even more excited that I'd be able to tell him right away.

Now, my husband is a man of one face.  His expression rarely changes, regardless of the circumstance. I have no idea how that works, because everything I feel shows on my face.  I decided I'd try and play the "one-face" game when I told him to see if I could get a reaction out of him.  The conversation went something like this-

Isaac: "How did your scan go?"

Me: "I don't know."

Isaac: "Well, how do you think it went?" (You normally have to wait a few days to get results)

Me: "I don't know.  I didn't have one."

Isaac: "Why?"

Me: "We're pregnant."

Isaac: "What?"

AND HIS FACIAL EXPRESSION NEVER CHANGED!!!!!!  I tried, ladies and gentlemen.  I tried.  At first he thought I was joking, because I was doing a good job at hiding my own excitement.  Once he finally understood that I wasn't pranking him, he did crack a smile and laugh a bit.

Over the last couple of weeks, we've started doing things that I'm sure other parents-to-be do: talking about the baby, discussing names, figuring out insurance, finances, etc...  We've gotten a little attached to it and were envisioning a future with a child.

I say "were" because this morning I miscarried.

This week has been crazy, stress-wise.  My closest friend in Michigan, Pearl, has packed up and is moving to Texas today.  The cosmetic line that I manage started a gift with purchase on Wednesday (which I worked a 12-hour shift for).  And today we started a department-wide event that will run through today and tomorrow and will draw in hundreds of women and lots of chaos.

When I arrived at work this morning, I started to bleed a little bit.  I only noticed because I'm out of my "good" undergarments and I felt like I was getting an underwear line that was showing.  I went to adjust it, and while using the facilities, saw blood.  Bright red blood.  Pregnant women shouldn't bleed.

I called my husband because he always knows what to do, and after giving me an over-the-phone exam, he came and picked me up.  Off to the ER we went.  During our 3-hour stay there, I bled and bled and bled.  Chunks of blood.  I was given a foley catheter (a pinch uncomfortable getting it in, by the way) and they took me to ultrasound to take images of my uterus and ovaries.  After that, a few blood labs, and a pelvic exam, the doctor told Isaac and I that my pregnancy hormone had dropped significantly, indicating I was most likely no longer carrying.

So we were pregnant.

And now we're not.

I'm exhausted.  There's the unwritten rule that you don't share that you're pregnant until you're past the 12-week mark.  I was too excited, so I told quite a few people... probably half of the ladies I work with, some friends, and my three closest girlfriends.  After we left the hospital I sent out a mass text letting everyone know.

The rest of today has been filled with talking to my husband and my mom, naps, cramps, and getting lots of hugs and kisses from my husband.  He even took a nap with me, even though he wasn't tired--which is a HUGE thing.  I've gotten a ton of supportive texts and a couple of extremely sweet voicemails.

Thank you, to those of you who have given me encouragement.  It's still painful, but less.

We're going to keep "not preventing," but we'll see what happens.  The silver lining is that we know we CAN get pregnant.  Now to see if they'll ever stick...

Yuck

I feel like dealing with life after cancer has been WAY harder than dealing with life during cancer.  Sure, I pooped myself a few times, was constantly tired, made several trips to the ER, and felt like I was suicidal toward the end.  However, now that the drugs have worn off, I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that I was looking forward to things going "back to normal," when "normal" isn't what it used to be.

I hate going to church on Sunday because it reminds me that "normally" I would be spending time with my Iowa family and friends afterward.  I don't feel I'm very good at my sales job, because instead of doing something I love, I'm graded on how much stuff I can sell people.  I still have plenty of days where I feel I wouldn't mind if someone shot me or crashed into me and I died, but now I can't blame it on the drugs.  Now it's just me.

Once upon a time it felt like life was fairly simple and straightforward.  Now it's complex and confusing.

But... what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.  Right?

C'est La Vie.

Work, work, work.  That's what this past week has been.

The funnier part is that the amount of work I did wasn't even really that much.  I used to put in anywhere between a 40-60 hour week without thinking about it, but this week 30 was pushing my limits.

I know I'm going to get a lecture from my "cancer moms" telling me that I shouldn't try to push too hard, too fast.  But believe me, I've already picked up on that.  When I'm tired after working for only 7 or 8 hours, I have no other option than to believe it's a residual effect from the chemo and radiation.  'Cause normally, that'd be no problem.

Some women I've talked to told me it might take up to a year for me to get "back to normal." Whatever that may be.

For now, though, I find myself yawning at 8pm.  Granted, I rarely go to bed that early because there is still a part of me that feels like coping out that early is just wussy.  And I don't like to be a wuss.

The plan for today is to make it out to either Lakeside Mall or The Somerset Collection to hand out my cards and strike up deals with the pretty faces behind the counters so that I can get my name out there.

I was talking with one of the girls that I work with last night and asked if she wanted to go with to hand out cards at Somerset soon and I'm not sure I understood her response.  It seemed she was worried that we would be stepping on someone else's turf or that maybe we were inferior to the resident mall salon.  I was confused.  Actually, I still am.

Either way, I'm not worried about it.  If their work is better than mine, it will show and their clients will stay.  However, if it's not...  well, that's how the game goes.  I won't badmouth another stylist or salon to gain their clientele, but I'm not going to sit back and just hope people appear in my chair, either.  I'm going to get my hustle on and let people know that if they'd like, I'm here: talented, able, and willing. (And in a lot of cases, more budget friendly, too!)

The ubiquitous "they" say that if you gain about 50 clients in a year, probably expect to lose about 10-20% of them in that same year.  Some people just like to jump around, while others die, move, go off to college, etc...  Regardless, your client's lives are not static, so they won't be either.

Anyway, that's enough of that.

Isaac has been studying like a madman, making sure that he's ready for everything that his Cardiology class can throw at him.  He's definitely a little bit stressed, but I suppose a little fire under everyone's behind does some good.

I've been getting little love-notes from him recently, which I adore.  Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm working a little bit now.  Or maybe it's because I've been conscious for a couple of consecutive months instead of doped up on the chemo drugs.  Whatever the cause is, I'm a fan.

I've been enjoying my time at Nordstrom so far too.  It's a very interesting place.

Dad got home from Africa today!!  I haven't talked to him yet because I think everyone is together hanging out, talking about how the trip was over lunch and stuff, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to chat with him soon.

It's weird, not being home in Iowa for his homecoming.  I can picture in my head what's probably gone on and I can remember what the emotional atmosphere was last time he got home, but it stinks, not being able to be there and share it with them.

I've been having weird dreams, too.  Really weird, and REALLY vivid.  Almost every night.  Even weirder, Jessica and I both dreamt that I was pregnant a couple of nights ago.  Glory, I hope not.  I know, I know, His timing is perfect.  I have complete trust in that; I just would be extremely curious how it would work with our present life situation.

C'est la vie.

Sometimes It's Okay To Be A Creeper

Yesterday was crazy.  And by crazy, I mean intense.

The morning started off with me being so excited to job hunt.  I was optimistic about the possibilities, full of energy, and planning on making appearances at the stores since it seems that filling online applications out does close to zero good.

I called stores ahead of time to verify that they were hiring, did a few follow-up calls for some positions I'd previously applied for, and then took a shower, put my face on, and headed out the door to for some face time with prospective employers.  I applied at Teavana and Jimmy John's in person, and then both Lucy's Activewear and Bare Escentuals asked me to fill out the online applications and assured me they actually check them.

Regardless of how excited I was when I started, it didn't take too long for me to start feeling down-in-the-dumps.  I'm a 24 year-old intelligent college graduate who has years of supervisory work experience (not to mention some pretty good life experience) and here I am, running around competing with kids still in high school for jobs that pay slightly above minimum wage.

Welcome to Michigan, folks.

I've moved from the land of milk and honey to the dang desert.  I feel like surely manna has to start falling from the sky sometime... right?

To top it off, something, somewhere along the line triggered my homesickness.  Maybe it was running around town for a few hours and not seeing a single familiar face.  Maybe it was the song on the radio that Ike incessantly listens to.  Or maybe it was calling Jessica for a pep talk and realizing that no matter how hard I wished, she was still a ten-hour drive away from giving me a reassuring hug.

Either way, I started to cry on my way home from the mall.  And I was still crying when I got home.

I think Isaac thought there was something terribly wrong because I'm not sure that I've ever returned to the apartment from anywhere (except Iowa) in tears.  He was trying to figure it out and I told him it was my job search but thankfully he's insightful enough to know there was more to it than that.

He let me calm myself down a little bit while we talked.  Or rather, I cried and he sympathetically stared at me.  I finally thought I'd maybe beaten my tears when my phone rang.

It was my mom.  She apparently has awful timing.

So... off to bed I went, tears starting fresh again while Isaac graciously answered the phone for me.  He came in later to check on me, hugged me and snuggled me for a bit, and then left me to sleep it off.

Later on that night I was hanging out on Facebook being a creeper, like everyone on Facebook is, and all of the sudden, a chat box popped up on the lower right-hand side of my screen.  It was the homemade baby wipes girl.  Name: Lindsey Taber.

We had the opportunity to chat until I could barely hold my eyes open anymore and lots of cool things were revealed along the way.  Let me just brief you on it.

For starters, she is a fellow Iowan.  That in itself is huge.  I love Iowans.  Secondly, her husband is in the medical field.  He is doing his residency at Henry Ford Macomb, which is where Isaac will be doing his round starting June/July-ish this year.  Again, lovely.  Next, she loves God.  That is bigger than the other two combined, so far as pluses go.  And yes, it CAN get even better.  We started talking about church and guess what?  They go to the same one we do!  At the same time!!  And then I was creeping on her profile even more after we quit talking, and realized she went to TSPA too!

The random conversation I creeped on that instigated said random message.  I was originally creeping because her baby looked exactly like the daughter of the family I interviewed for on Saturday.

Gravy sakes!!  Can it even get any better?  I'm not sure that it can!

The entire time we were chatting I was sitting, staring at my computer completely enthralled.  I was beaming from ear to ear and probably looked like a fool and occasionally Isaac would look over and giggle at me because I was giggling for absolutely no reason, other than the fact that I was SO happy God sent another Christian female my way.  Or rather, He momentarily provided me with the balls to randomly message someone I had Facebook creeped on simply because they lived close and were from Iowa.  Regardless of how you want to look at it... I was giddy!

Around midnight I went to bed, completely emotionally wasted.  I felt like a tractor had dragged a field cultivator through my brain and my body was just as tired from our intense week at the gym so I knocked out pretty quick.  And I'm pretty sure I slept like a rock.

I am incredibly thankful that I have a Father above who so graciously looks out for me when I can't hold myself together any longer.  I was bursting last night because He lovingly provided me with another friend when I felt like a single paint drop in the chaos of an original Jackson Pollock.

My heart is smiling.