Bon Voyage, Trevor!

Well, today is the big day! My little brother finally decided on something that he wants to do with his life. He found a language program in the Navy that he found very interesting. He took the language program test and got a good enough score to get into his chosen program (which is good, because otherwise he would have ended up doing diving or something along those lines). That was two weeks ago, and they told him he would be going into boot camp tomorrow. So, today he's on the plane and, starting tomorrow, he's officially doing the Navy thing. Go, little brother!

Capitulation

Once upon a time, I wanted long hair. All my cute friends had long hair, and mine simply would not grow. It was so sad!

And then, boom! My hair decided to grow! I was thrilled. I kept it long for about 8 years. It went down to my elbow, and was thick, and curly, and all the beautiful things that hair is supposed to be.

However, after eight years, I decided to cut it... and I cut it short. It was about chin length in the front, but quite a bit shorter in the back, and I loved it. Even though I had to get it trimmed every 2-3 weeks, I loved it.

Then I started working at Heritage. With horses, hair is often much easier to deal with if it is long and you can pull it away from your face. Also, again, all my cute friends had long hair, and they were so beautiful! I was way jealous, and decided to grow my hair out, as much for convenience's sake as anything else. Besides, I was taking showers at night after I would come home, and didn't take the time to style it, and so I would throw on a bandana and that would be that. It didn't look good at all, and I wanted to look at least somewhat attractive after taking a shower!

It was a long journey. Because my hair was so much shorter in the back, I still had to go get it cut every 2-3 weeks just until it grew out enough to be even so that it would all grow out together and not look completely stupid. Plus, once I went to get my hair trimmed and the girl hacked off a full 2 inches, thus negating about 4 months of work... which is difficult to make up when your hair is curly and doesn't acquire length nearly as fast as it acquires volume!

Anyway, here I am, four years after my journey began, and I no longer work at Heritage. My hair is shoulder length when it's dry and almost to my shoulder blades when it's wet, and at that awkward stage where it just looks messy regardless what I do with it. It pulls attention away from my face (which is really what it's there to frame, right?) and doesn't do much to flatter me.

For the last few days, I have been wanting to get my hair cut. Ryan is way supportive. We both know it's my hair and I can do whatever I want with it. (Incidentally, he says he likes long hair, but he plays with it more when it's a little bit shorter.) But I can't decide! I wanted long hair for so long, and now I'm almost there, but I don't like it! I keep thinking how much easier it would be, and how much it would frame my face, and all these things that draw me toward the salon! *sigh* Life is hard.

:)

It's a Girl!

And she has just the cutest little fingers you've ever seen!

She's still very active. She was moving all over the place, but kept her chin tucked up tight to her knees and wouldn't let the doctor get a good look at either her head or her heart, no matter how much he poked and prodded her.

I have a little girl!

We've mostly decided on the name Cara Libby Roberts. She will have my initials (my name is Chelsea Laurel Roberts) and Libby is my Mom's maiden name, which I think is really cool. Also, Cara means Friend, Libby means Consecrated to God, and Roberts means Of Bright Fame. All in all, I think it's a beautiful name. It's not completely for sure, but we both really like it so far.

Thoughts and impressions- Oh my goodness! I'm so excited, and at the same time completely awed. I can't wait to meet her in person.

In Search of a Story

There are many facets to my personality... many identities which I assume. I am a wife, a mother (soon), a friend, a helper, a sister, a daughter... I am shy, but sometimes not. I am funny, but only occasionally. I enjoy organization, but I like creativity. I love color, even if sometimes those colors are black and white. It always amazes me when somebody says they understand me, because after 26 years of study, I still don't understand myself.

One thing I have come to realize and to truly accept and love about myself is my full enjoyment of animals. They are smelly, dirty, often selfish creatures, and I love almost all of them- even the ones I don't like. Animals are honest. Either they trust you, or they don't. They love you, or they don't. They respect you, or they don't. The only way you can earn their trust, their love, their respect, is by giving them kindness, love, and leadership. And they will repay you with everything they have to give, which is nothing more or less than their whole heart. It is an amazing gift.

I've always known I like animals, but having spent the past 4 1/2 years working with them, teaching them, learning from and with them, and being a leader for them, has taught me a lot about myself. I truly enjoy mucking out stalls. I love the honesty of the work. I love knowing that what I do is for living creatures. I love those moments when I get to just sit and be with a horse, or a dog, or a cat... just to be myself, and to let them be themselves. It's an amazing feeling of freedom and relief and peace and lets me gather my strength for whatever lies ahead. I love that when I am done working with an animal, or playing with them, that I come away feeling relaxed and optimistic. I hope I may always have animals in my life.

While working at that job, as well as going to school, my life was consumed by those pursuits. I loved my job. School was not as wonderful, but my job counteracted many of the effects of school and I was able to feel like a productive member of society. It helped me deal with the daily aspects of school. I was happy.

However, I have quit my job now, and have come to realize that there is another facet of my being- one that is very strong and that I have not given much time or attention to in the past 4 1/2 years. I am a writer. Words have always fascinated me. I love to put them together in such a way that my reader can feel what I feel and see what I see. I have always said that I would rather write a thousand words than create the picture they are worth.

I still write, now and again. I love this blog, for instance. Not only is it a way to keep in touch with people, it is a way to share my stories in a medium that I find quite beautiful. My brother and I are writing a story back and forth. At times I will jot down thoughts or poetic statements or words of wisdom that sound wise partly because of the way they are worded.

And so, after much writing and rambling, I come to my point. My life is no longer consumed by my job. I have more time and energy and thought in my head to give to writing. And the desire to write is becoming stronger and stronger within me. It almost doesn't matter what I write; I simply want to put words to paper and create images for all to see.

Yet, I also want to make a difference. I not only want to write, I want to be read. I want people to read my work and to enjoy it. I want them to feel as though their lives have been enriched by reading this thing before them. I want to touch people for their betterment and my own.

There are many options, of course. My favorite genre to sit down and read is fantasy. I have found characters I love and fantastic and wonderful stories and even truths of life buried within the pages of another world. But there is also finding a true story from history and making it come to life with rich characters and daily struggles, such as in The Work and the Glory, or even Braveheart. There is a nobility to giving real people a moment in which to be read and understood. I also enjoy self-improvement, not only for the self but also a call to society to become better than we currently are, and suggesting a method in which we can improve.

I do not want to get locked into one genre, as I fear I may. It is easy, once you become known as a fantasy writer, to only write for fantasy readers. They already know and love you, after all. The same is true for self-improvement. What could somebody who writes about the issues of everyday life have business doing creating a fantasy world? Yet I have ideas... so many ideas... in each of these areas.

I would like to create something meaningful, as I mentioned before, which means that I need to write from what I know. It is only there that my writing will become rich. Regardless of the genre, I would like to write that which will speak to people.

And so, I am in search of a story.

Foiled!

I discovered, today, that my doctor is really not very good at communicating. Ryan called him an airhead. I would look for a new doctor, but because I'm on BYU insurance, my options were limited to begin with, and I'm pretty sure this guy was the only one open before June. Besides, he's not terrible... just needs some work with communication.

Regardless, here's the deal for today: We went in, expecting to have an ultrasound. That did not happen. He said that we do that at 20 weeks. (Technically, I'm still at 19.) I told him that last time I was in to see him, he told me we would do an ultrasound at this visit. He reiterated that we don't do one until 20 weeks. (All of which did not lessen my confusion... or frustration.) Anyway, he finally told me that we will schedule an ultrasound for next week. We did that, and are now eagerly anticipating Tuesday the 10th for discovering the gender of our baby. Ah, bittersweet anticipation! My deepest apologies to all those who have guessed and were expecting the results today. Let me assure you, my disappointment is at least as deep as yours. :)

On a high note, we did get to hear the baby's heartbeat, again. Apparently that's still looking good, which is encouraging. I also seem to be healthy, though I need to drink more water. And, Ryan bought me a milkshake to go with my lunch. It was wonderful.