It's snowing and my love for you keeps growing.

I have lived in Utah for five years now.  I am not a native to the state, or in fact to the States at all.  I am an English lady living across the pond in the welcoming wild west.   When I first moved here, it was a very difficult transition to say the least.  I have since acclimatized (some what – depending on the day in question).   Something I have never really admired is the snow.  Today, I think that is changing.

The snow started falling outside my house at 6:30 am. The exact time stuck with me because I was walking to my car when the weather changed.  Within minutes the tiny particles falling from the sky no longer had the projectile like force of sleet.  They simple drifted down.  One tiny flake landed on my right eyelash.  In that moment the vision in that eye went from LASIK obtained 20/20 to a sort of 1970’s wedding filter glow. In that moment, I fell in love.  I realized that snow has a sort of comforting effect.  It’s magic turned my cold heart of hatred into a warm feeling of appreciation. 

I don’t know I can promise that I will never again say that I hate snow.  I can say that today, my love for snow, and for Utah grew just that little bit more. 

Just another ordinary day.

It's not like anyone reads these anyway...so honesty here I come

I am going to pre-emt this post with the following statement: I am tired of constantly reading the rosy tinted spectacle style posts permeating the internet. I just want to be incredibly real.  My life is not a constant barrage of moments that will induce "LIKES".  Sometimes, it requires starting your day with a bowl of fruit loops and instagraming the lonely loop that's left in the bowl (because it some how understands how you feel.)

I woke up this morning to some fantastic news.  My brother and his fabulous wife are pregnant, again!  I think it is such a blessing to have such wonderful nieces and nephews. (Even if sadly, I only get to see them once a year.) I love being 'Auntie Anne'.  While I am so incredibly excited for the addition to my extended family, my heart breaks just a little that I STILL have not had a baby of my own.  (Four years in the trying and counting - a tiny amount of time compared to some people but an eternity for the worlds most impatient girl). I'll admit, I feel incredibly selfish confessing this.  I will proceed with my confession none the less. 

Every time I see my friends beautiful babies, I simply think, "Man, I am a failure. I can't do that.  I can't make one of those."  My husband tells me not to worry about it.  I remind him, that is pretty much the same as telling me not to breath.

Why am I sharing all this?  There has to be someone else who knows what this feels like.  Maybe I think sharing it will some how make it easier?  Maybe I think if I can put it into the universe, I can some how let it go.  Who the hell knows.

I am putting it out there though.  The frustrating thing is that for so long I have tried to pass it off like I don't care.  Saying, "It will happen when it's meant to." But behind closed doors I am constantly researching what I need to do to make it happen.  I have done the obvious to the bizarre. If there is a recommendation out there, yup, guaranteed, I've tried it.

What is most tiresome is the need to constantly find an excuse or reason why it still has not happened.  Sigh. I am not looking for pity. Or advice.  I promise you I have already heard it all.  I KNOW, I KNOW...when I stop worrying it will happen.

I guess I just want to say in response to the friend, who upon announcing she was expecting, asked, "Have you ever thought about having kids?"  Yup, sure.  I have.