Another Challenge...Will It Ever End?

I've spent much of the past 10 months studying my way through my first year of my Master's degree, and it's almost sucked my life dry.  I've been challenged to the nth degree and have faced many bang-my-head-against-the-wall moments, writing papers, exams, group projects, questioning my very  existence between this rock and that hard place.

Although my first-year classes finished last weekend, and I'm almost over this academic Matterhorn, save for four papers to write between now and July 22nd, I'm finding my challenges have only yet begun.

I'm pregnant.

Yes, a shock for you, but if only I could have Instagram'ed my stark realization of my apparent disbelief could you truly appreciate the shock value it held for me.

If you knew me, you'd know I'm all about logistics: how things get done, when, how long, who, what, where, when, how....you get the drill.  Like a seasoned army general, I plan for the expected and the unexpected, forging my blueprints for appropriateness, completeness, finesse....

....this wasn't in the plan.

And before you barrage me with the whole "did you use protection?" debate, may I comment that this is a moot point, considering that I/we don't remember the what/where/when.  (Frankly, it's unfortunate, seeing we may have actually had a great time with the "how", but I guess that's what happens when priorities lie elsewhere.)

So, out goes the plan on losing the extra 15 lbs that snuck up on me on my Freshman-15. Much of my time now is preoccupied with deciding if I'm nauseous because of eating too much or eating too little.  My 9-week belly is growing at such a supernatural rate, I may be forced to blow my cover sooner than later, at the risk of being called bloated or, gasp, fat. (Who am I kidding: I'm already there. Ugh.)

Baby #3 (or affectionately referred to as, Better-Be-A-Girl by hubby) is definitely going to rock my world for the next few months.  Going to class on weekends, completing coursework, going to work full-time, two kids + one, if you include hubby, all while completing a thesis, nursing/pumping/insomnia, etc, etc....

While challenging, I find myself blessed to have found myself in this situation.  Actually, I find it slightly humourous, though perhaps this laughing gas I'm breathing will eventually wear off and I'll find myself needing oxygen instead. Until then, I'll keep chuckling away to keep my spirits up, shaking my head in disbelief to this cockamamie brick wall I keep running into. 

Damn logistics.  Good thing this ain't a real war.

When The Going Gets Tough...

I threw in the towel today.

As much as I refuse to admit defeat and use the words, "I surrender", I did just that.

I surrendered.

I surrender to the expections I have placed on myself to being everything to everybody.

I surrender to the unexpected events I have endured, worrying about the what-ifs that would've changed things and the what-ifs that may never be.

I surrender to the facade of being a good mother, in the face of actually being a good mother.

I surrender to what is left of me.

I have been forced to realize the status of my self-being: being suddenly deprived of everything I sought so hard to achieve, yet also feeling that perhaps I had never achieved anything in the first place.

So I'm taking a time-out, a "forced" (tell me, who admits defeat, willingly?) "medically-supervised" (read: borderline clinical depression) leave-of-absence from my job, so I can re-focus, re-adjust, refine and re-find my mind, body, spirit because, somewhere, I lost myself.

Where am I?

As I stood in the hallway of my doctor's office, staring out the tower window looking down on the street below, I contemplated what a leave-of-absence meant.

Defeat.

Weakness.

Incapable.

Failure.

Surely others have way more on their shoulders, yet why can I not do the same: grin and bear it?

So, I will take these next few weeks to gather my wits, "take a breather", learn to de-multitask, and focus on spending some time mending my spirit.

But in true Cheryl-style, to add insult to injury, I came across a book today, and I couldn't decide whether to throw it against a wall or curl up with it. It was a book on highly successful career-driven women and how they balance work and family. I bought it. If it's a secret, I do want in. But I'm not sure I'm ready to tackle my issues just yet, so this book will likely remain decoration on my nightstand, to taunt me, perhaps, or maybe it'll sink into my subconscious during sleep and then I'll finally know....

Back To School!

"Congratulations!"

And with that, my life has been uprooted again.

I have been accepted into grad school!



A solemn acceptance of my fate ahead was sealed as I read my offer of admission via email last Thursday. I actually got in, unconditionally; my file at The Faculty of Graduate Studies is considered complete. I don't have to write the GMAT...all I have to do is say yes.

It took me 8 days to reply to the Faculty of Medicine (from which the MHA is being offered). I needed time to assess what a Yes meant for me, my family, and life as I knew it.

Saying yes meant I would be immediately broke starting September.
Saying yes meant moving into a bigger home would likely have to be put on hold.
Saying yes meant I would be spending less time with family.
Saying yes meant I would be stressing out a lot more than I already do (I'm anticipating meds.)

Saying yes meant I would not add Child #3 to my family....for now.

I'm ok with the first four points. The last point was a little bit hard to face.

But, you know, I have to remain firm in my belief that what is meant to be will be. Life is too short to be wondering about the what ifs.

Eight days later, and I believe.

I could've dissected this decision to apply to grad school with a finer-toothed comb, but it's because I believe in the fate that leads me, I'll be ok.

And so goes my reply... "I am writing to inform you that I happily accept the offer of admission granted by The Faculty of Graduate Studies and I am extremely excited to be entering the MHA program in September 2011."

I need another sip of my Malibu sitting beside me: it's finally kicking in.

Cheers to the long 2 year ride ahead!