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Showing posts from August, 2006

Oh.My.God!

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Welcome to the world Baby P!

Baby P (still first nameless) was born at 8:32am this morning, weighing 8 lbs 13oz and is 21 1/2" long. Mom and baby are doing well.

Congratulations crazylady Sarah!

Cervical Mucus, the zit that ate my face, and bird poop

If you are anything other than a good friend, you may want to stop reading this post right now. Mom or any other relatives...I mean you. Because what follows is something that I have an uncontrollable urge to announce to the world via the internet, but wouldn't say in the presence of anyone in person.

I am experiencing what can only be described as a practical joke played on my by the fertility gods. Two dead kids? yeah...well how about enough cervical mucus to cover Ohio? I'm.Not.Kidding. Before I was pregnant with Alex and Travis, I experienced what I would call a "normal" amount of cervical mucus. Now...now I can't walk farther than ten feet without my pants being filled. It's, in a word, disgusting. I wipe and it's like a freakin egg was cracked in my hoo-ha. And with each wipe I think to myself, "Disgusting," and then, "Hilarious...I can hardly control the laughter." Again, I feel like sending a big old F*** You out to the universe…

Welcome to Ohio...hiccup

Three of Ohio's big cities rank on the list of America's Drunkest Cities.

#3 Columbus, OH
#7 Cleveland, OH
#16 Cincinnati, OH

I think,in fact, that is ALL of Ohio's big cities, is it not?

Interesting...Do I live here because I'm a drunk? or am I drunk because I live here?

It certainly explains a lot about the people I deal with on a daily basis. Some of whom I suspect are drunk right now at 9:19 in the morning.

Day Two

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What do you think?

When you get the email from Classmates.com that says that 3 people were searching for you...are they telling the truth or is it just clever marketing?

When someone says, "Nice jacket," instead of, "You look nice,"...is it a compliment or not?

When you meet up with someone and they casually ask you, "How are you?" and you just as casually reply, "Fine, how are you?" and they give you THAT look...do you acknowledge that they wanted a REAL answer or do you just move on to idle chit chat?

There is a new photo of Angelina Jolie on the Yahoo front page...what did she do to her lips?

I'm thinking of selling something on eBay to make some money to donate to charity. I just need to come up with a clever 'something.' Thoughts?

If you know someone is making a mistake, do you tell them you think they're making a mistake? or do you hold your tongue and let them learn for themselves?

Happy schmappy...I still don't want to talk about it. So is it…

If it weren't for bad luck...

...we wouldn't have any luck at all.

Dear Catherine:

Thank you for your patience.

While we are currently out of stock of 4" thick Black granite stones, there is an alternative if it would be acceptable to your cemetery.

We have 4" thick granite slab available (a large piece that can be cut down to any size), but we can only saw through the first 3". The last inch is separated mechanically, resulting in a rough edge at the bottom inch. If the marker is mounted flush with the ground, this should not make any difference, as the sides are buried in the ground with only the marker face exposed. If the marker is placed on a foundation and rests above the grass level, then this would not be acceptable.

If you would like to verify with the cemetery that it does not matter if the sides are sawed for the top 3" and rock pitched at the bottom 1", then we can accept your order and prepare the marker.

Otherwise, it would take two to four months to order the stone in the desi…

Thinking only good thoughts

My friend Kathi went for her scheduled c-section today to deliver her daughter, Grace, into this world. Is it wrong that I'm terrified for them? Kathi is one of those friends who "gets it," so I know she won't mind I'm finally saying this out loud (she reads and comments here pretty regularly). She has battled seriously high blood pressure throughout her entire pregnancy (we're talking stroke levels). And though I never said a negative word to her about it...Oh.my.God...I cry when I think about it all.

Good thoughts, good thoughts, good thoughts...
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Grace Emerson made her way safely into the world around 12:15 this afternoon. She is 7 lbs and 22" long. Mommy and baby are doing well.

CONGRATULATIONS MY FRIEND!
WELCOME TO THE WORLD BABY GRACE!

Got this in an email...

...and thought I would share it despite its false reference to Audrey Hepburn as the author (see correction below).

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For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.

For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.

For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.

People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed; never throw out anyone.

Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of each of your arms. As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place …

Inner peace

*My husband just sent this to me. Sounds like a good plan to me.*

By following the simple advice I heard on a Dr. Phil show, I have finally found inner peace. Dr. Phil proclaimed the way to achieve inner peace was to finish all the things you have started. So I looked around my house to see things I started and hadn't finished; and before leaving the house this morning I finished a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle of Baileys, a bottle of Kahlua, a package of Oreos, the remainder of the Valium prescriptions, the rest of the cheesecake, a bag of Doritos and a box of chocolates.

You have no idea how freaking good I feel.

Buy a book, help the animals

Buy his book and help Duke (of Bush's Baked Bean fame) raise $50,000 for the American Humane Association and help find loving families for homeless pets.

Day One

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Unleashing thoughts

Life is made of a succession of moments. Moments seized and wrung out until there is nothing left of them. And moments missed....slipping by without so much as a touch to acknowledge that they were ever there.

Riding home from a fantastic day out at the mall with Steve, Sam, and my mom, I spotted a stray dog along the side of the highway. My husband was driving and didn't even lift his foot from the accelerator. We whizzed past and the dog remained on the side of the road. He offered to go to the next exit and turn around, but the moment was gone. The spontenaity was lost. In order to go look for the dog, we would have had to go down one exit, turn around, go back to the exit before spotting the dog, turn around, and then try to figure out where exactly I had seen it. My recall isn't that great, it was approaching 9pm, and we were all tired, so I told him to just forget it.

After my obligatory comment about feeling neglected because I wasn't heard (a running theme in my lif…

Can I tell you...?

Can I tell you how I want to scream? Will you tell me to be quiet?

Can I tell you how I want to sleep? Will you tell me to keep moving?

Can I tell you how I want to cry? Will you turn away in embarassment?

Can I tell you how I want to hurt someone? Will you look at me in fear?

Can I tell you how I need to hold onto something? Will you pity me?

Can I tell you all the ugly things there are to tell? What will you think then?

Can I trust you? Do you trust me?

So many questions. It's all in question.
It's all wrong. There are no right answers.

Do you feel it? Or is it just a distant memory?

Did you ever feel it?

Your life is gone...get over it. Move on.

"Living or existing?" the church sign asks silently on one side. On the other, some cute little quote about my obligations to God.

I have no idea what to say anymore. I want to forget and move on. I hate it all.

My mind cannot hold the details...cannot process this life. I sit and stare and wonder...

Can I tell you?

Weekend Shopping

Print this coupon and bring to any Borders or Waldenbooks store on August 26-27, 2006, for a 10% discount on your purchase. Borders will donate 10% of the proceeds from your purchases to First Book, who will use those funds to provide new books for children nationwide. You will benefit not only from the 10% taken off your purchase, but from the knowledge that you personally are giving children from low-income families the opportunity to read and own their first new books. See coupon for details.

What the...???

Pluto is no longer a planet.

I TOLD you...nothing is as it should be anymore!

Time out for a rain delay

The roof won't come off until Monday because it's supposed to rain tonight, tomorrow and Friday. meh. What's another five days when we've waited this long, right?

Milo the dog is home!!!

Hooray! After we enlisted the help of the neighborhood where Milo was last seen, no less than five phone calls came in today when Milo went on his nightly run. After an hour of yelling (my throat is killing me), a neighbor called while she had him in her sights and we were able to corner him and bring him home. I cried happy tears and thanked her so much she probably thought I was a lunatic. I'm going to go back tomorrow with a thank you card and some candy as a gift.

I will finally be able to sleep tonight. My kid and my dog are both home safe and sound. And I am tired.

The office manager at my office got me a rosemary plant for luck today upon my return to work. I'm going to have to thank her too because it worked. :o)

Weird reading

I'm reading Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen. The book dustcover description of the book intrigued me, so I asked for and received the book for Christmas.

On a visit to her childhood home in Texas, Julie Powell pulls her mother's battered copy of Julia Child's "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" off the bookshelf. And the book calls out to her. Pushing thirty, living in a run-down apartment in Queens, and working at a dead-end secretarial job, Julie Powell is stuck. Is she in danger of becoming just another version of the housewife-in-a-rut? Her only hope lies in a dramatic self-rescue mission. And so she invents a deranged assignment: in the space of one year, she will cook every recipe in the Julia Child classic, all 524 of them. No skips, no substitutions. She will track down every obscure ingredient, learn every arcane cooking technique, and cooke her way through sixty pounds of butter. And if it doesn't help her make sen…

eeks!

They will, "begin tearing the roof off tomorrow or Thursday and focus on getting everything re-enclosed as soon as possible."

Four-year-old perspective

After a year and three months, I paid the bill for our deductible for Alex's delivery. I paid it while sitting in Samuel's hospital room. But it felt like I turned a corner in that moment...moved forward somehow.

There I was again, in that place dealing with a situation that was entirely beyond my control. In a lot of ways, Sam taught me the most valuable lesson I could have learned. Throw a fit. Scream and yell and cry. And make it good and loud so you wake the neighbors and everybody knows how this sucks. And then have a chocolate chip cookie and watch some cartoons and move past it. Find the playroom and enjoy yourself. Continuing the fit ain't gonna change a damn thing about where you are at the moment except to give you a red nose, high blood pressure, and a hoarse voice from the screaming. And everybody agrees...it sucks that this is the way it is...but there is no magical cure. So deal with it the best you can.

It was time to let go of the anger and the pain. It'…

We're home

The long and the short of it is this...the right hand didn't know what the left was doing. Sam's cultures came back and he doesn't need the horrible, make you throw up, medicine. The nurse was a bit miffed when she came in to take his vitals and found us packing up. Apparently nobody even told her we were discharged.

Lesson learned...no more teaching hospitals...ever.

Hugs and internet kisses to you all, my dear readers. I'm off to have dinner with my two guys, pass out some lost dog fliers, have some sort of adult beverage, and go to bed in my nice king sized bed.

I know they are MEDICAL professionals...

...but the way they treat people, as though they are nothing more than a set of symptoms and diagnoses, is so frustrating.

Can they not see that when they announce he can go home IF this and IF that, they are setting us up if the IF's don't work out right?

Can they not see that when they tell a little boy they have a playroom, that is it a cruel form of torture to then tell him he can't use it because the volunteer staff didn't bother to show up today and we are at their mercy?

Can they not see that 7:30am, when they waltz into the room, flip on the lights, and start talking at us, before we've even gained consciousness...before I've put my glasses on (not to mention before I've had any coffee)...that I am going to retain NOTHING?

Can they not see that trying to convince a four-year-old to eat is not going to happen when you stroll in and announce that he's going to have to stay here for two or three more days?

Can they not see that when they tell him he…

Too much pressure for a (thirty-)four-year-old

"You can go home IF you eat and IF you can keep the oral version of your medication down (which, by the way, tastes terrible) and IF you promise to see your pediatrician tomorrow."

Excitement ensues.

So he ate a McDonald's cheeseburger and fries lovingly brought to him and stored in the fridge since lunch (when he was still refusing to eat).

And then they brought the oral medication to him (which, by the way, tastes terrible).

He threw up.

We're still here.

He's asleep and I'm crying.

Ain't this fun?

Things I will eventually write about:
~the hospital hunger strike and the nonstop comments on his food intake (or lack thereof)
~related to the hunger strike...just how close I came to killing a doctor
~related to the klling urge...just how close I came to having a breakdown and hurting a nurse and a nursing student
~the pee-catching and associated comments about that
~the playroom that is never open (and the child life specialist with a stick up her ass)
~the bouncing b…

From the South Bend Tribune

August 06. 2006 6:59AM
Now I lay me down to sleep, Part 1: A pregnancy's frantic turn
OTHER STORIES IN THIS SERIES: NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP

First of four parts
HEIDI PRESCOTT
Tribune Staff Writer

Brittany Baich craned her neck to see the screen as the technician spread cold gel across her swollen abdomen.

As soon as the small plastic device pressed down on her body, a black-and-white image of her healthy 37-week-old baby quickly appeared.

Brittany studied his perfect little profile in awe. She pointed to his eyes and nose as her own mom cried happy tears at the end of the bed at this first glimpse of her grandson.

Then, just as suddenly, the baby lifted one arm and then the other in front of his face, moving here and there and distorting their view.

Although her obstetrician ordered the exam that morning after she developed raised blood pressure and protein in her urine, misgivings never entered Brittany's mind. Sure, she was tired and nauseated in her first trimester late last summe…

More fun at the hospital

(moved over to Sam-a-lama's blog)

It's official...I hate my husband and my son

ALL.DAY. I spent ALL DAMN DAY trying to get Samuel to eat. I tried EVERYTHING. The happy picnic lunch together. Logic. Threats. Offering rewards. Begging. Pleading. All I got was, "I want to go home," and, "never," and the ever popular, "just shutup and leave me alone, I'm not in a good mood right now."

Daddy, the fun-meister, shows up from having spent time at home doing chores during my Chinese-water-torture-of-an-afternoon, says, "Let's share a grilled cheese sandwich," and the kid is ALL OVER IT. CAN'T EAT FAST ENOUGH. AND IS NOW ON HIS WAY DOWN TO THE CAFETERIA TO GET ANOTHER SANDWICH.

Yes, I'm irked. I'm tired, I'm bored, I'm angry at the universe...and I have apparently lost "the touch" with my son. I have resorted to three crying jags in two different bathrooms and a family living center room in this place. I literally had to walk away from my son for fear I was going to scream at him. I haven't be…

For Jaye...because I live to entertain :o)

1. If you had to set your own work schedule; 8 hours per day; 5 days per week. Which days and hours would you choose?

I really enjoy my current 8am-4:30pm. Seven isn't too bad to wake up and getting home at 5pm (when I had a car) leaves some daylight to play with.

2. What Reality Show would you be on and why?

HGTV's Design Star. I love interior decorating. And you don't have to eat anything gross.

3. What is the last book you read?

Currently reading Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen. I don't remember the last book I actually finished reading.

4. There are many songs that bring us back to a certain memory. What song(s) do you HATE to hear for that very reason?

Kenny Chesney's Who You'd Be Today.

5. If you could go back in time to be any place in world history, what time would you choose and what country / place?

I would love to visit Medieval England. Live in a castle. Wear beautiful gowns. Chivalry alive and well. Maybe I over-romanticize …

I just want this all to be over for you Catherine

I saw her today. And it all came back to me. I remember her, so clearly, fussing with my IV as she said, "I just want this all to be over for you Catherine." We all struggled through the labor that would eventually deliver Alex's body from mine, but she seemed particularly annoyed that I would take up her time in pushing him out into the world. I knew she thought I should have him cut from my body...I just got that sense from her. And her unspoken judgments stung, since I knew she probably had no idea what it meant...any of it. Seeing her today, I know she still doesn't understand any of it.

The woman in the NICU wheelchair that the nurse pushed was wearing a hospital gown and clutching a beautiful bouquet of flowers...and an empty infant carrier. She had that empty look...hollow...like she was just being swept along the tide of her life to the next moment...completely lacking any control, any dignity, any hope. I don't know her. But I am her.

I worked hard not to …

Back off freaky happy people! (frustration and negative feedback)

The full spectrum is here at the freaking shiniest happiest hospital on the planet. And I can not smile at one more volunteer, patient care assistant, nurse or med student or doctor-in-training or actual doctor. Not while my son is sick. Not while the child in the next room is screaming her head off. Not while I feel as though I haven't slept in a month. Don't come in here and ask me if there's anything you can do for me. No, there is NOTHING you can do for me. Back the hell off, give my kid his medicine, and imagine what it's like to be in my shoes. This happy crap is really starting to piss me off.

PMS...check. Lack of sleep...check. Irritable child in need of an attitude adjustment...check. The trifecta of a great day. And all of these caregivers are on speed or something. Seriously, do they teach them that tone of voice at medical school or what? I expect syrup to drip from their lips as they smile those smiles at my son (who really could care less whether they are …

This is better?

So I had nightmares all night (the whole four hours of sleep I got)...about Sam, and our missing dog, and the screaming baby in the room next door.

If I start to cry I may never stop.

Sam's leg is better and worse this morning. I'm told it's normal to look bigger before it looks smaller...oooohhh-kayyy. But he seems to be feeling better and is currently eating an apple. He is amused by the constant stream of doctors and med students in and out of his room. He is quite the showman. And if one more woman gushes about how cute he is, I fear we won't be able to fit his head into the van for the ride home (whenever that may be).

Milo the dog is still missing. No signs that he has been back home. I fear he is gone forever. I miss him already.

Seriously...I KNOW it could be worse...but I'm not sure I can take any more.

As if this day couldn't get any better

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9:00 PM Cathy's cell rings. It is her mother. One of our dogs took off into the woods across the street and won't come home.

***So I fly home (an hour drive in forty minutes...yes mom, I was speeding...sue me) and stand in the darkness in the driveway and yell and yell and yell. I THINK I hear the dog barking in the distance, but no sightings. Could be him, could just be a neighbors dog enjoying the game (I yell, he barks back, and on and on and on). I can't very well pull on my hip waders and walk around in the unfamiliar dark forest by myself. So after a brief meltdown, I pull myself together, manage to let at least a couple of the dogs outside (though I'm not sure now, looking back on it, that I let them ALL out...that's going to be a lovely mess when we get home), fed and watered the horses, and barely managed to stay awake to get back to the hospital.

But walking in, my heart was suddenly lighter when I heard a little voice say, "Daddy! Mommy's b…

Just when you thought you were safe...

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Pardon the changes in tense and voice...some of this is as it is happening and some of it is subject to my poor recall.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006
I'm marking time this morning. My baby is sick...and by baby, I mean, of course, my very independent big kid. He complained of a sore throat and general achiness Monday night. Yesterday he developed a weird rash with blisters on his right leg and a rather high fever by bedtime. Today, his daddy is taking him to the doctor while I sit here and try to concentrate on work. I do that a lot lately, so you would think I'm good at it. But this is different. This is my baby. My one and only living baby.

Despite losing Alex and Travis, I have lived the last two years without any sort of weird psychological tics that make me worry uncontrollably about other family and friends. I don't know. Maybe because the danger seemed to be totally within myself, so I could rationally not worry about anyone outside of it. But as I lay in bed last night,…

Stuck home with the kid...

...and even Bob the Builder annoys me.

Wendy and Dizzy, talking about building a new dove house...

Dizzy: How many doves will go in there Wendy?

Wendy: Just a few to start with Dizzy. But after they settle in they'll probably have some babies.

Dizzy: ooohh...

Me: sigh

Sam's photography

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so tired

I am sooooo tired...very busy weekend...pictures to follow...must sleep work...zzzzzzzzzz...no, I'm awake...really...

zzzzzzzzzzz...........

How tired am I? I just realized, on my third trip to the bathroom today, that I was wearing my underwear inside out.

Somebody get me some caffeine!

Happy 12th Anniversary My Love

Well Steve, what are we gonna do to top the last twelve years? We sure have had an adventure, haven't we?

That first year with no sofa, sitting on the floor of our little apartment in Podunk, Indiana where neither of us wanted to be, eating macaroni and cheese and watching that little television (twelve inches, was it?)... But you know, I look back at the pictures from that time and I see us with all the possibility in front of us. It was hard, but there was a possibility of more.

And now here we are. So much achieved...most good...some really good...some bad...some really bad. So much possibility still remains. Remember that. Remember that no matter what life throws our way and no matter how badly today sucks, tomorrow holds possibility. I never in a million years would have guessed we would be visiting our boys' graves on the weekend of our anniversary. But the rest is better than it was in my imagination. Our home, our zoo, our boy, and us. When I think of it all, I still hav…

Boring boring boring...but I post it anyway

I am inspired to share what I will be doing this weekend...but...uh...not much. lol

Tonight I'm going to dinner with my hubster...who is currently enjoying ice cream courtesy of his boss...all in the name of a "meeting." I think we need to work on this as a concept for meetings around my work.

Hopefully before we head off to dinner we'll get out to the cemetery to get the boys' flowers planted. Red mums...Sam chose them because his favorite color is red. I love that kid.

We also have to hit Walmart to buy my mom's late birthday present. We're getting one of those firepit tables for her for her garden sitting/swing area. It comes in a set and there are four chairs. We're still debating how to split up the set, but we'll be taking at least two of the chairs to sit on our brand new front porch (if it ever actually gets built).

Tomorrow is the highly anticipated take-the-four-year-old-to-the-fair-to-ride-on-rides-until-he-throws-up trip. Should be fun. :…

Fair Etiquette

I spent my lunch hour walking over to the county fair. It took me the entire hour despite being a mere two blocks from work because of this dang ankle. But the lure of grease-laden munchies beckoned and I have resisted all week, so I felt it was time.

I spent a good portion of the time walking and talking with a woman who has never had a corn dog. I personally can't believe that such a life exists. Where would I be without corn dogs? My...what a different life that would be.

So B mentioned that she might be pizza for lunch. Pizza! At a fair! Again, I was flabbergasted. It was clear that some education was in order. There will be, henceforth, the following rules about the fair culinary experience...

You may indulge in any of the following:
~anything on a stick
~anything deep fried
~anything made with local ingredients and sold by 4Hers
~anything made of or covered in sugar
~anything served in a bucket

Other tips:
~once you go to sugar, do not go back to grease
~walk slowly so as not to ups…

Our thoughts go out to Sherry

Sherry's Dad passed away yesterday, the day before the anniversary of her Ryan's passing (today). Please hold her close in your thoughts as she walks down her path of grief.
I didn't make it to the cemetery last night. I'll try to get there tonight. At the very least, with the prospect of "date night" tonight (our anniversary is Sunday, but we take the grandparental babysitter when we can get her), I won't fall completely apart while I'm there. Right.

I'll tell you when you're wallowing

When Alex died, a friend emailed me and asked about him. I was in those initial moments when I feared that my grief would frighten friends away and I told her so. She told me she loved me and that I could trust her to tell me when I was merely engaging in self-indulgent wallowing. She hasn't said anything about it since.

I have been grieving for one reason or another for over a year.

God, to see that statement typed out like that makes me sound so pitiful. And I suppose I am, to some extent. So...

How long is too long? Do I start all over every time the universe steals a child from my belly? Or am I supposed to start off further along down the road, taking less time to travel the path to "healed?"

At this point, I don't even know if I'm really grieving or if I've stumbled into full blown depression. I am impatient with myself and I know others are impatient with me. But at the same time, I can't shake it. I'm not feeling this way out of a sense of obliga…

Attention clothing manufacturers

I understand that long skirts are 'hot' right now. But I am only 5'5" and I have freakishly short legs. I look like I'm playing dress-up in my mother's clothing when I wear long skirts. Could you do me a favor and make one or two normal length skirts. I'm not picky. Basic color and design so I can mix and match would be fine.

Maybe you could lay off the cute little lace insets and embroidered crap too. Further, I do not, nor do MOST women, look good in a Peter Pan color. In fact, the last time I wore a Peter Pan color, I was...oh...EIGHT!

Thank you.

PS...Save a tree...Don't send me a flyer advertising all these great sale prices if you do not have the items in stock!

Congratulations Julie!!!

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Julie passed her boards!

CONGRATULATIONS JULIE!!!

The victim of a decimal point

My aunt went to see her surgeon yesterday. Yes, that's the opening line to a not so funny joke. My aunt went to see her surgeon yesterday and he told her that there seems to have been a misplaced decimal point somewhere in her pathology report. They did find cancerous cells, but based on the imaging, it's nowhere near as bad as she was led to believe. In fact, he thinks it's relatively minor...if you can call having any cancerous cells in your body minor. She will have an MRI next week to really figure out what's going on and then they will plan the lumpectomy from there.

I think I hear the phrase, "You're fired," in someone's future. Someone else's bad luck is our good luck...finally! Thanks universe!

I seem to have been misunderstood

And maybe that comes from burying my lead (bad journalism student, bad girl). Or maybe it's because I didn't explain very well what I was trying to say.

"But believing to the exclusion of all fear..." (or at least trying to believe to the exclusion of all fear)

That is the type of person who gets to me. The person who dismisses the bad things. The person who refuses to face the very real possibilities.

For example...

When you talk to a mommy-to-be who has never suffered a loss...she doesn't want to hear it can happen to her and her baby.

When you talk to a mommy-to-be who has suffered a loss...she doesn't want to hear that it can happen AGAIN to her and her new baby.

There are things that are considered...what's the word?...taboo. You just DON'T talk about them. And I am shocked at that. I would think, that by suffering one loss, we would (as a species) be more open to the possibilities and the conversation. But we're not. We're just as guilty of tr…

I'm going to need help

I see a new addiction beginning.

The saga of the broken clothes dryer

We had the laundry assembly line working full tilt on Saturday...until the clothes dryer refused to dry. In fact, it refused to turn at all. We knew it was getting electricity because the light still lit up so we guessed it was some sort of overheating (given the 90 degree weather we were having, the extra work from a week's worth of dirty laundry being run through, and the dog and cat hair of five years building up in the machine *blush*). We were right. Turns out the heating fuse blew because of all the lint and hair in that thing.

The repair man came out last night and I could have kissed him when he proclaimed that it was FIXED. I even tipped him $10 on a $95 bill that included labor already. I was so happy!

And then my happiness turned to despair. About an hour after the repair guy left, my husband came out of the kitchen (yes, our washer and dryer are in our kitchen...old farmhouse...you make do...a fact that will be corrected in our renovation project when we install a laund…

Soap

I don't know why I have a fascination with the topic of soap and handwashing, but I do. It's not like I'm a germ freak...though by all rights I should be at this point. lol But I once saw an Oprah show where she hid a camera in the bathroom and recorded her audience members before the show, timing them to see who actually washed their hands long enough to say that they were really clean. It disgusted me to see that the majority of people just don't wash their hands long enough to be effective. Can anyone say "GROSS"?

The tip that Oprah gave was to sing 'Happy Birthday' to yourself...it is exactly the right length of time to measure a hand-washing. I mentioned this on a message board once and will now forever be remembered for THAT little tidbit. Hey, I guess it's better than the girl with two dead babies, right? :o)

So recently, I've been trying to instill in my son that he needs to really lather his hands with soap to get them clean. And like …

Naivete and bitterness

I have discovered something peculiar.

Women who experience one loss talk about how they have lost their naivete...how they now know they can lose a baby (while other women remain blind to that fact). They mock women who retreat into their safe place where nothing bad can touch them or their baby.

But try to talk to them about the possibility of losing a second baby and the majority (that I have encountered anyway) retreat into their own safe place where they dismiss it with, "I know that nothing can guarantee a positive outcome, and yes, we might have another baby die, but we felt better about TTC after this appt." They buy into the belief that if they just get pregnant again...if they just maintain control...then everything will be all right. They think like I did...that extra tests, or more monitoring, or a nicer doctor with a better bedside manner will make it turn out right. And THEY, the ones with that hard won knowledge of loss and grief, refuse to truly acknowledge the …