I didn't even post a Sunday Blogaround this week, and I'm sorry for that.
But you see... I've been busy.
I graduated from college.
...sort of. I still have one summer class I've got to hammer out- it starts a week from today. And hopefully, I'll finish it before this baby evacuates my womb in a safe and relatively friendly manner. But I did the graduation thing. I put on a cap and gown, and I walked across a stage, and I shook hands, and grinned like a crazy idiot, and received an empty folio to put my diploma in when it finally arrives.
Although I could have, I didn't graduate with honors.
I graduated with my totally unspectacular credentials at 28 years old.
I graduated in a TINY class, comprised only of people who knew each other well. Who, for the first time, I opened up to in a personal way. Because for the first time, I was presented with them as people, rather than obstacles to my success.
Most of my classmates? They didn't know I was pregnant. I've been scarce this semester.
Most of my classmates? They didn't know I had kids. A husband. A life outside of my brief intrusions into their class discussions where it was clear that only I and the token neo-Con had done the homework.
But I did get to graduate with a few of the folks that I considered *my* classmates. When I started with the program, I knew everyone. There were about a dozen of us at first, and my two favorite classmates were there with me. One is now the assistant to the undergrad department head, the other was receiving his master's. They know what the last five years have been like for me.
Since I started at this program, five years ago, my husband was diagnosed with and then beat brain cancer. I took time away from school to take care of him.
I got married. I took time away from school for that.
I got pregnant with twins. I took time away from school to gestate them.
And I went back, part time, and got pregnant again. And this pregnancy has been hard. I've had gall bladder disease, skin cancer, SPD, and I've been under a ridiculous amount of emotional strain.
And here I am, nine months in.
One class left, but the hard part has passed.
From here on out, I have no idea what is going to happen.
But I know how hard I worked to get here.
And I am proud of all I've done.
Every single second.