All my life I have been battling some inner demons. Everybody does, so this is certainly not a newsflash of any sort, but just lately they have really been rearing their ugly heads.
As a child, I was terribly shy. This made it extremely difficult to make friends. As a teenager, I was still a shy girl, but I also wasn't a part of the popular crowd in high school. I never had the best of everything like the rest of the kids did and I wasn't pretty like most of them, either. You would think this was bad enough, but there were some kids who made sure I knew this and would call me names and pick on me. I never felt good enough.
I got married and soon learned that I wasn't the most important thing in my husband's life. His parents were always number one with him. I could never do anything like his mother and he made sure I knew it. Again, I never felt good enough.
After my divorce, I moved away from my family and my life I had while married. I have a wonderful job, my kids are growing up to be fantastic young men, and I am dating a great guy. Things are better for me for the most part, but because of things from my childhood, I still lack the self confidence I need to completely move forward and do the things I want to do.
I constantly feel like I am not good enough. Most of the time I feel like I could be a better parent, I always feel like I let my boyfriend down with everything that I do, and the list goes on. I wish I could be at peace with my imperfections but so far that hasn't happened. Maybe one day.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
I will never forget
It was May. It was the day my contractions began. It was the day that changed my life forever.
I remember this day as though it happened yesterday, and probably always will. It was a typically mild day in May. The sun was shining. It wasn't too hot. It wasn't too chilly. It was perfect. Well, almost. I was pregnant with my fourth child who wasn't due until the end of August. I felt ill for a large portion of the day. I had a few contractions here and there, but after three previous pregnancies, I knew about Braxton-Hicks contractions and didn't think there was any need to be concerned.
As the day progressed, I started feeling worse. I felt intensely nauseated, my head started hurting, and I was still having irregular contractions. I was miserable. At about ten o'clock PM it became almost unbearable, and my contractions were much closer together and getting stronger. By this time I knew something was terribly wrong. I think I would've figured this out much earlier in the day if it hadn't been for the fact that I wasn't due to give birth until the end of August. This was May 2oth.
Once I finally decided that it was time to go to the hospital, I informed my husband and he made arrangements with the neighbor across the street to watch the kids. We headed to the nearest town with a hospital. The thoughts in my head were complete chaos. Why didn't I recognise the signs of labor sooner? Would this baby be okay being born three months early? Would I be okay? Not only was my body in excruciating pain by this time, but my heart was filled with worry as well. Something told me this was not going to end well.
We arrived at the hospital and I gave birth to a baby boy shortly after midnight on May 21, 2001. I heard no sound coming from him, and the look of concern on the faces of the doctors and nurses was absolutely horrifying. I knew what they were going to tell me before they told me. My baby had somehow contracted an infection while inside of me and was not going to live through the day.
They took me to my room and brought the baby to me shortly after. He was alive at the time, and as I held him in my arms I cherished every second of it. He was extremely little, just over two pounds, and I could feel him breathing softly. I knew that my time with him was limited, and I gazed at him, taking in every detail of his beautiful little face. I even unwrapped him from the blanket he was in and looked at the rest of him, trying desperately to keep the sight of him forever etched in my memory. I looked at his feet, his stomach, his arms, then I wrapped him back up and held him close once again. I believe he died in my arms because I can still remember the feel of his cold skin as they took his lifeless body out of my arms and out of the room.
I was left in the cold, dimly lit hospital room, alone, scared, and with a gigantic feeling of emptiness inside of me. I cried myself to sleep that night knowing I would never see my baby again. That was truly the most difficult experience I have ever dealt with.
But, nine years later, I continue thinking about my little boy on a daily basis. I imagine what he would be like, and I can still feel him in my arms on that early, frigid May morning. And I am thankful for his four brothers who are turning into wonderful young men. It is comforting knowing their brother is watching over them in heaven.
I remember this day as though it happened yesterday, and probably always will. It was a typically mild day in May. The sun was shining. It wasn't too hot. It wasn't too chilly. It was perfect. Well, almost. I was pregnant with my fourth child who wasn't due until the end of August. I felt ill for a large portion of the day. I had a few contractions here and there, but after three previous pregnancies, I knew about Braxton-Hicks contractions and didn't think there was any need to be concerned.
As the day progressed, I started feeling worse. I felt intensely nauseated, my head started hurting, and I was still having irregular contractions. I was miserable. At about ten o'clock PM it became almost unbearable, and my contractions were much closer together and getting stronger. By this time I knew something was terribly wrong. I think I would've figured this out much earlier in the day if it hadn't been for the fact that I wasn't due to give birth until the end of August. This was May 2oth.
Once I finally decided that it was time to go to the hospital, I informed my husband and he made arrangements with the neighbor across the street to watch the kids. We headed to the nearest town with a hospital. The thoughts in my head were complete chaos. Why didn't I recognise the signs of labor sooner? Would this baby be okay being born three months early? Would I be okay? Not only was my body in excruciating pain by this time, but my heart was filled with worry as well. Something told me this was not going to end well.
We arrived at the hospital and I gave birth to a baby boy shortly after midnight on May 21, 2001. I heard no sound coming from him, and the look of concern on the faces of the doctors and nurses was absolutely horrifying. I knew what they were going to tell me before they told me. My baby had somehow contracted an infection while inside of me and was not going to live through the day.
They took me to my room and brought the baby to me shortly after. He was alive at the time, and as I held him in my arms I cherished every second of it. He was extremely little, just over two pounds, and I could feel him breathing softly. I knew that my time with him was limited, and I gazed at him, taking in every detail of his beautiful little face. I even unwrapped him from the blanket he was in and looked at the rest of him, trying desperately to keep the sight of him forever etched in my memory. I looked at his feet, his stomach, his arms, then I wrapped him back up and held him close once again. I believe he died in my arms because I can still remember the feel of his cold skin as they took his lifeless body out of my arms and out of the room.
I was left in the cold, dimly lit hospital room, alone, scared, and with a gigantic feeling of emptiness inside of me. I cried myself to sleep that night knowing I would never see my baby again. That was truly the most difficult experience I have ever dealt with.
But, nine years later, I continue thinking about my little boy on a daily basis. I imagine what he would be like, and I can still feel him in my arms on that early, frigid May morning. And I am thankful for his four brothers who are turning into wonderful young men. It is comforting knowing their brother is watching over them in heaven.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Dreams
Remember, as a child, being asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Remember having at least one occupation that you were very passionate about? I do. I actually had two.
One of them was to be a flight attendant, which is something I am still interested in to this day. I have always been fascinated by the idea of travelling to every country imaginable and better yet being paid to do something I enjoy.
But my other one is something I have dreamed of doing since I was very young, and that is to be a published author. I have been an avid reader since kindergarten or whenever I learned to read, although I think it was sooner than that (I would have to verify this with my mom). My favorite subjects in school were English, Spelling, Phonics, you name it.
I remember my family owning one of those ancient typewriters. We never used it for anything, and I am not even sure why we owned it. But I would lug that humungous thing out to the kitchen table along with a beverage and a favorite book of mine, which at the time was either Judy Blume or Beverly Cleary. I would turn to page 1 and type, word for word, as much as I felt like doing. It made me feel like a real author, and it was a terrific feeling!
And over the years I worked on a few story ideas but never finished any until about 3 years ago. I had been itching to write more than ever, and I decided then and there that I was going to take the time to finish my book I had started writing. And I did. I now have an entire book that I wrote saved on a disc and all I have to do with it is proofread it and send it in to see what happens.
I have yet to do it, but maybe one of these days I will end my procrastination streak, develop some self-discipline and contact a publisher. It scares me since one of my biggest fears is rejection, but I know one day I will actually find the courage to face that fear. And when I do, I will let everyone know that my book is available on the shelves of Walmart!
One of them was to be a flight attendant, which is something I am still interested in to this day. I have always been fascinated by the idea of travelling to every country imaginable and better yet being paid to do something I enjoy.
But my other one is something I have dreamed of doing since I was very young, and that is to be a published author. I have been an avid reader since kindergarten or whenever I learned to read, although I think it was sooner than that (I would have to verify this with my mom). My favorite subjects in school were English, Spelling, Phonics, you name it.
I remember my family owning one of those ancient typewriters. We never used it for anything, and I am not even sure why we owned it. But I would lug that humungous thing out to the kitchen table along with a beverage and a favorite book of mine, which at the time was either Judy Blume or Beverly Cleary. I would turn to page 1 and type, word for word, as much as I felt like doing. It made me feel like a real author, and it was a terrific feeling!
And over the years I worked on a few story ideas but never finished any until about 3 years ago. I had been itching to write more than ever, and I decided then and there that I was going to take the time to finish my book I had started writing. And I did. I now have an entire book that I wrote saved on a disc and all I have to do with it is proofread it and send it in to see what happens.
I have yet to do it, but maybe one of these days I will end my procrastination streak, develop some self-discipline and contact a publisher. It scares me since one of my biggest fears is rejection, but I know one day I will actually find the courage to face that fear. And when I do, I will let everyone know that my book is available on the shelves of Walmart!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
About me
Hello! I'm Julie. This is my first post, so I thought it would be a good idea to introduce myself. I am 35 years old and divorced with four of the coolest sons a mother could want! Donovan will be 17 in April. That is no typo, I did say 17. Damien is 14, Austin is 10, and Logan is 7. My boys are my life. Each of them has their own unique personalities.
I became divorced in January of 2008 and immediately moved to Rapid City, SD. It is an absolutely terrific place to live, although before I moved here I was unsure if I would like it or not. I mean, up to that point I had lived in small towns with no stoplights. Rapid City, in my eyes, was HUGE! But I got used to it, and now I really like it here and will probably never leave.
I began dating an amazing guy about the time I moved here. His name is Dave, he is divorced and has a 10 year old daughter named Abby. Although we have had our ups and downs (what couple hasn't?), for the most part things have been going well for us. I think we make a great couple. I mean, he is incredibly awesome and I am incredibly awesome and, well, that is a mountain of awesomeness. Please don't be jealous.
Before I go any further, I want to mention that I am a very sarcastic person and make jokes on a daily basis about how awesome and perfect I am. I am not full of myself, I just do that for the sake of amusing myself.
For the past nine months, I have been working at our regional airport at National/Alamo car rental company. I really love my job.
I am an avid reader, I read anything, and I do mean anything. I literally have thousands of books, and probably close to that amount of magazines.
I am probably one of the biggest "Survivor" fans you will ever come across. I love the show, the contestants, and anything having to do with it. Quite a few of my blogs will be about the show.
More blogging to come another time!
I became divorced in January of 2008 and immediately moved to Rapid City, SD. It is an absolutely terrific place to live, although before I moved here I was unsure if I would like it or not. I mean, up to that point I had lived in small towns with no stoplights. Rapid City, in my eyes, was HUGE! But I got used to it, and now I really like it here and will probably never leave.
I began dating an amazing guy about the time I moved here. His name is Dave, he is divorced and has a 10 year old daughter named Abby. Although we have had our ups and downs (what couple hasn't?), for the most part things have been going well for us. I think we make a great couple. I mean, he is incredibly awesome and I am incredibly awesome and, well, that is a mountain of awesomeness. Please don't be jealous.
Before I go any further, I want to mention that I am a very sarcastic person and make jokes on a daily basis about how awesome and perfect I am. I am not full of myself, I just do that for the sake of amusing myself.
For the past nine months, I have been working at our regional airport at National/Alamo car rental company. I really love my job.
I am an avid reader, I read anything, and I do mean anything. I literally have thousands of books, and probably close to that amount of magazines.
I am probably one of the biggest "Survivor" fans you will ever come across. I love the show, the contestants, and anything having to do with it. Quite a few of my blogs will be about the show.
More blogging to come another time!
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