Still here

No, I'm not pregnant.
No, I'm not suicidal.
No, I'm not happy or sad or...anything really.

I'm just not sure what to do with this space. I feel anchored by what I've written here. Weighed down. Stuck. I get the urge to rearrange things in an attempt to shake this feeling. I didn't want to talk about it or be all dramatic with goodbye, so I just shut things down...which I should've realized would result in having to field multiple inquiries from friends and family...and thus, forcing me to talk about it.

Then this morning I posted a facebook status update that said, "Would give just about anything to be able to stay in bed and sleep more this morning." A friend with a three week old newborn responded, "I would dream of this if I could sleep long enough to dream!" I deleted her comment and came back here.

So now I guess I need to figure out what to say. I don't want to be all about the sadness that's creeping in around the edges and preventing me from putting up the Christmas tree. I don't want to be all about the disappointment that Things Remembered no longer offers Make-A-Wish ornaments like the ones I got for the first four boys...or how it's actually kind of fitting if I think about it. I don't want every damn thing to be tainted.

I guess it's not the blog after all. It's my past I want to break free from. But who doesn't, right?

So I better think of something to say...

Work is ridiculous. On Monday I had to walk through snow drifts to get into my office building...because the new handicap accessible ramp was closed because it didn't yet have a handrail installed. Yesterday I was asked, "Are you still uncertain in this matter or has it been clarified?" Today I had to scavenge in empty offices for a power strip for my work computer.

Christmas plans are slowly coming together. Steve forgot to move the boys' Christmas gifts from the back of the van Sunday evening and almost ruined Christmas entirely for the kids. We are hosting a holiday party for the APL for which we are terribly unprepared. I still need to get gifts for my side of the family and have no idea if I should buy something for my sister-in-law who hates me. I really want Christmas cookies, but they aren't gluten free and I don't want to bake.

OK...let's try to spin this...

Work brings a new learning experience every day. I have learned to be more resourceful and less dependent on the convenience of technology. It's almost...nostalgic...which is just heartwarming.

Christmas is on it's way and I am looking forward to spending more time with my family and friends. I'm wishing for peace and comfort for everyone who needs it this holiday season. And I'm maintaining healthy eating habits despite the temptations of holiday baked goods.

There.

But you know, that really just makes me wonder about all those wonderfully happy and warm blogs I read. What are they really hiding? lol!

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Myles: "Why you hang those lights up there?"
Me: "For Christmas."
Myles: "You make the house pretty!"

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Me: "I'm trusting you to spend your Secret Santa Shoppe money..."
Sam: "Wisely...I KNOW...I WILL."

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What do I get my husband for Christmas this year that will make up for ruining Christmas for pretty much forever? He says he doesn't want anything...and I want to smack him because there has got to be something...some shiny new THING that will distract from who is not here this year...ANYTHING.

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So yeah...still here and still looking for something to say.

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Inside the system

I have to admit that during law school, my least favorite classes were those that had anything to do with money. I am not business-minded (obviously) and have a strong aversion to all things corporate. So this bankruptcy business is...in a word...awful. But having filed the initial paperwork and navigated my way through the local rules of procedure, I'm thinking, after all this, that I might change my career path to become a pro bono bankruptcy attorney...or some kind of lobbyist for bankruptcy reform...in my spare time. The fact is, there is NO way your average Joe could navigate this nightmare of forms and numbers and procedures and blah blah blah. And really...do we need to overburden people in financial trouble with the added costs of attorneys and insane filing fees? It makes no sense unless you adopt a punitive approach to bankruptcy theory (and I will respectfully leave out my political diatribe here; save for to say that I think that, at some level, punishment is exactly what is going on in our bankruptcy system).

I'm sure there are a lot of people who think, "Hey, you did this to yourself...deal with it." And there is some part of that that is accurate. I fully accept my part in this and the bad decisions I made to get myself here. But I don't really need, in addition to all the other crap I'm dealing with, to be mentally, emotionally and financially flogged by a system that is supposed to help. I will gladly do what I need to do...but it doesn't need to be set up to be so difficult that it is virtually impossible.

They say change comes from within.

I wonder what kind of change I can create in this...

New shoes

I bought new shoes. New shoes that are totally NOT my style. High heeled fake croc black patent leather open toe shoes. And I mean HIGH heels. I got them at Payless so they didn't cost a fortune...and I almost had fun buying them and wearing them for the first time.

I know what you're thinking, "Why wouldn't you have fun buying new shoes?" Well see, the last pair of shoes I bought was the pair of black sandals I bought back in April. My dead baby sandals.

Yes, even shoes.

First time mommy question # 86730662

Gah! Every time I've got this mom thing figured out that first kid of mine throws me for another loop!

Sam has started making this noise. I don't really know how to describe it. It's a cross between a grunt and a throat clearing and a singing note. It almost reminds me of the old-person noise I make when I bend down to tie my shoes. Except he makes it all the time and it.is.driving.me.crazy! Watching TV. Reading. Sitting at the table. Walking from one room to another. ALL THE TIME!

Is it a phase? Is it some weird verbal tic because I've finally screwed him up that bad? I know it's not right to be critical of the weirdness your child presents...but he stops it if I tell him to stop it. So it seems he has control over it. I don't get it. WHY is he doing this? And how do I get him to stop it for good?

I don't really expect an "answer" here. Just needed to give this one a voice, I guess.

Not ok

Yes, I've moved the virtual furniture around here. It's a lot easier than moving actual furniture, so that's probably why I find it so fun to do.

So remember the girl who lost a baby and thought the world would stop turning? Remember how she went on and lost another baby almost a year to the day of the first one...had another screaming baby boy who is absolutely one of the most amazing people she knows...and then lost a third baby? Remember how she moved onward and upward and distracted herself with all sorts of things so that she made everyone around her feel like she was "ok?"

Yeah...well...I'm here to tell you that she's been lying to you since April. Because, come on people, it's NOT OK! I'm NOT OK! For shit's sake...the fact that anyone believed that is absolutely utterly amazing and makes me question whether anyone who knows me AT ALL has a freaking brain. (OK...that's a little harsh...but really? I'm ok? You bought that?)

So the fact of the matter is, when you deliver two dead babies and have to have an "abortion" to deliver the third dead baby...well...it fucks you up. Big time.

My particular breakdown has dropped a big fat turd in the middle of our finances. The only bills I've paid since April have been the mortgage (it's always late)...the daycare bill (we are $1300 behind for the month of April where I just didn't pay them and blew that money on who-knows-what)...the electric, water, internet, tv and phone bills (only when they threaten to shut off service). The bill collectors call multiple times a day. Let me tell you a little secret...bill collectors don't seem to understand that I would gladly pay them if only I had the money. But I don't. And I'm not inclined to find it for them anywhere. Maybe that's irresponsible. Maybe that's childish and I should grow the hell up. But...meh...

We will be filing bankruptcy...and I don't care. I don't care about any of it. In fact, a part of me hopes they foreclose on this damn house so I can have a mental breakdown and just give up on caring about anything at all.

I think this particular breakdown began the day the bill from Cleveland Clinic arrived...for my abortion. Yep. Given the tears that erupt when I merely type that sentence, I'm pretty certain that was the trigger. I couldn't look in the mail anymore. Bills went unopened into a basket on my desk in the dining room (I took the laptop up to my bedroom so I wouldn't have to SIT at the desk at all...more on that in a minute). In fact, there were only a few occasions when I looked through the mail all summer. Much to my surprise, there were a couple lovely notes and a gift in there from some of my blogosphere friends (thank you for those). But even that didn't convince me that I needed to be connected with this process anymore. And so the mail piled up...literally...so you could no longer see the basket they were tossed in/on...to a point where the mail was falling off my desk onto the floor whenever someone would walk by. I didn't even clean it before I had an APL volunteer work session at my house in October. I just didn't care who saw it. Still don't really.

But that's not all.

When I was pregnant at the beginning of this year, I retreated to my bedroom as much as possible...and I have stayed there since. Sure, I go out and do stuff. I go to work. I volunteer. I shop every once in a while (generally when we are faced with spoonfuls of ketchup for supper). But...I eat in my bedroom...watch tv in my bedroom...hide in my bedroom. Christmas is coming. The time of year when I found out I was pregnant and had all kinds of silly dreams. Fuck Christmas. Another reason to hate the hap-hap-happiest time of the year. (Don't you just hear choirs of angels singing here?)

Is this what giving up feels like? You CAN'T be anything you want to be? You CAN'T have it all? You just deal...however you can. And if that means hiding in your bedroom for months and bringing financial embarassment to your family...then so be it.

And before someone jumps in with the depression counseling or medication talk...don't. OK? I'm not in the mood for loving advice OR a swift kick in the rear. I'm just not in the mood to listen to anyone tell me what I should do. Listening to people is not high on my list when my heart AND my head have been shredded into millions of tiny pieces. I don't give a rat's ass what any other person on the face of this planet has to say about it anymore. I just don't. And with that, I turn off comments to this post to save us all from the asshole who will inevitably post all kinds of insightful advice and force me to delete this whole fucking blog with the press of a button.

I'm blogging today from the dining room...where I've cleaned off my desk and reset my laptop so I can type this very whiney post that may force me to delete this blog anyway. It's a start I guess.

Yeah...so in short...not ok for a while...getting a little better lately but imagine Christmas will really suck...pretty new blog template.

So who knows anything about filing for bankruptcy? Oh yeah...I need comments on if I want an answer. OK...I'll leave comments on. But if ONE SINGLE person crosses my imaginary line in the sand on this one, I will delete delete delete. You have been warned.

Who's the boss?

I am on a Board of Directors. So I am, by virtue of holding that position, a boss of sorts (a fact that I find enormously funny since I can't even get my own sh!t together, let alone be in any way in charge of an organization). I am a volunteer for that same organization and do a lot of administrative work that should, in a perfect world, be done by a paid employee. Our micro-sized company can't afford a paid employee, so I do it. And I really don't mind doing the work...but it is an odd place to be.

I find that I take criticism very personally because, after all, I am donating my time. And it seems that lately there is PLENTY of criticism to go around. I'm not doing enough. I'm doing a lot as far as I can tell...but it's not enough. I made a snarky comment that paid staff weren't doing enough (a fact that most everyone involved in the organization will agree with on any normal day)...and I got a snarky comment from the manager in return ("This is what I get paid for. I'm very busy"). SO...it seems that I am supposed to accept criticism...work harder...and keep her mouth shut.

The boss side of me wants to cut a path of destruction and leave nobody standing. Criticism? I've got it if you REALLY want to hear it. In fact, a lot of what our employees get away with would be considered fireable offenses anywhere else. So maybe we should really take a good hard look at policies and procedures and whip the place into shape. But I know that would make it VERY unpleasant for everyone involved.

And then, the volunteer side of me alternates between wanting to (1)fight the good fight and play cheerleader and (2)tuck my tail and run away. Constantly working and working and working behind the scenes without any acknowledgment, only to be told it's not good enough...well...I'll be honest...it's taking a toll. I can not even begin to count the number of hours I have devoted to business operations...a job that I do not get paid for. Every day I do something or other for the organization. Every.Single.Day. And all I seem to hear is criticism. I know I'm not being overly sensitive because I heard the same complaints from volunteers/Board members who have since resolved the conflict for themselves by leaving the organization entirely.

I don't consider myself to be the kind of "me" person that needs constant acknowledgment or positive reinforcement. So I guess I'm searching for inspiration. How to continue to do what I'm doing and feeling good about it...how to block out the stream of negativity that keeps coming at me...how to maintain a professional viewpoint and keep the snark to a minimum when I really just feel like screaming profanities. How do you motivate people to do better when you don't feel it yourself? How do you motivate paid staff who should already be motivated AND motivate volunteers who are feeling under-appreciated? I feel like I've tried it all. Picnics...thank you notes...freebies...it doesn't seem to be working. It just seems to result in a "more, more, more" attitude. And how do you motivate your fellow Board members who seem to have time for every other activity under the sun except the activities relevant to THIS organization? How do you move an organization forward that doesn't want to be moved? that is happy with the status quo? that will not plan ahead and will eventually result in the dissolution of the organization altogether?

I had no idea this would be such a complicated gig when I agreed to join the Board. But now I'm here and I feel a responsibility to do something with it. I'm just not sure how to get to success from here.

The rhythm is gonna getcha

I'm used to the staccato rhythm of grief and sadness. The short phrases that my voice chokes out in a cadence of punches...blows to the heart. It reflects itself in my writing. Twitter-sized thoughts...condensed to 140 characters or less. Spit it out and move away.

So I must admit I am enjoying this not-new-but-not-quite-familiar feeling that has me threading moments together into something strong but soft and beautiful. There is a continuity that lets us fight about who left the lid off the jar of peanut butter (and laughing about it later). There are long and complicated thoughts that run together but aren't so harsh that they need to be purged from the soul via the keyboard. In fact, they are soothing in a way as they wrap themselves around the soul and remind me that this can be life too.

I will never apologize for the level of great joy my two living children bring to me. Watching them play and laugh together is the best kind of soothing balm for my battered heart. And once again there is no point to get to...no life or death decisions to make...no wondering if tomorrow will bring disaster. We just spend the time along this thread without wondering if we will lose our footing and fall off the high-wire.

My family, my work, my volunteer work...they are all so amazing. Yes, there are things about each that drive me batshit crazy at times. But then I remember how wonderful this is...this NORMALCY...and I work my way around the minor irritation(s).

I don't mind admitting that it's just so lovely to feel the rhythm of happiness again. Don't get me wrong...sometimes that harsh drumbeat of grief bursts through and temporarily ruins the sweet melody of peace (thank you, Fisher Price), BUT it isn't all I hear anymore.

I think I'm gonna make it. I don't know how or why. But that's fine. I don't need to know how or why.

How nice of Fisher Price

Your baby is finally here! The Fisher-Price® Family extends our congratulations and warmest wishes to your new—or growing—family. We hope the prenatal e-mails we sent over the last nine months or so were interesting and informative as your pregnancy progressed. And now, as you start the exciting adventure of life with your new baby boy or girl, we'd like to send you Fisher-Price® Family PlayTIMES™.

Tell us why you're unsubscribing...

"My baby died back in April. I tried unsubscribing before...you obviously didn't get the message."

It's funny though...I didn't cry this time.
I laughed.
Don't know what that says about me.

The impatience of grief

I find myself struggling with impatience these days. My children won't listen. My friends that do volunteer work have their own agendas and aren't available to do the projects I think are important. My husband, bless his heart, is a wonderful husband...but he can't read my mind (like I think he should).

And so I try to stay busy. Project after project after project. No time to sit and listen to my third-grader read aloud for 15 minutes a day. No time to do housework. No time to cook or bake. No time to watch tv. No time to think. Thinking is forbidden. Thinking takes me to that place where the might-have-beens grab hold of me and shake me until I want to vomit.

And so I organize projects for "the greater good." Nothing worth anything to me or my family. As if providing the benefit to someone/something else will somehow buy me favor somewhere. As if I can still make a bargain.

For what? I honestly don't know. I'm too tired, too impatient, too angry.

I was having people to the house today and was in a hurry to clean. I squeezed the dead baby brick onto a shelf where it is just stored...not displayed...not cherished. Shoved on a shelf like a tattered paperback you don't care much about. The thing is...I do care. I want to hurl the f***ing thing through the window. I hate it. It's just another reminder and I hate it.

My glider rocking chair broke. I guess since I won't need it to rock a brick to sleep that that is just perfect timing.

And no amount of fundraising will fix any of it. Nothing fixes it. Nothing makes it better. Not crying. Not stuffing 600 trick or treat bags. Not schmoozing with sponsors.

But at least someone benefits from my impatience.

Help my kid help the animals

The Boo Wow Walk is a fundraiser for the Animal Protective League. This year, we are offering a special prize for the top pledge-getter in the 17 and under age category. Sam REALLY wants to win this special prize. If you would like to help him (all money is donated to the APL), please click on the chip-in at the bottom of this page. Please. And thank you!

What it means to be grown up

When asked what I've done during the last eight years or so, here was my response...

Well...I'll be honest...it's been a pretty rough ride. Started my job when Sam was 15 months and am still there. Planted a garden. Lost Alex and Travis. Planted more garden. Had Myles. Joined the Board of Directors of the local Animal Protective League (that's where I spend my "spare time"). Lost another baby. Let all the gardens go to crap. Still in the same house. Behind on mortgage payments and other accumulated debt. Haven't lost any weight. Haven't done anything earth-shattering. I have started to play with the camera again for the first time since college. Basically...the world keeps turning and I just keep hanging on for dear life. One positive thing to come out of the past few years is my relationship with Steve. We've been through it all together and have come out of it more mature and...I don't know...together.

I think I need to shake some things up. I sound...sad. And I guess I am. Can you blame me?

Speaking of sad...I was updating my list of grief resources when (about a third of the way in) I thought, "Whoa...how did this happen? How did this become my life?" Of course, I know HOW. As life goes...it just happened. But it truly makes me long for the days when I thought I had the world by the tail and I foolishly believed I could do or be anything I wanted.

I suppose it's the time of year for poking at old scars and seeing if they still hurt.

They do.

TLC

Today was the day that might have been something special. Today you might have been four years old.


I can't even imagine it anymore.

But I still miss you, my little half-baked baby boy. So so much.

My screwed up psyche

So my mom asked me the other day if I had changed my mind about getting pregnant again. I told her my mind changes every day. What I didn't tell her is that I have actively avoided even the possibility of getting pregnant recently because I don't want another 20 week loss to ruin Christmas.

Yeah.

So how ya been internet?

I've stopped writing here. Did ya notice?

Instead, I wrote a grant proposal.

I took my fancy camera and did a newborn photo shoot and a high school senior photo shoot. I have another family scheduled to do family Christmas card pictures.

I KNOW, right?!?! It's really amazing what you can accomplish when you're completely screwed up in the head and trying not to obsess about your feminine failures.

But don't be fooled. I don't have it all together. Not, by a long-shot. More on that later...maybe.

Well hello there

Blogger has added stats capabilities. It's a little disconcerting to see all these numbers from all over the world and not know who they represent. If you drop by here sometime, say HI. I don't bite...much.

Unfinished business

Today was my due date. Not that it means anything, because Little Bug would have definitely been born before now. But it still seems important to note.

We spent the day at the zoo celebrating the last day of summer vacation before Sam starts back to school tomorrow. It was fun even though I was tense and tired through a lot of it. The smiles compensated for the date on the calendar.

Sam doesn't want to go back to school...and I don't blame him.

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end.

I think I will call the cemetery this week and have them bury the brick filled with unfinished baby ashes.

Goodbye Daisy Mae

We can't remember exactly when you came from the APL to live with us...two...or three...years ago. I guess it doesn't really matter. The only thing that does matter is that it seems like we always loved you. We will miss you, sweet girl.

If wishes were happy healthy babies...

All my love to Julie.

I do not believe...and yet it still hurts

There is this little pang every time someone says God has blessed them. Anger. Jealousy. Pity. Sadness. Dismay. Inadequacy. Failure. All of this wound up in a split second that makes me catch my breath and ponder each relationship...each person...their value in my life if they could think this thing that discounts me so easily.

I don't know what to do with it. I don't want to feel less-than for the rest of my life. I don't want to question my friendships because my friends simply subscribe to a different set of beliefs than me. I want to be better than that. But I'm just not sure it's ever going to get "better." I feel like I'm on a crash course...and I've recently learned that I'm not alone.

I was forwarded a version of this email and it made me feel all those things again. Never mind the inaccuracies lies perpetuated therein (I'm a stickler for the truth)...the pure HATRED that spewed out at me from my computer screen literally made me sick to my stomach. If this is what God and patriotism produce, then I want no part of it, thank you very much.

But where can any of us go when any single person holds the belief that their God, above all else, is the "right" God? There is no room for anything other than conflict if the heart of any belief is that you are somehow blessed and the other guy is somehow cursed or doomed to hell. Is there?

I know how it makes me feel. I just don't know how to let go of those feelings. And if I can't figure it out for myself, I'm not sure how I can convince anyone else to try to figure it out for themselves.

Keeping busy

I think I must sound like a pretty miserable person here on this blog. And I'm not...honest. It's just that there is nobody else who I feel I can talk to about how Alex should be starting kindergarten right about now...how time has flown and dragged at a snail's pace all at the same time. Or how I should be having a baby right about now...a baby I wasn't sure I wanted but would give anything to hold now. I can't say those things to anyone in person because I KNOW the look I would get in return. Horror mixed with pity and a little bit of impatience. So I spew it here and I sound like a miserable person.

So let me tell you a little bit about something non-miserable. Something fun.

Every year my Animal Protective League (and I say "my" because I'm on the Board of Directors and feel a weird sense of belonging with all the animal-loving-nut-jobs there) holds a Halloween Boo Wow Walk. It's a two-mile walk across the manicured terrain of a golf course (green fields and autumn woods), during which human and canine trick-or-treaters collect treats in their bags. In a county that holds quite a bit of disdain for pets, often disposing of them like fast-food wrappers on the side of the highway, this is a major project. Finding sponsors, organizing event details, hoping for good weather, convincing people to care...it's a LOT of work. So if I'm not around to feel miserable and whine about what might have been, this is why. This has become my project. And it makes me happy. So I'll see ya when I see ya.

If you want to see some images from last year, you can view our slideshow here (the first 2/3 of the images were shot by yours truly the last 1/3 were shot by another amazing photographer who also volunteers with the APL).

Speaking of photography...I'm taking the first tentative baby steps toward "doing something" with my photography. I've been shooting at the APL for over a year now. I've learned a LOT about myself and my camera...what works and what doesn't. I've also worked on my self-confidence a little. I remember a year ago at my cousin's wedding when I was too embarassed to really play with my camera and try to get good shots. So what I ended up with was...well...embarassing. But after reading and studying all kinds of online courses, etc., I feel ready to try to work with people. So...in case you missed it there at the bottom of my page...my very first photography website. It's got ads and such because it's free and I'm not going to invest money into an ad-free version unless I can actually pay for it (though I did reserve a domain name for $10 in the hopes that it will continue to motivate me...as you know, I hate wasting money). So we'll see. I have a potential newborn shoot coming up here in a few days (baby just got home yesterday)...so keep your fingers crossed.

Thank you Michelle!

Inside this lovely puzzle box was this lovely necklace (which I have hung on my rearview mirror)...

You are too kind. Thank you!

I cried

It was over on Sunday, April 11th. Nearly two weeks later...it was a Friday...I cried. No, I sobbed. I picked an argument with my husband, he left the room, and I laid down on the bed and my body shook with the sobbing. And I haven't cried since.

Until today.

I don't know why today. But today is apparently the day.

A friend came for a visit a couple weeks ago and suggested maybe I am depressed because I'm like that commercial ("Do you find you have to wind yourself up just to get out of bed?"). And I said no as I mentally ticked it off...May...June...July...August. It's been four months. I was feeling better by four months with Alex.

Alex.

Here come the tears.

Alex.

It seems a million years ago I held sweet baby Alex. I say his name and it seems so un-freaking-believable...like it happened to someone else and was just some horrible story I heard once. But my arms still ache to hold him. I can't deny it. I miss my baby boy.

But I can't talk about it either. I'm supposed to have had my cry and moved on by now. If someone were to walk into my office right this moment, what would I tell them is wrong? Why am I crying?

I don't even know anymore.

Am I depressed? Maybe. Or maybe today is just a day for crying.

20 years

This weekend was my 20th high school reunion.

I did not attend.

Reunions are all about recounting your journey...sharing what has happened in your separate lives while you've been apart. And for the life of me, I just couldn't imagine how I would tell my story. There were several particularly awful nightmares as a result of even trying to come up with some acceptable way of sharing. Of course, there was the option of NOT sharing at all...but that seemed equally awful as it denied my own truths. Not to mention that I blabbed all over Facebook about how I probably wouldn't be at the reunion because I was planning to have a newborn baby by now. Yeah. That's a little difficult to live down in front of people you haven't seen in twenty years.

No, I didn't feel like struggling to find a balance that would allow me to be there. Not yet. There are still some things that are a little too fresh.

So I hid.

Maybe I'll sort it all out by my 30th reunion.

Crazy bird

I just read this post over at Glow in the Woods and the questions at the end inspired me to write. I haven't felt like it for a while, so I'm going to go with it.

What does your crazy look like? Does it scare you? Is it an ally, giving you permission to act outside the box? What do you do with other people who think you are crazy? What elements of grieving have made you feel most isolated and separate? What elements have made you feel the most normal, human, and sane?

We knew what happened 2 times. We didn't know why. And so I screamed at birds. And then we didn't even know what happened the third time. And so I screamed at birds.

I used to think crows were a lucky symbol for me. I swear one followed me around Columbus, Ohio the third time I took the bar exam...and finally passed.

I used to get excited about birds. Bluebirds, goldfinches, redwing blackbirds...

And now I f---ing hate birds.

Just a LITTLE bit crazy?

Could have been...

Then I read that a friend's daughter has lost her baby girl at 40 weeks.

And I can't help but think...

Could have been...

The wife of a friend from high school safely delivered their second child this week.

And I can't help but thinking...

Miscellaneous thoughts

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So what WAS that horrible self-indulgent whine-fest about the other day?!?! I still have moments, in case you couldn't tell.
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I hurt by shoulder/back/neck somehow, though I don't recall how, and took some percocet to help (after three days of no sleep...I NEEDED to do something). Well, let me tell you, that was the WORST sensory memory EVER and I will NEVER do it again. I will be leaving the heavy-duty drugs to the hospital from this point forward...so as not to mess my head up too much.
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I want to photograph a wedding but am having a hard time asking people if I can crash their special day in order to build my portfolio. I asked an acquaintence/friend if I could photographer her newborn and felt like a complete freak doing so. I can't wait until things turn around and people ask ME (here's hoping, anyway).
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I was HAPPY that the scale was under 220. There is something very wrong with that.
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I wanted to sew instead of taking my son to a birthday party. But I sucked it up and it was a nice time for everyone.
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We have a new foster dog that has clearly been beaten before. He doesn't understand that things are different now. He is so very sad and it breaks my heart. I really want five minutes alone with the ass that did this to him.
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Blah. Committee work. Need I say more?
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The eight-year-old has turned into a tattletale whiner and the two-year-old has turned into a screamer. Remind me that it's just a phase please.
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I finally went through the big pile of papers my son brought home on the last day of second grade. In it I found a couple writing assignments that literally made me cry.

"Dear Mom, I never really liked my life. Did you know that I want to run away sometimes?"

Yeah. Parent-of-the-year here.
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The MOM Project has "slowed down" due to lack of funds and lack of volunteers. But I still have beads and I'm still making bracelets (especially for loss moms). So if you hear of someone who "needs" a bracelet, please just let me know.
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And yet...

I was reading this post over at Glow in the Woods today. The author asked, "How have subsequent changes in your life been colored by your loss? How has your grief changed to accommodate new circumstances?"

My answer? I feel like I'm in a snowglobe that's all shaken up. Things are slowly settling back into new places...some are CLOSE to where they used to be...but just not quite in the RIGHT spot. I can rearrange things, of course, but it's all just so overwhelming that I'd rather sit and look around and think, "Well...this sucks." And yet, I don't WANT to be THAT person.

People tell me they admire me. People tell me I'm "so strong," and I laugh at the absurdity of it all...because I feel anything BUT admirable or strong. I feel. I think. I fear. I hope. I live. And yet something is just not quite right. I try too hard to force things because I want to be...I don't know...happy...satisfied...settled...I don't know how to describe it. I want...something...I'm not sure what it is...but I'm afraid it's something I will never have. Does that make ANY sense?

Please help

You know I love kids and dogs and happy families. Please help my friend Erica's son afford the assistance dog and car seat he needs. Make a small donation...and send this chip-in to everyone you know. I just BET we can raise the whole amount needed.



Thanks so much!

Three months ago.
Would have been 32 weeks.
You would be arriving (early)
...this month.
It was a good dream at the time.

Instead, your burned little body sits on the fireplace
in a brick I long to smash through a window.
No one would know why.
I don't think they remember.
I barely remember.

All that's left of you
...the only proof you were here at all.
Life is so normal
I must be over it.
I'm trying.
Hiding.
Pretending.
Mostly.
But not today.
Not this month...

...when you were supposed to arrive.

Busy busy busy

I've been trying to keep myself busy lately. I've picked up my camera and am starting to "put myself out there" to friends and family. Hopefully I'll be able to build a little side business eventually. Click here to see some of my recent photo work for a friend (and feel free to order something from her...I personally love her pieces).

I've lined up a newborn photo session when my friend's baby is born in August/September. Of course, it took me a beat to get myself together when she told me Baby Kennedy's nursery theme is bugs. But it was just a beat...not hours, days, or weeks, like it might have been in the past. I think I'm just excited to flex my photo muscles and see what I can come up with. Mom wants a four-generation picture with baby, mom, grandma, and great-grandma. I've got all sorts of ideas swirling around in my head so I hope I can translate at least some of them to actual images.

Of course, summertime is all about sunshine and popsicles and bike-riding and campfires. So...that's what we've been doing. Truth be told, we're busier now than during school...and we're not even GOING anywhere. Independence Day weekend brought a picnic McDonald's supper at the playground park (followed by running and sliding and swinging and laughing), a puppy transport, a picnic supper at fireworks, sleeping late, new photo editing skills practice, a campfire with roasted hot dogs and marshmallows, drinking wine, another dog transport/home visit, volunteer time at the APL, a new foster dog, playing Wii and air conditioned sleeping.

Happy Independence Day!

In the holiday spirit

I will take McDonald's dinners to the park and watch Sam and Myles play. I will transport puppies to a new life, meet a friend for outlet mall shopping, take our kids for a little train ride, watch fireworks and drink wine. I will help with yardwork, pitch a tent in the backyard, make a campfire and roast hot dogs and marshmallows. I will spend Monday at home reading and sewing and generally lazing around.

I will NOT think about what July might have brought.

Except maybe when I walk past that brick on the top of my fireplace in the living room. The one that holds what might have been.

But for the most part, I will be happy.

I hope.

5 years!

Click here to make a $5 donation to Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep Infant Bereavement Photography.

Dead baby lesson #673

I suck at writing thank you notes. I mean...REALLY suck at it. It's nearly impossible for me to say thank you for all the kindnesses shown to us (again and again and again)...particularly in notecard form. If they really wanted to give you something helpful in the hospital when your baby dies, they should give fill-in-the-blank form thank you cards. It would save a lot of stress.

It just gets better and better

Terrible twos and threes.

Fucking fours and fives.

Sucky sixes and sevens.

What do we call the eights?

There has to be SOME sort of name for the joy that is the eight year old.

I wonder

From An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination...

"When I've thought of Claudelle since Pudding's death, it's been with sympathy: she must feel terrible. I've never wandered further down that road, wondered whether she feels cupable, whether she worries that she's the villain in our version of the story. I've never wondered whether it's terrible that we simply diappeared--because we did disappear, soon enough after that day we erased ourselves from that part of the world as completely as we could--or a relief. Maybe it's a relief. Maybe every day we stayed gone was a relief to her. Or maybe it was just one of those sad things that happens when you're in the mostly joyful business of childbirth, and she never thinks of us at all."

I wonder if she thinks of us...the doctor who was so dismissive when I was sick during my pregnancy with Alex. The doctor who did no testing to see if Baby Alex was doing ok. The doctor who was so sure gestational diabetes had something to do with his death. The doctor who lied to me about his cause of death (over the phone)and would've let me believe that lie forever had I not asked for a copy of the autopsy report.

I wonder if we ever cross her mind at all.

And if we do...I wonder what that's like for her.

I hope she knows we hate her...even if we never said it directly to her.

Didn't see that one coming

So today was an interesting one. Sam kept saying he didn't want to go to daycare but wouldn't say why. Well this morning he tells me it's because they're having breakfast for lunch at daycare and he doesn't want to be the only kid who packs a lunch. But he doesn't LIKE scrambled eggs (what they're serving), so I packed him cheerios and grapes so he'd have breakfast with everyone else.

I swear, these parenting challenges are so weird sometimes.

She didn't want to review my file for free

Dr. M was nice...but I really didn't see the point of meeting with her. She had absolutely nothing new to tell us.

I asked Steve, "Why do you think she asked to see us?"

He said, "Because if you didn't come into the office then she'd be reviewing your file for free. She needed that $45 copay."

No...we're not cynical at all...why do you ask?

I do feel a bit like we keep having to explain everything to everyone because they're trying to catch something that the previous ten medical professionals didn't catch. Maybe we'll say something THIS time that will be the "ah-ha" moment. So why do I go through every little detail knowing that there won't be any such moment? I really don't know.

So...nothing new to report about the uterus of doom. She said that if the best they can do is give me a shoulder to cry on, then they'll do that (but at $45 a pop, I don't think I'll be taking her up on that offer...it could get REALLY expensive). And, as per the regularly scheduled program, there are more options available the longer any pregnancy is "successful" (the longer the baby is alive, the better...which is absurdly humorous).

So the best medical minds in the area have come up with this...Get yourself knocked up and hope for the best. Which, surprisingly, I feel oddly at peace with.

There are no guarantees.

That's life.

Next time, though, I think I'll save my $45.

Reading Program Baseball

Parade on the field...

There's Mom!

The Star Spangled Banner...


At first, Myles was perplexed...

But then there was popcorn...

And hot dogs...


And silliness...



And cotton candy...

And smiles! Just LOOK at that smile!

Summertime

I want to post all these great posts with photos from all the great things we're doing this summer. But by the time I sit down to put these great posts together, I'm too tired to deal with the downloading and editing and uploading. How lazy is that?

Basically, I'm trying to entertain myself as much as possible...and not obsess. I'm not even subscribing to the "fake it till ya make it" philosophy this summer. I'm using deliberate ignorance. Which means just doing fun stuff with the boys and pretending not to hear the ticking of my biological clock (It's really funny to type that. I remember so clearly the day I started this blog...pregnant with Alex and so certain of the course my life would take and how my family would look when all was said and done. And now...).

Two weeks of summer vacation under our belts and I've:
~been to a minor league baseball game
~finished out the Little League season with a few make-up games and a team picnic
~done a couple of APL events
~been to urgent care for an infected poison ivy rash
~been to The Adventure Zone

A couple of Sam's friends/teammates are coming over today to play (Steve is flying solo so I keep texting him just so I know he can still get to his Blackberry and the kids haven't hog-tied him in a closet somewhere).

Lots of stuff to keep me busy so I'm not thinking about tomorrow's consultation appointment.

Really.

I'm not thinking about it...AT.ALL.

Please vote for us

Please vote for Ashtabula County Animal Protective League in the Chase Community Giving Summer 2010 charity giveaway. You will have to have a facebook account to vote. If you don't have one, this is a great reason to start one...so you can vote for us! Please and thank you!

It is still there

I see the dragonfly in the instant just before it thuds into my windshield. I have enough time to think, "Maybe I should slow down and give it a chance." But I don't slow down.

I sing along with the radio...the song that reminds me of Little Bug. And just then I see four crows standing together in the grass by the road. I yell at them, "No! Fuck you! No!"

The pregnant lady sits at the playground during the Little League picnic. I forget the sunscreen and get burned. She's not a team mother...why won't she just go away?!?!

Might have been.

My cat dies.
My dog dies.

Should have been.

I do feel a need to apologize to some. I should be better at this and not say the same things over and over again. They have listened to so much, I should give them a break.

Should. Do. Don't. It all makes me want to scream.

But that won't change a thing.

It's still there.
And I wonder (again) about my sanity.

Goodbye Thunder

Thunder (previously named Samuel by the APL shelter folks) became ill yesterday and died peacefully in his sleep this morning. He was only with us for a short time (since September), but we loved the big old lug like he'd been here much longer.

We will miss him very much.

Life is good

Wow! It's been five days since I last posted and you probably have the impression I spent them curled up in bed crying my eyes out. Quite the contrary. Baseball, animal rescue, baseball picnic, board meeting...I am keeping busy and feeling good. Yes, there are moments of sadness, anger and frustration that I usually work out on this blog (for which I should probably apologize more than I do), but generally I'm enjoying life.

It's funny, someone said to me today (after the "I'm sorry"), "You have a lot of blessings in your life...there's nothing like a hard time to make you really appreciate them." And I felt like she was right...and I didn't get angry at the thought. I didn't cry telling her about Little Bug and I actually said, "Well, that's the way life is, I suppose, good and bad." And I meant it.

Last night I watched Sam and Myles being silly and playing on our big king-sized bed...throwing pillows and hiding under blankets...and giggling...oh...the giggling! And I felt that old happiness that I thought might be gone forever. In that moment, I realized it's ok. It's ALL ok. If this is what our family ends up looking like...well...it's pretty great.

Drawing a blank

Somebody's going to have to come up with some blog material for me because I am running on empty. I'm re-enlisting in the school of "fake it till ya make it" and distracting myself with multiple simultaneous activities not related to babies or housecleaning (both things I detest at the moment). But I just yelled, "Myles, get off of your brother," and, "Samuel, you can not kick at your brother's face like that." So, I think it's just that life goes on. At least I HOPE it's just that life goes on.

Sometimes I can't even believe it was just two months ago I was in the hospital waiting to deliver another dead baby. I remember two months after Alex died...I was still a mess. Now...well...I'm not. I wonder if there is something to this denial thing. I wonder if this is just one of the perks to losing three babies (there aren't that many, don't get too excited). I wonder if I'm becoming someone whose heart is just a little too scarred to care. Funny, how you WANT to forget...and then when you do...you wonder what's wrong with you that you COULD forget.

Goodbye Antoinette

1992-2010
We love you and we will miss you, our Toni-girl.

Miscellaneous thoughts

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I don't do hand-holding very well in my professional life. Come to think of it, I don't really do it all that well in my personal life either. I should work on that.
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The solution to "days like these?" Get drunk and pass out in bed while your husband strokes your hair and laughs at you because you've asked him if he's petting you.
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I stumbled a little bit this week and fell into the woe-is-me pit. I think it was a combination of last weekend's conversation with Dr. A and returning to work after four glorious days off with my little family.

Calling and making a consultation appointment with Dr. M was kind of a Holy-sh!t-we're-actually-going-to-do-this moment. It's one thing to talk about it in the abstract and then spend the day at the zoo with my amazing family. It's another entirely to really think of returning to that place again...having to explain to the receptionist WHY I am scheduling a consult with Dr. M...hearing that catch in her voice and the quiet "I'm so sorry"...all those practical real-life things that will come with this. They say the first step is the hardest, but I have a feeling they are full of crap.
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My arms are itchy! I'm sure I've complained of weird hives on this blog before. I've looked in my archives and find a couple of springtime references to itchy episodes. I have, in the past, thought it was an allergic reaction to sunscreen...but now I'm not so sure. I have Dr. Googled myself into Polymorphous Light Eruption. It's funny, because now that I think about it, my throat and the front/back of my body just below my neck will get itchy if exposed to the sun too.

I know...but at least I'm not Googling "recurrent intrauterine fetal demise" anymore.
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I want to play with my camera but I seem to have no time anymore. It's making me cranky. I took it to the zoo but really only snapped of snapshots (which, yes, I will most likely share with you later). I really need to carve out some time to just focus (ha! see what I did there? FOCUS...camera...hilarious stuff, I tell ya!).

Here ya go...just a couple...








































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I am back in the saddle as far as my APL volunteer work. The break was needed, for sure, and there are still some awkward moments with "people who don't know yet." But for the most part it's been really nice to be surrounded by people who care about me but have a similar focus...that is NOT me.

Work is a little tougher. Too many babies and baby-oriented women. But my office door is open more than it's closed these days. So that's progress.
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Speaking of APL stuff...why is it that cats don't get the same sympathy as dogs? They're still cute and fuzzy little living creatures. We should all do something to try to take care of them. Why is it people think they can just dump these guys on our doorstep and not give them a second thought? I'm "a dog person," but I still feel bad for them and want to do whatever I can to make sure they survive. Gosh...what has happened to humanity? empathy? compassion? (Do I sound like an 80-year-old here?)
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A few years ago we spent too much money on a television. It broke in 2009 and there was much drama that resulted in a new less-expensive TV and a $300 store credit. The successful completion of second grade brought the urge to celebrate. So we are seeing what all the hoopla is about surrounding the Wii. If the head explosion from excitement in the store was any indication, we're going to enjoy this thing. I'll keep you posted.
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Why, oh why, did I drink a large cinnamon dolce latte at 7pm?!?!
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Days like these

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"I have baby pictures!" she announced with a big old cheerful smile as she walked down the hallway. I ran past her to the bathroom. When I came out of the bathroom she was in the office next to mine. I could hear the office occupant ooh-ing and aah-ing. I quietly closed my office door, sat down, and had a good cry. I still haven't seen her pictures.
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A whisper screeches in my ear. The slightest touch makes my skin crawl. I can not cope with the dishes or the laundry or the dog hair (oh, there is so much dog hair this time of year). People...friends...come to the door and I can't wait for them to leave so I can retreat to the safety of the rocking chair in my bedroom. Like some kind of feral cat, I bristle at the littlest thing and hiss and scream.

Days like these are tiring. Even more so now because there is no predicting them anymore. I used to feel the heaviness weighing down on me little by little until I was forced to deal with "it." I don't feel those warning signs anymore. Is it possible I have grown a callous over that part of my soul? Is it possible that I've done this so much that a part of me is dead and I am unable to feel it coming? Maybe I've just gotten so used to "fake it till ya make it" that I can't distinguish fake emotion from grief emotion anymore.
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I started out this life as your average gawky fat person who already had body issues. I've never felt particularly attractive in an overly feminine sort of way. Heads never turned when I walked into a room. And now I can't help but think about my upcoming appointment...how my body has failed me to the point that I need TWO high-risk doctors to help me. How I have NO trust in my physical self. How I would be perfectly content if I could shave my head, wear sweats and tshirts, and burp in socially inappropriate situations. I can't help but feel like a fraud when I buy the sandals I used to think I needed (but now could care less about). Makeup? Forget it. I feel as attractive as Jabba the Hut and I can't see my way to becoming Princess Leia.

Sounds stupid in the grand scheme of things, but I guess I wonder how I can feel pretty again given the circumstances?
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Another co-worker asks me how my boys are doing and I tell her about my ongoing frustration raising my 8-year-old so he doesn't turn into a liar and a cheat. We chat about all the funny little things he says or does that drive me crazy (but secretly make me love him all the more). And in my head, I hear, "You will never tell these stories about three of your children." That emptiness just never goes away.
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The scab finally came off my left hand from the site where my IV was. Almost two months later the last physical reminder is gone. I should be happy.
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So, the bigger child

The growing pains continue...

I had to keep him from a baseball game tonight because he lied to me about having schoolwork to do...for what appears to be a whole week!

I know, I know, shame on me for not noticing sooner. But I trusted the little booger when he said he didn't have anything that needed done. He did...and he knew he did...and he lied to my face about it.

*sigh*

So far, eight isn't any easier than seven was.

*ah-hem*

So...nothing like telling the world that you plan to "get busy"...and allowing comments...to make you feel just a little self-conscious and unsure of what to say next. But I knew I couldn't obsess about this step without talking "out loud" about it. Aren't you just thrilled that you read this blog now? lol! I promise I won't bore you with cycle days and other boring details. But I'll probably share when I feel like I might lose my mind from doubt (because you know it's coming).

Thanks.

Too much information

"Dead, there's nothing we can do for them, and we don't know what they'd want, we can't even guess...And so in my grief I understand that mourning is a kind of ventriloquism; we put words into the mouths of our bereavers, but of course it's all entirely about us, our wants, our needs, the dead are satisfied, we are greedy, greedy, greedy, unseemly, self-obsessed. If your child did not survive his birth, everyone can see that clearly. I want. I need. Not him. No pretending."

A big THANK YOU for sending all the books. I've been reading them and re-learning some of the points I had apparently forgotten.

They're dead.

I KNOW it seems obvious, doesn't it? But it's something that has to be understood with more than just shock and horror. There is nothing I can do for them and my missing them is purely selfish. There is nothing I can do for them. They are gone. How I choose to integrate their little existences into my own is entirely up to me. When I realized this, it was a freeing moment, the likes of which I haven't really felt before.

So how selfish am I? Selfish enough to let it tarnish the happiness I have with my little living family? No.

Selfish enough to let it scare me away from hoping for another child? Guess what? No.

Though it will seem fast and possibly inappropriate, we have made a decision. With an eye on the ticking clock and a knowledge of ALL of the things that are going against us, we have decided to try again (how I hate that "try again" terminology, but I can not escape it here). As I told Dr. A, "We didn’t have any testing done because we were SURE we were done. But we have realized that even though it was a “surprise” pregnancy (and we weren’t sure about it when we first found out), we really would like to add another child to our family."

We go into this with our eyes open...with our hearts open. We know the potential for disaster is great. But we can't let that make our decisions for us when the potential for joy is...beyond words.

I spoke with Dr. A [interestingly enough, a crow WALKED across the highway in front of the van while I was on the phone with him (no, I wasn't driving)] and he was awesome. He will have another high-risk OB review my medical history/file just to see if there is "anything new" that he's not aware of that might help.

Dr. A said that as long as I can handle it mentally and emotionally, then he's willing to do whatever it takes to make it successful. He fully acknowledges that I'm a medical freak...though he says it in much nicer terms. I got a chuckle when he said, "it (recurrent early miscarriage) is different than what happens to you." What happens to me. I don't know...that was just an oddly appropriate turn of phrase.

We all know the biological facts and statistics...it's going to be a medical gamble. I'm physically healthy and there is no reason not to try.

As far as my mental state, it is very helpful that he seems to honestly care. I mean, how many doctors give you their cell phone number and tell you to call whenever you need to talk? He answers my questions and always always listens to my concerns. And, strangely enough, it is comforting when he admits he doesn't know what to say. He's my doctor, but he doesn't think he's super-human...which works for me.

I have no illusions (or delusions) about what this will be. I know it very well could end in disaster again. But if we lose again, at the very least I will be able to say that I didn't let fear dictate my decisions...that I did everything I could to realize my dreams.

This doesn't mean I won't be afraid or have days where my hope disappears. But I have to try. I realize now that when Little Bug died I was more sad about the prospect of no baby than I was that I had lost this baby. This baby didn't even have a gender assigned to it...so how could I really miss it? But the loss of all hope was too much to bear. We want another child. It took an accidental conception to make us realize that. I suppose that was Little Bug's gift to us.

Little Bug, accidental conception or not, was worth it. Alex and Travis were worth it. Worth the love and happiness they brought. But they are gone and they are satisfied. I can't put my own words into their mouths and then blame them for the fear that is created. It's all me. And it's time I take back my life.

Wish us luck...we're gonna need it.

**update: Dr. A's consult doctor wants to see me. *gulp*

Paperback swap?

I'd like to thank Jen, who sent me several books, but I don't know which one to thank. So, whichever Jen it was...thanks so much!

Happy Birthday honey

You still got it...after all these years. :o)

No miscellaneous thoughts

There are no miscellaneous thoughts today because I spent the day at the zoo with my little family, including my parents. It was perfect weather and we had an amazing time. We saw giraffes and swans and monkeys and bears and lions and fish and dinosaurs...with Sam reading educational signs to us and Myles repeating the animal identifier over and over and over until the next animal. Sam posed for his picture on the "birthday turtle" statue that is actually a tortoise statue. Myles was deathly afraid of the dinosaurs. Sam asked me a zillion times if he could go through the amphibian learning maze and I declared at one point that we would never ever go to the zoo again...EVAH! And then we laughed and laughed. No thought involved...just being in the moment. It was a VERY good day.

8:56am

He made me look it up for him...the exact time he would turn 8 years old. He is growing up so fast and I can hardly catch my breath. It is just so much fun to watch him laugh and learn and become his own little person.
8:56AM has come and gone. Now you are 8 years old, my Sam-a-lama. Eight years ago you changed our lives forever...made them better...made US better. You made me a mom and taught me more about life and love than I can ever put into words.

I love you to the moon and back.

The Greater Good

(click and give)

Miscellaneous thoughts

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Sam and I went to Walmart Thursday to look at bicycles (can you believe he'll be eight years old next week?!?!). Anyway...we walked past the baby section and noticed some adorable baby summer clothes.

You know what I was thinking.

Sam said, "Those would look so cute on Baby Liberty (his cousin)."
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Elizabeth McCracken had a great line in her book. "Closure is bullshit." I literally cheered when I read that.
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I commented on Kate's blog that it would be ok...some day. But really...what do I know? Nothing!

I really need to not be such a moron.
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At first, I had a desperate need to have the baby's urn at home. I wanted it on my bedside table...but when we brought it home, I set it on the fireplace in the living room (where it remains).

The other day, I walked past and felt oddly puzzled at the fact that my dead baby's cremains are sitting on my fireplace. It was a living being in my belly not too long ago. Now it's a marble collectible on the mantle next to my son's handmade "World's Greatest Mom" trophy.
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There are these moments that hit me when I literally can not breathe for the weight of everything on me. These moments usually come on as a result of some sensory memory. The feel of the flannel pregnancy pillow set one off. The sound of the shower set another off. Maybe they are mini panic attacks...who knows. I'm sure there is some not-so-deep psychological reason for them that could be treated with the proper talk therapy and pharmaceutical interventions. Whatever. I'm really not interested in being "cured" just yet.

Today's little attack was EASY to see coming.

See, I follow lots of photography blogs. Photographers work A LOT with wedding, maternity, baby and family photos. I'm ok with them. Never had a problem. But today...this post.

That was the nursery decor I wanted. I had (foolishly) put it on our baby registry. I KNOW! With my history, WHY would I make up a baby registry? I KNOW! But I did.

Now I know for sure...

our baby would have been so adorable with Dr. Seuss.
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I stopped at the APL for dog food to feed my herd. Even there, I run into new moms with new babies. I just want to scream sometimes...REALLY?!?!
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I have almost run through my first month supply of wine and ambien.

The sleeping is not going well.
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This should be printed and handed out to friends and family when a baby dies. No nonsense...straightforward...really perfect.
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Who else is tired of hearing me talk deadbaby? I know I am.
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Did I mention my first baby will be EIGHT in a week? I just look at him sometimes (often eliciting a, "What?") and I think how amazing he is. I never imagined I would have this amazing kid. He reminds me of who we used to be...and who we have become...as a family. He is kind and funny and oh-so-smart. We are so lucky to have him in our lives.

He wants a big kid bike for his birthday but I'm not sure I'm ready for the training wheels to come off yet.
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I was just asked, "Can we smell the fart?"

Yeah...it ain't all Hallmark moments around here.
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I really hate the smell of cheerios.

But I guess it's better than farts.
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Did I tell you that I told Sam he would have to participate in a summer reading program and he cried as though I'd just killed a puppy? Yeah. As someone who LOVES to read, I'm having a hard time dealing with this.
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Sometimes I think life would be a whole lot easier if we didn't have all our pets. And then they do something to make me smile...and I still think life would be a whole lot easier if we didn't have all our pets...but it would also be way less fun.
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I worry about my brother even though I know he's an adult and should be able to handle his life without my advice.

I'm also a little sad that we don't have the kind of relationship where he would ask for my advice.
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I need to find a dentist. Then make an appointment. Then have work done on a probable cavity. Then explain why I haven't been to the dentist in 20 years or so. Should be fun.
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The goal of bill collectors is to irritate you until you beg, borrow, or steal the money to get them off your case. It is a form of harassment and should be illegal. Even though I find it endlessly amusing to play with their heads, I don't appreciate the phone calls first thing at 8am and last thing at 8pm.

Student loans. I dare them to repossess my brain...because...they can have it.
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I have been collecting little things here and there to send to a friend. I don't know where I've stored them in the house. I have a gift I intended to send to another friend over a year ago. It's still sitting on a shelf in my closet. I have thank you cards all addressed and stamped and sitting in a bag I usually carry to work (but haven't needed in the last couple of weeks). I'm not so good at this friendship thing...at least as it involves the postal service.
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Last night at checkout...coffee creamer, marshmallows and wine.
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Might have been

I had the yarn all picked out in case it was a girl like several people had predicted. But since we will never know, I made this and plan to give it to a friend who is due with a girl right around the same time I was due.
I think it needs booties to go with it. But first I have a tea cozy to finish.