The Curvy Roads Go On Forever

After that last bomb I dropped, I disappeared for a while. I don't even know how long it's been since I posted about the twins. Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, we can see their facial features. I may get a little detailed here, so if you get squeamish about inutero stuff, feel free to skip this next paragraph. 

We can also now ponder how all the extensive testing that has been done on them-- I say "testing," but the more appropriate wording is probably akin to "studying"-- has determined they are identical twins which share one placenta, are both males, and two weeks into the third trimester look nothing alike. Identical twins, as determined by DNA and other testing, who are no longer identical-looking because of experiences that are happening to them individually. Although the multiples specialists my daughter is being seen by assure us this is completely normal, this equally puzzles and fascinates me because I've always thought identical twins had to look identical from birth. Apparently, if one of them is getting all of mom's fatty nutrients and the other is receiving all the sugar and caffeine, it creates conditions similar to postutero feedings, i.e., one kid's gonna be a chunky butt and the other a hyperactive gymnast. Take a look at them from this 4D ultrasound visit:

One's face is muscular and thin.  The other's face is a little more broad, and he has chubby cheeks. The muscular one  (the one at the top) is the one doing most of the moving and complaining. You can't see it from the photo, but the one on the bottom is actually laying his head on the chest of the one on top. And he's heavier by half a pound, which is apparently enough weight that the one on top can't do the cartwheels he enjoys. Most of this photo shoot was the smaller one complaining about the heavier one.  We only got one photo with the smaller one with his mouth closed. The snuggle bunny only complained when the ultrasound tech asked my daughter to turn to her side in hopes he would move off the smaller one so we could get a better picture of the smaller one. 

Is this blog gonna turn into one of those annoying "Look at my grandkids" snoozefests we all know are out there? Hardly.  These two are a part of the curvy roads I'm currently traveling. A big part.  

Our house is almost completely built now, and at the beginning of the journey, babies weren't a part of the build. Well, not baby humans anyway. I still have paddocks and barns and coops to build. I still have a garden that is all kinds of hot mess to get together. Somehow, all this is happening, and I totally am a believer that it all happens for a reason and nothing is a suprise to the Creator. I wish I could get some hints in advance of some of them, but I guess if I did know how every single thing in life would turn out, there'd be no reason for faith.

Since my last post, I have been over more potholes and fallen trees on my proverbial journey that it's just now that I am able to coast with the windows down...I mean, I really won't  do that on this road. Winged insects pelt the windshield and then bounce off and into the open windows. I don't know about you, but I've had my share of headless dragonflies and smashed horseflies landing in my lap.

Just as when I drive the potholey back road, I now am playing my own emotionally-charged version of The Hunger Games. 

We went from a manageable number of entitled canine brats to two more...and these two have crazy issues all on their own. Then a family member was physically attacked, and  that has its own set of stressors and procedures that are giving our appointment books a run for their money.

Add to that the weather is foreboding-- lots of rain predicted. I'm not  a very negative person, so I'm  still trying to maneuver these brand spanking new potholes along my journey but it probably won't be graceful.

If I may take away the metaphors and just be frank, I'm about to be a grandparent of twins.

When you can't see the potholes for the shadows... Part 1

I live in a small town. Well, it's actually the outskirts of the outskirts of a small town. Most of the drivers of the other vehicles on the road wave in acknowledgment when they see you, people blow their horns at you when you're out in your yard as they pass by, and several people stop to offer a hand if you are a stranded motorist. And there are kaboodles of back roads.

One of the back roads connects us to the interstate, and is a detour when the interstate becomes a parking lot. This road is lined with magnificent groves of oak, elm, and pecan trees adjoined by fields and creek beds. The road isn't as beautiful as the flora and fauna surrounding it. There are pot holes. Deep and flat-tire-beckoning pot holes. And when you're driving a few hours after sunup until a few hours before sundown, there are shadows from those gorgeous trees that completely hide the looming death of vehicle tires that lie within the potholes.

I'm reminded of the ancient epic (Was it the Illiad or the Odyssey?) that had the mysterious Sirens whose beauty and songs beckoned sailors and ships to their deaths against the craggy banks and cliffs. The pot holes don't look like shadows. They are hidden by them.

My husband drives this back road every day to work, unless it is icy. He has every pothole memorized, so he effortlessly darts and dodges them. All I see are shadows as I'm holding on for dear life, because he does that road at a speed not tested by Consumer Reports Magazine. It looks reckless to the outsider to see lots of vehicles all day long doing a verifiable slalom course on a country road.

My dad isn't one of those drivers. He drives sooo slowly that he can go in and out of the potholes like he's playing the game "Operation". Buuuuuzz! He hits the sides, but at least he is making minimal impact.

And I try to drive a few miles under the speed limit, think I see a pothole inside a shadow, dodge it, and hit the actual pothole. 

We all have different approaches navigating the same obstacles. It's similar to the way we process things around us. My husband won't buy anything over $40 without researching it, and then he knows what he knows. He'll remember the stats because he is detail-oriented. Pothole evasive maneuvers are a breeze for him because of how he is wired.

My dad is never in a hurry. Never. So he'll always "cross that bridge when he comes to it". And he'll ease through problems by not zooming through them. He may face a lot of rough spots, but his methodical approach always sees him through. 

And then here I am overanalyzing, overthinking, and getting to the nuts and bolts of issues-- and not always getting it right.

Who is to say what the actual right way is to navigate obstacles, because we're all individuals, right?  And how does this relate to my hopes and dreams?  More on this later.

Are Opportunities Really Missed, or Just Delayed? What If We Run Out of Time?

What do you do when you feel you are running out of time, and yet there are still things on your bucket list. There are still dreams waiting to be fulfilled. It is not through procrastination and laziness that you haven't done those things. It may not be that your goals were possibly even unrealistic. Perhaps pursuit of your dreams have been put on hold because of reasons out of your control. 

There are lots of reasons a dream floats out of reach:  death of someone who may have been involved in helping reach a goal, an injury, lack of physiological function, or illness that has sidelined physical ability, loss of income, or even "aging out" of a particular goal. 

I have begun to make Plans A, B, and C for my dreams in case my original plans for achieving them doesn't work out. Plan A didn't work out for my dream of building my new home two years ago. The price of lumber went out of my desired range. It could not be avoided nor controlled on my end. My Plan B didn't work either. It was to build a metal building and go from there. A more-than skirmish over in Europe moved metal prices up the ladder and away from 100% affordability the way I envisioned it. So Plan C was to wait. It had to be the default setting for my dream, and I didn't like it one bit. Did I know that it would happen? I looked over my house plan design a million times (I didn't count, but I bet it's a good guesstimate). I tried to redraw it smaller than what I wanted, but then I wouldn't have everything in it the way I wanted. I was honestly beginning to think I would have no choice but to finance the construction of the house of my dreams. But in the end, waiting was my option.

But what if it wouldn't have happened? Would I really have financed even though I was dead set against it? Nothing wrong with financing if that's your thing, but it wasn't mine. At all. 

There is another dream I have, and have had for a long time. Some of my Youtube viewers know that I have a charity with many functions, and my husband and I work with other charities and charitable foundations regularly.  I mention it in passing every now and again when people are interviewing me or in livestream chats if it happens to come up in conversation. But this dream is called "Hope Pregnancy Center". It is to be a peer counseling, medical pregnancy center offering quality, confidential, and free services to couples, men (they are a 50% part of a pregnancy happening), and women facing unexpected news of a pregnancy. I won't go into greater detail, because unless you plan to help me fund it, my business plan is inconsequential to you at this time. The point is, there is a lot that has to go into a dream like Hope Pregnancy Center.  And the longer this dream simmers, the less likely I see it happening the way I originally intended. 

I mentioned in my last post about grieving the loss of a delayed dream, but a part of me is beginning to grieve the loss of a dream I've lived with for a longer time, and may I have to live without ever fulfilling it. I grieve for the people I may not get to help. I grieve for the people I may not get to meet. I feel a lot of sorrow watching the calendar pages flip, because with every passing week, the limitations to achievement begin to build.

While some of my dreams do have expiration dates, perhaps if I am willing to pass them on to someone else, the joy in seeing them live will overshadow the sorrow of me not being able to do it myself. Every day, I am building components of this dream, and the preparation stage may outlive my ability to do more. 

This is where I find myself with this particular dream, and maybe you are also in a similar place with a few of your own. Instead of starting it up all at once, perhaps the dream has to come in phases.  For me, it may be peer counseling and training first while I work on finding medical equipment and already exhausted medical professionals willing to donate their time. 

Did I mention that I had a Plan D for my home design? It was to build it one phase at a time. I already had phases for my homestead planned out. Phase 1 was the building of the house. Phase 2, the basement and screened porch atop the basement. Phase 3, the three car garage and a new building for the horses. And so forth and so on. Plan D would've seen us building just a third of the house at a time. The plumbing would have been a nightmare the way we already had it set up underneath the concrete slab, but we'd have made it work. 

And that's really all we could do, right? Make it work or pass as much of it along as we can to the next person to finish? 

Time is the greatest ally, not enemy, of a dream.