Isn't he a doll? 

This is Orbit 

What I've been doing today

1. Imagine the horror when I'm laying in bed and the phone rings. It's my husband telling me the window installers are on their way. I hadn't washed my face and I wasn't yet wearing a bra. Quick rinse in the bathroom, change of clothes with the addition of a bra, and I'm on my way for the day. It was 10:30 before I got my coffee...that was fun.

2. Now imagine the horror when the window installer moves the bedside table and finds dust bunnies the size of Manhatten hiding there. I'm so embarassed.

3. After several unsuccessful attempts to tweak it, I have reached the conclusion that blogrolling won't work for me. It just doesn't like me. I'm convinced it's personal.

4. I'm trying to coordinate the rescue of this dog...
RESCUED!

5. I'm also trying to find Swarovski beads in bulk for making M.O.M. bracelets. And some dumbass keeps outbidding me on eBay. grrr!

And now for this commercial break...

I have recently volunteered my crafting abilities to the Memories of Mariam Project. I'm making personalized bracelets to give to bereaved mothers. The goal is to give them out for free...but it ain't cheap. I'm willing to donate the beading material myself (for now...until the project takes off and it gets too expensive)...but if you find yourself so motivated to help, you can donate a few dollars to the postage costs we incur mailing the bracelets to grieving moms.

Thanks!

And now back to our regularly scheduled blogging...

Yay or Nay...how do they decide?

I don't often talk politics on this blog because I know we all have our own opinions and I haven't really had much room in my brain for debate on anything of substance. But I have to step up on my soapbox for just a moment and ask about the motivations of politicians when it comes to animal rights legislation. I just don't get it. It doesn't seem to be about party affiliation. Is it really about whether they are good guys or not (and I use the term guys because both Senators from Ohio are guys).

The final vote on the Ensign-Byrd amendment was 68-29 in favor of ending horse slaughter by withholding funds for federal inspectors in horse slaughterhouses and at the borders. The House of Representatives passed the same amendment in June voting overwhelmingly in support of the Sweeny-Spratt-Rahall-Whitfield amendment (269-158).

Mike Dewine voted yea. George Voinovich voted nay. Both Republican. Both from Northern Ohio. So why the different votes? I have opinions about George Voinovich...could it be that I've been right about him all along?

Blogrolling?

How do I get it to show when the blogs on my blogroll have been updated? I thought I set it up on the blogrolling preferences...but it's not showing here. Help!

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And now my blogroll isn't showing up at all! eeks!

Reality finales

I can honestly say that I'm glad for who won Rock Star INXS and I hope they do well together. I, for one, have missed their music and look forward to hearing from them again in their newest edition.

Big Brother 6...meh...didn't like either one too much, but I'm glad who won that one for the simple reason that she annoyed me less than the other.

Won't say anything here about who it is...don't want to spoil it for those who TIVO. :o)

Rainbows

A friend that I work with went to Baltimore to set up her son at school. She did the apartment hunt and the move and had a zillion things to think of. But she thought of me and stopped in this little crystal shop that she'd been to on a previous trip out there. Now I have rainbows all over my office walls and floor.

Another friend sent me an ecard that says, "Wishing you peace in your heart today and always." With a note that read: "Just wanted to let you know that we have not forgotten the pain you have had to endure this year."

Isn't it amazing how someone simply thinking of you can make you feel better?

Stop...Pause...or at least Mute

I have been sitting here with this blogger window open for a while now and I simply cannot think of anything worth saying that doesn't make me sound like a broken record. I'm sad...blah, blah, blah. I miss Alex...blah, blah, blah.

Fact is, I'm at some sort of an impasse in my life and I don't really know where to go from here. I'm not pregnant (that I know of anyway), I haven't "moved on" from my grief and yet I'm not as grief-stricken as I used to be, and I'm not entirely sure exactly what to think or feel anymore. Sometimes I feel completely in control of myself and other times I feel like I'm hanging on to my sanity by the thinnest of threads that could break at any moment...sending my spiraling into some sort of mental and emotional quagmire that I previously only associated with mental cases and drug addicts. It's not depression. Lord knows I've been forwarded the symptoms enough...and been subject to enough amateur psychoanalysis...to make me somewhat of an expert on that topic.

It's sort of like being frozen in a moment...unable to move or speak...but watching it play out all around me again and again...and watching the rest of the world rush by oblivious to the existence of this moment that torments me. It's actually two moments. The moment I was sitting on the sofa in the living room and I KNEW something wasn't right. And the moment Alex was delivered and whisked over to the baby warmer (that wasn't even plugged in). I think I'm willing those moments to change...trying to focus all my energy on them so that this will have a different outcome. If I had just gotten my ass up off the couch and gone to the hospital. If he would have just breathed.

I know it's insanity. I know there is nothing to be done to make this nightmare go away. But I can't stop the video feed in my brain from repeating those moments over and over. And some days it's easy to join the whirlwind of activity outside the replay...but others it is nearly impossible to make it quiet down so I can think of anything else.

For my whole life my grandmother's mental illness has been something that has terrified me. Despite finding amusement in her delusional grandeur (she did, after all, invent the lego and Pokemon), I have always wondered and worried. It hasn't been something we have ever talked about as a family, but now I fear I understand her a little too well. It's so easy to disengage and let the insanity take over. It's so easy to slip away and let your demons take control so that you don't have to face whatever hurt and sadness you have to face.

I look at Alex's picture here on my desk and I marvel at how much he looked like his big brother. And I look at Sam's third birthday picture and wonder about all that could have been...and all that might be. I can't even refer to Alex as a pregnancy loss. He was HERE...he was BEAUTIFUL...he was so LOVED...he was PERFECT...he was a PERSON. This is senseless and I'm so freaking angry about it that I can't even describe it to people. It's the kind of anger that eats you alive and makes you a bitter and nasty person. And I recognize that it's there...and I want to deal with it. But more than that, I want to throw a chair across the room and make the images in my brain stop. He's gone...so why can't he leave me the hell alone?!?! I just want some peace. It doesn't seem fair that he gets to hang around in my brain and torture me for the rest of my life...so close yet so far away.

So I take a deep breath, have a good sob, and move on. On to what? That's a very good question. Where does one slightly psychotic, grieving, angry mother go from here? The images won't change, but they will continue to play. I'm guessing they'll never stop...If I'm lucky I can pause them for a short time when I want/need. But for those days when I can't even pause them, I have to find a way to quiet them so they don't drown out the rest of the world. Where did I leave the remote? I know just where to find the mute button, even in the dark.

Waiting and waiting and waiting...

Today I called the Ohio Department of Vital Records to check on the status of Alex's birth certificate. The State cashed my check on July 22, but Clueless lady who answered the phone (and made me want to disinfect my telephone after speaking with her because she sounded like she had some awful contagious illness) had no idea when I might expect to receive it. In fact, she wasn't even sure they "do that."

Then I thought, you know, it's been seven weeks since we finalized our plans for Alex's headstone. I wonder what's going on with that? To be honest, with the way I'm feeling today, I'm too afraid to call. Not that they probably aren't used to people crying on the telephone with them...but I'm just not up for a major breakdown today.

And so I get home and there is a letter waiting for us from the lawyer. I thought, "Wow, way to avoid an uncomfortable conversation...blowing us off in a letter." But no. The letter says they have yet to hear from their nurse practitioner and he will get in touch with her and let us know what is going on.

I have this incredible urge to go home and garden...maybe pulling some weeds will work this ick out of my brain for a bit. Maybe some progress toward something pretty will help ease all this waiting.

And a song I cried to this afternoon...

Who You'd Be Today
Kenny Chesney

Sunny days seem to hurt the most
I wear the pain like a heavy coat
I feel you everywhere I go

I see your smile
I see your face
I hear you laughing in the rain
I still can't believe you're gone

Chorus:
It ain't fair
You died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away
God knows how I miss you
All the he** that I've been through
Just knowing no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder
Who you'd be today

Would you see the world
Would you chase your dreams
Settle down with a family
I wonder what would you name your babies
Somedays the sky's so blue
I feel like I can talk to you
I know it might sound crazy

Chorus:
It ain't fair
You died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away
God knows how I miss you
All the he** that I've been through
Just knowing no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder
Who you'd be today

Today, today, today

Today, today, today

Sunny days seem to hurt the most
I wear the pain like a heavy coat
The only thing that gives me hope
Is I know, I'll see you again someday

Someday, someday

The song that I cried to on my way to work this morning...

A Few Questions
by Clay Walker
album: A Few Questions (2003)

How in this world
Can we put a man on the moon
And still have a need
For a place like St. Judes
And why is one man born
In a place where all they know is war
A guy like me,
Has always been free

And how can two people
Who built a loving home
Try for years
And never have a child of their own
And somewhere out there tonight
There is a baby no ones holding tight
In need of love
To me that don't add up

CHORUS:
But I wasn't there the day you filled up the ocean
I didn't get to see you hang the stars in the sky
So I don't mean to second guess you
Or criticize what I don't understand
These are just a few questions I have

And why did my cousin
Have to die in that crash
A good kid
Only seventeen
I still wonder 'bout that
It seems unfair to me
Some get the chance to chase their dreams
And some don't
What do I know

CHORUS:
I wasn't there the day You filled up the ocean
I didn't get to see You hang the stars in the sky
So I don't mean to second guess You
Or criticize what I don't understand
These are just a few questions I have

Why do I feel like
You hear these prayers of mine
When so many outta be
Ahead of me in line
When you look down on me
Can you see the good through all the bad
These are just a few questions I had

Our house

Today we did some inventory work concerning the projects that need to be completed around our house. Then we looked up some homes on realtor.com and went out to look at other houses. I guess you could say we're a little overwhelmed. lol We didn't find anything we liked, so we decided to focus on what it would take to make this place "perfect" for us.

Our home is a work in progress. Steve and I sometimes refer to it as the money pit, but we always say it with love. There are things we love...but more things we want to fix up. We bought it knowing that it needed work, so we can't even claim ignorance or unfair surprise. And there's really nothing more satisfying than sitting in our living room, looking around, and knowing that we made it into the warm and welcome place it is now. But some days it is certainly a pleasant thought to imagine sitting in a home that's put together and decorated and ready to be lived in without work. Maybe without all the home improvement, doing the dishes wouldn't feel like such a chore.

But there is something about this place that makes it worth all the work. This is our first home. And this is a welcoming home. This is the home we brought our Sam home to. This is the home that has ghosts that entertained Sam when he was a baby. This is the home Steve and I dreamed our dreams in. This is the place we built our menagerie and found our love of animal rescue. And this is the home where Alex lived and died. I know it sounds strange, because I know I carry Alex's place of life and death with me wherever I go. But this house is the home where we dreamed the dreams for his life. I want this to be the home that welcomes another baby...someday.

I'm not sure I could leave any of that behind...or relocate it.

So I'm off to put in the last row of tile on the bathroom doorway...

Busy Saturday

Today we went to a Dalmatian picnic...and there were spots everywhere! It was too much fun! Our rescue's director lives on five fenced acres and her home is VERY doggy friendly. So we took our Beau and made the drive to go play with the other spotties. He loved it! And he was so well behaved, I was so proud of him. I'll post pictures of the group in front of the fire engine we had loaned for the occasion (yes...Dalmatians and fire engines...we ARE too cute).

It was strange to see one lady in particular. She helped us transport our foster Dalmatian, Deja Vu, the weekend Alex was, unbeknownst to me, dying in my belly. She was very kind and asked how I am doing...and then let me talk about dog stuff. I like her. Seeing her, though, brought up a whole host of memories and I'm sure I'll have nightmares tonight.

We also picked up a new foster dog...Orbit. He's a doll and I'll post pictures very soon. He just finished his heartworm treatment period and is recovering from a gun shot wound to his hind end. I will never understand how or why someone would shoot such a beautiful creature...but that's a soapbox for another day. I can't wait to play with him and watch him get rid of that kennel dog lost look.

On the way home, we helped transport an American Brittany Spaniel to rescue. He was cute...but needed a bath (boy, did he smell!).

I'm tired. I'm not as young as I used to be. :o)

My poor little princess

I have five dogs. I know, I know, I know...my mother tells me all the time how crazy it is to have five dogs. They all have their own "issues" and are "special" in their own way.

My Isaac (Australian Shepherd) is 13 years old with severe hip dysplasia. He is really being held together with medication and duct tape at this point.

Rory (black lab mixed with something that "talks" like a beagle or coonhound) is four...almost five...and a bit loopy. The vet calls him "Crazy Rory" because he is so nutso. He makes no sense and is basically brainless. The other day we thought we'd try him off leash in our yard. He took off and Steve only caught him a couple yards down because he stopped to say hi to the dogs in the neighbor's kennel.

Beau (Dalmatian lab mix) is a heartworm treatment survivor...and probably the smartest dog we have.

Milo (border collie mix) is mental. He is afraid of everyone and everything...though he has gotten over that as far as we are concerned and is now only afraid of anyone and anything outside of our house and family.

Blue (italian greyhound/dalmatian mix) is my little princess. She was the runt of her litter and found her way into our house as a means to afford her some rest and recuperation from her siblings' attacks on her. Sam named her Blue...mainly because that was the only dog name he knew at two years old (what can I say...he probably watches television a little too much). She's been here a year, though it seems much longer than that since she's stolen my heart. She has had multiple health issues and the vet thinks she may have some sort of immune disorder that will require further testing. She does have major allergies and reacts to everything...including soap, carpet cleaner, grass...etc, etc, etc.

She has, for the past year, suffered from an injury to her ear that simply will not heal. She either shakes it too hard or engages the services of one of the other dogs to lick it clean for her. I know...gross...but it leads to her current situation. The poor thing just won't let her ear heal. So we've reached the end of the solution book and have wrapped her entire head in a gauze bandage and put a cone on her to keep her from scratching the cone off. The poor thing just looks silly. I hope it works. I'm at wits end with this one.

Feel Good, Be Happy

Seriously, that's the ad slogan running on top of a message board...a TTC After Loss message board! It's for some omega-3 crap in a pill form that is supposed to cure everything that ails you and turn you into super-mommy. I'm wondering if I'm the ONLY one on that board that finds this ad a bit inappropriate? But I have to admit that I'm wondering what it does for chronic uterine infections. I'm having visions of battlestar gallactica laser wars going on in my uterus.

Too morbid humor?

It seems so simple

You just say you're sorry. You don't have to follow it up with any other verbage. I'm sorry. It's simple. Try it.

There are so many people who have surprised me since Alex died. People who have clammed up when I needed them to talk...people who have talked when all I needed was silence. But I've realized recently that I love them all and I have to accept their ability or inability to deal with me and move on. A couple very kind women once told me that I needed to take the lead and let people know how to deal with me. They were right. (Please don't gloat) The problem is, I had to know how I wanted them to deal with me and the emotions were too raw to really make that decision.

Within the past few days, I've realized that the people I have opened up with...the people who allow me to talk about Alex as though he is real...are the people I feel the most comfortable with. So I suppose, in a roundabout way, I've found my way without ever really conscioualy making that decision.

And on the flip side, I've learned that I don't have to be anyone other than myself when someone else faces a crisis. I can offer my love and support and NOT have to worry if I'm doing or saying the right thing. Because I know they will let me know when they are ready to show me how to deal with them. I just keep it simple until then.

I must confess that I still harbor anger. Anger at those who weren't there. Not because they didn't know what to say or do, but because they couldn't fit us in...because their lives were too busy to take the time to acknowlege that we needed love and support. I wish I could find a way to accept their failings as easily. But there is something to be said for just being there...even if you fail miserably. And I think that is why the anger remains. I hope it softens one day...but I'm not holding out much hope that it will ever disappear completely.

So this is part of the new me. I kind of like the new me...even though I still miss the old me. I hope that's ok.

A google solution

So...I've just spent the last half hour deleting all references to my last name or the last name of my family members. I have, until now, felt relatively insulated in my blogosphere. But now that that damn Google came out with their blog search engine, I'm feeling a bit...exposed. And not in a good way.

All this crafting stuff

I'm realizing how much I really enjoy crafting...for charity and for others. I sometimes go in and out of phases where I start a project and don't finish it. I think I'm going to pull out that Debbie Mumm quilt I started for my Aunt years ago and finally finish it. It's really almost done...I don't know WHY I haven't finished it before now.

But I also realized I've never done anything for myself...not so much as a scrap or a stitch has been done for me. I've made Sam a couple crocheted blankies...and I made Alex a blankie...but I've never made anything just for ME. How strange is that?

So I went off to eBay and found some great fabric. And I'm going to make myself not one, but TWO projects. One just to use...and the other for my bed. I'm most excited about the "me" blanket...made with these quilt squares...





Oh...and Aunt Jonette...if you're reading this...I have that video and will send it out in the mail to you. Maybe you can use that fancy new sewing machine of yours to make something amazing. :o)

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UPDATE
Now I know why I never finished the quilt. It was my first attempt and it's awful. I'm going to pull apart the squares and try to salvage some of it. Keep your fingers crossed for it...and me.

Q: What is President Bush’s position on Roe v. Wade?

A: He doesn’t care how people get out of New Orleans.

buddy project blankie closeup 

I got all the blue yarn for free from a friend at work who was cleaning out her stash. I crocheted the blankie and felt like it needed a "finish," so I bought the white to make the matching trim. You can't really tell in the pictures, but it's part mohair and really soft and fuzzy.

buddy project blankie 

Some crafty pics

Here's some more stuff I've been working on for charity. The preemie blankies and burial outfits went to Warm Hearts Warm Babies in Colorado. The flannel backed blankies and baby cloud booties are headed to Caring for Canadians with the crocheted sets I posted a while back. The flannel backed blankies are actually a buddy project. An online friend bought the cotton fabric, sent it to me, and I bought the flannel and sewed em up.

flannel backed cotton Christmas blankie 

flannel backed cotton Christmas blankie 

baby cloud booties 

burial bunting 

burial romper 

burial kimono 

closeup of preemie blankies 

preemie blankies 

Huge purple should-have-beens

OK, so it wasn't officially Take Your Kid to Work Day, but Sam asked to visit where his Daddy works, so I took him up there for lunch and a visit today. It was nice. And I tried to smile and introduce myself appropriately to people. But I knew they were all feeling the should be just as much as I was. I should be there showing off Sam AND Alex.

It wasn't too bad because I've never met a lot of Steve's co-workers since he changed departments. But I could all feel them giving me the look that said they were all thinking, "Poor woman"...and would most likely talk about how sad it was we lost Alex as soon as we walked away. I know I shouldn't care much about what other people think or say...but it was hanging in the air there, like a balloon about to pop.

And then we saw John. I remember John from the Christmas party where Steve caught hell for introducing me as Cathy, his wife, who was pregnant. I remember yelling that I was an assistant prosecutor, for God's sake, and he didn't need to invite comments on my uterus from complete strangers. lol I remember the Christmas party because when we had accepted the invitation, I was under the impression I would be meeting Steve's boss and partaking of some of the wine bar that was available. Two promises that didn't materialize.

John couldn't look at me as much as I couldn't look at him. We both looked at Sam and smiled extra big smiles to deflect the obvious discomfort. Thankfully, we were able to escape with my suggesting that we go seek out our lunch.

After lunch, Steve wanted to introduce Sam to Chad. I remember Chad from the Christmas party as well. He was the only person at our table to make an effort to talk to me (the only one not affiliated with the company or the other wives in some way). He took an active interest in Sam and Alex and me. I liked him for trying. Today, I felt like seeing him might make me throw up. So I hid in the bathroom, only to return and find Steve had taken Sam down to Chad's office to say hi. I walked up and saw Chad through the doorway, but couldn't bring myself to say hi or anything. I stood there and looked overly interested in Sam's goofball antics to get attention. Again, making my getaway as quickly as I could by suggesting it was time Daddy get back to work.

I felt defective...like there was a sign on my forehead that announced my sadness and my sense of failure. I felt contagious. I felt like there was a window on my uterus and everyone could see that it was empty...that it had served as a tomb for my beautiful baby boy. These people were prefectly nice to me. Normal people with normal conversation. But it was there like some giant purple elephant in the middle of the room that everyone was talking around.

Will I ever NOT carry this around with me? Will there ever be a time when I won't think of THIS whenever I meet someone? I'm either relieved that they don't know what happened, or I'm nervous that they do know what happened and I'm uncertain what they will say/how they will react. I'm so tired of carrying around this huge purple elephant and trying to find the appropriate place to set it so it's out of my way. I just want my life back.

I can't have my baby. Is it too much to ask that I get myself back?

The nerd

Ever feel like the kid at the party who used to be friends with so-and-so but now you're not and nobody really knows why you're there at all?

TWO DAYS IN A ROW!

Sam hasn't had an accident for TWO DAYS IN A ROW!

WOO HOO!!!!

The key? Stop buying pullups and just go with underwear and tell him that you're tired of diapers and he'd better get with the program.

Subtle...real subtle

Again today I spent time at the cemetery crying and apologizing. Some of the things I heard myself saying included, "It was my fault, we both know that. Despite all the platitudes and the nice things people say, it was my job to give you life and I failed. I don't understand this. I understand THAT (pointing to a nearby grave of an 80-something man)...but I don't understand THIS. He had a life...a family...love...sorrow...a wife...children...grandchildren. It's my fault you didn't get any of that. I just want you back. I want you back and alive. Where are you? I want to be angry at God. I want to hate God. But I need to know that you are with God. I need to know he loves you. I need to know God loves me enough to be taking care of you."

I sat for a very long time and pondered God and heaven. I got no answers and heard nothing but the hum of a nearby band saw echoing through the trees into the silence of the cemetery. I got in my car and drove out, spotting a headstone that I had never seen before...or had never recognized before. The name in big bold letters? KINGDOM I laughed because the first thing I thought was, "Well Jill won't be able to say THAT'S a common name."

I was about to leave the cemetery and got this urge to drive past the various baby graves. There are really three section devoted to babies in that cemetery, aside from the random babies who are buried near other family sites (like Alex). I got out of my car and pulled up some of the weather worn pinwheels we put out at the 4th of July. And I thought how long ago that seems now. So long that most of the pinwheels had been bleached white by the sun. I talked to the babies and spoke some of their names out loud. And I wondered about Hope Keel 1952, with no headstone...only the temporary marker provided by the funeral home. I wonder what happened...what was her story? Does she know my Alex now?

I drove home feeling a bit tired and empty inside. A good cry at the cemetery often does that for me. But as I pulled in the driveway and looked around (I always say hi to my girls and watch them graze a bit), something odd caught my eye. A dragonfly...and another...and another...and another...

There must have been dozens of them...flitting about...soaring and diving and whizzing by my car window. I started to cry and laugh and shake. Oh my God...what a beautiful sight. I smiled and said out loud, "All right already...I get it."

(I did grab my crappy digital camera and tried to capture some video...I'll have to see if anything came out on it at all to share.)

Smiles and tears

Hey H...

Remember when we played audio clips on the computer upstairs at the court? Remember, "I'll go if you go?" Remember lunch at Massimo's...ordering tickets on Von's cell phone? Remember our road trip to Austin? Where ARE those pictures?

I just popped TOFOG in the CD player of my computer at work and am having a good smile...with a few tears.

I think I need to come into Cleveland for that Massimo's lunch buffet some day...for old times sake. After all...we've slept together. [wink]

A sigh of relief

A fellow June 2002 mommy just had her third daughter yesterday. She posts comments here occasionally, and I hope she doesn't mind I talk about her. I have to admit that this entire time I've known she was pregnant I've been holding my breath. I haven't been sad about her pregnancy, though I have been a bit jealous. But today, when I read the news that the baby had arrived safely, I let out a sigh of relief I didn't even know I'd been holding in.

I don't know...I guess I thought I would be immune from all the hysteria. It's kind of like when people tell you how hard it is to be a parent and you nod your head, but secretly think, "How hard could it be?" I guess I thought my brain would be different and I'd be able to acknowledge that what happened to us was a fluke and I wouldn't worry so much about every pregnancy I know about. But there it was...I had worried that something bad would happen to my friend and/or her baby. And I'm realizing I'm not above it all. Which leads me to my next problem...you had to know that was coming, right?

How in the world am I going to make it through another pregnancy? There will be no "safe point" after which I can breathe a sigh of relief. Every time I get the sniffles, I'm going to be calling the doctor. I'm going to be doing kick count charts and analyzing every single detail. I'm not sure I'm strong enough for that. I'm sure it's healthy to hold your breath for nine months.
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Last night we talked with Sam about maybe having another baby. He was so thrilled to hear about baby Avery's arrival and he can't wait to see pictures (hint, hint). So we took the opportunity to float the idea past him. At first he said, "Yeah..and then I can share my trains with Baby Alex." Talk about cutting me to pieces.

We had to explain to him again that Baby Alex wouldn't come to live with us...that he had died and gone to heaven to be an angel. He looked crushed and only said, "oh...yeah." I worried, but asked anyway, "But how about trying for a different baby." His eyes lit up and he said, "Yeah! Maybe a red baby." At which point we had to explain that babies are not like Thomas trains and come in some different colors...but certainly not red, green or blue (we understand blue is an option...but not one we felt we should explain to him at this point).

It was somehow a relief to talk about it with him again. We had made previous similar attempts, but it somehow felt unresolved or unfinished between us. Maybe because we had never fully committed to the idea of trying again at that time. Now that we know we'd like to try again sometime, it's more of a...balanced?...conversation.

But more than that, it was a relief to see his excitement at seeing the pictures of the new baby. He was thrilled at the idea. I hope that excitement carries over for another year, because I'd love to see it directed at a little brother or sister. But I think we'll shoot for pink and rosy...instead of red. I think he'll probably accept that. I know Steve and I would LOVE that.

Deliberate avoidance

I did it...until late last night. I managed to spend the whole day without falling into a pit of depression about my four-month "anniversary" of Alex's death/birth. I didn't even blog about it because I knew it would bring on tears and that empty feeling in the pit of my stomach that doesn't go away for days. Instead, I focused my energy on other things and was able to maintain a smile almost the whole day (aside from the rather embarassing moment caught staring at the pregnant lady).

My son should be four months old. I can't even remember all the things he should be doing right now...all the milestones that are so important to new mothers. And instead of feeling sad, I feel a sense of relief that I was able to avoid the subject for most of the day...and I don't feel guilty for doing so. I wanted some happiness yesterday and I made it for myself by deliberately avoiding all thoughts Alex related. I know I can't do it every day or the grief will bite me on the butt later. But for one day, it was a welcome respite from what I feared would be a horrific onslaught of memories and sadness.

And I do remember...every little detail. I can't stop remembering unless I make the deliberate effort like I made yesterday. It's so exhausting to remember. But it's equally exhausting to try not to remember.

Last night, at 11:38, I looked at the clock and literally felt another month tick by.

At least I've stopped counting the weeks.

To be perfectly honest

My friend called to invite me to an American Business Womens Association meeting, the way she does every month. I love her because she's my kind of lady...honest and loving without taking crap from anyone. She gave me a couple months to mourn, but still called me to let me know that she was there even if I didn't "feel up to it." Truth be told, I've ducked her phone calls a few times because I just couldn't find the energy to talk, let alone make a decision about attending a meeting. I was ready to join this group before...but that was before.

She was kind when I spoke to her today and asked how I was doing. When I answered, "Fine," she asked, "OK...are you really?" (That's what I'm talking about...cut through the crap and let someone know you love them.) I smiled and told her I have bad days and good days. She asked if I would be interested in the meeting this month. There was a moment...ok, there were several moments...where I felt pressure to say yes. But it wasn't an external pressure. It was all pressure I put on myself. I felt like I would be disappointing everyone if I stayed away and didn't at least show my face to let everyone know I was still alive. And I really would like to see the other women at the meeting. Why don't I just go?

But to be perfectly honest with myself, I just don't have it in me. I can't face the sympathy and the kindness right now, followed by coffee and dessert and a presentation on something business related. I'm not ready for normal just yet.

So I told her I didn't think I would make the meeting. She asked if I wasn't interested in this meeting, or if I wasn't interested in any meetings because she didn't want to bother me if I wasn't interested in the group anymore. I told her she wasn't bothering me, and tried to explain that I'm not especially social these days and I'm not really good company for anyone.

She said, "You've had a rough summer."

I said, "Not one I'd like to repeat."

She said, "Hopefully you'll never have another like it."

I said, "I hope so."

She said, "I understand...no I really don't, and I don't even want to imagine it."

I snorted.

She said, "Well, I'm being honest with you...that's ok, right?"

See what I mean about cutting through the crap? Refreshing honesty...I miss that.

Maybe in a few months I'll be able to face them again. Right now I'm struggling with the whole feeling that the world has moved on without me. I'm lost in the process of trying to figure myself out again. I feel like I'm a shadow of who I was before. Or maybe I'm just afraid to cry in front of people.

It's easy when it's people I didn't really know before. I can put on a fresh face and not have to worry that they're analyzing me for my potential to break down at any given moment. I can act like nothing bad ever happened. And I can smile without worrying that I'm smiling too much...or not enough. But with people I knew before...it's just too complicated to deal with right now.

But I think she understands. Or at least, she says she does. She taught me a lesson today that she probably doesn't even realize. I'm a little more like her, because I cut through the crap and was honest with her...and myself.

I'm scary

Today I frightened a pregnant woman...a complete stranger who I'm sure thinks I'm just plain scary. But there she was, standing across the festival grounds, rubbing her VERY pregnant belly and laughing with someone who looked so much like her it must have been her sister. I couldn't help but stare. There was no power on this earth that could have pulled my attention from her and her beautiful belly. And she saw me. Oh.my.God...she saw me. And she gave me that look that said she was flattered, but slightly frightened by my stare. I wonder what she saw in my eyes and on my face? I didn't cry and I didn't feel myself smile...What did I look like...besides scary?

Fair Fun

Just a couple picture to bore you with from last weekend. Between the train ride for kids and the tractors for the adults, Sam was absolutely giddy with excitement...and is now asking for a fair every weekend. I had to explain to him that it's like Christams and only happens once a year. To which he replied, "But why?" Of course. :o)

Another point to ponder about God

I had an acquaintance tell me recently that she hoped I would mend my relationship with God quickly, because the thought of eternity without him wasn't a pleasant one.

Has my life with him, to this point, been such that I would want to live it for eternity? I mean really...where did my faith get me to this point? I have many many blessings...whether a gift from God or the result of my choices and dumb luck, I really have no proof.

But let's assume I buy into her theory. God's been so great to me that I want to spend eternity with him? According to her, everything is according to some plan...so God's plan includes pain and suffering for me and my family. Why in the world would I choose that for myself for an eternity? According to this plan that she believes exists, my baby was supposed to die. What's next? A plague of locusts?

That sounds like a great eternity...sign me up! [/sarcasm]

My fascination with flying things

Tonight, while the sun was setting and casting shadows across the yard, Sam and I played in the sandbox. Actually, Sam played in the sandbox and I sat nearby in a lawnchair uttering supportive mommy comments like, "Good job," or, "Oh really?"

Sam was looking around the yard when something caught his eye and he gasped, "Mommy, look! It's a beautiful dragonfly."

I rolled my eyes and sighed, "Sam, it's not a dragonfly, it's too dark and cold for dragonflies."

And then it zipped right past my face.

Sure enough, a beautiful dragonfly.

I said, "Sam, you're right, it IS a dragonfly."

He smiled a smile that said he knew some special secret. "Yep, and it's purple."

My favorite color is purple.

We watched him zip around the yard four or five times, making a big circle around the two of us.

And then he was gone and Sam and I smiled at each other.

Am I a terrible parent if...?

...my three-year-old son, holding his father's empty beer bottle and blowing across the top so it makes a foghorn noise, looks at me and says, "Mommy, do you need some beer?"

...my three-year-old son looks up from his dinner and says, "Mommy, I'm poopy,".........twice?

...I laugh while my three-year-old son kicks his father, making his father feel the need for a protective cup?

My interests aka What I've been doing other than grieving

~Animal rescue - I'm involved in two ways. First, as a driver. I take a relay leg of a transport to drive animals from kill shelters to rescues. I recently was fostering a dalmatian who was adopted by a great couple...yay for her! We won't be fostering anymore because we have a testy black lab mix who has trouble adjusting to strange dogs in his pack.
Second, I work as a coordinator. I set up relay transports for animals who need a ride from point A to point B. Usually, this is for animals going from kill shelters to rescues or from rescues to forever homes. Lately, I have been lending my services to animals who are victims of Hurricane Katrina. Basically, I break up the route into legs and network among rescue people to find drivers to fill the run. It's not that hard, since I spend a lot of time on the computer anyway. And I love to talk to animal people...we're like minded so it's a pleasant experience.

~Crafting - I joined a crafting for charity program on Yahoo groups. We have monthly projects for which we crochet, knit, or sew things. This month is Caring for Canadians...a project for hospital babies in Canada. I'm making sweater/hat/booties sets and boy burial garments in honor of my Alex. This is rewarding...but I think Steve is wondering how he suddenly got to be surrounded by skeins and skeins of yarn and yards and yards of fabric. lol

~Mystery shopping - I signed up as a mystery shopper and will take on my first assignment later this month. Eating out for free...how great is that?!?!

~Memories of Mariam - I'm just getting started, but I plan to lend my services sending out bracelets and certificates to families who have lost babies. After some time, I hope to be able to lend support as well...when I'm emotionally ready.

~Cleaning and playing - Probably my two most important pastimes these days. :o)

***Thanks to Lauralu for giving me the idea to post this.***

I think I have been fair

But WHY does my co-worker have to bring her new baby upstairs to visit now? I know every other Friday is payday and she's coming to collect her paycheck...but still...I need a break. I've dealt with the office visits, going down and ooh-ing and aah-ing as I felt I could handle appropriately. I even sent her a baby gift for God's sake. I think I've been more than fair.

But today, everyone is busy and can't go down to see her...so she comes up here! She's outside my closed office door with that crying baby right now. I assume I'm expected to hop up and go make googly eyes at her precious son. Doesn't she GET IT?!?! I'M NOT COMING OUT! GO AWAY!

***this rant brought to you by the folks at the "I need to pee but don't want to walk past the baby in the hallway to get to the bathroom" foundation. Otherwise known as Cowards R Us.***

Autumn is here

There is this one tree in the neighbor's yard across the street. It changes color before all the others and has, for the past four years, indicated the approach of autumn. I see it clearly every day as I leave for work, as it is almost directly across from the entrance to our driveway. I can also see it from the kitchen window as I wash dishes in the sink. It turns a bright red and has always made me smile when I see it change. It's not the kind of tree that believes in subtle or slow change. One day it is green and the next day there are bright red spots popping out all over the place. I laughed the first year, because the sudden display of red and green reminded me to start my Christmas shopping.

Yesterday was the first day I noticed the tree had started popping out the usual red display. At first I smiled at the thought of autumn leaves, crisp air, and maybe a fire in our fireplace. Then I remembered the conversation Steve and I had about the fireplace. We weren't even going to have it inspected this year, since we'd have an infant who was starting to mobilize, even if it was just to roll from front to back. We felt it would be too hard to watch a baby and Sam to make sure they didn't hurt themselves, so we planned to leave the baby lock on the front door to the fireplace for this year...and possibly next. Suddenly, as though someone flipped a switch, I was sobbing at the sight of that wonderful tree.

I'm losing my mind, I think. This weekend it is four months since losing Alex. In some ways I am ready to move on and enjoy my life. And then I see a damn tree and I can't control where my thoughts take me. There is no rhyme or reason to it. There is no way to figure out where I will break down next. But Autumn is here. I guess I can curl up in front of a fire and look out at that tree and cry a bit...nobody will mind...will they?

I'm hiding

I'm currently hiding in front of the computer while Steve deals with the joys of a failed attempt at potty training.

Sam thinks it's hilarious that he has smeared poop all over the living room and is delighting in running around pointing out the poop spots.

"There Daddy...and there...and there!"

I'm giggling silently while pretending not to hear.

Steve, however, fails to see the humor.

ewwww! Don't you wish you were him?

Congratulations on the baby

I hate this (Thanks David, for a perfect phrase). There is no easy way to handle it when someone you haven't seen in a while offers their congratulations on "the baby." There is no easy way to tell them that my sweet, beautiful Alex died. I say, "Oh, you haven't heard, I lost the baby." And then there is no easy way to excuse myself from the conversation when they stumble over themselves to offer apologies after I tell them what happened. I hate this.

***

And then I walk outside to go pick up my lunch at the restaurant next door and find a beautiful grey and white feather in my path on the sidewalk. Thanks Alex. I love you too.

***

Steve went to the eye doctor this afternoon and you'll never guess what he was asked...

"How's that baby doing?"

Ummm...he's dead. Thanks for asking.

Don't tell anyone...

shhh...don't tell anyone...but I got a raise! When asked how he managed this given our current budget situation, my boss said, "Don't ask. There are just some things I have to do to make myself feel better...for people who do a lot for me. Don't tell anyone." But you guys aren't just "anyone," so I had to tell you. :o)

No happy ending today

I'm so sad to have to post this news.

For the past two days, literally hundreds of people have called and emailed, trying to help reunite Sean, the New Orleans police recruit who was relocated to Florida, with his very loved Rhodesian Ridgeback, Tessa.

Tessa survived eight days in the water of New Orleans. She was rescued and spent several days at police headquarters. Yesterday, she was driven out of NO to Jackson, MS where she saw a vet and seemed to be doing well. She played last night before bed. Despite all these encouraging signs, sometime during the night, Tessa passed away in her sleep.

This transport coordinator takes some comfort in knowing that Tessa did not die alone and forgotten, but in a warm and dry home with people to care for her. It's not the happy ending I was hoping for, but it is a small consolation.

At this time I would like to ask that everyone say a small prayer for Tessa and Sean. I know she is playing at the rainbow bridge and is feeling no pain. But I know Sean is understandably heartbroken.

Too many stories like this are going to be told in the next few weeks. Let's do what we can to make sure there are a few less. If you see any way to help, be it donating money, volunteering your time at a shelter, or driving on a transport, don't pass it by. You can make a difference...in Tessa's honor.

Thank you.

The other side

I remember logging on to the blogging world after losing Alex. I read many many many posts from different women who had suffered losses and were seemingly past the point where they cried every day and were again able to enjoy some parts of their life again. I wondered how they got there and assumed there was some magic fix. There was nothing I wouldn't do to stop feeling what I was feeling. I've always been a woman of action...making things happen when they needed to (or I wanted them to)...and I figured this was no different. If someone somewhere could just tell me what I needed to do to make it go away, I would do it. But there wasn't a magic fix.

And now I'm left with a cliche when people ask how they get through something like this. Time heals all wounds. It leaves you with a scar that you will carry with you forever...but it does scar over...it doesn't stay that huge deep gash the bleeds when you simply breathe.

Maybe it's the realization that others are worse off than me. Maybe it's the passage of all the "firsts" that I was really looking forward to. Maybe it's the purging of household reminders. Maybe it's tucking away old dreams and daring to dream new ones. I'm not sure. But here I am.

I realized this morning that I haven't cried for Alex in at least three days. I don't know how it happened or when...but I'm thankful that I made it here. I know it's not the end of the road...but there is hope replacing despair. I still carry incredible sadness around and it knocks me on my butt every now and then. But I can accept that because there is something resembling happiness on the other days.

What I'm doing today...when I should be working. :o)

His name is Sean and he is/was a police recruit for the City of New Orleans. He was called into police HQ on Sunday morning and told he could not bring his dog, an 8-year-old Rhodesian Ridgeback named Tessa (he's had since she was a 6-month-old puppy). He was forced to leave her at a buddies house on the second floor with his dog. He remembers calling Tessa upstairs. She must have known something was up and was very scared and he had to carry her upstairs. They couldn't find a drain-plug for the bathtub, so they shoved rags into the drain...thinking it would hold for the 3-4 days they thought it would take.

His colleagues were talking about missing family members, so Sean didn't say a word about his beloved dog, Tessa. For 8 days, he wondered. And then on Monday, Sean got a call...His buddy was able to get a boat over to his house and TESSA AND HIS PUPPY ARE STILL ALIVE!! He took them to police HQ. Today, his buddy's sister made it into New Orleans to get both dogs and take them to her home in Jackson, Miss. Sean's problem...he has no way to get Tessa down to Florida, where he was flown on Friday, after surviving near gunshots, no food, or water.

That's where I come in. I'll let you know how it goes. :o)

This is Tessa...


***Update***
Tessa saw a vet and has a small paw injury and some minor illness from being in the water. Apparently the Coast Guard thought nobody was coming back for her, so they cut her loose. She's now on medication and should be ready to travel. Her transport is filled and she will be on the road to see Sean this weekend. I'll post pictures if I get them. :o)

Don't ya love a happy ending?

Luck?

Had to check out the rune oracle mentioned on Jill's blog.

Since I only have enough time and energy for a one rune reading...



Now is a good time to take risks as luck seems to be watching over you. Even though it speaks of adopting a more carefree attitude precautions must also be taken to ensure that money isn't lost on foolish ventures.

Yeah...luck is watching over me...good or bad luck?

OK...OK...OK...so I did a three rune reading too. But I did it by asking a specific question...can you guess the question?


Berkana heralds new beginnings and a time of growth in your pursuits. This rune speaks of a time where health and recuperation are present allowing you the opportunity to expand and prosper.


Now is a time of obstacles where things don't seem to be going the way you want them to. Thurisaz urges us to take the necessary precautions to safeguard our health as well as our interests.


Laguz governs all areas concerned with emotions and how we feel concerning certain matters. This rune provides an ideal opportunity to get to the bottom of how you feel concerning certain issues and come to an understanding of why people around you behave the way they do.

A show of hands

So who else keeps going back to Lyrael's blog to sneak another peek at that beautiful baby boy?

Packed away

The garage sale is over and we didn't sell very many baby clothes at all. Of course, it didn't help that we were very confused in our sorting process and left half of what we wanted to get rid of at home (all the smaller sizes).

So today was organize-and-pack-away-into-rubber-tubs day. It took six tubs to collect all the clothes in any sort of an organized fashion.

By far, the hardest tub was the 0-3 month clothes. In that tub I packed away the outfit we were supposed to bring Alex home from the hospital in, the Rockies outfit (with matching socks) that I bought specifically for Alex with his Daddy in mind, the virtual shower gift received from my Due in June board buddy, the adorable little outfits Grandma bought, the oh-so-soft sleeper with matching hat we found on clearance at Target that Steve let me buy even though we didn't really have the money, the matching hand-me-down sleepers to the one Alex is buried in.

That 0-3 month tub holds all the hopes and dreams I had. Now stacked three high with the other tubs in our basement.

Can I tell you a secret? Not only am I saving up the old dreams...I've already started dreaming new dreams again. Upstairs we have a brand new farmyard crib set we bought at Toys R Us on clearance last weekend...and a set of three sleepers we bought tonight with puppies and dragonflies on them. Steve said they spoke to us and we were meant to buy them. I hope he's right.

Some day I'd love to use them for another dream baby...one that gets to come home and live with us this time.

But if it doesn't happen, those dreams can be sold on eBay with the tub-stored dreams that are now in the basement. Nobody has to know which are new and which are recycled dreams.

I can't believe I said that

Yesterday, as we were on our way for a full day at a county fair, we stopped at the cemetery to water Alex's flowers. I had just been there on Friday, one day earlier, but Steve requested that we stop, so we stopped. As we were standing there and Sam was running around picking up all the grave decorations that had fallen over, Steve put his arm around me and said, "He should be with us at the fair today."

You know what I said in response?

A day later, I still can't believe I said it.

"I know, but can we NOT talk about it? I don't want to ruin the day."

What the hell is wrong with me?!?!

Just beyond my reach

I can feel that other life lurking around the corner, just beyond my reach. In that life I didn't lose Alex and we're enjoying a happy and contented summer, instead of this summer of sadness and angst. It's like if I sit still enough, I can sense what it feels like to hold Alex in my arms as I rock him to sleep. If I'm quiet enough, I can hear his cries...the tone of his voice. If I concentrate hard enough, I can smell his scent...that amazing combination of baby spit up and Johnson & Johnson baby shampoo. I hear a whisper of something that was supposed to be, colliding into the harsh scream of what actually is. I can imagine each day as I had imagined it before he left my body...all the dreams of how we would spend our time getting to know each other and growing together until I passed away in my old age. It frustrates me that it's there just beyond my grasp. But it also comforts me to know that somewhere in time and space my Alex is alive and happy.

Am I losing my mind?

Thankful for disaster?

I am apparently one of those people now. I'm thankful for someone else's suffering, because it gives me relief from my own. I'm not thankful for the actual pain and loss, for I truly would never wish something truly hurtful on another human being regardless of how much I dislike them. But I've realized I'm now one of those people who say, "Thank God it didn't happen to me, because I don't know how I would survive something like that." How utterly insensitive...how painfully ignorant...how luckily insulated I am.

But NOW I am able to accept those people who so easily said, "Life goes on." It does, doesn't it? Life goes on and other people face worse things every single day. It doesn't make me miss my baby any less...it just gives me some perspective. It makes me realize how small I am in the grand scheme. I'm no able to appreciate that I can feel sad, but it's not an all-consuming sadness that made me unable to function.

I saw a story about a pregnant woman who left her New Orleans home to get help for her five-year-old who was having an asthma attack. While she was swimming through the water for help, she went into labor. She was rescued and airlifted to a hospital where she delivered her baby. She has no idea what happened to her five-year-old. THAT would be debilitating. THAT would be something I'm not sure I could handle.

So while I'm not considering myself "lucky," by any means, I think I've found some of my thankfulness again. I only hope I don't say something stupid and reveal that I'm one of those people.

Stupid things people say

And here I thought the things people said when my baby died were heartless. Check this out.

Have I said too much?

Xavier came in to the office to visit today. He's two months old now and smiling and cooing. He's leaving that larva stage. And I realized Alex will never get to know all those milestones. He'll always be newborn and perfect and beautiful...and so missed. Sometimes I can't breathe with how much I miss him.

So after Xavier's visit, another co-worker came in to talk to me about work related issues. We bitched about work for a bit (my boss was quoted in the paper as saying he starts his assistant prosecutors out at $35,000...it seems I must've misplaced $5,000 somewhere...cause it ain't in my bank account)...And then she asked me how I was doing otherwise. I cried, which made her feel really bad...which made me feel really bad. She said she normally doesn't want to ask because she doesn't want to make me feel bad, but then she feels bad for not asking. And I told her I normally don't talk about it because I don't want to cry in front of people and make them feel bad. Ah...the oh-so-fun quandry grief puts us all in. But she let me talk for an hour and said all the right supportive things at all the right intervals. It turns out she lost a 17-year-old sister when she was 8 years old. While not the same, at least she has some inkling of what it's like to lose someone you love.

It feels strange to have someone I work with know all our business. But there is a lightness about it too. I know she'll understand the next time I close my office door or have to excuse myself abruptly from a room. I also told her how I was feeling a bit put off by other people obviously talking about me and clamming up when I walk into a room. I'm kind of hoping that message gets back through the grapevine that normally carries all office gossip.

Oh...and his visit wasn't announced to me for once. I think the last time they came in must've been a tip-off that I just couldn't handle it anymore. What WAS announced was the birthday cake that was available...oh...and Xavier is here. I appreciated that change of focus. :o)

What do you do to help?

I have developed a new pet peeve. OK, so maybe it was always there laying dormant for a period of time. But now I'm fully aware of it.

People who complain about what other people are or are not doing to help others. Seriously...sitting in your nice, cozy, dry, functioning home, do you have any right to complain that there isn't enough help for those who are suffering through what is, by all accounts, the worst natural disaster this country has ever suffered? You sit there and make it political, complaining about the lack of reponse from this group or that group. What are YOU doing to help (besides the obvious benefit of hearing you whine about things you know basically nothing about)? Quit complaining and find something constructive to do. Stop expecting the world to take care of things and jump in and get your hands messy. Get involved in something...anything. Then you will have earned your right to voice an opinion.

Just my two cents, of course. :o)

Attitude adjustment

It's funny how losing a child will change your attitude on a lot of different things. But most striking of all, is the change in my attitude about death and dying.

I made the mistake of watching and reading the news yesterday while trying to hide from Sam (some days with a three-year-old are REALLY long).

First, I saw a story about a Marine, Joe something-or-other, who is home from Iraq for three weeks. While home, he thought it would be a good idea to meet the second grade class who has been writing him letters and sending him care packages. They showed all kinds of warm and fuzzy video of him in the classroom, shaking hands with kids and talking about Lord knows what (what DO you tell a bunch of kids about war anyway?). The anchor came out of the story with the typical, "What a great experience for those kids." Now, my question is this...what is that teacher going to tell those kids if Joe dies? Do they even know that Joe COULD die?

Next, I was watching coverage of the aftermath (now there's a strange word...aftermath...
ETYMOLOGY: after + obsolete math, mowing (from Old English mth; see m- 4 in Indo-European roots) [A second growth or crop in the same season, as of grass after mowing.]

Anyway...I was watching the aftermath of Katrina. There was a story about a church somewhere in Mississippi where "refugees" were living and getting hot meals, etc. The reporter came out of the story, standing in the midst of the wreckage that was once a neighborhood, and told of a ten-year-old boy whose entire immediate family was killed. He now sits in that church praying that someone who knows him will recognize him. I cry for that little boy. How frightened and alone he must feel...

And then I read this article and I began to ponder the phenomenon of grief. I know what I felt when Alex died and I know how hard it was to get out of bed each day. Was I being self-indulgent? Would it be different if I knew my very life depended on my getting out of bed? Would I find the strength to do what needed to be done? How do you manage to function in the middle of something like this AND grieve the loss of your loved ones?

I know there is a lot of devestation due to Katrina...houses and other buildings, lives, oil refineries. But there is another looming disaster there...where the effects will be felt for months and years to come. These people will all have tales of horror that will make other shrink back and run away. They will understand what it is like to be told, "Pick up the pieces and move on." I'm afraid they will also be treated with our typical American lack of understanding that fails to recognize the humanity involved in these sorts of tragedies. These people will be broken for quite some time. And while we concentrate right now on safety and security, we darn sure better address the human element or we're going to have a bigger mess than any storm could physically create.

Those who read my blog regularly know that I have my issues with God. But I don't think it will hurt anything to send up a prayer for all of these people. If it doesn't do anything, they're no worse off than they were before, right?

Can you imagine?

People searching for loved ones on the internet. Not knowing if they will find them alive or dead.

There are some things worse than the crisis in my life. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

Tiredness and loathing in Ohio

This is going to be a rambling mess...much like the compartments in my brain right now...leaking from one to another with no barriers to separate and organize.

I'm running on empty. I don't sleep well. I can't concentrate when I'm awake. I'm irritable and ready to kill someone or something. I tried to find a racquetball club to join so I could smack the snot out of a rubber ball and I couldn't afford the membership fees.

What irritates me and drives me to blog these days? My family can turn a quick trip into Walmart into an hour long ordeal. Why, oh why, does he have to use a different cup every single time he gets another drink? My son has mastered the art of the never-ending three-year-old whine. People want me to be out and about and I just don't feel like it.

All I really want to do is spend the day tucked up in my bed with the covers over me.

But I have to keep going. I have to keep moving. A rolling stone, and all that.

I don't want to pick up my stuff from my mother's house (the stuff that didn't sell at the garage sale). I don't want to go to the library and return the books. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to pretend to watch Thomas the Tank Engine for the four millionth time.

I want to sleep. I used to sleep. I could sleep 12 hour stretches, wake up, and sleep for eight more. Now I'm lucky if I sleep two hours in a row. I'm beginning to think this is some cruel form of punishment. All these sleepless hours when I should be nursing and comforting a new baby...spent awake with no baby. I get the joy of the sleep deprived state of insanity, but none of the joy of love.

And as I sit here in this dark house, I get angrier and angrier. As each hour ticks off the clock toward a new dawn, I want to scream about it. I want to yell until my voice disappears from the strain. It's a wonder I'm able to talk to anyone at all without a stream of profanity passing my lips. This anger and venom keeps filling up my soul and I want so much to find a place to put them where they won't hurt anyone.

How is it possible to be so tired? And not just from lack of sleep. I mean the tiredness that invades the cellular level of the body and makes even breathing feel like it is the equivalent of a climb up Mt. Everest.

I certainly have nothing witty to say tonight. In fact, most of what comes to mind is mean and bitter sounding. It's not that there isn't hope for the future...it's that there is no plan for the future. There was a time when I could make a plan and do whatever it took to make it happen. I knew there was a possibility things wouldn't go as planned, but at least I was invested in the process. Now...who cares? Instead of wasting all that time planning, I should have just enjoyed the moments and hoped for the best. It seems things would have turned out the same...and I'd probably be a much happier person today.

Good God, I'm tired.

I'm too impressionable

I watched an episode of CSI the other night in which they pulled a maggot out of the ear of a corpse. I've been having a creepy crawly feeling in my right ear ever since.

I'm not feeling particularly bloggy lately. I feel like I'm starting to sound like a broken record. And I keep hearing people tell me, "Well, you can't base things on your one bad experience...you're the exception, not the rule." Does being an exception and not the rule make it any less real to me? I mean, it DID happen...didn't it? Maybe this is one of those times I need to ignore what everyone else says/thinks and go with my gut...and blab incessantly about stuff that nobody but me cares about. Hell...everyone else is taking up cyberspace...why not me and my repetitive crap? What would my mother say to that? "If everyone else jumped off a pier, would you do it too?" lol

When I was pregnant with Alex, I could conjure an image of a nice warm, sunny beach somewhere and it would magically stave off the morning sickness. I've got nothing now.

I'm off to clean out my ear with a q-tip for the zillionth time today.

What to feel?

I'm afraid to forget. And yet, I'm afraid to remember. There is no comfortable in-between place where I can survive.

How do I do this? How do I find my way every single day for the rest of my life?

hehehe

Now I'm having fun. I should be working.

Anyone know why something would preview correctly in blogger but not show up when published? When I preview, I have a pretty blue background. When it's published, it's all white. hmmmm...

I guess I'll just go with white for now. I have a headache and I really need to get some work done today.

I'm baaaaa-aaaaaack!

Wireless and all! woo hoo! This is fun! I can now watch the Cubs lose AND post on my blog. I feel like a new woman.

But then I changed back to the blue. I started to have some Internet Explorer issues with the new computer and the new flower template. So, now I feel like the same old me. (sigh)

Memories

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I followed the school bus in on my way to work this morning. We stopped at this house where the whole family was standing outside, seeing little Bobbie off to his first day of school. Not just mom and dad and little sis...but also TWO grandmas and what looked to be two aunts. It was a truly bittersweet moment for mom...you could see it on her face. The joy that her baby had grown and was taking his first really independent steps in the world...and the sadness that her baby had grown and was taking his first really independent steps in the world. She took his picture as he boarded the bus so she could remember this moment on this day forever. While I'm sure he'll be thrilled with that when he's sixteen, there will come a time later in his life when he will understand and he'll look at that picture, smile, and remember all those who loved him standing on the front porch and waving goodbye for the day.
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We found the note. It is nothing special...a quickly penned note on printer paper in standard blue ballpoint. But it holds so much hope, so much happiness, so many dreams, that I needed to hang on to it. It's the note that I wrote and hung on the bathroom mirror for Steve the morning I found out I was pregnant with Alex. It had been lost and feared gone forever, possibly mistakenly thrown in the trash or accidentally used as a three-year-olds doodle page. But it had simply been shuffled in with some papers that were sitting in our never-cleaned desk. We picked up a new desk at a garage sale this weekend and had to clean out the old one and consolidate our junk. And there it was...

It says:
Congratulations! You're going to be a Daddy again. I hope you're ready. I love you. Me

I miss them.

I miss Alex.
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We sold the stroller we used for Sam. We sold the exersaucer we used for Sam. We sold some of Sam's old clothes. Now I understand, "They grow up so fast."

We were getting ready to leave the house yesterday when Sam looks at me and says, "Mommy, I'll be on the porch in case you need me." My breath literally caught in my chest. He's so grown up already.
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The "old" computer (the lightening fried doorstop) has now been replace by a fast moving, well-equipped, slick Gateway laptop. We're even entering the world of wireless computing. It's going to be great. Now I just have to figure out how to get my 3000+ Sam pictures from their Mac-formatted disks.
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Congratulations B!

Hey,

I was just reading your blog and knew exactly what you were going to say about your pet peeves in life before I read them - spelling and grammar! Maybe it should be you and not me beginning to teach High School English this coming week. Those are my pet peeves too-but you were always more meticulous than I was!

How are you all doing? I think about you a lot. More than you would ever guess probably. I have not known how to tell you, or even when to tell you this. I am eighteen weeks pregnant. It seems about the time you lost Baby Alex we were finally able to conceive. I have seen Alex as our Angel too. I cried so hard the day I received your email about the baby, and then when I realized that I was pregnant and the timing I cried again. I have read your Blog every week, reading about what is going on with you. I know that you experienced a great loss, and that even though I had a miscarriage four years ago and I thought I would never be able to have a baby, that I could not even begin to understand your pain.

I understand if you can't talk to me. I did not want to hurt you, but at the same time I did not want to wait until January and possibly hurt you further by not telling you sooner. I pray for all of you and our baby and I hope Alex is looking out for all of us.

Love,
B

CONGRATULATIONS AND BEST WISHES!

I sincerely mean that.

But I hope you don't mind if I go have a good cry and feel sorry for myself for a bit.

Stupid things people say

OK...I'm a nit-picker...I admit it. I have a lot of pet peeves and I can't stand it when people do certain things. It drives me up a wall. Grammar and spelling are generally my two biggies on the internet. But the other is this...do me a favor and just plain make sense, would ya?

Some of the people who read this will know that I was lurking on a message board in order to have seen this. And to those people I will tell you this...this is why I can't be on that message board right now...these are the kinds of reactions I have to the posts there.

I read this post titled, "The carpet was pulled out from under me today." And while I sympathize with the person's dilemma presented in the text of the post, the title has me ready to scream. The carpet?!?! Really?!?! If you're going to use cliches, at least GET THEM RIGHT! It's a rug...not carpet! How exactly would the carpet be pulled out from under you? I have pulled up carpet...and it's a freaking hard job! If your ass is standing on the carpet when someone is trying to pull it up, you need to move and start helping them, instead of just standing there.

See, the cliche goes, "Someone pulled the RUG out from under me." Rugs are easy to pull up. You grab one side and just give a yank. It's possible to be surprised that someone pulls a rug out from under you...but no way would you be surprised if someone overhauled your living room and pulled the carpet out from under you. Get it right!

Lest you think I don't laugh

We were all snuggled up in bed watching Thomas the Tank Engine for the zillionth time on the now lightening-fried-green-and-purple-television. The bedside lamp was the only other light in the house. I had my eyeglasses off and was staring lazily at the green and purple blobs I know to be train engines, chugging around on the screen.

Suddenly, I saw this rather large dark blob flap across the room, diving close to the bed and returning to ceiling level to flit around and come to rest on the window curtain. I said, "What was that?" My dear son, the apple of my eye, whom I adore with everything I have, claps his hands excitedly and bounces up and down while proclaiming, "It's a bat, mommy!" He has recently discovered the joy of bats flying at dusk, both at our house and out from the cracks in the siding at grandma and grandpa's house. It's a wonder of nature that he simply adores. I would too...outside of my bedroom. He obviously had no idea how absolutely freaked out this would make me...he thought it was simply wonderful.

I jumped from the bed, flipped on the overhead light, and squeaked, "A bat?!?!" Keep in mind, that I was only able to see amoebic shapes at this point, as I had not yet found my eyeglasses. (I will sometime have to tell you the stories of the mice and the ladybugs that have traumatized me as to all wildlife in my house.)

My husband snorted and said, "It's not a bat!" What it was...a huge moth type bug with a wingspan of about three or four inches. It's wings were really quite pretty, for being a creature of the night and all.

So, having an obsession with all things that fly, I asked my dear husband (who was approaching with baby wipe in hand, presumably to squash this thing flat on my white curtain sheers...boo hiss) to get a cup and capture this renegade winged creature and return it to the great outdoors. Now this sounds like a simple task. Until you find out that this creepy crawly has some sort of jet-powered engine hidden under its massive wingspan and can flit and flap around at the speed of light.

Poor Steve became increasingly surly as Sam and I laughed and laughed at his antics running around the room, moving furniture, and trying to capture this thing in a cup. (I think it was the whole hunter-gatherer thing in action.) I found my eyeglasses and was able to participate in the hunt with the oh-so-helpful, "It's over there...now it's over there...no...now it's over there." It's a wonder Steve didn't bean me with the cup he was using to try to corral this thing (it was big enough, you probably could have put a small saddle on it). And Sam was additionally helpful in his clapping and laughing and jumping up and down on the bed during the chase. It was such fun to watch him...his pure joy and simple laughter was contagious and made me laugh until I cried.

Then, of course, there were the foiled attempts to capture this thing when it flew into the bedroom overhead light and I was afraid it would burn its wings off on the lightbulbs, so I flipped off the light switch and it went in search of another source of warmth in the bedside light. I headed that direction to save this poor thing with the fragile jet-powered wings, but Steve looked at me with that look that said, "Touch it and die."

The adventure came to an end when mommy finally stopped laughing and took control. The flying creature was captured without incident and a cooperative effort resulted in it being returned to the wilds of northern Ohio.

A bat! I'm surprised I could sleep after that.

Baby Alex has a new neighbor.

Sixteen-year-old Brittany Collier died in a car accident on Sunday, August 14, 2005. As I visited Alex on Tuesday afternoon, I saw her grave, covered with dozens of flower arrangements and thought about who she might have been. I saw on her temporary grave marker that she was a teenager...and I began to think about her family...and all those she must have left behind to mourn her passing.

I wonder how her parents are doing...how her younger brother is doing. I'm incredibly sad for all of them. But I'm particularly sad for Brittany's mother because I know the questions she will ask as she sits in that place, not so far from where I sit.

I hope that she finds peace along her journey of grief.

This sucks

(to borrow a phrase from my brother)

I was all set to have my bologna sandwich on white bread with cheese and Miracle Whip. But I discovered I left the damn jar of Miracle Whip sitting on the counter at home. Now my day is shot...as is the Miracle Whip most likely.

As I folded each piece of baby clothing and laid it out on the table in my parent's well-loved garage, I could see all the moments flash before my eyes.

The shopping trips with my mom, excited to become a grandma for the first time. Her laughing and saying, "You're my best hope for grandchildren."

My baby shower, peeling back the tissue paper to reveal the thoughtfulness of the person who gave the gift.

Washing the baskets of baby clothes, folding each piece, and putting them all away in the wardrobe in anticipation of his arrival.

Dressing my Sam in each one...pajamas, onesies, little socks, tshirts, his Curious George romper, his Mommy's Little Monkey romper...

Frantically scrubbing the vomit or poop stains with Shout.

Watching Sam perform all his "firsts" in each piece. The outfit he came home from the hospital in. The striped Old Navy "prison uniform" that he stood up for the first time in. The plaid preppy romper that he cruised the furniture in. The overall set he had his first portrait taken in.

Family Halloweens and Christmas...costumes and outfits that everyone said were "so adorable."

Packing up each size as Sam outgrew them...0-3 months, 3-6 months, 6-9 months, 12 months, 18 months, 24 months, 2T...often long before he had actually reached the appropriate age mark.

Taking the bags and boxes up from the basement and sorting through them, sure that Alex would "love" certain pieces...sure that he would "look adorable" in others...worried that he was going to have to wear a lot of hand-me-downs.

Adding in the clothes that a loving friend sent for Alex and sorting out some more hand-me-downs that I decided weren't "quite right."

Digging through the boxes, trying to find the perfect thing to bury our Alex in.

Trying to imagine what he would look like in each piece for his first time standing up in...for his first steps...for his first portrait...for each Halloween and Christmas.

Hiding the boxes in the basement so I wouldn't have to look at them.

Trying desperately to remember...was it a snail or a bug on the sleeper I chose to bury Alex in?

Wanting to keep each piece in order to remember every happy moment experienced.

Wanting each piece gone so as not to have to remember what should have been.

Wanting to curl up in a ball and cry. Smiling instead...trying to make it feel right when I know it will never be right again.

Emptiness

I have learned to accept the sadness and I am coping with it. The anger is less intense and I'm coping with that too. I'm working on the jealousy as well...though I still have a way to go, I really feel like I can conquer it (or at least leash train it to sit and stay when I need it to).

I can not seem to get a handle on the emptiness. That feeling that there is something missing...that hole that nothing seems to fill up. Looking backward doesn't do it...looking forward doesn't do it. It's an ache in my chest (my heart?) that is always there. I could learn to live with it, if it didn't paralyze me everytime I feel it. I'm literally unable to function when it grabs hold of me.

There is no way to describe it to someone who hasn't been there. It's just emptiness.

It's like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon and shouting hello...only to have the sound echo off the walls and eventually fade away. Where does it go? What happens to it? It just ceases to exist and there is nothing left in its place...except emptiness. And there you stand, on the edge of this beautiful place surrounded by that silence and that emptiness.

No, that's not quite what it is.

I just don't have the words.

Ask the pediatrician

I almost forgot! Here's a gem from Friday that I think you'll appreciate...

All the books on grief tell you to ask your pediatrician about how to help your living child deal with the death of a sibling. All the books say to consult with the pediatrician about how to handle the possibility of another pregnancy.

Now let me tell you what you will get from your pediatrician...

A look of horror...an "I'm so sorry to hear that"...and advice to pretend nothing happened or is happening. Yes, you heard me right...pretend like nothing happened or is happening. His advice? Break Sam of the "I want up" habit now, so we won't have to explain why I can't pick him up if I get pregnant again. And THEN, when my belly starts to grow, explain it as little as possible so that if we experience another loss, we won't have to deal with it or worry about it.

OH. MY. GOD.

I just don't even know what to say. I wanted to grab him by the throat, this highly trained medical professional, and shake the living shit out of him. THIS is the advice he is giving people?!?! You have got to freaking be kidding me?!?!?

Yes, my son is sad that Baby Alex didn't come home. But should I have pretended? Should I have glossed over the truth for my son's well-being and mental health? Should I have denied him the opportunity to know his brother for the short time that he had?

My advice...don't bother asking your pediatrician. Ask someone like a grief counselor or someone who has some hope of knowing what they're talking about.

Maybe I've screwed up my Sam for life. Maybe his mental health will never recover. But I feel a lot better about scarring him with the truth and letting him love his brother, than I would if I had lied to him or kept the truth from him in order to protect him. I guess I'll just have to hope that he feels the same way when he is older.

Me...unplugged

I'm feeling a bit twitchy this morning, as I've been a whole 48 hours without internet access. It seems the lightening storm we had Saturday knocked our local server offline...and nobody works out here on the weekends. We called Adelphia to inquire about when service would be restored and they're sending a technician out...next Saturday. In all fairness, he could have come out Wednesday, but I postponed it in order to (1) get "The Bug Guy" out to take care of the nests of yellow jackets in our yard (discovered via foot and lawn tractor traffic...it was NOT pretty); and (2) get myself organized for the big garage sale this coming weekend. Yes, we're having a garage sale. My need to purge has taken over full force and everything must go! It's sitting in my basement and it makes me cranky to look at. So I'm selling whatever I can sell. And there are certain things I just don't need that make me more cranky than others...a double stroller, for example.

So anyway...I've been offline. Let's do the weekend recap thing and see what's been happening in our oh-so-exciting life.

Saturday we spent the day with the Dalmatian rescue group at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History's Dog Days Festival. I'm not sure you can call it a festival, as there were no rides, no carnival games, and no fried foods or cotton candy. Something doesn't qualify as a festival in my book unless you can get greasy french fries with vinegar and salt. But I digress. It was good. We got a couple dollars change in donations and we took in one application to adopt a dog. That qualifies as a success in our business, as we currently have about 35 dogs in foster care and no adoption applications coming in.

So anyway...we left the "festival" about an hour early because there was a bad storm rolling in. It hit just as we turned onto our road...great. We knew we had to feed the horses, so I just pulled the minivan into the barn and we hopped out to take care of them. Just then, there was a loud crash and I saw sparks flying around outside the barn door...the fuse box door flew open...and the lights down the center aisle of the barn went out. I smelled smoke and ran to the other end of the barn. The loud crash was apparently lightening striking one of the trees right next to the barn. There were bits of wood all over the lawn and the tree was missing the left half of its trunk. But luckily there was no fire. I was having visions of us tying the girls to the minivan and driving it out in the storm to get away from a fire...talk about panic.

So now we're going to have to deal with the tree guys again. And they did such a fabulous job last time they were out, I'm really looking forward to seeing them again. [/sarcasm] We have to have "The Bug Guy" out for the bees. The internet folks have to come out for the computer. And the Direct TV guy has to come out for the television (it appears one of our tv's got fried as well...thank goodness the DirectTV equipment is still under warranty). All while we're packing and shuttling for a garage sale. Oh...and we're supposed to meet the new petsitters on Wednesday evening too. I'm just having too much fun this week.

Sunday we cleaned and packed stuff up for the above-mentioned garage sale. The garage sale is going to be at my mom and dad's house since they live on a nice little cul-de-sac and get really good garage sale traffic. Steve and I live on a State Route (and all the houses are out of numerical order...the pizza guy gets lost every time)...so I'm not sure we'd get many visitors at our house. So all the garage sale planning and packing involves a drive forty minutes away. We've successfully made trip #1. Trip #2 is planned for Wednesday. It'll be just Sam and I...please wish me luck. lol

So that's about it. The lightening strike made me contemplate that randomness theory again. I mean, can't I catch a break already?
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Ask and ye shall receive...

The Pet Sitter wants to charge $30 just to come meet us. No thanks. One appointment cancelled. :o)

Randomness or common sense

So I'm all ready to buy into the theory that God doesn't CAUSE bad things to happen to us, but he can't protect us from them either. The idea is that he created order in the randomness, but there are still pockets of randomness out there that we have to deal with. Of course, we don't notice the randomness when things are good, we see it as good luck or good fortune or good choices. When things go wrong, however, we definitely notice it...and that's when we have to start questioning our belief in God, etc.

But today, today I had a day that makes me wonder about all of that. Today, when I had PROMISED my Sam that I would be at his doctor's appointment, I ran into three, count 'em THREE, road construction project delays. Everywhere I turned, there I was, sitting in traffic, getting later and later.

I did eventually arrive at my destination...five minutes late. And I was even more thrilled than Sam. I've never broken a promise to him and, for some reason, I didn't want this to be the first time. It felt...IMPORTANT...for some unknown reason. Maybe because it seemed like the universe was conspiring against us? I don't know.

But I have to wonder about that theory of randomness. What are the odds that randomness would throw three separate obstacles in my path?

Or maybe it's just the summer construction season and I should know better than to expect smooth sailing.