The day after I met Pete for the first time, he was deployed  -- by ship -- for sixth months. The next day, his brother, Chris, sat me down for a talk (more like a lecture). Chris, like many others, told me that I needed to "cut the chord" with Bob. He explained that I was wasting years of my life with someone I loved as a friend, and I was missing out on having a relationship full of passion and love. At first I brushed him off, like I did with all my friends at the time. Bob's mom had cancer; I couldn't leave him in the middle of it all. But Chris pointed out two simple things: Bob deserved the total package of love as much as I did, and he wanted me to feel the depth and love he felt for Gina (my best friend) with my own person - whoever that may be. 

If he only knew then... would he have offered the same advice? 

For some reason, Chris, out of all my friends who tried to help me move on made the most sense. I broke up with Bob the following day. I spent the next six months enjoying the company of my friends and really taking the time to take care of myself, focusing on school and teaching.

Six months flew by, Chris moved in with Gina and me, and I once again found myself in the presence of Pete. 

That day was strange. Chris was excited to have his little brother back from overseas and spending part of his two weeks leave with him in Chicago. I was excited because I had a lunch date with a friend - who I thought I was developing a crush on - and he was going to share his transcripts for his second picture book for young children (I think that's what I was really attracted to - the fact that he put his mind to illustrating and publishing a children's book, and he did it within months.) To calm the nervous energy I felt, I popped Vivaldi's spring into the CD player and started folding laundry to take my mind off of my lunch date-to-be. 

As I was mid sock folding - in stroll Chris, Gina and Pete. My Vivaldi was playing so loud I couldn't make out what Chris was saying, and the fact that my eyes locked with Pete's didn't help me. I turned the music down, said hello, and then realized it was time for me to go... Gina gave me a big hug and said, "Who knows you may find 'the one' today." Indeed I would.

I went lunch, had a great time, and for some reason, couldn't wait to get home. 

I wrote a poem about that day:

MY HEART SINGS 
Vivaldi pulsing through the air,
    the magical sounds of spring.
A warm air, as you walked in --
   and my heart began to sing.

The melody was flowing, 
   just like my gushing heart.
My life's composition uncertain, 
   but I knew you'd play a part.

With the gaze of your eyes - crescendo.
   the touch of your hand - a trill.
The chords of our our beings make harmony,
   so beautiful it sends a chill.

As Pachelbel wrote his cannon,
   he was touched by God above.
For only God could express so well --
   the beauty of our love.

The bells, the beats, the voices --
   let them sound and ring.
For you are the inspiration, 
that causes my heart to sing.

Before I begin this journey of words dedicated to my daughter-to-be, Kylie, I feel it's necessary to start from the beginning. Or at least on the day that Kylie's existence became possible - the day I met my soulmate, Pete.

Some people believe in fate, and others believe in God's intervention and hand in our lives - I believe in both. 

I was a 24 year old student teacher by day and waitress/bartender by night. My life was full of contradictions at the time. I woke up at 6am to shower, grade papers, and start my day with second graders at Newberry Math and Science Academy in Chicago. I worked closely with the second graders in Mrs. Wade's class, focusing on character education and striving for knowledge. To my second graders, I was an inspiration, a hero. At 3:30 every day, I transformed into a different kind of inspiration - a person who promoted eating and drinking until the tab was enormous. The larger the tab, the larger my tip. The larger my tip collection became, the better chance I had of covering my rent, bills and school supply costs. I would often work until 3 or 4 am only to return to the same routine the next day. It was a means to an end, but I loved both of my "lives" even if keeping up with them meant no sleep and constantly shifting between the innocent world of second graders and the mischievous world of sport fans (I mainly worked at sports bars - Gamekeepers, Hi-tops, Cubby Bear, Southport Lanes, etc.). I look back on that time and know I was lucky to have found my way into the hearts of those little ones AND lucky to have had such a hysterical and fun cast of friends when I worked in the service industry. (That's enough for another set of journals!)

In the midst of everything, I planned a surprise 30th birthday party for one of my best friends, Gina. Gina, at the time, was dating a guy named Chris. Chris volunteered to keep Gina distracted with a movie, while I, with the help of our friends, party-readied our apartment for the surprise party. More and more people showed, more and more decorations found their way to our walls, and more and more food covered our tables, counter tops and coffee table. Everything was "in play"; now I only needed to work out a silent entrance and unexpected surprise with Chris. Chris called, we silenced ourselves, and in walked Gina for a perfect "SURPISE!" Everything went as planned except for Pete. Pete Farnum. 

As I clicked some photos of Gina soaking in the large group of friends who turned out to surprise her, I couldn't help but notice they weren't alone - Gina and Chris that is. Strolling in the door behind Chris and Gina, was Chris' brother, Pete. Tall, handsome and like no one I'd ever met before. 

Handsome? Yes. Impressive? very. A prospective boyfriend? Not then. 

You see, I had a boyfriend at that time, Bob. Bob and I had been dating for over three and 1/2 years at the time. We were quite the pair - Bob and I. He was going through his mother's cancer, and I was thriving on having a boyfriend who was more of  friend than anything after having my heart stomped on four years earlier. We both knew the relationship wouldn't last, but we were best friends at the time. So, no matter how cute young Farnum was at the time, I was loyal to Bob and didn't even allow my mind to wander elsewhere.

There was, however, one moment that night that still sticks out in my memory of the event. After the party started fizzling out, a small group of us headed to an Irish pub called Gunther Murphy's. I grabbed myself a drink, settled into a booth and started chit-chatting with friends. Gina mentioned that Pete, Chris' brother, was a Marine. That was it. I spotted him across the room, and for some reason found myself determined to talk with him, if only to tell him that I respected what he did. Strange. This was especially strange because I was a known pacifist, lover of animals, and detested even the thought of war. I never knew, nor wanted to know, anyone in the service because I felt I could never get along with someone whose ideals were so different than mine. Yet something about Pete commanded my respect and touched me to the core.

Our conversation was short and sweet. I approached him, and told him I admired and respected what he did. I thought he was brave. Much to my dismay, as I was saying these simple words, I was overcome with emotion. My voice actually cracked as we made eye contact. Why on earth would my voice crack?! His response was quiet, calm and reserved. He simply said, "thank you." Now, we may very well have exchanged a few other words, but I can't recall them. Looking back, I think my voice cracking was my subconcious' warning that this man would one day complete me and fill all the little "cracks" of my soul. I would have denied it then, but something deep inside me knew - he was the one.

I am a middle school Language Arts teacher, wife of a Marine officer, volunteer coordinator for a non-profit organization for military spouses, animal activist, minister's daughter, webmaster by hobby, sister to two incredible women and a member of a really great circle of friends. My life has been full of blessings, and I thank God every day for my life, husband, friends, family, students and faith. There has only been one thing missing in my life - one little thing that I've wanted for as long as I can remember - a child of my own. After six years of trying, unsuccessfully, to have our own child, my husband and I virtually gave up. We accepted the fact that our lives had been rich and would continue to be, just without a little one in the picture. 


Then, one day, a miracle began to grow in our lives. What was supposed to be a call to the doctor to schedule surgery turned into a conversation filled with disbelief and unexpected joy. I was pregnant, and this time, the doctor was involved early enough to give us hope. Hope is what we clung to, and we prayed for strength and God's grace. And that is what we received... Grace - Kylie Grace. Kylie is due on May 18th. Our miracle child. Our lives complete.

I've set up this live journal as a place to celebrate the things I love most in life - words, animals, inspirations, jokes, my family, my friends, my incredible husband, and my Kylie.