When you look out your window and this is what you see, how can you help but smile? There’s something about the snow that affects me in ways sunshine can’t. It makes me feel safe, protected… maybe it’s because when there is 4 inches of snow on the ground people stay inside. Most don’t even attempt to leave the house and just choose the comfort and warmth of their homes. This is a good day.

Today is better. Today it doesn’t feel like something is exploding inside my uterus. I’m able to go at least an hour without an emotional meltdown and I’m finally starting to see positively. I wake up every morning to my wonderful husband, to my 2 little kittens who continuously make me laugh and smile… there’s 4 inches of beautiful snow on the ground and covering the trees… I’ve realized how many friends I really have and how amazing they are. I can’t see it all right now, but I KNOW there has to be something good that’s going to come out of this. I have to believe that because if I don’t, I couldn’t go on.

I don’t sleep well at night, I wake up with nightmares of the card they gave me saying that they gave me the Rogam shot upon “termination of pregnancy”. Termination of Pregnancy. I see it over and over in my head. The phrase makes me cringe, makes me shudder, makes my heart stop beating for a moment. I terminated my own child. The doctors said it’s not an abortion. My baby didn’t have a heart beat. It was just a lump of cells. But it was still my baby. I talked to it the day before I went in the hospital. Is that crazy? I couldn’t let it go without saying goodbye. I told it I would always love it, that I would see it again someday and I wanted it to know that I loved it more than I could express. I feel insane just saying this. But it was my baby. I couldn’t just let it go without telling it I loved it.

Okay, enough emotional spillage for today.

The past 4 days have been the biggest roller coaster of my life. Saturday night I took a pregnancy test and for the first time in 11 months, it was positive. I screamed, I cried, I laughed, I hugged my husband, I told my family… rejoicing and celebration completely devoured the entire weekend. I began dreaming of the nursery and the furniture I’d put in it, the paintings I’d create for it, the books I’d read to my sweet little baby from my rocking chair as it slept in it’s crib so peacefully…

Then I woke up Monday and felt a little weird. I ignored it, assuming it was morning sickness. After all, I’ve never actually done any of this before. I pulled myself together and went to work excited to share with the people who had been through the past eleven months of hell by my side that finally, all my efforts were paying off. The day started off fairly well and I was on my way out the door to lunch when I started bleeding. I panicked, of course. The doctor said to come in the next day for an ultrasound and we’d go from there. After lunch the pain set in. By 2pm I could barely walk from my desk to the bathroom. My boss sent me home. The pain just continued to get worse and worse. Husband had to work late so mom, dad and Lindi came over to keep me company and make sure I was okay. I laid on the couch for 9 hours writhing in pain, crying, sobbing, wishing I would just pass out. Finally around 11pm the edge came off the pain and I was able to fall asleep.

Morning came (this morning) and I felt good. The bleeding stopped, the pain was gone, but something still wasn’t right. On my left side was a dull throbbing that seemed dangerous considering I am pregnant. We went to the doctor’s and had the ultrasound. After 15 minutes of digging around with the internal scanner, the tech was ready to stop when all of a sudden a little black spot appeared next to my left ovary. After about 5 minutes of silence and lots of different angles and measuring we heard what no newly pregnant couple wants to hear, “ah, now that’s a concern.” Another five minutes pass and she shuts off the machine and explains that I have an ectopic pregnancy. This has been my worst nightmare since we started trying to get pregnant.. being forced to decide between your baby’s life and your own… As soon as she said the word “ectopic” the tears began pouring out of my eyes.

My doctor came in and said that the only option is to terminate. We were sent directly to the emergency room. My baby was six weeks old with no heartbeat… By this time it should have had a heartbeat. The doctor was very adamant in telling me that this is not an abortion. This was just a group of cells stuck inside my fallopian tube. It was basically a cancer. So this is how it was going to be treated. I was given a shot of chemo which will dissolve the un-developing fetus.

I’ve never cried so much in my life. I’ve never felt so guilty, so ashamed.

And to make matters worse, I found out that I am RH- which means that if my baby (any baby I ever conceive) has positive blood, MY blood will try to kill it. I now have to take injections for every pregnancy I have to make sure that I don’t kill my own baby.

On the bright side.. the pain I was experiencing yesterday was that of my cysts in my ovaries popping. So no more cysts. What an awful chain of events.

Needless to say, it’s been an awful 4 days and now.. I’m going to lay on my couch in my sweats, watch American Idol and forget that any of this ever happened. (yeah right)

I want to talk about mean people today.  Not very often do I think of someone, “Wow, they are so mean”.  Today has been an exception, though.  One person in particular for the past year has consistently rubbed me the wrong way.  Despite my numerous attempts to “kill them with kindness”, this person continues to belittle, humiliate and lash out on me.  I’ve had it.  How do you handle someone like that?  The nicer you are to them, the more they feel they can walk all over you.  It doesn’t make sense and it’s driving me crazy.  I have never met anyone so purely, originally, mean.  Up to this point, I think that they believe that I am their friend (or nice to them) because I look at them as a desirable object, like when you’re a teenage girl that it’s unpopular trying to suck up to the popular cheer leaders in school.  This is SO not the case for me.  I am nice to them because I have to be and no other reason than that.  Now, though, I’m realizing that being nice is not helping things here.  Being nice is causing them to be even more mean to me and humiliating me in front of other people.  I guess there’s a time when even the nice guy needs to stand up for themselves even if it means being mean.  So this is what I’m going to try to do.  Sarcasm will be responded to with a blank stare and silence.  Raised voices will be returned only by my silence in walking away.  I will not apologize anymore.  I will not smile anymore.  I will not go the extra mile. 

Perhaps this person feels inferior to me and as a result attempts to belittle me in an effort to make themselves seem more important?  That’s everyone’s typical response to a situation like this.  However, I don’t think that’s the case.  I think this person is just mean.  Mean to the bone.  It seems to seep out of every part of them.  Even the way they walk is mean.   

It kills me to be like this.  I don’t like treating people the way they treat me, but I’ve exhausted all other options.  I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but after an entire year of this behavior, I’d have to say that this isn’t just them having a “bad day”.  It’s like when you go to a restaurant and your server is especially inattentive to your table.  Most assume they’re just bad servers, but I always think, “Perhaps their last table was mean to them” or “Maybe she has cramps..” and in that case I’ll tip even more in the hopes that I cheer them up and send them to their next table with a better attitude.  This isn’t like that, though.  This person is relatively happy all the time.  Happy and Mean.  What a great combination!   

I hate that this person has brought me to this, but after consulting several other people who’s opinions I respect, it’s agreed that this is my last resort.  I won’t sink to their level.  I won’t degrade them or make things personal.  I will simply be unresponsive to them.  I simply will not let them speak to me that way anymore.   

And I’ll start looking for a new job.  haha  Yes, that’s my last resort.. run away with my hands up in the air.Any advice that any of you unbiased, third parties may have to offer will be greatly appreciated!!!

And now for something that actually  makes me smile…

This is Oreo, my mother-in-law’s cat, and Skilo.  How can I not smile when I see these two cuddling?

Have you ever seen something that somebody else has accomplished and thought to yourself, “Why couldn’t that have been me?”  Have you wondered if it’s your decisions that led you to where you are now or just the simple fact that you’re not meant to do something great?  Or do you think simply that it just isn’t your time yet?  I’ve been feeling this way lately.  Mostly, I ask myself if I’m just not meant to accomplish this thing or if I’M the reason it’s not being accomplished and if I simply get over myself, it’s going to happen.    The catch is that where I am is exactly where I want to be, there’s just a few extras I want thrown in.  I’m working on it.  I think that only my determination will help me obtain what I’m after, so that’s what I’m investing.  Blood, sweat and tears.  I’m 27… I’m still young.  Some people aren’t even this close to their dreams when they’re 40, so I’d say I’m doing pretty good.  I just look at the people that are 10 years younger than me with WAY more success than me and I guess, simply put, I get jealous.  I have the talent, but I think it’s the drive that separated me from them.  That’s all changing now.  I’ve had some pushing from family and friends and I finally feel like this is the time to move forward.   The past how-many-years have been so crazy.  There’s been a lot of self-seeking going on, healing, wandering… but I’ve finally found where I’m supposed to stay.  I’ve found the self I lost 10 years ago and when I say that I’ve digressed, it’s true, and it’s good.  Now that I know who I am, I can grow. 

So watch out world.. here I come…

This sweet little old man sells me my cotton candy at every Pittsburgh sports event I attend.  For some reason, I just love this picture.  And everytime I heard him walking up and down the stairs shouting “Cottn Cand HERE!”  (That’s how he pronounces it..) it makes me smile.  So I guess even the smallest of responsibilities lends to somebody’s happiness.  And that’s all that matters, right?

- C.S. Lewis

It seems like each day gets a little harder for us. One would expect that accepting the truth would get easier with each passing day. For me, now, though, it seems that each passing day only serves to remind me that I have one less day to try for what I want.

However, in the midst of all of this darkness that has so quickly seemed to drench my life, the rays of light piercing through it get brighter and brighter.

Yesterday was yet another hard day. I began taking Progesterone last Friday and needless to say, it’s felt like I’ve had raging PMS every second of every day since I took the first pill. Work left me feeling like I wanted every other human in existence to by cryogenically frozen until this week passed so they wouldn’t irritate me anymore.

So, I get home from work and on the doorstep is a little package. As soon as I looked at the sender on the box, I burst into tears. I hadn’t even unlocked the door yet.

Alice, the most wonderful, sweetest, most compassionate, never-met friend I’ve ever had, sent me the greatest little box of goodies. After I opened it, I called my mom, still crying, and she started crying, too. Thank you, Alice, for making me smile when smiles are few and far between lately. ((Be expecting a little something in return soon))

This adorable little asparagus notepad… I love it! It will be perfect to keep in my purse and keep tabs on my to-do’s…

A happy little keychain that will make me smile every time I see it…

Some sweet and comforting soap from Dustpan Alley…

And now for my most favorite treasure of all… a crocheted handbag sweetly created by Alice herself…

I’ve admired her handbags for quite some time now and finally, I have one all to myself.

Thanks again, Alice. I promise, that I will do the same for someone else someday.. and soon. Kindness and compassion surely are contagious.

-Bo Derek

Last night I forced myself through a session of retail-therapy.  This is a common remedy in my family for any emotional / physical ailment that might befall us.  After an extremely successful trip to Ross Park Mall, I logged onto forever21.com to order the items that I sadly couldn’t find in the store.

First and foremost, The Emily Pump: (and of course, as I go to add the link, there are no more in the on-line store.  So sorry, but I got the last pair!)

I initially saw these over at Creature Comforts and it was love at first sight.  Lucky me, they only had one size left and it was mine! 

*Update:  The shoes arrived and to my dismay, the heel is about an inch higher than I can manage to walk in.  They’re getting returned this weekend.  Drats.

The other thing I ordered was this adorable H81 Gingham Drawstring Hem Top

I have an ungodly obsession with plaids and flannels for the fall this year.  This is my first purchase of the two and it might just be my last.  I’m not entirely convinced that I can actually pull off the grunge-chic look that I’ve envisioned in my head. 

On top of all this I purchased a good amount of stuff at the mall that I will have to model for you because the images on the website just don’t do them justice… not that pictures of ME wearing them will be any better.

My favorite purchase of the evening were my boots from Aldo’s.  Which, of course, I’m going to have to model because their website seems to be very uncooperative at the moment. 

Shopping definitely makes me smile.  New shoes especially make me smile, but still in the back of my mind is that nagging reminder of everything that’s going on and when the high of finding my soul-mate in the form of a leather strappy flat boot fades, I realize I need another pair of boots.  Just kidding.  Honestly, though, it’s still hard.  I’m anxious for this trying time of my life to be over with and I know that’s horrible.  One should never wish away their life.  So for the moment, until this passes, I drown my sorrow in guilty pleasures such as boots, tunics, turquoise skinny pants, tv shows and most of all, art.  It’s most certainly wonderful to have this little sheltered world here to release all of my anguish in and know that it’s falling on sensitive ears (or eyes since you are reading) with warm hearts.  It really is amazing to find out that you have friends you’ve never met that can share in your pain and your joy. 

Anyway, thank you, all of you, for being there.  It means so much to me.

-Eleanor Roosevelt

Illustration by Me.

Those of you who are close to me already know what’s going on in my life.  The past few months have been difficult.  I’m finally getting answers and now, I want to write everything down.  Release my frustration, my sadness, and the hope that I’m still holding onto. 

My husband, Tom, and I have been trying to conceive since we were married on February 16, 2008.  The first few months of failed attempts were to be expected.  “It takes at least a year for most to conceive the first time,” everyone kept telling us.  ‘Okay,’ I’d tell myself and the next month, when my cycle came, another little piece of me, of my hope was chipped away. 

Finally, in June, my cycle was 3 weeks late.  The home tests were negative, but that was neither here nor there because my mother had to take 3 blood tests before she showed positive of being pregnant with me.  I scheduled a Dr. appt, had more tests done… all negative.  We were told to wait two more weeks, then take another test.  Two days before the two weeks were up my cycle came. 

The part of my hope that came off that month was bigger than before.  I cried for days.  I wondered every night while I tried to fall asleep what was wrong with me.  Everyone told me, “You’re just psyching yourself out, Don’t think about it so much, Stop worrying”… over and over until I wanted to slap everyone that even mentioned my lack of pregnancy having to do with my mental state. 

After that cycle, the day for my next one to come came and went… no period.  I waited 4 weeks this time, still no period.  Two months had passed since my last period when I began to bleed.  It’s been a month and the bleeding continues.  I had enough last week.  I knew something was wrong and it wasn’t in my head.  I requested a sonogram and blood tests from the Dr. with hopes of figuring out what was going on.  A week past and no one called with my test results, so I called them myself.  I got the response that no person really ever wants to hear when asking for test results, “You’ll need to come and speak with Dr. Labella.  She will review your test results with you.  Do you know what PCOS is?”  “No.”  “The Dr. will go over it with you.”

I hung up the phone and began sobbing.  I knew it.  I knew there is something wrong with me and everyone just kept discounting my fears.  I immediately called my mom (I was driving home from work) and she googled PCOS.

My diagnosis is Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome.  Each of my ovaries are completely full of tiny cysts.  As a result, I can’t ovulate.  No wonder we’ve had all these failed attempts.  When I got home I sunk into this abyss of realization and self-pity.  I cried for hours.  I felt useless.  I felt as if my entire existence was without purpose.  If I can’t have children, what good is it being a woman?  I had been trying to come to terms with this idea for the past 7 months… just in case I found out I couldn’t have kids I wanted to make sure I would be okay with it.  I had convinced myself I would, until I heard it for real.  I wasn’t okay.  I want to have children more than anything in the world, to raise a family with my husband, the love of my life, and pass on all the things that my parents taught me. 

I went to see the Dr. 4 days later.  In those four days I really came to resent the med assistant for telling me what it was without any explaination.  Dr. Labella was very optimistic.  She gave me 2 options… to begin taking fertility drugs or to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist for further testing.  The drugs will stimulate ovulation.  Simple as that.  However, there is no cure for PCOS.  There are only treatments to manage it.  We’re still deciding on the best course of action, but I’m so glad to finally have an answer and to be able to move forward. 

So, on top of that, my father-in-law was in the hospital for 3 days last week, my husband had to be rushed to the Dr. with chest pains and difficulty breathing, and I had my wisdom teeth pulled.  It’s just overall been a really really awful few weeks.  I’m hoping that this week to come holds more joy.  It’s been hard to get out of bed and face the day ahead of me.  Tom is wonderful and has been beside me for every step of this.  And if none of this is successful, I will still have the most wonderful life with him, kids or no kids.  It’s just hard to hear that you aren’t perfect, ya know? 

- Andy Warhol

Photo:  by Me… Driftwood - Ohiopyle, PA.

I know I’m quoting Andy Warhol who happens to be one of the people on my least respected human list, but, not all things that come from any one person are negative.  As a result of personal things going on lately, I’ve been thinking alot about time… my time.  I’ve been considering the things I want to accomplish and why they aren’t happening for me.  I think that everyone experiences moments like this in their lifetime… everyone should, at least.  Everyone should come to a point in their life where they re-evaluate and re-direct themselves.  Well, I’m there.  Last night, as depressing as it was, I asked myself, “If I died next week, what things would I be sorry that I didn’t do?”  Then I got really sad from thinking all of that, picked up my sketchbook and doodled away with my new markers. 

It seems that drawing is an instant cure for all my emotional ailments.  Lately, I’ve had myself locked up in my studio with my sketchbook, pens and markers while watching the entire first (and only) season of Moonlight.  (I have an unhealthy obsession with vampires.) 

Speaking of change, though, I’ve decided to take this little blog of mine in a different direction.  There’s only one aspect of my life that I’ve been portraying here and it’s a completely unbalanced view of who I am.  Art is a huge part of me, but not everything.  Fashion is another love of mine.  Decorating, too.  But, I also love the outdoors… backpacking, snowboarding…  I love reading, I love the theater, I love cooking, and I love love love music.  Most of you probably don’t even know that I’ve been classicaly trained on the piano from the age of 7 or that I play the guitar and flute, too.  So, from this moment on, this blog isn’t just about my art.  It’s about me, all of me.  I’ll be doing some re-decorating here soon, as well, to more appropriately represent my style, my taste, my personality.  I’m going to start talking about everything that I love.

To start… I’ve gone a little Etsy crazy lately with ordering prints for my house.   Here are a few of the ones I have ordered so far:::

Waiting By The Sea - My Folk Lover

My Captain… We’ve Reached The End Of The World
Hidenseek

Both of these will be going in my bedroom.  For some reason I have a thing for girls with boats on their heads….!?  I honestly didn’t even realize I had done it until after I ordered them both.  Weird.

Anyway, off to work!  I hope everyone (in the States) had a wonderful holiday weekend.  I definitely did!

So says Tom Stoppard.  I think it’s only partially true.  I think that at times people have skill and choose to lay it at rest in order to have a more emotional reflection of themselves in their art.  Skill, to me, is like a stencil, a guideline at times.  There are alot of times when I’m glad I decided not to go to art school because my style wasn’t molded by those teaching me.  However, there are skills I wish I had learned from someone and that I am now looking for ways of learning it on my own. 

Anyway…. here’s an illustration I’m working on currently for myself.  Yep, that’s right.  FOR ME.  I’ll have prints made, but the original is staying put in my living room.  I really love drawing things just for no reason at all.  It’s very inspiring because I know I can make it whatever I want without worrying what someone else will think of it.  I feel those are the pieces that are the greatest… the ones without inhibition, the ones where desire crashes with imagination and creates something so uniquely defined by a person’s own perception.  This piece is the beginning of that for me.  Make of it what you wish…