I see you

Every three months. 

{I told you I'd stick to a blogging schedule.}

Maybe that's because life feels too hectic right now to sit down and pour out my thoughts here.

Or maybe it's because putting those thoughts into words feels overwhelming.

Not that the actual typing feels like too much,

no,

more like the actual feelings are all over the map,

and that saying them out loud,

just means I have to give them a name.

And a place in this world.

Acknowledge them.

Accept them.

Look them hard in the eyes,

and say yep- I see you fear.

And you sadness.

And you anxiety.

And you control freak.

And of course you resentment- you are one I never want to recognize.

I shove you down,

along with fear

and sadness,

and all of your melancholy friends,

hoping to distract myself long enough to forget about you.

Changes are inevitable. 

They are coming.

I'm not ready some most days.

And the anxiety of not knowing where we will call home once this part of our journey has come to an end,

spilled over to all other areas of my life. 

My physical wellness.

My mental wellness.

Rational voice clouded by the irrational one.

Self-talk, self-motivation, self-love

becoming less and less successful.

I have never felt so stuck in my entire life.

Even through a marriage I wasn't sure how to leave.

Even then... 

I had a choice.

It was my choice.

The future was what I made it.

I was in control of the path I could choose to take.

Was I in limbo for months,

unsure which path was the right one?

Of course.

Was I afraid I would make the wrong choice?

Yup.

Even so...

In the end,

I chose to rise.

I chose to pick the life I wanted.

I chose to forgive and leave the pain in that old life.

I chose.

Me.

This experience has been nothing like that.

Though I did choose to marry Jason,

and though it's a decision I have never regretted,

that choice created ripple effects that I never expected.

And one that has stolen away choices I didn't even know I cared about.

He chose to go to medical school,

a process that reminds us over and over and over again,

we are at the mercy of something or someone else.

Mercy of the grading curves.

Mercy of the attending's he's assigned to,

all with different expectations,

all with different ideas of what medical students should act like, talk like, suture like.

Mercy of the attending's that have offered to mentor him,

only to never return his emails.

Mercy of fake patients,

with fake problems,

and fake emotions,

holding power to give him actual scores based on how well he nurtured those fake feelings.

Mercy of composite scores.

{Which no one can ever seem to explain by the way}

Mercy of the evaluator in charge of clinical grades.

Mercy to the Match and your fate being decided by a computer algorithm. 

Lives ever revolving around his life.

His schedule.

His upcoming board exam.

His rotations.

His specialty choice and what that choice now means for our family.

He chose to pursue plastic surgery,

a specialty that only offers ONE spot in Arizona,

{the location of such that has been deemed 'too far' to commute and thus will require a move}

a specialty that requires one of the longest training time of all specialties,

tied for first with neurosurgery.

Read: Six years.

{Seven for some programs that require a dedicated research year}

A specialty that places second for 'Most Competitive Specialties'

when it comes to securing a job after medical school.

He chose.

And because of his choice,

I will leave the life I have built here.

The life I love here.

A life I still want!

And a life that is hard to part with when the future is a gray color of unknown.

No new city to explore.

No neighborhoods and schools to research.

No plans to make.

Nothing to get excited about.

Throw a dart at the map of the United States,

wherever it lands,

is a place we COULD end up.

And sure,

maybe six years doesn't seem like that long.

But when you consider Camden spending 6th-11th grade somewhere,

that somewhere will be his childhood.

The friendships he makes there will be the ones that stick for life.

The memories he creates there will be the ones he remembers forever.

The experiences he has there will be the ones that shape who he will become.

So to me,

those six years,

well, they're important ones.

And sure,

maybe if you're reading this you might be thinking,

"But where is your faith?"

And really,

you are right.

I do forget to add that little gem to the mixed bag.

And I'm working on it.

And when I began counseling to sort through that mixed bag,
pulling each feeling out,
one by one,
giving it a name,
deciding its purpose,
and its place in my life,
I remembered how I had gotten here.

My counselor said to me when I tearfully spoke about all the things I don't want to part with,
"You don't live in a magical neighborhood.
The school your kids attend is not the only one of its kind in the world.
The friends you've made aren't magical friends,
who exist no where else but where you are right now.
You've built a life you love because of who YOU are.
Your friends are your friends because they are drawn to YOU.
Whether you live in New York,
or California,
or Utah,
or Memphis,
you will still be YOU.
And the types of people you surround yourself with now,
will be the ones you find in your new home,
because those types of people will be drawn to who you are.
You'll take it with you.
Your kids will take it with them.
And they'll create connections with special people,
because of who THEY are."

"Remember Lot's wife."
It is a phrase I say to myself when days are hard.
"Remember Lot's wife" I think,
and my mind is brought back to Elder Holland's prophetic,
and poetic words:

"She wasn't just looking back;
in her heart she wanted to go back. ...Before they were past the city limits, she was already missing what it had offered her. Her attachment to the past outweighed her confidence in the future. When we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead, we remember that faith is always pointed toward the future.
Lot's wife doubted the Lord's ability to give her something better than she already had. Apparently she thought- that nothing that lay ahead could possibly be as good as those moments she was leaving behind."

They are words I listen to often,
multiple times a week sometimes.
Mostly, with tears streaming down my face,
as I remind myself to dig deep,
and remember the faith in God that is surely there.
It has to be.

So maybe the Lord is asking me to leave a life I love behind?
And maybe I'll have learned what I needed to learn here?
Maybe I need to claim the embers from the glowing experiences,
and bring the best of them with me?
Because maybe,
the Lord is about to give me something better than I already have.

The mixed bag is getting lighter.
As days and weeks pass,
and I unload it a little at a time,
the shade of gray of the unknown seems to get lighter too.

Even though I may have little control over where Jason interviews,
what programs think of him,
where we match,
(IF we match!)
I've realized that even then...
I still have a choice.
The future can still be what I make it.
I can control which paths I take there,
and who I choose to be there.
In the end,
I can choose to rise.
I can pick the life I want by being the type of person I want to be.
I can choose happiness and let the lessons learned in my beautiful life here,
serve me, and others, there.
I can choose.
Me.

What's Next?

Five days ago marked exactly one year until Match Day.

Which, has pretty much been on our minds since the first year of medical school.

And definitely since Jason decided on plastics and our course was set to that trajectory.

What is Match Day?

Match Day is the day when all the 4th year medical students find out where they will be doing their residency training for the next 3-7 years. 

In Jason's case, 

it will be 6.

He will spend this fall interviewing at plastic surgery programs.

Once interviews are completed,

he will rank his programs according to his preference and submit his rank list to an online system.

All the programs in the country will do the same.

They will rank their applicants to this same online system,

and a computer algorithm will "match" applicant to program.

You can watch a video on how this all works here.

Match Day is always on a Friday.

Usually the 2nd or 3rd Friday of March.

The Monday before Match Day,

students receive an email that says whether or not they matched.

But the email does not tell them where they matched.

That's what you find out on Friday.

So if Jason interviews at 15 programs,

he will rank those 15 programs,

#1: First choice

#2: Second choice

and so on...

(and they will rank him,

hopefully!).

So, on Match Day,

we could end up at any one of those places on his list.

Without completing residency,

you can't practice medicine.

So matching is kind of a big deal.

In fact, 

I think most would agree it's a bigger deal than graduation.

Jason's school has a big ceremony every year,

and a big countdown to 9 a.m.

(the whole country has to open their results at the same time)

I've been watching Match Day videos on YouTube since Jason's first year,

and I would always get so emotional thinking of what our experience will be like.

And it's crazy that it's our turn next. 

It will be quite a year.

So much happens in 4th year.

This summer, Jason will do 3 plastic surgery rotations at different programs around the country.

Those he hopes to match to.

We only have one of those rotations secured,

and it's in Memphis,

at the University of Tennessee.

He applied for a rotation at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale,

and at University of Texas Southwestern in Dallas.

We are still waiting to hear back from those places.

Each of those rotations is 4 weeks.

When those are over,

it will basically be time to apply to residency programs.

That happens in Sept/Oct.

The hope is that he'll get interviews,

and plastic surgery does the bulk of their interviews in December and January.

Once interviews are over,

then it's time to submit a rank list.

And then we wait.

It all feels very stressful,

and frankly,

I have anxiety daily.

It has been incredibly difficult to have faith in God's plan for us.

I love my life here.

I love my house,

my neighborhood,

my ward.

I love my kids' school.

I love their friends.

And their friends' moms. 

I love Navy's and Lily's dance studio,

I love Navy's music teacher.

I love Camden's group of 'sports friends',

who play on the same team every season.

I love Lily's speech therapist. 

It is home.

It will always be.

And even if Jason does get an interview at Mayo,

and even if he gets accepted there,

we will still move to be closer to the hospital. 

And while Phoenix is infinitely closer to family than say,

New York,

it still feels like a world away,

and I'm already mourning the loss of our life here.

I cry about it a lot.

And because we won't know where we will end up for another year,

I feel so stuck in my emotions.

I want to enjoy our year of 'lasts' here,

and I'm trying,

I'm really trying.

Trying to just be still,

and soak up all the memories these next 14 months have for us.

But I also feel the urge to distance myself from the life,

and people,

and surroundings that I love so much,

so maybe come May 2020,

it won't break my heart so much to say goodbye.

I have this mental image of Jason dragging me out of our empty house by my feet,

as I leave nail marks in the walls.

And I can't look forward to our new home,

can't get excited about what our new life has to offer,

because we don't know where that is yet.

If there was ever a time of my life when I felt in limbo,

this is it.

I focused my anxiety on researching anything and everything I could get my hands on regarding  plastic surgery programs,

suburbs of major cities,

homes for sale in said suburbs

moving costs,

school districts,

commute time,

etc etc etc.

And when I realized that it was only making my nerves more on edge,

to the point where I wasn't sleeping,

and feeling physically ill some nights,

I found a new project to focus my free time on.

So far it's working.

If you wanted to keep us in your prayers,

as we face a daunting year of decisions,

and uncertainty,

I would so appreciate it. 

A letter to Navy

You are already half way through Kindergarten.

I wanted to do this on your first day of school,

but life is crazy,

and it's taken me this long to finally sit down and write this to you.

Where do I even start?
How do I even begin to tell you how much I love you?
How amazing I think you are?

How you are kind, and smart, and so talented?

Because I do love you.

Oh my gosh do I love you!

And you ARE amazing.

And you ARE kind,

and smart,

and gosh dang- you are so talented.

When I first learned about you,

I was so excited for Camden to have a sibling,

and for Dad to have a child of his own.

When we found out you were a girl,

I was over the moon.

We knew right away we would name you Navy.

I had the name picked out since I was 15.

I bought adorable outfits with matching bows,

and I could not wait to meet you.

And on December 7th, 2016,

you were born and I heard your sweet cry and kissed your sweet cheeks,

and I thought my heart would burst.

Tears rolled down my face as I smelled you and looked at you for the first time.

I had a daughter.

You were mine.

And we were all completely smitten with you from the very beginning.

You were a happy baby and totally content with life.

I loved dressing you up and got your ears pierced as soon as I could.

As you grew, 

you maintained your happy nature but completely soaked in everything around you.

You knew numbers,

and letters,

and colors,

and shapes,

before you were even 2.

I didn't teach you that.

Somehow you learned it on your own.

You started talking then too,

and it was like your vocabulary exploded over night.

You were speaking in full sentences,

and I could have pretty grown up conversations with you just after your second birthday.

You were so fun at that age.

You would say and do such funny things.

Sometimes,

after bedtime,

me and Dad would hear you playing in your room,

knowing you weren't asleep.

We would let you come in to our room and hang out with us because you made us laugh.

We loved those nights with you,

and Dad especially treasures those memories.

If I could have frozen you at that age forever,

I would have.

This was also when you stopped napping.

But you were never grumpy,

and I loved having you as my little buddy 

as we ran errands together.

I loved spending my days with you.

When Nana got cancer,

you were such a bright spot in my life when things were so hard and sad.

You made me happy,

and  I was so grateful to be your mom then.

When you started dance just before you turned 3,

you immediately loved it.

And you were already such a natural at it.

I loved watching you in class.

And YOU loved watching you in class,

inching your way closer and closer to the mirror throughout class.

You became a big sister when you were three and a half,

and the bond you and Lily have is something YOU have created.

You have loved her and included her ever since the beginning.

You are kind to her.

You teach her.

You help her.

You treat her like a friend.

And I am so proud of you for that.

She copies everything you do,

and you are such a great example.

I hope as she continues to follow in your footsteps that you always model what you do now:

Kindness.

As you have grown,

and have ventured into different activities,

you have shown dedication.

You put your mind to something,

and you work at it until you get it.

You persevere.

In dance,

in gymnastics,

in school

and in music.

You have talent in these areas yes,

but you work hard at them,

and I love to see you at work.

You taught yourself to read,

to tie your shoes,

to add and subtract.

And you never want help with things.

When you were just 2, you would say,

"No, NeNe do it."

So you would practice buckling your own carseat,

or putting on your own clothes,

or writing your name,

until you could finally do it all by yourself.

Even now,

when you come across a big word reading,

you don't want help until you've sounded it out yourself first.

When you have to do math problems on the computer for homework,

you use paper to cover up the pictures because you don't want to use them to help you solve it.

When you are practicing piano, 

or teaching yourself by ear a new song, 

you don't want me to show you which note comes next.

You'll do it again and again until you get it right.

Your drive to learn and accomplish and achieve astounds me.

And the brain you've been given will do amazing things if you continue to pursue your passions and work hard as you grow.

Your teachers can hardly keep up with you!!

Navy,

you are a great friend.

I hope you never lose this quality.

A couple months ago,

I went to your school for an awards assembly.

Before walking in to the gym,

another mom stopped me and asked if I was your mom.

I told her yes.

She said,

"Oh my daughter loves Navy.

She says Navy is the only girl in the whole class that is never mean to her."

I was so proud of you.

That meant more to me than the awards you were getting that day.

Those that know you, 

love you.

And even though I hate that you are growing up,

I love the person you are already becoming.

You are a natural born leader. 

You command attention without even realizing it sometimes.

(Though sometimes, you really do COMMAND our attention-

especially when you want us to watch you do something)

You are learning at lightening speed,

and I can't wait to see what you do with all of it.

I can't wait to watch you develop your talents.

I have been your mom for 6 years now,

and I could never imagine my life without you in it.

I am so grateful Heavenly Father blessed me with you,

and I absolutely love being your mom.

You make me proud every day,

and I think you are a pretty incredible person.

Don't ever lose your confidence.

Your ability to make friends.

Don't lose your happy spirit,

or your spunk,

or your tenacity.

Keep your dedication to the things you love.

Explore new things and develop your talents.

Stay true to who you are,

stay kind,

keep your passion, 

and your bravery.

Navy Lee,

I love you so.

And I cannot wait to see who you become.

Love,

Mom