Lilia Write Now

I write, therefore I am

Bacon? Mmmm….bacon! April 30, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — llipps @ 8:53 pm

I don’t eat pork.

It is not because I am following a religious doctrine. I am not vegan or vegetarian.

I just don’t remember eating much swine as I was growing up and so when I got older I think I just decided I didn’t dig the pig.

My husband used to complain that the only kind of bacon we ever had in our house was turkey bacon.  Personally I never saw any issue with that.  It was delicious and (I erroneously thought) healthier for us than regular bacon.  BLT‘s with turkey bacon were one of my favorite go-to lunches on weekends.

Then one day, about 6 years ago, my husband and I were sitting in our family room eating some take-out sandwiches.  He got up to use the restroom and I decided to take a bite of his sandwich.  It was delicious.  I mean it was significantly better than my sandwich.  I proceeded to eat half of it.

My husband came out of the bathroom, looked at what remained of his sandwich, looked at me, and said “I thought you didn’t eat pork.  There was bacon in that sandwich.”

My response? “ShutUpILikeBacon. LeaveMeAlone!”

And now, I too subscribe to the addage that bacon makes everything better.

But I still don’t dig the pig.

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Brutally Honest Birthday Musings April 23, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — llipps @ 3:46 pm

A lot changes as we get older.  We have all heard the jokes about gravity taking over previously perky parts and making them decidedly downward-dog facing.  Of course, our hair grays, our sight worsens and our hearing is even more selective.  Those are the obvious changes.  The ones we know to expect.

The ones that hit a little harder are the more subtle ones.  The ones people don’t really tell you about.

For instance, by the time you hit 35, most people don’t really care that it is your birthday.  Friends will wish you a happy birthday, some may even get you a card, but most aren’t going out of their way to plan a big celebration on your behalf.  It’s not that they don’t care, it’s that they have their own lives.  And really, by the time we get to 35, those are pretty full, busy lives.

There are some girls I follow on Twitter who recently had birthdays. And they were posting night after night about all the fabulous birthday drinks and lunches and dinners that they were being taken out for.  And I felt/feel a tinge of jealousy. I want to be feted and celebrated for a whole birthday week.  But, I am not 20-something anymore like they are.  And truthfully, I would be exhausted after two nights of that.

This birthday is also hard for me because aside from being a “milestone” birthday, there is a certain fact that has always been wrapped up with this number in my head.

Todd and I started fertility treatments eight years ago. First we had to go through some education classes.  Repeatedly, the number 35 was drilled into our heads as the age that basically all your eggs shrivel up and die. Whenever I would fret that the treatments weren’t working, everyone would pacify me with thoughts of how young I still was and how far away 35 was.

It’s not so far away anymore.  It is tomorrow.

Last year’s birthday felt very different.  Last year, using our final 3 frozen embryos, I got pregnant.

I didn’t care a thing about my own birthday.  I don’t even remember what we did for it.  It didn’t matter because I finally had what I wanted most.  I was going to be a mommy. 

The weeks leading up to my birthday were all smiles and hushed hopes for the future.  We rubbed my belly, which certainly existed, but not because of the pregnancy, but we didn’t care. We read about what was happening with the development of our baby and my body, week by week.  We were so completely in love with our baby.

My birthday is April 24.  One April 27, the same day we had an ultrasound where we heard our baby’s heartbeat for the firt time, I had a miscarriage.

My 35th birthday is a tough one for me.

But, I also come to 35 with a lot of wisdom. And with a lot of appreciation for what I do have. I absolutely adore my family and friends who have hung in there with me.

And, I am truly blessed to have the best husband a girl could ask for.

So, yes, my eyesight may be getting worse and gravity may be moving in, but my brain is razor sharp, as is my wit.  If I hit you with a zinger, it’s my way of showing I care.

 

 
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