The Courage behind “Congratulations”

Sometimes even good things hurt.

My husband always reminds me “perception is reality.”  This is something I’ve thought about a lot.  It helps me remember the world doesn’t revolve around me. And it encourages me to not assume I understand how other people feel, or why they do and say the things they do.  But it also helps me find peace in my anxiety, as I over-analyze and try to apply my own experiences to someone else’s.  In the end, our experiences are our own, only our own- even when shared.  They are perceived through our own lens- our own perspective.  And they become our truth. 

I don’t know if you’re aware- but we’re in standing in the middle of a very large, very pregnant, “Baby Wave”. 

A “Baby Wave” is what many people call a period of time when it seems like everyone and their mother, (forgive me…I couldn’t resist) is pregnant and/or having babies.  It’s remarkable really. And it’s beautiful.  This phenomenon (I believe it’s phenomenal anyway) has the potential to create an instant bond between women, as they symptom-swap and exchange battle stories of past pregnancies.  Then one by one, they give birth to their beautiful little ones, and the cycle resets.  Then all is calm, until the next wave.

“Don’t drink the water!” is a joke commonly heard during these wave-times, exchanged between individuals who are not looking to join the preggo-club for a variety of reasons.  It’s a happy time full of wonder, swollen bellies, and hope. 

But there are some women- who aren’t making jokes.  Who quietly smile on the sidelines through the “Oh my gosh! When are you due?!” conversations.  The women who would give anything to drink the water, no matter how bitter the taste.

It’s uncomfortable to acknowledge that there can be pain even in the most beautiful times.  Especially when that pain is selfish, and that pain is our own.

So, in the interest of being transparent, here is my perception/reality: 

(hold on folks- it’s going to be a long, bumpy ride!  Go ahead and take your phone with you if you need to take a potty break. I won’t judge.)

I was naïve, 21 years old, and about to begin completing my three required internships to become an elementary school teacher. (spoiler alert: I never actually ended up teaching elementary school.) My husband and I didn’t have a real “plan”- but we’d been married two years and deeply desired to start a family.  Summer seemed ideal timing for a having a baby within my teaching schedule.  And so our journey began!

“Aunt Flo” was late that very first month- and I took a test. It was negative.  I cried.  A lot.

The next day I came home to flowers brightening our, tiny, dingy (seriously disgusting… but cheap) apartment; and my husband telling me he would love me no matter what.  My period still hadn’t arrived, and he convinced me to take another test. I did so grudgingly- and left it on the bathroom counter to process while I laid on the couch in despair.  (I wish I could say I became less dramatic with age, but it would taste like a lie.)

The next thing I knew- my husband was whooping and hollering for joy as he came bounding out of the bathroom to come shower me in kisses.  It was positive! We were having a baby!  For the next nine months, I felt like I was glowing.  I felt set-apart. I have never known as much joy as I did in then.  There were a lot of tears, but far more smiles, and I walked on clouds.  I was so proud- and so excited.

Pregnant with our first baby!

Four days past our due-date in June, we delivered our oldest- (a boy!) via Cesarean Section at 9lbs 3oz.  I hadn’t progressed, 0cm dilated 0% effaced- without a single “real” contraction.  He was “sunny side up” (meaning his face was out toward the front of my belly instead of back toward my spine) and his head was lodged in my pelvis making progression unattainable. 

I didn’t handle the C-section well.  I was still only first-learning how to cope with the anxiety/depression cocktail that is my mental health, and had an anxiety attack on the operating table.  Technically, the surgery still went flawlessly, but emotionally, it sent me spiraling into a depressive state.  Because of my sensitivities, I struggled with the juxtaposition of pain and numbness that followed, and to hold my baby.  At times everything was dark, and I felt angry.  I was so tired.  I was in so much pain. And I just wanted it to end. 

Eventually I began to heal, and feel like my old self- but I was terrified to experience that feeling again. 

The pain faded, and my desire for a baby outweighed my fears.  When I was 23 (working as a Middle School Science teacher) my husband and I found ourselves planning for another baby!  We were aiming for May to maximize the amount of time I would be able to spend with the baby.  That first month I found myself in familiar circumstances.  My period was late, the test was negative.  I tried not to worry, because this had happened before, but the next day instead of flowers and a dance for joy like my first pregnancy- I broke into a new box of feminine products.  I wasn’t pregnant.

I braced myself for the storm.  There were tears- but I tried to put my circumstances into perspective. I realized it wasn’t realistic to expect a positive pregnancy test right away.  It was amazing that it happened the first time with my oldest, but I needed to practice patience. I knew better than to assume things would always go 100% according to plan. That particular lesson however was short-lived, as the following month found us reading two pink lines and expecting another June baby! 

Pregnant with baby number two!

My second pregnancy was a little more difficult than the first. I felt cautious.  I was happy- but I was also scared.  Over the last two years I had many friends who experienced miscarriages, birth defects, or other complications.  I felt convinced something was going to go wrong.  As the due-date came closer, I began to feel a little more calm, but still anxious about what was going to happen.  I walked and walked and walked, and two days before his official “due date”- I delivered our second little boy, 7lbs 4 oz, with a flawless VBAC delivery.  (Vaginal birth after cesarean.) 

It seemed my fears were unconfirmed, and I allowed myself to cling tightly to this new little life.

Two years later- I was feeling empowered after my positive VBAC experience. I had been feeling strongly about having another baby, and secretly hoping for a “surprise” pregnancy ever since my youngest self-weaned at 8 months.  I was just SO sure we had another little one ready to join our family, and I couldn’t wait to meet them.  So at the comfortable age of 25, my husband and I decided to aim for an April baby.  We joked that was how we would get another summer baby to compliment my teaching schedule. (Since it took 1 month with our first baby, 2 months with our second baby- it would probably take 3 months with our third baby, and we’d get all three of them in June!)

We played it cool, but after the third month irrational worry started to creep in.  I kept my fears to myself, because I knew with my anxiety I wasn’t being logical.  But as time passed- I started to internally panic, and it became harder to keep to myself.  I asked a few close friends and family members to pray for us, but still no baby.  I felt guilty for mourning each month.  I felt I didn't have a real right to complain after having it "easy" with my first two.  After 6 months we decided to take a break.  My niece had be diagnosed with Morquio (MPS IV-A), and my husband was going to have some genetic testing done before we continued trying to conceive.  We couldn't afford IVF, so I was terrified a positive result would mean postponing having another baby indefinitely.  Thankfully- his tests came back clear- so we resumed our baby-trying.  Everything always seemed to work out just right for us. Except, no baby.  I couldn't wrap my head around it.

I went to the doctor who ran some standard blood work, but assured me I was young, and because we had two successful pregnancies before “the plumbing worked”.  I offered an uncomfortable courtesy-laugh at his joke, but I didn’t feel like it was very funny.  He told me I shouldn’t be concerned.  It had been a year since we started “trying” for baby #3, but because we had taken a short break- I didn’t qualify for additional fertility tests, and he was confident I didn’t need them.  In fact, I was told that pursuing unnecessary tests could actually hurt my chances of conceiving so it was best to just keep trying and waiting.  “Next time I see you, you’ll be pregnant!” he told me.  I smiled hesitantly in my paper gown and waited for the room to clear so I could get dressed.

I was 26 by now.

And then I was 27.

I was struggling.

I watched the baby waves ebb and flow.  I told myself to relax.

Everyone told me to relax.

• “You have two beautiful boys, be grateful for them.”
• “It will happen as soon as you stop trying.”
• “You haven’t been trying that long- just be patient.”
• “It will happen when you least expect it.”
• “I had real infertility, you’re not infertile.”
• “You’re so young, don’t rush it.”
• “It took us X amount of time to get pregnant, everyone is different.”
• “Two is a good number.”
• “So many people have it much harder, they never have a baby at all.”
• “Are you really trying? If you haven’t done XY&Z for ___ amount of time you’re not infertile, you’re just not trying hard enough.”

Truth blurred with doubt and I was miserable.  I began to spiral.  I hated my job.  I pushed my husband away.  I felt like an awful and unworthy mother, like I was neglecting the blessings I had been given by wishing for something more.  There was nothing physically wrong, so it had to all be in my head- which meant it was all my fault.  I became angry with myself, frustrated at the cycle of worry I had both created & become trapped in.  I tried to remind myself that my children needed me.  I told myself I was being selfish.  I pushed myself to wake-up, get dressed, and do the things I was supposed to do.  I all-but invested in stock for home pregnancy tests, as month after month I peed on those stupid plastic sticks.  I'd forgive them quickly though, always convinced I was just testing too early, or that next month would be different.

I went to the baby showers.  I sat on the theoretical shore as a supportive, smiling face, for the passing baby waves- but I quietly hid the feeds of my pregnant Facebook friends.  Especially the ones who “Oh my gosh- we weren’t even trying!” 

It wasn’t their fault.  After all- I’d been there.  Both our previous babies were meticulously planned, but they had come so easily.  It can be surprising (and even scary!) when you get the news.  Surprising, scary, & exciting!  They wanted to share- and that was their right.

But here’s what I realized. 

Here’s where I remember that “perception is reality.”

That same beautiful moment, from a single pregnancy announcement, has been shared, copied, and even tainted.  While the emotion of happiness surrounding that experience is genuine & overwhelming, the ripples through perception are not uniform.  My lens of unfulfilled dreams took my ripple of joy and welcoming for this new life, and laced it with pain.  The news was full of light, but also shadows of bitterness. 

These moments aren’t fair.  But they are real.  They are individual, and they are all valid.

In the beginning of 2016, I decided to quit my teaching job, and work from home as a LuLaRoe consultant.  I wanted something flexible & low-key so I could focus on myself, and my little family.  I joined a gym- and began making time for the things I enjoyed.   I was making peace.  At the time I was preoccupied with the life-changes I was making, and to my surprise- just as everyone suggested of course- I finally got pregnant! A year and a half since our journey’s start to baby #3, but only one month after deciding to take this crazy leap of faith, we were finally expecting! 

My third pregnancy.  My three year old was the photographer- hence the cropped head.

“Expecting” is such an appropriate word for pregnancy.  Hopes and dreams are immediately whirled into action as quickly as those two pink lines appeared on the home pregnancy test.  I had expectations, and these particular expectations had been under construction for a long time.

Unfortunately, the foundation wasn’t quite set.  Our baby girl was diagnosed with Trisomy 18 (also known as Edwards Syndrome) and after 17 long, heart-wrenching weeks of pregnancy filled with tests, fear, and unanswered questions, we lost the heartbeat.  I delivered her tiny unfinished body on my oldest son’s 5^th birthday.

They say when you can talk about something without crying, you’ve healed. 

I’m not quite there yet, but it's happening slowly.  I’d like to write a post someday about everything that miscarriage has taught me, but not today.

That Fall, after a couple of familiar disappointing months, we experienced a “chemical pregnancy”.  The pregnancy test was positive on a Monday, and I began bleeding on Saturday.  I had two  LuLaRoe “pop-up” boutiques that day.  In the morning I prayed it was some kind of harmless spotting.  I pushed through the party, unwilling to believe that I could really be miscarrying again.  But the bleeding didn't stop. I took a pregnancy test on my lunch break, and it was negative, so I knew the pregnancy had not been viable long.  I smiled, and laughed and complimented ladies as they tried on clothes that made them feel beautiful while I was falling apart from the inside out. 

Every loss is significant, but to me, it just felt like one long, painful blur.  This would have been another summer baby.

It’s been almost 3 years since we first started trying for baby number 3.  Many of the ladies I surfed the “baby waves” with during my first two pregnancies have since had another little one.  Many of them had the sweetest most beautiful little girls. It's so strange to feel so happy for someone else while still feeling so sad for yourself.  Sometimes I worry my sadness is blemishing their happiness, but I'd like to think it has the opposite effect.  Seeing those little ones reminds me of hope- and that good things happen.  It stings to watch with empty arms- but my heart still feels full. I scoop up my own little ones and hold them a little tighter.

This week I went to Walmart with my youngest to search for some coordinating clothing for my men-folk because we had family pictures coming up.  I decided to do some light grocery shopping while I was there, and I was in the bread aisle when the modern marvels of technology delivered the news that another one of my friends was pregnant by surprise, one of the friends who had two children the same ages as mine, but also already had a gorgeous little girl since. I kept my composure & continued shopping for about ten minutes before breaking down in front of the Oreos.

The right thing is to say “Congratulations!” when something good happens to someone else. 

But what do you say when your heart aches, and the words feel hollow?  What do you do when their something good is your nothing?

You sob in the middle of Walmart like a crazy person while an old man awkwardly tries to get to the Nilla Wafers behind you.  You take a deep breath and let yourself feel everything for just that moment.  You wipe your tears and realize that there’s an appropriate time and an inappropriate time to share your heart.  You remember the times when good things have happened to you too.  You remember life isn’t fair, and that’s ok.  You choose to make room for happiness right beside the sadness in your heart.  There’s room for both.  You acknowledge that this is their moment, and you will have your own turn in your own way to interpret those ripples and process your own residual experience.  Even if it isn’t when, or how you thought it would or “should” be.

You take courage, and find strength in the face of grief.

You say “Congratulations!”

My sweet boys playing at Grandma's house this weekend. 

Small Business Spotlight :: DragonflyWoodWrights

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Four hours. That's how long Rhode Island resident Margery (49), spends commuting each day to her workshop- two hours each way.  It's there that she spends her days teaching math to fifth graders through hands-on experiences in a boat-building class in the Boston Public school system.  She hates the commute, but she loves her job.  “There’s nothing more pleasing to my eyes than a child holding up their finished product and squealing with delight!” And when she's not helping little eyes see the beauty behind the numbers, from first cut to last sanding, she's still working. 

Margery working in her shop

"After work, I spend quality time with my family and head off to my home studio where planks of wood and power tools come out to play! I love this time of day... when my mind is at peace and the only sound that cuts the silence is the buzzing of my table saw."

Margery attributes her handmade journey to her mother.  

“When I was a child, my mother took great pains to keep me busy creating handmade works of art. She was never the type of mother to insist up on cleaning my room or tidying up my bed.  Instead she taught me all about love and discipline through the process of creating handmade goods with my own hands.  We often sat at the kitchen table, where she would give me wood to stain or maybe even some cake batter to whip.  I cherish those memories.  And through the experience, she taught me so many of life’s lessons including- patience, perseverance, and courage to forge my own path.  As an adult, I naturally gravitated towards a job that would allow me to create.  I became a boat builder and cherished every day on the job creating seaworthy vessels that would sail the high seas as I happily waved goodbye from the shore.”

Since then, Margery has always made gifts for family and friends.  “A few years ago, I gave a cutting board to a friend and she said I should open an Etsy shop.  So I did!”

One of Margery's cutting board designs

The journey has not always been easy.  Margery first opened her Etsy shop DragonflyWoodWrights creating wooden kitchen accessories in 2010, but had to put a halt on her creations after a move left her without a workshop.  In 2013 she started her current job as a boatbuilding instructor.  “With the love and support of my children, I decided to merge the better of the only two worlds I ever knew- boat-building and parenting.  So it was only natural that I would become a teacher!”

While teaching has been rewarding, Margery knew it was time to take her love for wood crafting to the next step.  So in 2016, DragonflyWoodWrights was reborn!  Even now, there are late many late nights.  “I really want to make it work.  I love working in the shop creating and would really love to be able to do it full time and make a living while doing it.  This year my New Year’s resolution was to put everything I have into DragonflyWoodWrights and make it work.  I really would like to quit my day job and do this full time.”

Currently, Margery is doing at least two “big shows” a month, advertising wherever possible, and even looking into potentially doing home parties.  She believes strongly that, “If you really want something you can achieve it with hard work and dedication.”

Her Etsy shop has truly become a “labor of love” and is constantly being updated with new products.  While cutting boards are a main feature, napkin rings, coasters, lazy Susans and more can all be found amidst the inventory!  Margery also enjoys the opportunity to create custom orders, and being a part of her customers’ special moments.

One of Margery’s biggest sources of inspiration comes from her sons, particularly her youngest son Xavier (13).  “He is an amazing young man who suffers from severe social anxiety. He is also dyslexic which has caused lots of learning disabilities in school, but he gets up every day, and goes and does everything that is asked of him- even if it is terrifying for him. […] He takes care of me, he always makes sure I eat when I’ve worked all day at my day job and then come home to work on DragonflyWoodWrights.  He will sit up late at night with me and help me pack orders, sand boards, [or] run to the post office to ship orders. […] He truly is the light of my life. I don’t know how I got so lucky to be his mom.”

And then there's her oldest son Zack (26), who actually inspired the name DragonfyWoodWrights.  After watching Dragonfly, a movie about the bond between a mother and child, Zack has always given his mother gifts of dragonflies.  “I love my boys with all my heart, they are my world.” 

Margery's sons Zackerie and Xavier

When Margery isn't working on her business, she is spending time with her boys, her fur-babies (boxers) Clash & Izzabella (the problem child), or catching the rare opportunity for sleep.

“I am just a kid at heart and I love to create.  My happy place is in my workshop ripping wood on the table saw or routing something with the router.”

  

If you'd like to support Margery's business you can browse her shop here!  Please contact Margery through Etsy if you would be interested in ordering a custom order!

https://www.etsy.com/shop/dragonflywoodwright

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A Brief Reflection on Lent and "Spring Cleaning"

For many of you, today will be just another Wednesday. If you are out and about, you may notice a number of people walking around with a black smudge on their foreheads and think, “That's odd.” Otherwise, the day will pass much as any other. However, for Catholics and many other Christians, today marks the beginning of the season of Lent and is anything but an ordinary Wednesday.

My purpose in writing this post is not to give you a long history of the practices associated with Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent. For those who are unfamiliar with Lent, or who would like a brief refresher, here is a two-minute video which does an excellent job summarizing Ash Wednesday and the observation of Lent:

My purpose today, is to briefly reflect on some of the aspects of Lent that are applicable to most of us, regardless of our personally held religious beliefs. 

I was raised Catholic and continue to practice my Catholic faith today. As a child, I used to dread the Lenten season. At the time, I thought it meant deprivation, solemn services, and extra church obligations. How greatly I anticipated the arrival of Easter and a return to a “normal” life. 

As a teenager, my view of the season was more superficial and jaded. That view can be summarized in the following way:

I find that meme hilarious now, though I steadfastly believed it for a time.

Today, as an adult and partner in an interfaith marriage, I take a much more nuanced view. I have come to deeply appreciate the season as a time to reflect on my faith life, act more charitably, humble myself, and commit to a personal “Spring Cleaning” of the soul. It is a time that my husband and I make an effort to focus on making changes that will strengthen our family unit and teach our children to love and be kind to others.

Many of the ideas associated with Lent transcend Catholicism. People of all faith backgrounds can benefit from the practices of humility, charity, sacrifice, and self-reflection. How appropriate, therefore, that the start of our month of discussions on topics related to the theme of “Spring Cleaning”, coincides with the start of Lent? 

So, Tell Me About Yourself

August, 2009. It was the first day of Business Communications class. I had heard the class was an easy "A" and was fairly relaxed. My professor walked in the door, introduced herself, and went over her expectations for the semester. After a few minutes, my professor looked straight at me and said, “So, tell me about yourself.” Uh-oh.

I froze. My mind was completely blank. Surely I knew enough about myself to answer such a simple question? But the answer wasn't readily there. I sat quietly for what felt like an eternity. I thought to myself, "Who am I? How do I introduce myself?"

I told her my name, my major, and that I was a varsity lightweight rower. But the answer felt somewhat generic and hollow. I should have been able to say something more profound... more interesting. There was an awkward moment where I felt I should add more. But I had no idea what to say. To fill the void I asked, “What else would you like to know?”

My professor smiled and said, “If I do my job this semester, you will no longer need to ask me that.” She was right.

One of the first skills I learned in that class was how to handle introducing myself in many different environments and circumstances. No longer did I feel that sense of dread when someone uttered the phrase, "So, tell me about yourself." I was given a useful tool to guide my responses, and I relished it. In the business world, this tool is often referred to as your “Elevator Pitch”.

An elevator pitch can be described as a 30 second response to any situation which requires an introduction. Every business student is taught that an effective elevator pitch can make or break a future job prospect, promotion, sale, or valuable relationship. The most effective introduction will not only address who you are, but will also explain why a person should be interested in what you have to say. It will highlight your strengths and give your audience just enough interest to warrant further conversation and a deepening of the relationship. With practice, a carefully crafted elevator pitch becomes second nature and is a useful tool in a variety of circumstances.

In life, we are not often afforded an extended period of time to make an impression and introduce ourselves. First impressions begin to settle almost immediately upon meeting someone. Life is busy. The opportunity to make a connection may be as short as an elevator ride from the first floor to the fourth, if not shorter. We must, therefore, be able to introduce ourselves fully and succinctly within the limited time we have available to us.

I wasn't initially sure how to frame my introduction to you today. I didn't know what I wanted to say or how I wanted to say it. I had no idea where to start. Then, it hit me!

While an introduction written for a blog is very different from an introduction given in person, I feel there is a lot of applicability in utilizing this handy tool my professor gave me almost a decade ago...

Without further delay, I give you my "Elevator Pitch":

My name is Rosemary. I met the love of my life in 2007. We were married in 2012 and life has since carried us in directions we could not have fathomed when we first met. I’m currently a full-time stay at home mother to two beautiful little girls, who are truly my world. When I am not devoting myself to the needs of my family, I am active in my church - running the nursery program and teaching Sunday preschool classes. I have a broad range of interests. These include music, the arts, reading, outdoor adventuring, fitness, history, economics, food, DIY projects, traveling, college football (O-H!), and whatever random tidbit happens to catch my fancy on a particular day. I am a student of life and seek to continue learning about myself and others through shared and differing thoughts, experiences, struggles and successes. I am truly honored to be a regular contributor to this blog, To Each Their Own. I sincerely hope that, as we begin this journey together, we might form a strong and beautiful community; a community which thrives on openness, acceptance and diversity of thought and experience.


Thank you for reading this post and being a part of our community! I can't wait to see where this blog takes us!

My Otherness

Hello there. Now I’m a bit of a newbie when it comes to blogging, so please pardon any of the awkwardness that may follow. I’m Melissa, a 27-year-old Central Florida native and crazy cat lady who spends WAY too much time watching HGTV. I have always struggled a bit to define myself, although as the years go by I am finding it less and less of a necessity. (Call it the wisdom of age.)

Now, if I am being perfectly honest I was a little reluctant to write for T.E.T.O., especially after taking a look at the other contributors. I wasn’t sure I would exactly fit in. I have worked very hard in my life to surround myself with people that fit the labels placed on me. I’m not sure if this was out of a desire to seek comfort or if it was solely out of fear… probably both. Even now, as an adult, I still let my fear and past experiences keep me from living a life that is wholly true to myself. 

One part of my identity that has caused me a great amount shame and fear over the course of my years is my sexual orientation. I am Bisexual. This was something I have always known, even before elementary school, but wasn’t ready to admit to myself until around high school. Even then, I treated it as a novelty because that is how I saw it portrayed in the world around me. My sexual identity seemed other, out of place, and if I tried to embrace it as anything real I worried about a backlash. So I dated boys. This was not to say I didn’t care for them, far from it in fact, but there always seemed to be something missing. 

I remember a weekend trip to Disney World with my Mom, my Nana, and one of my best friends. We stayed at the Grand Floridian and it just happened to be the first weekend in June. Now if you have ever been to Walt Disney World the first weekend of June you may remember the sea of red shirts and rainbows announcing it to be the annual Gay Days meet-up. We had been frequent Disney-goers in my childhood so this was far from our first time at Gay Days, although it had never been anything more than coincidence or just enjoying the festive atmosphere that always seemed to accompany that weekend. Well, anyways, the friend and I after a long day at the parks and with the adults back at the room decided to enjoy a nice evening swim. In an entirely un-serious manner, at one point we kissed. I know I was never anything more than a friend to her, but in that moment something felt so very right. Kissing a beautiful girl in the hotel pool during Gay Days at Disney just felt right. 

One of my first shows with the Rich Weirdoes.

That was when I started to take my still-shaky identity more seriously. It was around college that I began to find my place. Between acting in/directing The Vagina Monologues at Stetson, getting a job at Disney and finding myself amongst queer peers, and eventually getting up the courage to join The Rich Weirdoes (a Rocky Horror shadow cast) I began to meet others who made it okay to be queer. I was no longer other, and that meant the world to me. I remember evenings spent dancing or watching friends perform their drag at Pulse nightclub and the butterflies in my stomach when I went with my first girlfriend to see The Hunger Games on opening night. 

As time goes on and I shift away from the lifestyle that seems to fit so well with what I wanted to be I find myself questioning again, only this time it is not my sexual orientation so much as it is my identification with the community I once belonged to. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I’m not a great dancer. Loud noises and crowded spaces make me incredibly anxious. My desire to participate is overwhelmingly trumped by my desire for comfort, and so once again I feel my otherness taking over. Part of it also comes from fear, although I am more willing to push through the fear than the discomfort because I know fear is something that doesn’t affect only myself. The fear comes from memories of nasty looks while I held my girlfriend’s hand in public, it comes from being run off the road and screamed at to “Go to hell you f***ing f**got!”, it comes from the emptiness in my gut when I think of the events of June 12th and waking up that morning praying that my friends weren’t dead. 

I am not trying to bring these events up to be divisive, but in the hope that someone who has never experienced this particular type of fear can be a little more understanding of why “coming out” is such a big deal for those on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum and why it is a choice every day to simply be yourself. I bring these up because it is difficult for me to embrace that part of my identity when I don’t feel like a part of the community in the way that I used to. I know there is not just one correct way to be queer, but every day is a struggle to remind myself of that very fact and to live truthfully. 

       I have always been a fan of the Bard so I will leave you all with this fitting quotation as I am running late for work and in desperate need to wrap things up.

“This above all: to thine own self be true”  Hamlet, Act-I, Scene-III

Finally, Eventually

Remember that time I quit my job and started my own “LuLaRoe Boutique” because I was finally pregnant with baby #3, and I was finally going to get to stay home with my little ones, and I was finally figuring out who I was?

Funny word “finally”…there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of finality in this life. 

One year later and it turns out I’m not a lot of the things I thought I was going to be 365 days ago. 

I didn’t get my third baby like I had planned.  Being a direct-sales clothing retailer was not my forever home. And while I am home with my little ones for the time being- I only have a faint idea of who I am. 

I began To Each Their Own (T.E.T.O.), a blog on life and womanhood, in 2013 with five other (amazing) women.  I was very different then too.  Teaching middle school science was a huge part of my life and identity.  I had just given birth to my second boy- and after the summer was over I was juggling the working-mom thing.  I thought it would be a great idea to have a blog where women with different perspectives on life- but eventually life got in the way as life often does and put it on the back-burner for “someday”. 

Recently, as I was closing out my LuLaRoe boutique, my heart ached and I began to feel that familiar feeling- like I was quitting.  I knew it had been the right choice to join LuLaRoe at the time, and I knew it was the right choice to leave now- but it made me sad to think of losing the community that had grown in my group, and all the connections I had made. I wasn’t going to be the “LuLaRoe lady” anymore.  Just like I wasn’t a “teacher” anymore. I wasn’t a lot of things anymore. My life suddenly felt full of finalities, full of endings.

Then for some reason- I had the thought… what if I started blogging again?  I didn’t know what I would say, or who I would find to write with me.  But I had always planned to come back to T.E.T.O. one day, so why not today? I contacted the original authors to see if any of them were in a position where they could commit to writing, and while a few of them agreed to share some guest posts with us- no one was able to join the relaunch full-time.  Undeterred, I started scrolling through my Facebook friend’s list, and I reached out to four women who, to me, represent different kinds of strength and beauty that I knew would be an asset to our community.  I was thrilled to get a “yes” from all of them- and to find a referral for our sixth and final author, who also joined-in enthusiastically. 

A new chapter.

Right now, my life is in a transitional stage. Like new construction beginning after demolition, new growth after a forest fire, a new life with potential, hope, and undetermined possibilities. Old scars are healing and I’m working on figuring out how this “life” thing works again, and who I am for the first time.  

I'm Jessica Vergara. I am a 27 year old white Floridian woman who is married with two boys ages 3 & 5. I have a degree in Elementary Education, and a passion for writing and uplifting others. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and I am currently exploring a career in graphic design with an Etsy Shop called Conversation Design. 

I’m the mom who wears workout clothes in the parent pick-up line instead of pajamas so you think I’m practical and hardworking instead of just tired. Who feels like super-mom when I make chocolate chip pancakes instead of regular pancakes, but feels guilty for not reading bedtime stories the way I “should”, and the way I want to. Who stares at my little ones sleeping & kneels on the floor beside them with tear-filled eyes, and prays to God to protect them.

I’m the wife who after 8 years of marriage is still struggling to figure out how to let down walls and be the woman my husband sees; to be slow to anger and quick to forgive.  Who smacks my husband’s butt in the grocery store and pretends to be a hardcore rapper on long car drives to make him laugh.  Who sometimes holds his one hand in both of mine just to make sure he’s really there.

I’m the friend who worries if I’m doing enough.  Who sometimes over-shares & loves when you over-share back. Who loves going to the movie theater, getting ice-cream, and talking late into the night about anything and everything.  Who whispers sarcastic jokes to you when no one else is listening, but still takes things seriously.  Who easily gets my feelings hurt, and worries after our conversations if I said too much, and has to message you to make sure everything is still ok. 

I’m the daughter who shows up uninvited to her parent’s house, opens the door without knocking, and rearranges all their furniture when they’re out of town.  Who sees her parents as both the people they were and they people they are.  Who sometimes catches glimpses of them in the mirror, and feels both hesitant and proud about that.  Who calls my mom just to talk, and loves seeing my dad working in the garage to build something.  Who worries about them growing older, how they will retire, and whether or not my children know their grandparents enough. 

I’m the oldest sibling- the sister who thinks I have it all together except for when I really, really, don’t.  Who experienced having foster siblings in high school & adopted siblings as an adult, so I’m not sure whether to tell people I’m the oldest of 3 or 7.  Who feels different being the only one with a significant other, married, and with children. Who loves coming home for dinners & game nights- but no longer being on the chore chart.

I am a leader.  I am transparent. I am hopeful.  I am emotional.

I am finally figuring things out..eventually.

I can't wait to see where this journey leads.

Chapter Two

Three years later.

Chapter Two.

One amazing blog and a community just beginning!

If you subscribed to To Each Their Own during our original run in 2013-2014, I hope you will join us again in a new chapter! We have some beautiful new authors- along with some familiar faces guest-authoring for us, and we can't wait to share this new journey with you!