Friday, May 07, 2010

Miscellaneous thoughts

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Today I texted Steve, "We need to get a life."

And then, "Get a life...that's hysterical."

If it weren't for dark humor we'd have no sense of humor at all.
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It's been four weeks.
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I just watched Grey's Anatomy and suddenly can not breathe. Dr. Yang is talking to a little girl about what she'll do if her mommy dies. Dr. Yang says something to the effect that at first it's going to hurt a lot whenever she thinks of her mommy...but with time it will hurt less and less...until eventually she'll think of her and it will only hurt a little bit.

Here's the thing...if it hurts a little bit when I think of Alex...and a little bit when I think of Travis...and a little bit when I think of Little Bug...that's a whole lot of little bits of hurt.
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I read a couple of posts in different places today that were, "yeah...what she said," kinds of things, so I thought I'd share...

On having two healthy children and a dead one...
I feel like there's a traffic jam going on in my head at all times..."

On having a second miscarriage...
One mc is unlucky, a fluke, something that happens to a lot of women. Two mc's make me someone who has mc's, makes me someone to be pitied, someone who might never have another child, someone who serves as a cautionary tale, someone who was a fool for expecting happiness, someone who is numb, someone who might never ttc again, someone who has to be tested, someone who is tired. I feel stupid for putting myself in this place.
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Before we got married, Steve said he wanted to have six kids. We have five...but I'm pretty sure this isn't the way he pictured it.

He's a good guy and would never say. But I know he can't see me and not be a little bit disgusted and disappointed. I am.

I'm also more sorry than I can ever say.
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The boys and I had a whole day alone together as a result of a compensatory day for teachers (for parent-teacher conferences). We didn't do anything.

There was a time when I would've thought that was a waste of a day. But now, I think it's a precious thing...just being together.

I could have done without the, "mom, I puked on my bed." But the rest was great.
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A month later and I'm still carrying around the sad little teabags nurse Karen scrounged up for me at the hospital when I requested herbal tea. Julia and Sara introduced me to Teavana teas in their care package and now I think it's time to retire Lipton for good. Maybe I'll put one or two in Little Bug's memory box.

But seriously...how have I not heard of this tea before? It is SO good!
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At the end of last week we applied for a refinance on our house. We're not looking to get any money out of it...just want to lower our monthly payment.

They said no.

They also said no to any sort of modification of mortgage terms.

I told them, "You understand that at some point I'm going to have to walk away from this house and it will be yours, right?"

The conversation devolved from there. She threatened that the bank would sue us and I laughed at her and told her, "You do what you have to do...can't take what I don't have." And then it got even worse...to the point where I said, "Look lady, I just buried my third dead baby...take my house if you want it so bad...it's yours," and hung up and sobbed. It wasn't pretty. After that, the mortgage lady called and left a voicemail on my husband's cell phone...she sounded very nervous. Poor thing didn't know what hit her.
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I thought you were supposed to bring food when somebody died. But apparently, when a baby dies, you bring plants. I KNOW people are trying to be kind. I KNOW they want to show their love for us and acknowledge that we lost something precious. But good grief...the plants! It's like, "You're baby died? Here, have an hydrangea/azalea/weigela/hosta."

And the worst part is, this isn't my first time at this rodeo...and I've killed almost ALL the plants given to us for previous dead babies! You'd think people would get the hint already...I am not good at keeping things alive in my uterus OR in my garden.
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I'm ALL tangled up in my relationships with other people. I need to find a way to feel what I feel without those strings influencing me.
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I deleted a bunch of Facebook games that were causing more stress than enjoyment. Just one question...How did I get sucked into keeping virtual fish alive?
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Sam spends Saturday nights in our king-size bed. We call it "sleepover night." It's a leftover from when he co-slept and we needed to transition him to his own bed.

Last weekend he and I were sound asleep when there was this huge *THUD*. I did the in-control-mommy-thing and promptly freaked the f*** out.

M: "Sam! SAM! Are you OK? What happened? Sam? Did you hurt anything...what did you hurt?"

Sam: "Diet Pepsi?"

Deep breath...lift him back into the bed...giggle to myself. I REALLY need to relax a little.
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Myles can say "S" at the start of words but calls his brother Mas. As in, Sam backwards. Selective dyslexia? It's so weird.
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My seven-year-old has learned well the art of the successful nag...and it's driving me CRAZY!
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I am REALLY tired of snuggling with Myles and having my breasts leak. Not a lot...just enough to make me very sad.
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