Anniversary Gone Astray

I can't believe it was a year ago that all THIS was happening:

And it's crazy because I can't decide if I feel like we've been married way, way longer than a year and the people in this picture are babies who have no idea what's coming for them, or if it feels like our wedding was only yesterday and I am just WAY too young to have already been married for a year.
Originally, I was going to dedicate this post to pointing out all the crazy changes that happened in our first year of marriage. I was going to say how we had been through so much, and grown so close, and how we were looking forward to what the next year would bring. Aww.
But this was before we took our Anniversary trip, up to the same place we went on our Honeymoon. Now, you have to understand, we are not stupid: we are both well-aware that it is a law of the universe that when you go on vacation, not just one thing but many things will go wrong. We just thought we were exempt. We were above that rule. Because our honeymoon went so smoothly. The weather was great, even though it was early January. The car worked fine. We traveled safely. And voila we were back home.
So this year, we were oh so naiive. I truly thought it would go just like it did last year.

Now, I don't want to complain, because we have been truly blessed. We set aside a certain amount of money every week and put it into savings and then didn't touch it, and it was truly a miracle because if you add up how much we make and subtract our bills, we should be impoverished and starving, and I know it's only because we pay our tithing that it all works out the way it does. The problem is, we got a little too comfortable. We started making plans about where that savings was going to go, where we'd be in six months, a year, ten years. We were on top of the world!
And then, the storm hit. Hospital bills for me, doctor bills for Caleb AND Dega, both of our car registrations due, then of course Caleb's car broke down. Then it fixed itself. Then it broke down again. Now it's temporarily working and we're pretending everything is fine-just-fine. Then, the trip.
We were lucky my aunt & uncle just built a cabin not a mile away from the one we stayed in last year, which they let us stay in for free. So how could we pass that up? We made it three hours into the trip, and then in the last five minutes, my tires did a lovely pirouette across the ice, and we hit a snowbank.
(At this point, Caleb would like me to point out that the road we slid on was called Rainbow Road. If you've ever played Mariokart, you know it was inevitable, and we're lucky we only slid off the road once.)

Logically, I knew everything was fine. We were both unhurt. The car was running. Yes, we were a little bit stuck, but we were also as close as you can be to another person, so we were fine. The lodge nearby pulled us out, and we were on our way. But the Callaway in me was very upset. We do not like our cars getting hurt. This had never happened before.
Scratch that, this had happened A LOT before. My car has been hit a total of 8 times, and my old car had a tree branch massive tree fall on it in the middle of a calm, sunny afternoon. The difference was, I had never been IN the car when it had happened, and it had always been someone elses fault. (Except for the speculation that my car has a giant magnet in it, which is why everyone hits it when it's parked.)
Anyway.
I was trying not to be upset, because that's just stupid. Everything truly important was fine. But I couldn't help but feel bad for my poor car. I think Disney has made me humanize way too many objects, my car being the main one. (The second one, of course, my old toys. After I saw Toy Story I went in my room, shut the door, and announced, "You guys can come to life around me now. I just learned the truth.")
ANYWAY.
Everything was fine the rest of the trip. Actually everything went really great, until we got back on the road. It looked a little something a-like a-this.

Luckily, we got out of the snow before the bumper decided to just start to fall off and rub against the tire. It's kind of a terrifying noise when you're doing 75 mph on the freeway. So we pulled over, popped it back into place, and made it about another 5 miles down the road before the banshee screeching started again. So we stopped again, and my sweet husband laid on the side of the road in the mud in howling, freezing wind, and tried and tried to fix it. We made it about 20 feet with our twist tie contraption before finally finding an old rope in my trunk. That got us the rest of the way home, where we've been safe and warm ever since.
I originally intended to write this blog about how much I loved my dear, sweet husband and how happy I was that we'd reached this year milestone. But as I watched him fix our car, as he spent over an hour in the cold and never once complained, then got back in the car and treated me like a Queen, like he always does, I was just overwhelmed with how blessed I am. If I had been alone, I have no idea what I would have done. I hate to play the damsel in distress card, but throw me in a complicated situation involving car troubles, and I am no good to you. (Although I DID stand on the side of the road and glare at the semis who didn't get in the other lane. I felt like that was pretty useful.) I just realized how great it is that I have a husband to take care of me. Someone to go through these hard times with. Someone who will treat me good even when he's upset or frustrated or at serious risk of losing his fingers to frostbite.
I don't think I realized what getting married meant when I was going through it a year ago. I think I saw the fun, the playing-house side of it, the not having to leave each other every night and being able to grow old together. But I couldn't have seen these little moments, these trials we'd face, and realize how much I'd grow to appreciate what I have, let alone who I have it with. 
So yes, we have been through a lot this past year. It almost scares me to think what this next year could bring. But, ultimately, I never imagined I could feel this close to someone, or get to spend every day with my best friend. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing.

To Remember

I remember once in middle school, when everyone is all about themselves and sometimes unintentionally unkind, one of my best friends told me, "I know you're going through a hard time right now, but what I'm going through is a lot worse." The comment, of course, felt like a giant slap in the face. Shortly afterwards I somewhere read a quote that was something along the lines of, "Pain is pain, no matter the form." And I thought, "Ha! It doesn't matter how bad things are for you, that doesn't mean they aren't bad for me too!" When, what I should have thought, was that we all go through hard things, and there is no way to judge whose trials are "harder". They are trials for a reason... because they try all of us. My thirteen year old mind couldn't really comprehend that, but I think I'm starting to get it now.
Because how often are we guilty of ranking trials in order of how much they should be hurting us? How often have you told yourself, "Well, this could be worse, it could be like what happened to my poor neighbor last year. But it's a lot worse than what happened to the girl I heard about at work."
Like it or not, we want pity. We want recognition and support for what we're going through. Maybe we need to be told we're strong in order to behave as such. In any case, I think that's why I was keeping this, mostly, bottled up. I didn't want everyone to know because it wasn't everyone's business, or because I didn't want to look like I was complaining. But then something else happened: the holidays. Where a bunch of well-intentioned people would ask, "So how long until you two have a baby?" Wink-wink, nudge-nudge. And then my still slightly out of control hormones (or maybe this is my new personality?) take over and I'm choking back tears and pasting on a smile. And that's when I realized these things would be much easier if it wasn't such a secret. If they knew, they'd never ask. They might just be a little bit more careful. 
So, here it is.
On November 7th, I found out I was pregnant. We weren't trying, but since I haven't been able to take birth control for 90% of our marriage, we knew it was a possibility. However, this was the first month I really didn't even consider that I was, mostly because I'd been having some medical problems for the last few months, that basically ended on the note of, "If you don't have surgery, you're going to have a hard time getting pregnant. If you do have surgery, it could make it so you can't get pregnant." Encouraging words, aren't they? So we decided to put it in the back of our minds and deal with it when we decided we wanted kids, if and only if we had a hard time. 
And then, bam, that little blue plus sign is staring you in the face.
Actually, I was so sure that I wasn't pregnant, that I threw the test away before waiting for the results. Oops. A few minutes later I had a strong feeling to go back and look at it. 
So, seeing as I had recently been told this might not be a possibility for me, I was pretty excited. And let's be honest, us newlyweds are supposed to act all calm and cool and "I don't want a baby until my husband does" but I have always wanted to be a mom. And it's true that the minute you find out you're pregnant, you become one.
Two weeks later, I woke up and realized I was spotting. I called the doctor and they told me it was normal, Caleb gave me a blessing, but still I couldn't shake this bad feeling that, in truth, I'd had throughout my pregnancy. I told myself not to be pessimistic and that everything would be fine, but now I don't think it was pessimism. I think it was Heavenly Father preparing me for what was going to happen. 
The doctor told me to call back if the bleeding got worse. So I went to work, and shortly afterwards, it got worse. I was a wreck. We hadn't even told anyone yet, and we were waiting until Christmas to tell even our families. (Which is also why the holidays were a little rough this year.) Long story short, we went to the hospital and they confirmed what I already knew: I was having a miscarriage.
I don't mean to be unkind, but I had always assumed that miscarriages, especially so early on (I was about 7 weeks) weren't that big of a deal. They weren't as bad as what a friend or neighbor or so-and-so went through, but worse than most things I'd been through. So I guess I was a little surprised by the emotional turmoil that I was suddenly under. It was a loss, sure. I was sad, but mostly I just felt so useless  and unimportant. Like, one second I was responsible for another life. I was going to be a mom, I was on top of the world. Then, in a matter of hours, it was all gone. Suddenly, I was just Anndee again. Even with my wonderful husband being so sweet and taking such good care of me, I just felt alone. Suddenly, being "Just Anndee" didn't feel all that great anymore. 
It was really rough for the first two weeks or so. Everything  made me cry, and all I could think was how far along I'd be, when I was supposed to be due, even silly things like how my baby wouldn't have a summer birthday like I'd been thinking, or how I wouldn't be pregnant on Thanksgiving. Things that, on the outside, didn't seem to matter, because that's the problem with miscarriages: we can just try again, right? You just get pregnant again, and then you're fine.
But I wasn't fine. I had lost this baby, our baby, some nameless, sexless little thing barely the size of a pea, and somehow I had some attachment to it? And the more time passed, the more the few people who knew about it would forget, and expect me to move on. And don't get me wrong, I am not wallowing in this pool of depression thinking I will never overcome my trials. I just realized that this baby, this tiny baby that I will never get to meet in this life, didn't matter to many people other than myself, and that's because no one ever knew it even existed. And that just didn't seem fair. I want my baby to matter, I want it's brief stint here on earth to be known about, at least by those closest to me. Because it matters to me. Because for a brief second, I was a mom, and that was important, and I had this glimpse into the eternal plan and what's really important and who I am intended to become. 
So I know that everyone has trials, and that some may seem far more difficult than others. But in the moment, it hurts. And I truly believe we all go through the specific trials we go through for a reason. Maybe part of that is to help someone else. So I hope that by sharing what I've been through, it can help someone else. I know it helped me to be able to talk to the wonderful people who opened up to me about their miscarriages, and to realize there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
There still is. I don't know what will happen from here, but I know that I will be exponentially more grateful when I do have a baby. I will be begging for morning sickness, because I know now that means a more viable pregnancy. And I will tread more lightly around people, because everybody goes through things, and I'm not here to rank them above or beneath my own.
And of course, I'm SO grateful for what I have!

For some laughs

Whenever I'm mad, sad, or bored out of my mind, my favorite thing to do is look at the Humor section on Pinterest. My last year up at school, my roommate and I would sit on our bed and each be looking at Pinterest and showing each other the funny things we found. I still like to go back and bask in the awesomeness that is my Pinterest boards.
So, I've taken the liberty of compiling some of my favorite funnies for you here. Because it's nice to know there are other people out there with my weird sense of humor.

 Friends never stops being funny.

 Can't say I'm in love with Josh Hutcherson, but that Raccoon just cracks me up.

 Oh I looooved Mad Libs. Because when you're seven, nothing in the world is funnier than "poop." Just ask my nephew.

Why? WHY?

Scary how much he looks like Urkle. You can't unsee that.

 This one was killing me today. I still can't stop laughing. Seriously... just look at it some more.

 The things you don't think about when you're a kid.

 Too soon?

 I freaking KNEW IT.

 I've got to say, probably the only serious flaw in the book.

You're welcome, world.

Who I used to be

I talk a lot about how much I love to write, how often it's helped me and how I feel like it defines me. But in truth, that hasn't been me for a long time now. I want it to be. It's hidden down there somewhere deep inside, where I've been surpressing it against all the other things I've deemed more important over the years, but it's there. I'm slowly finding it.
I have lots of fun hobbies, but writing has always been my favorite. One of the reasons is that it's never been hard for me. Or I should say, it never used to be hard.
I remember when it all started: it was 2nd grade. My teacher, Mrs. Workman, started "Writer's Workshop" for us during class. She would teach us some simple writing thing (how to use quotes, when to capitalize letters, etc. Basic 2nd grade stuff) and afterward, she would just let us write. I loved it. There was something about calling it a "workshop" that I just loved right away. I think I was picturing Santa's workshop or something.
Most of the kids would write new silly things every day. But for the duration of the year, I was almost always working on my book, "Sara's Christmas List." I really liked how I didn't put an "h" on her name. I was just so darn creative. The book was named before it was written, and in the end had almost nothing to do with Sara's Christmas List. It pages and pages of funny conversations she had with her big sister, or a painfully descriptive telling of her treehouse. It was obviously no good, but the point was I loved it. And my teacher, who is to this day one of my favorite teachers I've ever had, was very encouraging about it. She would always tell me what a talented writer I was, and that was what started it all. That little bit of inspiration to give me the self esteem I needed to keep going. It's also one of the reasons I want to be a teacher, but that's another story.
From then on, I was always known as a "writer". I would enter and win every writing contest I could get my hands on. I loved it, but I also knew I was good. I had enough confidence for an army of men, something I'm afraid goes away with age, and it did.
I published A Place Like Heaven when I was 18. I remember the day I finished the last few pages of the book. I immediately called AuthorHouse (I had called them a few weeks before to set things up) to let them know my book was finished and ready to be sent in. Then I did a little happy dance around my room because, come on, lifelong dream coming true here.
And it was amazing. Getting the first copy of my book in the mail was amazing. Selling boxes and boxes of copies at my first book signing was amazing. Having random people add me on Facebook to tell me they loved my book was amazing. And yes, googling my name and seeing pages and pages of my book come up is, you guessed it, amazing.
But ask anyone and they will tell you Anndee hates that book. I thought I was doing this wonderful thing for myself by publishing it. But ever since that book came out, it has been a downward slope for me. Despite all the compliments I got, all I can seem to remember are the criticisms. I remember growing up,  I had a constant book going on in my head at all times. Everything I was doing was a story. I would literally be thinking, "She walked down the street slowly, watching her feet cross one in front of the other, as she wondered if her brothers were home yet. If they were, Cody probably ate the last ice cream sandwich even though he knew it was hers, just because he liked to pick on her. Having brothers was harder than anyone without them could understand." It was silly, but it was what made me a good writer. I was constantly practicing. I've actually noticed this coming back lately because of blogging, which is why I'm here. :)
At the time that I was writing my book, I was reading a lot of books by Sarah Dessen.

Looking back, my book is almost a carbon copy of hers. I still think she is a good writer, but my style has definitely changed a lot. One of the biggest ways, is that I want to challenge myself now. I would read her books and think, "I could do that." And I did. It was nothing complex. It didn't take much thought or planning. I just wrote. And maybe that's what I needed for my first book.

But now, I want to amaze myself. I want to shock and awe. Ok, maybe not shock. But awe, certainly. I want to write something Harry Potter-worthy, and I think that I've given myself such high standards that they seem impossible to reach.

The whole point of this is that I'm going to try, yet again, to write my next novel. Above any other dreams I have (ok, almost any other dreams. There are a few at the moment that seriously trump this one.) I just want to publish another book. And all it really takes is getting started.

Blond Redemption

I have been like one giant pity party lately. It's getting to the point that I'm annoying myself, and we can't have that! Poor Caleb has been walking on eggshells around me. One second I'm happy and laughing and talking about how thankful I am for all that I have. The next second, somebody posts some complaint about their pregnancy, then Dega runs away even though he's been so good about coming back inside, and soon everything has spiraled completely out of control. And I mean, I'm eating cake because that always solves everything,  Dega is locked in his kennel because I'm mad at the little stinker, and I'm about two "I'm sick of morning sickness" posts away from blocking any girl who is or ever has been pregnant, but I know me, and I know the best way to feel better is to write, and to write about something else completely!
Besides, this is a story everyone needs to hear.
We'll call it, Blond Redemption.
A few months ago I was sitting at work when this older man, probably in his 70's or 80's, came up to my station. The first thing he did was look me up and down, roll his eyes dramatically, and say, "Great, I have the blond helping me!" He then looked down the row and noticed one other blond and two brunettes and somehow came to the conclusion, "I don't have any other choice! Do you guys only hire blonds?" I would also just like to point out that my hair is currently like 83% brunette, so whatever, dude.
Trying to stay professional, I simply laughed, ha ha ha aren't you a riot and asked what I could do for him. He pulled a debit card out of his wallet, tossed it at me, and continued to address the entire bank. "Did you hear about the blond who..." I don't remember the joke, because it wasn't that funny. But the ending of this story is.
Everyone laughed politely at his rude and unnecessary joke, and meanwhile, I couldn't find his account in our system. "Sir, I can't seem to find you. Is your name spelled differently than it is on this card?" He ignored me and lit up as he realized he had what was probably an endless plethora of blond jokes all stored up and ready to go. He was going to be here all day.
After two more blond jokes, he got a call. He turned to me and asked what our address was. I told him, "98 South Main" then quickly corrected, "I mean North Main! Sorry!" Oooooooooh did he get a kick out of that. "Look at this girl! She can't even tell the difference between North and South! How on earth did a blond like you get a job at a bank? Did you hear the one about the blond who..." Finally, getting really irritated, I tried interrupting him.
"Sir, I'm really not finding your account. Do you have another form of ID on you?" He rolled his eyes and, in the most patronizing way he could possibly muster, he pointed to his card and said, "See those numbers, sweetie? Type that in to your computer, there, ok?"
By this point, I was about done with his attitude. I was chanting the mantra respect your elders over and over in my head, but man what I would have done for a good old old-man grey-haired joke right then. But instead I took a deep breath and said, "I can't look up your account with this card, this is from Wells Fargo." The man took his card back and his face went white as a sheet.
"W-what bank is this?" he asked.
"This is Zions..." I said, unable to help the huge grin that was forming on my dumb-blond face.
Just then, his two sons (the ones who had called him earlier) walked in the doors, looking confused.
"Dad? What are you doing here? We've been waiting for you at Wells Fargo for 15 minutes!"
I might be blond (sort of) but HE WAS IN THE WRONG BANK.
Karma never felt so good.

The Month of Being Thankful

Have you ever had one of those times where things are just really hard, and it eats at you all day long? And you finally get to sleep, and the next morning when you wake up, there is just a moment where you can't remember why you have that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you know it's only a matter of seconds before it all hits you again?
These last few days have made me realize that I do not want to be alone. The minute Caleb leaves for work, I'm a giant train wreck without anything to distract me. So I try to avoid the empty house as much as possible. But one thing that helps, (and I'd be willing to bet there's a Primary song about this) is to think of all the things I have to be grateful for. And besides, tis the season, right?

First and foremost: HIM. 

I don't know where I would be without Caleb. He is absolutely the perfect husband that every little girl dreams she'll find one day. And not only that, but he's my best friend in the world. He can always make me laugh, and he brings out the very best in me. Every day I am grateful that he walked into my life 2 years ago!

FAMILY

It's great to have a support team to stand by you no matter what! I love my family so much, and I've been so blessed to marry into such a great family too! They help us out so much, and it's always nice only living a few minutes away. :)

GOOD FRIENDS

I think now that I spent a lot of my time growing up searching for true friends. I've definitely learned a lot from them and I am SO grateful for the ones I have! 

THIS LITTLE GUY

Cause who couldn't be happy seeing that face every day? He has got to be the funniest dog alive, and he is so cute, he just always makes my day! 

OUR HOME

We waited for what felt like forever to end up where we are, and every time I pull up to my cute little house I am even more grateful for it! I love it down to every last plumbing problem, chipped paint, and spider. (Ok, I lied about the spiders.)

THE GOSPEL

Deciding  nearly 5 years ago to get baptized has forever changed my life! There is not a day that goes by that I am not completely blown away by the miracles and blessings in our lives. Even during the hardest times, it's great to have that safety net to know that everything is ok. 

It has brought people into my life that I will never forget, and changed me in ways I never thought possible! 

WRITING

And all my hobbies, really. I am not a girl who likes to sit still long, and I love that my hobbies all seem to be new ways to express myself!

Plus, it never stops being cool seeing your book on a shelf. (Or on the best sellers table, where I move a stack of them every time I visit the Hastings in Ogden. It's called marketing.)

Even when 100 things go wrong in one day, I still have so much to be thankful for, and way more to focus on than just the bad things!

Through Good Times and Bad

I like to have a plan.
When Caleb and I happen to have a day off together, I love crawling in to bed the night before and thinking, "Tomorrow, we can do absolutely anything we want!" But for some reason, by the next morning, that feeling has completely changed. Suddenly, I need to have the entire day planned out. I'm kind of like that with life in general. When I decide I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it! No one can stop me! That's when Heavenly Father likes to remind me that I have absolutely no idea what's going on and sometimes I need to sit down and trust him. It's always worth the wait, so I don't know why I fight it.
But right now, I have no clue what the plan is.
I made a decision to go to school, and I was dead set about going. Then, some major things changed, and after a lot of deliberation, we decided now wasn't the best time for me to go back. Then, the very next day, things completely changed again. I know we will end up exactly where we need to be, but is a road map really too much to ask for?
It has been one crazy year, full of one big change after another. We've had to make huge, life-changing decisions almost every day since we've been married. But this month has been by far the hardest.
One thing I'm grateful for is that Heavenly Father blessed me with Caleb. Even at my saddest, he's right there  making me feel better or telling me a joke. He never seems to think about himself, and I think that's what makes him so exceptional at this marriage thing. Another thing I'm grateful for is that, somehow, Heavenly Father is always showing me how strong I am, despite how weak I like to think I can be. 
These last few days have been some of the most emotionally and physically painful of my life. It has been a rollercoaster for both of us, and I have a whole new respect for people who have gone through this before. And yet I know without a doubt this is exactly how things were meant to happen, and I feel so blessed to be trusted that I could handle something like this. It has made me even more grateful for the gospel in my life. There is not a day that goes by that I am not grateful for my temple marriage, and for my strong testimony that I will be with my family forever.