Secret Things #1: Tears

January 19, 2014 - Week 6

I dislike crying. I don't like the uncontrollable feeling of it. I don't like the My Eyes Are Falling Out of My Head feeling of the aftermath. And mostly, I dislike the overwhelming feelings of frustration, anger, and apparently pent-up emotions from bizarrely unrelated times and thoughts and situations.

I don't cry when I'm sad.
I don't cry when I'm happy.

I cry when I just cannot find another way to express my extreme frustrations. As soon as I start crying, I get even more frustrated that I'm crying and, thus, cry even more. It is a frustrating cycle. But at least it's predictable. I prefer it over crying at random times.

A couple of weeks ago, though, the weirdest thing happened.

I am currently reading a 12-book series called the A.D. Chronicles. I was in Book 2 at the time. One of the stories weaved into this tale was that of a leper colony. After chapters of reading about their misery and their abandonment and their hopelessness... The moment had come. Yeshua stepped into their lives. And He healed them all. One by one. Inside and out. He healed them all. And the weird thing? I read it and could not stop myself from crying.

I do not cry when I read books. I consume books. I analyze books. I read them, put them down, and move onto the next one. But here I was crying. For seemingly no apparent reason. And no feelings of frustration or anger. It was weird and baffling.

But I shrugged and moved on.

A few days later, I came upon a picture of a lady lying on top of a gigantic dog. I do not even remember the story that went with it. Just picture gigantic dog and woman. And when I saw it, I felt it. That terrible [in my opinion] feeling at the bridge of your nose and the back of your eyes and the middle of your throat and the base of your chest. That feeling of impending tears. Over this lady and her gigantic dog.

I knew then and there that something fishy was going on. Something was up, and it was getting out of hand.

*cue suspicious music*

When I have a problem or question to resolve, I become probably unhealthily obsessed with it. I just cannot get it out of my mind for more than an hour or so. With my current suspicions such a Big Deal, I could barely focus on anything else and yet I was determined to wait it out, be patient, let time tell. And if having "What if? What if? What if?  What if?!" circling in your head on repeat for two weeks counts as being patient, then I am the queen of all things patient.

Time came and went. My normally routine self officially became no longer routined. We let more time come and go. We set a date for The Test. Saturday. We would take The Test Saturday. A few hours later, I decided Friday would work just as well. And, a little while later, I decided, what the heck, that very evening would work best. Yes, Thursday evening would be for The Test. Perfect.

Some small bullet points:

• Shop-Rite is oddly devoid of Tests.
• Tests are pricier than I feel they should be.
• What I wished to make my Facebook status that day: "Sticks are meant for peeing."

I don't think that tiny blue line has quite set in yet. I kept staring at it while trying to contain my squeaking and hopping. It wasn't really a complete surprise as I had suspected there was a tiny little swimmer* inside of me for a couple of weeks now, but now it was confirmed. And my reaction? "I must find out how a pregnancy test works because otherwise it seems like a magic pee stick." Luckily, there were some nicely detailed, interactive demonstrations of the science behind the magic stick on the interwebs. Whew.

So. Now. I am beyond excited. What is beyond excitement? Just, indescribable joy.

Who knew a lentil-sized person could hold so much power over my emotions?  

Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,

I saw my first shooting star a while back. I became so excited I nearly forgot to make a wish. I know Star Wishing isn't a real or practical thing, but it was on my list of Things I Must Do Based on Things I Read in Books. So I did it. I squinched my eyes up tightly and wished, wished, wished.

I wished for you upon a star.

You're my dream come true.

I cannot wait to shake your tiny little hand.

*Jason says I have to stop calling the kpluBlet the "little swimmer" as technically no more swimming is happening right now. But I can't help it. I am picturing our little kpluBlet just swimming and swimming and swimming, exploring the digs and finding all of the cozy places to hang out for the next 8 months.