And they lived happily (aside from a few normal disagreements, misunderstandings, pouts, silent treatments, and unexpected calamities) ever after
~ Jean Ferris, Twice Upon a Marigold

I had yet another appointment today. My first vaginal ultrasound was brutal, and I wanted to die of humiliation. However, after everything I have gone through, this one was a breeze. They took blood from the same bruised place, because that is the only spot they have been able to find a vein the past three appointments. (quite a battle scar there now) During the ultrasound, I was even able to speak and joke with the Dr. They said I have "Beautiful Follicles," and that they were very healthy and big. (they are also painful. Normal ovaries are the size of almonds, but mine are now the size of tomatoes) If you want to know the actual stats, they measured 22 follicles, and the lead one was 24.28mm. My endo. thickness was 13.64 (I am not actually sure what that means. I think it is the lining of my uterus) I left the appointment with, "you have some of the healthiest ovaries I have seen in a long time," and "Check the portal (patient communication website) at three o'clock, for your next instructions." They also gave me another vial of the medication I am on (I used my last one this morning) just in case we had to wait a few more days. {below is my sharps container that is getting quite full}

Telling a person going through IVF to "Wait for further instructions," with the possibility of delays is like telling a child on Christmas morning that they can only look at the gifts under the tree. AAUGH!! I would have wished those hours away if I could have. I took Alicia, (my cousin, who went to the appointment with me), to breakfast, and then came home. Luckily (unluckily..?) I am still very much under the weather from all the crud I have been fighting, and the sinus infection was getting the better of me. With nothing else to do (ok, I could have cleaned the house, but .. meh)I laid down for a short nap. That nap lasted most of the day. Since, it is my birthday, I did get several calls, texts, facebook posts, etc. to amuse me during my intermittent awake times. I kept checking back every time I was awake, just in case they posted early, but hours went by and and there was no news. Finally, around 2:30, I checked, and I actually screamed out loud. On the main screen was my next appointment, and it was asking me to confirm that I would be there. "Egg Retrieval, arrive at 10:30am, Wednesday Feb. 26th"

So far, although, we have had a relatively smooth cycle, things just have seemed to want to go wrong for us. I had calculated that we would have the procedure on Wednesday, and had told some people, but I was not sure that it would really happen. When I saw it in writing, I had the feeling that everything was going to be OK. Things were going to work out just they way we are wanting. Yes, I know that there can still be hiccups, and that we are not safe yet (I don't think I will feel that way until I actually have my babies in my arms) but, I am more at peace. (maybe because I get a break from shots for a couple of days)

To tell you just how elated I am feeling right now is so difficult. I am humbled, and happy, and afraid, and hopeful, and hundreds of other emotions all wrapped up together. I am sure that most mothers, upon finding out they are pregnant have similar feelings. But, to be in this position of infertility, and to have hope within your grasp, after so much waiting, and heartache, it's unexplainable. I spoke with a very sweet person last night who approached me about what I was going through. While, this is the only place that I put all the feelings down, and my struggle is not "facebook official," I do talk with people about it in person, and I don't hide some of my Pinterest pins which have to do with infertility. This wonderful woman, whom I actually don't know that well, but whose family is close with mine, asked if there was something specific that she could pray for. She knew exactly what I was going through, even though we had not spoken. She is in a similar situation, and she said she "thinks about having a baby every single day" My heart broke for her, because, I know exactly how much that hurts. It is a physical, emotional, psychological pain, that you can try to understand, but until you are in the depths of it, you will never fathom. Even my own husband can not quite understand my emotions on the subject, as much as he tries. To tell you that I went from that hurt place, to where I am today, just know, it is WONDERFUL.

I have been accused of living in a fairy tale. I guess, if this were a PIXAR movie, there would be some kind of musical number about now, and a picture montage of a quick pregnancy, and then the next scene would be me holding both of my beautiful babies, smiling up at Cameron, and life would be grand. While, I do yearn for that kind of perfection, I obviously know that all the fairy tales I adored as a child are fiction. However, I do have an issue with people who tell me that "Happily ever after" is only in the stories. The movies and books I read while yes, they end on a high note, are full of challenges, and issues that must be faced and overcome. If, by some miracle, I end up with happily ever after when this is all finished, I will take it. It will be MY happily ever after. There will still be times of sorrow, and there will be challenges along the way, but I choose to live in a world where people can look past their present hurts, and reach for a better goal. If there were no happily ever after to work towards, what is the point. (Ok, heaven, etc. eternal reward, I completely agree, and that is relevant, but that's for another post. I am talking about life on earth, and human happiness, which I know God does not begrudge us)

Sickness comes on horseback but departs on foot
~Dutch Proverb, sometimes attributed to William C. Hazlitt

This past week was an interesting one. I managed to come down with Bronchitis, and a sinus infection. I also started a new medication, which is also administered via a shot. (That makes three shots a day) This new medication causes headaches, nausea, and fatigue. Of course, that on it's own is hard to deal with, but combine that with shallow breathing, coughing, stuffed up ears, and a runny nose, I feel like the walking dead.

Cameron has been such a trooper, taking care of me, and letting me indulge in what I want most - sleep. I slept ALL day on Friday, and took a three hour nap on Saturday. Today, I did manage to get to Church, but I am now on the couch with no plans to do anything for the rest of the day. I do feel bad about my sluggish behavior, but everything I have read says that if I can, to sleep... it's the best thing for my body.

We have reached the point of the IVF cycle that we are going to the Dr. every other day. Luckily, I am surrounded with family and friends who are willing to take a drive to Tulsa with me. The actual appointment is only about 15 minutes long, which makes the nearly two hour round trip seem even longer. There is consolation in that though. I have heard of people having to travel 4 or 5 hours to get to their RE appointments. I remember this, and am very thankful for the 'short' drive.

This video was taken by my mother-in-law, who offered moral support while I gave myself one of my shots. I had to get the medication in me as soon as I could, and Cam was at work, so I had to 'man up' and do it myself. For the record, this is the only shot I have given to myself, and I do not plan to do it again. Cam has been such a great nurse, giving me all my shots.

This morning, I encountered a little snafu in my shots. one of the lids of the prefilled needles was stuck on, and I could not get it off. I pulled pretty hard, and the suction broke. Some how, in the process, I managed to stab myself in the base of my thumb, and bend the needle on one of my bones. OUCH. Between the stress of the shots, my physical condition, and the throbbing pain in my hand, I broke down and started sobbing. With little other choice, Cam had to try to administer the shot with a bent needle. Poor guy, he looked at my pitiful face, tears streaming down my cheeks, and had to then stab me with not one, but two needles, one bent pretty badly. I really did try to hold it together, but I think that probably only made me more pitiful looking. I had about calmed down, when I looked down, and the medication from the bent needle was leaking out of the puncture wound. I am not sure how much of the medication I actually absorbed. This sent me over the edge. This specific medication keeps my body from ovulating before we do the procedure. If I did not get enough of the medication in, I could ovulate, and then this cycle would get canceled. I cried for a few more minutes, and poor Cam, who is coming down with the same illness I have, wasn't sure what to do with me. He told me that he was proud of me and that he thought I was very brave, and he was impressed with how much I was able to endure. All I can say is that I can not wait for this week to be over. Hopefully, this week will be a good one, and we will have a successful egg retrieval and embryo transfer. Hopefully.

On a funny note, I did give Cam a 'shot' last night. I wanted him to feel what I had been feeling. He did not want it, but was a great sport about it. I think I will keep him.

Fear is a habit; so is self-pity, defeat, anxiety, despair, hopelessness and resignation. You can eliminate all of these negative habits with two simple resolves: I can!! and I will!!
~Napolean HIll

This past weekend was an ...interesting one. I was fighting off a cold, and was looking forward to a slow weekend. Cam, on a whim, whisked us away to a relaxing three day weekend in the Arkansas Mountains, which was perfect. Our plan to stay there and do nothing was cut short. We were called home due to a family emergency. Cam's Grandad was kicked by a horse in the head and arm, and was life flighted to Tulsa. His false teeth were broken in half, and his hearing aids actually flew out. his hat and glasses were also knocked off as he actually flew several feet in the air. (Where was the slow-motion camera???) As soon as we got the call, we rounded up our things in record time and drove the longest 4.5 hour drive of our lives, less than a full day after arriving. Luckily, Jim came out the winner, and is doing very well. That man is a fighter.

After sitting for a couple of hours at the hospital, observing absolutely crazy people, and getting nearly lost in what seemed to be an abandoned wing, perfect for an episode of "The Walking Dead," we finally headed home. We did not get to bed until 2AM, and did not wake Sunday morning until we were good and ready. Not only did I wake up with a horrible cold, but I woke up knowing that I had to receive my first Follistim shot that morning. I have been dreading and yet looking forward to this for weeks. That I am starting the shots means that we are one step closer to getting pregnant. However, that joy did not take away the sinking feeling that reminds me of how much I hate needles.

We watched the video again on how to give the shots, and got down to business. Cam actually enjoyed being able to stab me, and it was relatively painless. It did burn pretty badly after, but a little research later, we found out that the nickname for this drug is "follisting". Apparently, if any of the medication touched your skin, it can burn pretty badly.

I now have three shots under my belt, quite literally, because of the location (within two inches of the belly button in the fat.) By the time I am through with this process, I may be cured of my fear. As I said, it was an interesting weekend.

I have severely over reacted. ~Jessica Jarrett

The most wonderful news came from my Dr. today. It does not matter if I start my period or not. "Day 3" is mentioned in all the literature, but it means nothing to my specific situation. I will have my baseline appointment on the 12th, as planned, and everything should proceed as normal from there.

I do feel slightly foolish at my reaction, but that makes this news all the sweeter to hear. Tonight I have a photo shoot, which was really really hard for me to concentrate on. It will be nice to go into it with a light heart, and the ability to focus on what I am doing.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus ~Philippians 4:6-7

Since my last post (just yesterday afternoon) I have worked myself into a state of extreme worry. I am physically sick because of the anxiety running through me. All my life I have read books, and talked with people, parents, friends, etc. that tell me worry is a sin. Worrying essentially means that you are not laying your cares at the feet of Jesus, and that you don't think he is big enough to handle what you are worrying about.

I don't actually think that at all, so why do I continue to worry, and beat myself up over things that do not need worrying about? I have seen the hand of God at work in so many ways through our infertility, and throughout my entire life for that matter. I have been witness to what can only be described as miracles. I truly believe that there is nothing that can remove me from the love of God, or separate me from him. I know, based on the promises of scripture, that He will never leave me of forsake me. He knows the deepest desires of my heart, and what he has for my future. Why then am I not more willing to give my worries to Him?

The only thing I can think is that if I give them to Him, it will be out of my control. Although we have prayed about it, and we do feel very good about what we are doing, what if we are forcing this? What if we are playing God? What if he has a completely different plan for our lives, and this is His way of getting us to follow the path He has laid out for us? Could I actually give up this dream? I'm not sure I could. All my life I have heard of Abraham and Sarah. They longed for a lifetime for a child. Three years is nothing in comparison to the decades of grief and shame that Sarah carried with her. Going through my current situation, I hear that story with open ears. I can empathize with that couple, and understand the scope of their emotions. I literally shed tears when I think of how they must have felt when she finally held Issac. Then, in an unexpected twist of events, Abraham was asked to SACRIFICE his son. He was not asked to lay down his burden of worry, or to give his Son's life over to the care of God. No, he was asked to literally sacrifice him on an altar. He was asked to spill the blood of his lifelong dream, his most loved "possession", the thing that made him want to get up in the morning. He did it ... or, was willing to. Abraham's willingness to trust God, and God's plan for his life not only saved the life of his child, but cemented the promise that he would be the father of nations. I'm not imagining him completely at peace with the situation. I would think that he was probably shaking, and crying, and maybe even got sick a few times because of what he was going to do. BUT he trusted God. I am in envy of that kind of trust and faith.

I worry that my cycle will not come this month, and that we will have to put off the procedure for another month. This in turn, would cancel the European trip we have scheduled for the end of March. We would also have to start much of the process over, and have to pay for many of the procedures again, which we would make happen, but really can't afford to do. More simply, this would be yet another setback in this process. While, I feel that in general, I have given the grief of the past 3 years to God, I still remember all the setbacks, and the blows my heart has taken. Mentally, I know that I am not prepared for another one. Part of me wants to be angry with God over this. JUST MAKE IT HAPPEN! I know you can! I KNOW YOU CAN! I'm not asking for much, just that my body do what it is designed to do. The other part of me knows that this is not fair. God is in control, and in His infinite wisdom, he is doing what he knows will ultimately be the best for me. I have often heard that God has three answers to prayers: Yes, No, and Later. We get angry and depressed, etc. because we earnestly pray over a situation, and we agonize over it, and we don't think that God answered our prayers for that situation. But, He did. He might not have made the outcome be everything that you had been hoping for, but he did answer the prayer. Had God answered every earnest, heartfelt prayer I have prayed, in the way I thought it should have been answered, my life, and the lives of many others, would be entirely different. I would not have even met Cameron, be living where I do, or have the friends I have.

Another deep worry I have is over the embryos themselves. If this procedure happens, and we do the IVF cycle, they will make more embryos than what we will actually use to get pregnant. No, there won't be 30 of them, but there will probably be about 5 that we have to decide what to do with. We will cryogenically freeze them for a couple of weeks, just in case the first round of IVF does not work. Ultimately, there will be "leftovers" even after a hypothetical second round. I desperately want to do the right thing with these little lives. They are life. They are my children, just as much as the ones that will, hopefully, be growing in me. Do I pay the monthly storage fee, and keep them frozen for a couple of years, just in case we decide to try for a second pregnancy? (They call that a frozen cycle) What then? There will possibly still be some left over. That we could afford a second round of IVF at a later date would be a miracle, but a potential third... that's pretty much a pipe dream. From what I understand, there are three options. We can dispose of them, which I am completely opposed to. We can keep paying for the storage fee until they "expire" and are no longer viable. I hate that option as well, because isn't that just the prolonged (and expensive) version of the first option?

The third option is the lesser of three evils. We could give them up for adoption. There are couples out there who actually adopt embryos because of their own infertility issues. I don't want to sound like Scrooge here, but who gets the money for this? Would we pay for the procedure, the storage, and maintenance of these embryos just to give them away and have some Dr.'s office or agency make a bundle off of us, just because we are out of options? Also, I find it very hard, at this point, to think of another couple raising our baby. It's different than just an egg donation, or a sperm donation, this is our complete DNA, this is US. This life, although very tiny, is wanted. It is already loved by us and it is not even created. While, the blessing to the other family is not lost on me, the oddity of having our biological children out there with people we don't know terrifies me. I can't decide who gets to take my babies home. I don't know if they will be well cared for or loved. It feels like there is no good answer to our situation. I have been told not to worry about what others think of the situation. That I just need to make the decision that I am ok with, and stick with it. It is no concern of any one else. I am trying to take that advice, but it is so hard, when I am not at all sure what my decision needs to be.

AS I said, I have worked myself into a "pit of despair," and I am having difficulty seeing out of it. While, this should be one of the most exciting experiences of my life, all I seem to be able to do is worry. My need to control the situation is literally driving me mad. I put a very brief, vague prayer request on my facebook page last night, asking for help in giving up my worry over an "upcoming situation." (Facebook world does not know what I am going through, and actually, only a hand full of people even know this blog exists)

When I woke up, Philippians 4:6-7 was posted on my page, as well as many other verses and words of encouragement. This led me to some research, looking for further confirmation, or encouragement, from scripture, and other sources. While, I don't usually post this many pictures, and no, it is not good design, These were the most encouraging bits I found, and I feel it only appropriate to share them.

I remember when I was younger I thought getting your period was cool because it meant growing up. I wish I could go back, and slap myself.
~Unknown

When I was young, I remember getting my first visit from "Aunt Flow" and, although I was slightly terrified, I was so proud of it. Outwardly, I was awkward, and embarrassed, but inwardly, I was beaming. I had done it. I had joined the ranks of womanhood. For months before that "special visit" I had secretly worn panty liners, "Just in case", much like a girl stuffing her bra, and fooling herself into being a "real woman." The commercials for feminine products made having your period look like a party, and I was sure confetti would fall from the sky. I just knew other women would somehow know what was going on inside me, and give me the little secret nod, a knowing glance of sisterhood. I had joined a league of women who were ...awesome.
This feeling lasted a full day.

My joy at this milestone in life was soon replaced by horror as ungodly things happened to my body. Blood, and other unmentionable gelatinous globs became the stuff of nightmares. Swimming pools were a source of terror, and wearing anything but black sweatpants was a calculated risk. On top of the horror of the event it's self, I was not prepared for the effect it would have on my body. I was one of the lucky ones whom Mother Nature decided to doubly bless. From the beginning, I suffered from horrendous cramps. I remember being in the kitchen talking to my grandmother, and crying. I slid down the counter, and sat on the floor, sobbing, because my back hurt so badly. (No, I was not dramatic :D )

Fast forward a couple of years, and I was an old pro at controlling that monthly "visit." Only, as an added joy, I never knew when to expect my unwanted companion. I have friends who know down to the half-hour when they will "start." Well, Have a cookie why don't you. (I hate them) I, however, to this day, do not know if I will start on the 5th or the 15th. One of my worst memories and one of my proudest moments are all wrapped up into one day. I was a Paige for the state Senate, and I was working on the floor, delivering papers and information to the Senators, during a live, televised session. One of the jobs was to collect papers that they placed on the floor next to their desk, signaling that they needed said papers taken to their office. It was a pretty cool experience. You got to dress up, and wear a gold pin, that gave you behind-the-scenes access to most of the capitol. I walked proudly,carrying my already tall frame high as I made my way through the back halls as if I owned the place. I remember, I was wearing a beautiful light khaki pant suit, and I felt untouchable. I was on the floor, bending, and straightening, and bending again, picking up those papers. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a friend came up behind me, and whispered to me, "You have to leave." She guided me from behind, with a hand on my shoulder, sticking quite close to me. My mind was whirling. What had I done? Did I deliver something to the wrong office? Is someone dead? I was not ready for the answer. She discretely led me to a corner of the room, and whispered, "You are leaking" Leaking? What? I didn't get her grasp, until she nodded toward "that area". Horrified, I rushed to the nearest restroom, the senators room, where we were actually not allowed to go. I didn't care. I had to hide. Mother nature had issued a surprise attack, and she had gone all out. My once crisp, clean light khaki suit was now a solid rusty crimson on the whole crotch and backside. My underwear were unsalvageable. I wanted to die. I had to call the only emergency contact that was allowed to pick me up, and it was my grandfather. I had to walk through the Capitol, head dropped in shame, and suit jacket unprofessionally tied around my waist to attempt to cover most of the carnage. He had to go into the store and buy me some pads (I had not yet discovered that tampons were my best friend)and take me to my hotel room, where I had to make a quick change and clean myself up. All this was embarrassing enough, but on my way back to the capitol, the true gravity of the situation hit me... it had been televised. That's right. I'm not sure to this day if anyone actually saw it, but I can't believe no one did. I was the tallest person walking about on the floor, wearing a light suit, with a bloody bulls eye on my backside. How I went back and finished out that week, I will never know.

I don't know how many times I was told that all of the humiliation and the pain was "totally worth it." It's a beautiful thing, and it is a privilege that only women have. "If you didn't have periods, you wouldn't have babies". I bought into this, and I have now suffered through 16 years of monthly "blessings." (I will never understand why we have to start so early though. How about lets not even have to think about "the birds and the bees" until we are old enough to actually understand them - OK?)These dreaded "blessings" were (are) the controlling factor in my life. The week before, I would start feeling gross, and then I would have world war III in my Uterus for a week, and then after, I would feel almost as bad. There are only a few days a month I don't have a headache, or feel just nauseous enough to make me crabby. I was told that once I was married, and sexually active, that my periods would regulate, and that the cramping, etc. would actually diminish slightly. LIES. It may have happened to a few people, but I will never give anyone that false hope.

So, having now given you a glimpse into my medical past, you might be wondering why I am literally begging God for my period to come and SOON. It seems life has come full circle, and I am once again that young, naive girl.

Except, this time, I NEED it to come. My first appointment for my actual IVF cycle is on the 12th. (Baseline Ultrasound) this is to be done on the 3rd day of your cycle and at no other point. If I do not start today, I will have to call the Dr. and cancel the appointment. Yes, it may be put off only a few days, but every day is precious. Every day I am late means one more day until I am able to get pregnant. You would think that after almost 3 years of waiting, a couple of days would not be that big of a deal, but that's simply not the case. Mother Nature has tortured me for 16 years. She has ruined parties, sleepovers, jobs, romantic evenings, cute undies and peaceful weekends. Is it to much to ask that she cooperate with me on just this one instance?

"Little girls don't dream of growing up and having their kids via IVF"
~Unknown

Since my last post, there has been a lot happen. I've sat down several times to try to record what is going on in our lives. Funny, how I don't seem to be at a loss when I am talking about it in person, but when I am forced to sit and come face-to-face with my deepest thoughts on the subject, it is harder to get my brain to cooperate.

On the 9th of last month, we had our first appointment with the fertility specialist at Tulsa Fertility Center. We went in to the appointment prepared to discuss adopting sperm from a donor at a bank. We were resigned to the fact that we would never be able to have our own kids. That we were at the point of considering sperm adoption means that we had run the gambit, and been through the ringer emotionally. Being able to have a child that was biologically mine was a blessing, but we were mourning the loss of "our" child. Back at the clinic, we anxiously sat in the Dr.s office, not sure what to expect. After the pleasantries were dispensed, the Dr. got down to business.

He stated that he would not "beat around the bush" with us. (which was a relief considering what we had been through already) Within minutes, we learned that we would indeed be able to have our own kids, and that we would get started immediately. I am sure other things were said during that visit, and I know we talked about the procedure, etc. but my mind was reeling. "I'm going to have a baby! I'm going to have Cameron's baby! WE are going to have OUR baby!" Somehow, I managed to hold it together as we paid for the visit and got an appointment set up for the following morning. (Although, according to Cam, I was anything but composed) As soon as we were outside the clinic, I let go. I started to cry, and I continued to do so off and on for the remainder of that day. I had family and friends who were aware of our appointment, and were calling me to ask about it, and I was only too happy to have the excuse to talk about the miracle that had happened in our lives. I AM GOING TO HAVE A BABY!! Sometimes that statement still gives me chills.

Here I sit, a month later, $17,000.00 poorer, 10+ vials of blood gone, and a pile of medicines on my counter and in my fridge that could stock a pharmacy. ...and I couldn't be happier. Of course, I nearly fainted when said blood was drained, vial after vial, and I did nearly pass out during patient orientation, when they showed us how to administer the shots, but I am incredibly happy to even have this opportunity. Yes, I have already gained weight, and my skin has never been in such a state of blemish before, all due to the birth control they have me on (seems strange, but it's the first step)BUT I am HAPPY. I am happy to go through the shots, and one invasive, embarrassing ultrasound after another if it means I will get to have a child.

It's funny really, one of the stated side effects of IVF is... PREGNANCY. (DER!!!) However, contrary to popular belief, Dr.s do not toss 15 embryos into you and hope for the best. Their goal in IVF is "Pregnancy, not lots of babies." Our Dr. will only implant 1-2 embryos (fully fertilized eggs - babies)at a time. "No one needs more than two babies at one time." I am relieved I won't end up with five babies, but I have to admit, that I am fully hoping for twins. Yes, the obvious answer to my reasoning is "two for the price of one." We can't afford this procedure more than once. Even more than that, I have always wanted to have twins. I was a nanny of sorts for a set of twins all through high school. They were at our house from 7am to sometimes 7pm, 5 days a week, and occasionally on the weekends if their parents needed a sitter. Those little girls stole my heart entirely. I experienced a small dose of motherhood by watching them. I was thrown up on, pooped and peed on, loved on, and we had many snuggle sessions, rocking and reading books or singing songs. They pretty much ruined me for life. Twins don't run in my family. There was no way I would ever have them. In steps infertility and ...IVF... and TWINS!

I think of myself as a pretty creative person, but that nerd side of my brain has a very strong presence in my life as well. I LOVE research and knowing things, so stats, and hard numbers relating to my fertility journey are just about as good as it gets. Here is the breakdown for you number crunchers like me:
Chances of a positive pregnancy the first round, based on my age and health: 60%
Chances of both babies developing to term, and having twins: 30-40%
Ill take those odds. Yes, for a short time, I WILL be pregnant with twins, and it will be an AWESOME joy. I know that I may loose one, and that there are risks involved, etc. but I am, for the moment, choosing to look at only the positive. I have a chance of having twins. (There has to be a reason I was given this large, sturdy frame of a body)

For those of you who want to see what I will be going through this upcoming month, here is some information for you. ENJOY!



Here is a TIMELINE of what we will be doing.