Risk Taking - Knievel Style

Originally written in March 2012 (progress has been made!)
 

I come from a blood line of risk takers ~ Evel Knievel was my grandpa's fourth cousin or something like that. In all honesty, I myself am not much of a risk taker. I am kind of one of those girls who likes to "hymmmmmm and haaaaahhhhh" (Mrs. Indescisive = ME) and leave the decisions to someone else. I definitely did not get the full dose of Knievel.
 

However, I do see the positives in taking risks. I read something the other day on twitter that really got me thinking about risk taking and the risks associated with NOT engaging in it. "Low risk takers often are the first to criticize." I don't want to admit this is true, but I fall into this category. I am often the invisible one without an opinion, not wanting to rock the boat or be disagreed with. But, I am also the one who after the fact will whine or snivel or complain that something isn’t the way I want or think it should be. This is a slightly embarrassing realization and makes me want to provoke change within myself and work on my passive aggressive behaviour.

 

In my Risk Tendency profile exercise, I scored in the moderately low: look, look, look before you leap category and felt that it was a pretty accurate assessment. I know there is merit in diversity of the levels of risk people take, but I hope to find a good balance between being gracious and stepping forward in situations I would normally sit back in.   Taking risks is not just for the upper ups, just like leadership itself; if I want to promote growth within myself and see my happiness level rise, then risk taking is where it is at.

Realizing this doesn’t make it any easier. Risk taking can be scary and unnerving, forcing people to live outside their comfort zones (me included). I am not 100% sure what holds me back sometimes. I am not necessarily scared of failure, as I am pretty good at picking myself up, dusting myself off, and learning from my mistakes. I am also very determined, hard working and up for a challenge. What is it that I am scared of then, when it comes to risk taking? How will I know if I never try? What have I really got to lose? How could my confidence build from the outcome of this situation? What are the consequences I am willing to take for sitting still?  All things to consider when venturing into risk taking territory (and working towards successful change for myself AND others).

 

Without reckless abandon, I am going to encourage myself to be a little more on the decisive side and step up into places unknown.  Take necessary risks, make myself a bit more vulnerable to enjoy this life of mine for all that it is worth, and get my career where I want it to be. Pull out 'the Knievel' a bit more (I know it’s in there, I just need to dig deep), and take a fearless approach to making my future all I dreamed of and more.

"You don't have to see the whole staircase, just the first step." - Martin Luther King Jr.

Two is Enough

When I was pregnant for the very first time, the thought of losing the baby never crossed my mind. I was excited for what was in store. Newlyweds, just bought a house, had a puppy - the next logical step was a bouncing bundle of joy - and we got him, more beautiful and rambunctious than we could have ever imagined. Such a wonderful, different, and amazing kind of love you feel as a parent.

So a year passes, I have to go back to work full time (not because I want to, but I have to - and for all those moms who truly know what this feels like you know it is pure hell) and we start talking about baby # 2. And we try and try and try and nothing - must have been trying too hard I guess.

Finally, we got the + on the stick, closing in on the Christmas after my son turned 2. It would've been great timing. He'd almost be three and we'd give him a little brother or sister. It was my favourite Christmas present that year. I was naïve, just thinking that this pregnancy would be exactly the same as the first one. I was sick as a dog (wasn't sick at all with my first pregnancy), I had some minor spotting, but didn’t think much of it. My doctor's office changed their policy and began doing early dating ultrasounds to get the most accurate due date possible. So, I was pleased I was going to get an early glimpse of my baby at 9-weeks.

On seriously the coldest day of the year in January (-35) I hopped in my car for my 8:30am appointment and headed up the street to the medical imaging centre. I told my husband not to come because he wouldn’t see much anyway this early on and he could join me at the 20-week appointment. Little did I know how stupid that was of me. My ignorance to the fact that something could not work out all "rosie" blows my mind when I look back on it. I could tell something was wrong right away - the ultrasound tech quickly switched from the external to internal exam and left the room twice to talk to the radiologist. The doctor came in to explain what had happen - there was definitely a baby in there, but it had stopped growing at about 8-weeks and there was no heartbeat. A miscarriage was going to happen, was just a question of when.

My heart instantly froze, broke maybe, and I doubt it was the weather. I was stunned and unsure of how to truly feel at that moment. I thanked them politely for their compassion, got dressed, and walked over to Second Cup next door with tears streaming down my face. I texted my sister and treated myself to a cup of coffee. Got back in my freezing cold car and sobbed until I couldn’t sob anymore. I didn’t want to go home and break my husband's heart too, but what else was I suppose to do? I needed a hug. I needed to breakdown.

We decided to get the D&C done, as we didn’t want to wait and be reminded of what wasn't meant to be. A gut wrenching feeling - watching my husband sit there before they wheeled me into surgery, trying so hard to be strong for me but I knew his big heart was broken too. I imagine most husbands that go through a miscarriage with their wives feel so helpless and broken, both by the loss itself and having to see his wife look and feel so hopeless, sad, and empty. Time healed the wounds; we hung on to faith that God would bring us through the pain and that he was purposeful in the situation. Both of us were ready to try again and thought this was just a one time experience that we could put behind us and never deal with again. An event we would grow, learn, and be stretched by.

It only took a few months from the "all clear" to get pregnant again, this time in May. I randomly bought the pregnancy test because I was a few days late (which often meant nothing in the whole trying process) and decided to just give it a go. WAHOOOO! I was excited, wrote dates on the calendar, told my little guy there was a baby in my belly, and even did a little nerdy happy dance. This pregnancy "felt" different from the first miscarriage and I never imagined it could happen again. But it did. I went in for an early dating ultrasound and the tech was stone cold silent, which I found super unnerving. He said things were very small and perhaps my dates were wrong - to come back next week to repeat the ultrasound and see where things were at. Ummmm, my dates weren't wrong, I knew it, and once again my heart sunk. At 9 weeks, they should have been able to see a baby and pick up a heart beat. I saw or heard of neither. Made an appointment to see my doctor the next day who said that she wanted me to think with the glass half full and hoped that my dates were out and I wasn’t as far along as I thought I was. She did tell me that they did pick up a heartbeat very briefly, but they couldn’t pick it up again. I had my HCG levels checked and they told me they were relatively high, which was a good sign and assisted me in getting through the week "glass half full" like my doctor had suggested.

The second time around the ultrasound tech was much more mothering/sympathetic. I told her I was nervous, having had a miscarriage in January and being really uneasy with my last ultrasound. It did not take long for her to say nothing had changed from last week, and knowing that an embryo changes so much week to week, especially in the early stages, I knew right then that I was headed down a road I had been down before I never wanted to be down again. She did NOT tell me I was going to have a miscarriage. She told me that they would try one more time in a week, and then they would be able to be to give more conclusive answers. Confused? Yah, I was too. HCG levels were checked again and had fallen drastically. The follow up lady from my doctor's office called me at work right before I was to head out camping with my family for the August long weekend to say "I understand you were told a miscarriage was imminent at your last ultrasound?" No, no I was not. I read between the lines yes, but no one hinted at that word. Wish they had. I think beating around the bush (which believe me, I am really good at) hurt even more. The confusion muttled everything and made the sting that much more painful. A few weeks of setting myself up with false hopes was beyond taxing on both my brain and my body. Another D&C, another explanation (or lack there of) to excited grandparents, another few rounds of tears that couldn't be fought off.

Now, I know I am not the only one who has gone through a miscarriage or two. I know people who have lost full term babies at or near birth, which completely mortifies me. My husband or I could be terminally ill, but we are not. We have stood strong in the face of our sadness and know that God see's what our family looks like and treasures it. He knows the desires of my heart, he knows what I can handle, and I am resting in his love. My doctors believes both miscarriages were unfortunate cases of bad luck and given my age and health are convinced we will go on to conceive and add another healthy child to our family in the not so distant future.

As we enter the stages of trying again again, I find myself eager and prepared for the very best. My son just turned three and is too smart for his own good. He needs a sibling to grow old with. Someone to challenge him. Someone to teach new things to. Someone to fight with him. Someone to play with. Someone to love. And this mommy could really use a new little someone in our family, someone less independent to snuggle and take care of. In due time…

Oreo

In my attempt to start trying to post more consistently, I wanted to write more of a formal introduction piece, but life (as it often does) got in the way. This past Friday afternoon we got a call from animal control, letting us know our sweet kitty Oreo (whom had only been part of our family since drifting in as a stray in November 2011) had been hit by a car down the street from our place. Unfortunately he did not make it, causing my heart great pain.

Losing a furry friend is never easy, this especially difficult being unexpected and sudden. Thus I am writing a small piece to my resting critter to gain a bit of closure, as well as to have something to reflect on in the future so as to share his memory with my son, and any other children of mine to come whom were not lucky enough to have met Oreo in person. Here goes nothing...

Dear Oreo

Thanks for being such a wonderful pet. You never failed to amuse, bewilder, or bring a bit of liveliness to our home. You were a sweet ball of spunk and chill all rolled up into one very cute little package. You may have wandered into our lives, but it was no accident. You fit perfectly into our craziness and it was meant to be. We know you felt loved and we know you loved us. We couldn't have asked for a better cat - we will always remember you, your sweet purr, and your quirky quirks.

A Few Reasons We Loved You

1. You were a sweetheart to our toddler. A good-natured dude, you put up with stuff no other cat would or should have. You took wild rides in the back of a plastic dump truck. You never clawed or scratched or bit, even when being carried by the throat by a 2-year old. Your patience was second to none.

2. You snuggled me through back to back miscarriages. You comforted me WAY more than you will ever know. Thank-you!

3. You were able to win over a dog-lovers' heart. Something I didn't think was possible, but you proved me wrong.

4. You brought us a ton of laughter - curious but not too destructive, just the way a perfect kitty should be.

5. You were chill. You taught us to take it easy sometimes, and just 'observe' the surroundings. Again - thank-you. We miss you lying around the house - it feels empty right now without you.

Top 10 Oreo Memories

1. Soup's On - When we first got Oreo, we set a bowl of soup in my son's highchair. I turned around to put my son in and there was Oreo, sitting in the highchair, ready to dig in, looking as sly as ever.

2. Flying Through the Window - Oreo was pretty good at meowing to coming in, but one morning I must not have heard him, and he wanted in something fierce. Next thing we knew, there was a crash in the kitchen. Oreo knocked down the screen, bent the curtain rod, knocked the curtain into the sink and found his way down to his food dish. Not sure how he found the strength to fly hard enough to knock the screen in, but it was sure funny. There were also a few similar occurrences with the bathroom window. His perseverance was commendable.

3. Chasing the Scarf (or the head phones or anything stringy) - This is a great memory because of the sheer joy it brought my son to play with his kitty. The giggles heard were some of the best. Oreo played the game willingly and I think he always won.

4. Sleeping ANYWHERE - Oreo could sleep anywhere. Wine racks, baskets, gym bags, Christmas bags, headboards, waffle boxes, dish racks, laundry baskets, the Christmas tree, empty pizza boxes, kid tunnels, salad bowls, sinks - you name it, he could make it look comfy. His special spot was smack centre of the couch, where he could look out the window and stretch out like a little pencil crayon. It was always interesting to see where he would hunker down next.

5. Hanging Out in the Yard - This kitty LOVED to be outside. He begged to be an outside cat, and we gave in. He hung around the back yard like a dog. Lounging in the shade, bouncing around and chasing spiders, peaking up at me as I watered flowers. He enjoyed sit in the playhouse and the Flintstone car. He even let us push him around in the stroller. Again, shows just how chill he was.

6. Laundry Pal - Yep...caught him hanging out in the washer and dryer more than once. Freaked me out one day putting stuff in the dryer and seeing his cute head poke out - I swear he smiled up at me.

7. Bathtub Buddy - Oreo loved the water. He'd stick his paw in and splash. He had no fear. He even stole a tub toy right out of my son's bath and ran away with it. Lucky we caught that moment on tape to watch...so funny. In the winter, when he would hear the tub running, he'd head to the bathroom and prepare for our nightly hang outs. He'd either stand guard at the foot of the tub, hop up and sit on the ledge (which he learnt wasn't a good idea) or have a nap in the sink. He also loved to sneak in when I was having a shower and lap the water. Crazy Kitty!

8. Trapped at the Neighbours - Our neighbours have a little sunroom addition off the side off their house. Often, they kept the door open. Well, one evening Oreo must have went on in, but then the door got shut without them knowing he was in there. The next morning I couldn't find the cat, so I send my husband out looking for him. I could hear him yelling "Oreo" "Oreo" - he looked over the fence and saw Oreo pawing at the glass door. Thank goodness the neighbours were good sports and that he didn't get into anything. What a turkey!

9. Wrestling with our Border Collie - Our dog Abby fell in love with Oreo instantly. She was pumped to finally have a playmate. It took Oreo a day or so to warm up to Abby, but once they understood they were both gentle and kind, they hit it off. They even looked similar in tuxedo black. These two loved to wrestle, and never managed to hurt one another despite the huge size difference and a set of claws that rarely came out. It was entertaining to watch them battle out of boredom on a super cold winters day, and ending it with their own their own twisted snuggle.

10. Mini Sticks Goalie - Anytime there was a mini stick hockey game going on, be it in our living room or back yard, it was a sure bet that Oreo would be hanging off the back of one of the nets. He loved being close to the action, and to the people he adored. He loved hockey, just like the rest of our family.

Rest easy my little Oreo. Your life, although short, was meaningful, wonderful, and will be forever treasured. Thanks for blessing our lives with your sweetness!

Love Always
xoxoxo

For those of you with pets, give them an extra snuggle today!

Bye Max

Life is so precious. Why is it that it takes something horrible for everyone to stop and start thinking about it? Its true, everyone does it - gets caught up in their little bubbles of life and forgets to just cherish each moment for what's it worth and take the time to really love and appreciate those around them. I am guilty, we all are guilty at some point or another in our lives.

I cannot comprehend how things can happen so quick and life can change in the blink of an eye. Its cliché, but its so beyond the truth. I lost a co-worker this week. A young healthy Dad of two young children. Not in an accident, not sick, just sudden and shocking. It just doesn’t make sense to me. My heartbreaks for his family. I know what they are going through. I lost my Dad when I was 4. My mom was pregnant with my little sister. The only thing I remember from the funeral was getting a pink dolly (which I still have). I know that my life was forever changed the day he died - that I would be a different person because of his passing. But this is not about me - its about a wonderful person whom we lost far to soon. Its hard when there is no logic, no rhyme or reason why horrible things happen to happy loving families. Why a perfectly wonderful Daddy is taken away from his kids. She will never get to have her Dad walk her down the aisle when she gets married. He will never get to go on that father/son fishing trip after he graduates from high school. His wife will never get to grow old with the love of her life. It feels like robbery. Who robs children? Ugh, I am just so disheartened.

If you're reading this, take time to love those around you a little harder each and every day. Don't take things for granted and keep the important things life has to offer in focus.

Fuzzy Pickle

Well, here goes nothing. My very first blog, my very first post. I thought far too long and hard about what my "theme" should be. I have a tendency to over-think/over analyze/want perfection (although trust me, I am far from perfect) so of course my brainstorming ended up in a tangled mess of thoughts, hence naming this post the Fuzzy Pickle, as it is not fully mapped out in terms of content…yet.

I am starting my blogging adventure on a recommendation from a really good friend whom I admire and is currently on her own personal journey to find true happiness. I thought if I could journal a bit and look back on the things I have written, then perhaps I could learn and grow from it. (I have been out of school for almost a decade, so hopefully my writing skills (or creativity for that matter) haven’t completely died off). A lot of times I have some awesome thoughts in my head but they kind of stay in there and don’t morph like I would like them to. I am one of those people who does not like to take her own advice, but change is brewing folks. I am going to start putting my words in to action.

I just started reading a book by Debbie Ford titled "The Best Year of Your Life" and the introduction hit me like a ton of bricks. I am that person who is sitting here waiting for her happily ever after to just fall into her lap. I am that person who will start that project not today, but tomorrow. I am the person who is grateful for what she has, but always seems to want more. It is time for a change! Its time to accept my life for what it is and be active in the right here and right now, because I have a heck of a lot to enjoy and don’t want to miss out on any of it.

"Our open and loving nature has been replaced by a guarded and defended heart". As adults, I think we do become very guarded in our words and actions in every day life. I think it’s like a defence mechanism that we acquire from being hurt and not wanting to be hurt again. Toddlers help to put life into perspective…watching my two year old son play outside and be so intrigued by a teeny tiny bug melts my heart. His innocence and genuine happiness for small things is remarkably amazing. I want to start being intrigued by bugs again (but not literally…I hate bugs and always have!)

What am I? Well, I am a wife, mother, daughter, sister, auntie and friend, atleast that is what my twitter profile says. I would like to think I do a pretty good job at fulfilling each of those roles. I love my family. People who are close to me would say I complain an awful lot about not being able to be a stay at home mom when I want to so bad. My goal after baby # 2 (which has yet to be conceived btw) is to atleast upgrade to part time.

Anyway I feel this post is now fuzzin out…heading camping for the weekend with my boys ~ it will be a blast. Gonna soak up the sunshine and enjoy life for all it is worth!