Thankful

So incredibly thankful for this sweet guy. 

He is my best friend, my other half, and the macaroni to my cheese!

(look at those young kiddos!!!)

He makes me laugh and he dries my tears. He's watched me succeed and he's watched me fail. Most of all, he keeps me strong. I am so glad we get to navigate through life together. 

New Beginnings

Disclaimer: This post is very honest. The witty wife hasn't been feeling her wittiest.

In 2013, I was determined to keep a blog. We can all scroll down and see how that worked out. I decided in 2015, I was going to pick it up again. I had a lot of exciting things to share and I was eager to begin writing again.

The past year and half has been a whirlwind for the Tanners. We had a big move, I got a new job at a wonderful school, we purchased our first home, and then December 14th, 2014, we found out the best news of all: We were pregnant. Pregnant. Somehow, we were going to be parents. We were having a baby.

Over the moon.

I cannot pen the words to describe the nervous, giddy, euphoria we felt. We shared the news with our families over Christmas and New Years, and with close friends and co-workers soon after. How could we not? Baby Bean consumed my thoughts. We dreamed and planned about the upcoming months and years. We discussed nursery colors and baby clothes. Boy or girl? Blue eyes or brown? Blond or brunette? Strong-willed or easy going? Who will he/she grow up to be? Will he be like his daddy? Will she look like her mommy? Please, God, just let him/her be healthy!

January 15, 2015 was our first prenatal visit. We were scheduled for our first ultrasound. I was almost 11 weeks pregnant. I couldn't wait to have hubby get out his phone so we could make a video of Bean to send to our family. I couldn't wait to take my little printed out picture to work the next day.

The visit was perfect. Everything was looking great. Symptoms were all lining up on schedule. Cramping? Some. Sense of smell? Yikes. Nausea? Double yikes. Yes, that first trimester is a doozy, isn't it.

Then the ultrasound. When I saw the picture on the screen, I knew something was wrong. I know what a 10 week old baby should look like. Why did my baby look so little? Why was he just a little peanut? Maybe she actually needed to zoom in so we could see better? Why couldn't I hear the heartbeat? There was no heartbeat.

The doctor calmly told us that Bean looked more like a 6-7 week old, as she fruitlessly searched for the heartbeat that wasn't there. Was there any chance our dates were off?

I knew then and there. She didn't have to tell me. I've been charting for months. There is no way Bean could be only 6-7 weeks. The dates did not line up. I knew already in my heart that Baby Bean was gone.

We were scheduled for a follow-up ultrasound, but based on the my doctor's sympathetic pats and the nurses sad glances, I could tell they knew the same thing I feared.

I felt like a zombie in the clinic, but I broke down as soon as we got in the parking lot. Again, I'm not sure if I am able to put into words the crushing grief I felt then and feel now. My baby was gone. My baby had died.

Why?

I don't know. And I don't understand.

I don't have much to say about that weekend between ultrasounds. One of the hardest parts was I still felt SO pregnant. I was still so fatigued and constantly naseaous. But feeling pregnant when you know the pregnancy is not viable is heartbreaking: It is a cruel joke. The weekend was emotionally draining, but I am incredibly thankful for my wonderful husband and the solid foundation of our marriage. I know this hasn't been easy for him either. We both wanted Bean so much.

We talked. We cried. We prayed.

And then we cried some more.

At our ultrasound Tuesday, we had our fears confirmed, as we were sure we would. Baby Bean had indeed stopped developing. We had experienced a "missed miscarriage." I wasn't showing any signs of miscarrying naturally on my own, so we opted for the d & c. We were just in desperate need of closure for Bean. I took the week off work and had surgery Friday.

I went back to work yesterday. Physically, I am feeling good. My pregnancy symptoms have almost completely disappeared and my body is healing as it should. Emotionally, I bounce between acceptance, anger, and sorrow. I feel getting back into routine has been good, as throwing myself into work is a good distraction. I do know we are able to move on. This is simply another chapter in our life story and while I do not understand why it happened to us, I firmly believe it was for a reason. That does not mean that makes it all better.

I've decided the pain won't go away, but it will become tolerable. I am taking it day by day.

It's easy to say "It wasn't meant to be" or "It was God's will" or "It'll happen for you in time." While these may be true, these words are empty to a mom that will never hold her baby in her arms. I will never hear him laugh or cry. It doesn't seem fair, because it isn't.

I am thankful for salvation and the promise of heaven. I am thankful that I know our Bean was born into the arms of Jesus, where he never had to experience the fear or darkness of this world. I am thankful that Bean has 6 great-grandparents in heaven, who will hold him and love him until that someday when I will finally get to kiss his sweet face.

I will always remember my first child, my Bean, and cherish those precious weeks I had the privilege of carrying him. He was with us for only a moment, but is in our hearts forever.

On Education

****I wrote this post in May 2013....but I never published! When I reread the draft, I knew it needed to make the final cut. Made me laugh and cry.....2 school years later. :)****

Happy Teacher Appreciation Week to all my fellow educators!

While the stress of my job is sometimes overwhelming and I often find myself counting down the days I have until summer vacation, (14) I wanted to take some time to reflect on why I chose this profession. Why did I become a teacher? Was it for the incredible pay? Was it for the lack of paper work? Was it so I could color all day? Surely, it was because of all the vacation time....

I knew from a very early age I wanted to become a teacher. I absolutely adored every single one of my elementary school teachers and I knew I was going to grow up and be exactly like them. I wanted to touch the lives of children and inspire them to live their course work. Of course, in my naive mind, I must have assumed every student would be just like me: a quiet, hard-working, suck-up.

As I was working through my major in college, reality slapped me across the face as I began to discover the truth of education. Poverty. Drugs. Homelessness. Hate. Disfunction. School was no longer the happy place of fun and learning I remembered, rather, it seemed to have transformed into a dismal, foreign land. Then there was the intimidating realization: had it always been this way? Had I been so ignorantly blind in my youth to such incredible delinquency?

I didn't know how I would ever be able to connect with students. And if I ever did, how on earth would I ever be able to keep up with the ever changing curriculum demands. The semester before student teaching, I knew I had picked the wrong career choice. I even went to my advisor to see what I could do to get out of this major. Already behind, I reluctantly went forward to finish my degree, as I didn't have the money to stay in school much longer. However, it was that next semester of student teaching that changed me.

My first placement was with kindergarten. Sweet, sweet, little babies that knew the "F" word and used it without even trying to be derogatory. I was very fortunate to have an amazing cooperating teacher. I could go on and on about everything that wonderful lady showed me what teaching was all about, however, I think the biggest change for me came when I found out one of my students had been caught digging in the trash after school. Why? She was hungry. Her family didn't have any food at home. That poor kid was hungry. I began to learn that teaching (no matter what any government curriculum EVER said) was a lot more than text books and letter sounds. It was about compassion. It was about trying to understand why a student might be falling asleep in class. Did he stay up too late playing video games....or was it because they were evicted, and they had to sleep in the car? "Teaching" became more of an ambiguous term in relation to my actual job.

I could literally go on and on about what I feel a teacher's job is in reality.


Ok. So do I do it for the pay? Ha. That's my favorite one. If I wanted to do something for pay....well, I would get a better paying job! :)
How about the lack of paper work? Please, come look at my desk. If you can find it, as it is buried under stacks of graded/ungraded work, CRA data, CFA data, DE Data, TCAP data, I-Station data, Compass Data, lesson plans.....oh, you get the idea.
Was it to color all day? If you mean teaching two-digit multiplication on a dry erase board? I don't consider that coloring, but I do enjoy doing that with a cool flex cam.
Surely, you must teach to get all that vacation time? Truthfully, in college, I never really thought about that. But hey, a perk is a perk---and if anyone ever has an issue with the time off a teacher gets, I have two responses for you:

1) You went to college too, yes? So you could have chosen this profession as well? Oh, you couldn't be with kids all day?....alrighty, well....what was the problem?
2.) There are 25 kids, 25 cupcakes, 1 teacher, 1 room, 8 hours. Suicide rates would increase without some kind of time off. Let's just be real.

Being a teacher is way more than text books and summers off. Teaching is more than a career. Teaching is reaching out and making a difference in a child's life. My wallet may be empty, but my heart is full.

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day to all the awesome moms!

Above all---to my AMAZING mom! Thank you for putting up, believing, and thinking about me at the detriment of your own mental health. 

I LOVE you to the moon and back!

Feeling the Love

Happy Teacher Appreciation Week to all my fellow teacher friends! :-) 

 Only TWO more Mondays, lovelies!

 Let the good times roll and the free Chik-Fila sandwiches flow!

**Elsa appreciated me so much yesterday that she threw up on my new WGI jacket. 

Thanks sweet kitty--nothing like a surprise load of laundry to start off the week!**

Here we go!

Greetings friends!

I figured it was about time that someone as charismatic as myself should share my inspiring life with the rest of the internet. In other words, I'm a married school teacher who is addicted to Pinterest and on the brink of becoming a cat lady. Thusly and therefore, it is time to start a blog!

I hope you enjoy my antics...and if not, it will give you more reason to judge me, as my life is unrealistically non-fiction. :)