Soren Luther

My friend's sister's baby died today.
She was 7 months pregnant.
His name is Soren Luther.

Complete meltdown (everything is ok)

I have worried. I have been nervous. I have lost sleep. But last night was the first time I had "that feeling." And no amount of talking myself out of it was going to convince my brain that it was just the "flashback effect"...the remembering of what happened after our last ultrasound last year.

So I snuck downstairs in the dark while my husband and son slept and dopplered my belly. I almost vomited on the way down to the silent living room. The tears formed but wouldn't fall from my eyes. My heart raced and I suddenly started to shake. My skin was cold and clammy. I quietly begged God. Yes, this would be the ideal way to find out my baby is dead...in the dark silence of my own home instead of the sterile brightness of an examination room somewhere...alone...without any strangers giving me that damn sympathetic look that makes me want to scream.

I dopplered and found the heartbeat right away. GB gave me a swift kick for my efforts, as if to say, "Hey, I'm trying to sleep, would ya knock it off?" I sat in the darkness and tried to talk my heart rate into slowing. I contemplated staying put in the chair all night (my back/shoulder have been bothering me the last couple of days so sleeping is not quite as comfortable as it could be), but I decided against it because I couldn't let Steve wake in the morning to find me sitting in the chair with the doppler beside me (yet somehow it's better he read this blog entry...I know...I don't make any sense). So I gathered up the doppler, crept back upstairs, and feeling temporarily reassured, fell into a deep sleep. I don't think Steve noticed. I know Sam was still sound asleep. This was my own personal little freakout.

The thing about this is...
When both boys died...I knew. I had this feeling that "something wasn't right." And now I can't even trust that feeling anymore. Now I not only get to worry, but I get to worry that this baby will die and I won't even know. When I get that feeling now, I know it might not be an indication that something bad has happened...but only and indication of my overactive imagination. Great. Just great.

I may have to skip weekends. They come without the benefit of my office chair...which is apparently just the right ergonomic setup to feel this kid wiggle and jiggle (as he's doing right now). Or maybe I could take my office chair home with me on the weekends. Now there's an idea!

Not so convincing

Even when I try to think positive, the negative thoughts are stronger.

We bought the baby a sleeper at WalMart last night. We looked at carseats and swings in the store and online this morning. But this afternoon I thought something was wrong. I've dopplered and everything is fine, but that doesn't seem to convince my heart.

Positive and negative. Yin and yang.

I know part of this is because of the relation to the ultrasound. Last year we had our ultrasound and four days later the baby was dead. This isn't last year...I know that. This isn't that baby...I know that too.

Sam talks about teaching the baby things...playing with him...being a big brother. This morning I told him we need to tell my belly that the baby isn't allowed to die. Good grief.

I don't want to tell people these things. I don't want to admit that I'm not as strong as everyone wants me to be.

But there it is.

I wonder if I fooled them. I almost fooled myself for a while.

ultrasound pics

In the original ultrasound update.

Just a few miscellaneous thoughts

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Never...and I mean NEVER...eat a whole bag of baby carrots. No matter how good they taste and no matter how hungry you are. Trust me.
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I apologize to my brother-in-law. I still have his birthday card/gift here. His birthday was the 11th. Yeah...I suck.
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We told Sam the baby is a boy. Think he was excited?

(photo removed)

He said, "I've been wishing every day that it was a boy." awwwwwww...
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My husband is still alive and we're not moving to Georgia.
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After rejecting his proposal to name the new baby "Go Diego Go," Sam has become much more reasonable. I think we may have a name. We're not SURE (well...I'M not SURE...Steve and Sam are ready to monogram this kid's towels already), so we're keeping it a secret for a bit.
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No matter what you may think, it is not cool to see a bat flying around in Drug Mart while you are trying to shop for hand soap.
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My mom DOES have a tough streak. She should use it more often on people who deserve it.
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Where there is one flea there are thousands. Crap.
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The big case I was trying to settle? The plaintiff who is suing us filed for a continuance because he has to enter the hospital for "a serious malignancy." Now, I don't like the guy, but I don't wish that on anyone. I hope his treatment is successful and he can get back to making my (work) life miserable.
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Kenny Lofton is back in Cleveland! Yes!
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Thank you Shinny!

I cried. That's all you need to know. Thank you so much! You are so sweet and I love you.

Now...boy or girl for you?

4/4

Weighing in at 11ozs. Measuring spot on for dates (18w5d for those keeping score at home). Everything looks good...No concerns at all.

Another boy!!! Sam will be thrilled. (And it's a good thing ya'll aren't professional odds-makers.)

The plan is to get steroid shots at 24 weeks and deliver at 35/36/37 weeks (as soon as possible). So we're talking probably sometime around Thanksgiving.

Steve and I are happy. Nervous...but happy.

For me...gained one pound (that's total so far...I'm pretty impressed with myself). BP after u/s (we didn't dare take it before) = 120/70 (normal for me). Back for another appointment next Wednesday morning.

(yeah, yeah, yeah...so I tried to type in a hurry and messed up the dates. I had a PUBLIC to answer to. LOL! Thanks Bon!)

Moving on...

All this introspection is tiring...or is it tiresome? Either way...time to let that particular dead horse rest in peace.

Thursday...9am...big ultrasound.

GULP!

Did you know?

Did you know that cats eat pepperoni?

Possible explosion

My stomach may just burst with all the food I've eaten tonight.

And yet, I still want more ice cream.

Me? Angry?

I worry that you are so focused on getting angry at God and maybe that anger is misdirected.

It's funny that this should come up.

When I read this comment the first time, I was perplexed...shocked. Me? Angry at God?

And then I realized...I'm not. I'm not angry with God anymore. I am...I don't know...ambivalent about God right now. No, ambivalent isn't quite right. I'm working certainly working on my own personal conceptualization of God...what I believe...without anger. I think it is BECAUSE I am re-conceptualizing God for myself that I am able to let go of the anger. I can't believe what I always believed about God...not now. And maybe I always had a juvenile view of God. Maybe we all do until we are forced to REALLY examine what we believe and why we believe it. Maybe my confusion all stems from my own ignorance on the topic. But I don't think so.

I do have anger. But it is no longer about finding fault...finding a reason...finding the why. It just is what it is.

But I do still have anger. I will admit that. Lately my anger is reserved for those people who, from the outside looking in, are able to so easily find fault or a reason or the why. People seem to find it easy to tell you how to make it all better. If it were that easy, don't ya think I'd do it your way?

It's kind of like the same old argument my husband and I fall back into on a routine basis...I KNOW what my problem is...I KNOW what the possible solutions are...what I need is for you to LISTEN to me work it out ON MY OWN. Nothing is more infuriating to me than having someone listen to you for two seconds only to tell you how to "fix" your problem...as though you are too ignorant to see the obvious solution staring you in the face. There is value (to me) in the PROCESS of all problem-solving.

And there is value to me in finding my own path to God (or whatever I end up with). The comments here on this blog have been immensely helpful in my realization of this...as have emails with people (with all sorts of different faiths). But the fact remains that when someone so easily sums up God (in what seems like twenty words or less)...I feel frustrated and cheated because I'm not being heard...because the process is being short-circuited for me...because I'm feeling like it should be so easy and I'm just too stupid to "get it" as easily as the next person. And THAT is where my anger still is.

God is complicated for me. It does me no good to have someone look at me like I'm dumb and tell me how easy it is for them. In fact, I find myself walking away from any and all conversations about God because people interpret and advise so freely without really putting themselves inside my head...inside my life. And then I find myself all constipated with thoughts and feelings about God and eternity and all that jazz...and nowhere to go with them. So I come here. Aren't you so glad?

So yeah...not angry at God. Just think people don't get where I'm coming from. It's easy for them and I'm glad for them. But it's not easy for me. I don't think it will ever be easy for me again.

And so there are no misunderstandings...this is not directed at anyone in particular (here or anywhere else). It is a generalization of my two years walking down this path...and how my feelings have evolved. It is my own personal self analysis...I'm not attempting to blame anyone outside of myself or condemn anyone for anything they might believe. I'm trying to figure myself out...why do I react the way I do at particular situations/comments/thoughts?

Any and all comments are welcome on this blog. Please don't ever be afraid of commenting because you might piss me off. Getting good and pissed off has, more often than not, lead to some pretty darn insightful conversations for me. As long as people are respectful with me, I will try to be the same. Doesn't mean I'll agree with you...but who knows...stranger things have happened.

Allow me to be clear (again)

When I posted my original thoughts on God a couple days ago, I was only explaining what I have come to learn about my own visceral reaction to the words "God has a plan" or "it wasn't meant to be." It was, in no way, intended to be a blanket statement/philosophy for anyone to "buy into." This blog is not about guiding anyone else...or telling anyone what is right or wrong. It is only about recording MY thoughts (on anything and everything).

Personally, I get very angry when I hear those words...almost to the point of physical illness. It has taken me a long time to figure out (for myself) exactly WHY I have that reaction. Perhaps I do over-analyze. I know that I am losing friends over my reactions (a fact that I recognize and fully accept responsibility for). But I also recognize that I cannot control my reactions unless/until I understand where they come from...what causes them. That was all I was trying to get out there...in my own words...for myself.

If you believe that God has a plan...that's great for you. I hope that your faith brings you the peace that seems so elusive to me. This is one thing I'm having a hard time with. So let me be self-indulgent a little bit and work through it on my own.

I would like to publicly apologize to anyone I have offended. I'm sorry.

Why are you under the impression that when people say what they say, they're implying your losses were some kind of punishment from god?

I did not say punishment...I said judgment.

"God has a plan" implies that where I was headed (with my pregnancies with Alex and Travis) was somehow NOT according to God's plan...and now I am headed in the right direction.

Somehow everything is now as it is "meant to be"...now that my babies are dead.

My babies being dead is "better" than being alive because it is according to some grand plan.

There is implied judgment there.

No?

Cantaloupe and other miscellaneous thoughts

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I logged into my pregnancy calendar Thursday and was informed that my uterus is now the size of a cantaloupe. Maybe that explains my hunger the past few days for all things fruit. It also explains why it's getting a bit more uncomfortable to walk long distances.
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My dear friend sent me a present of pickles and ice cream. I'm not kidding. A Dairy Queen gift card inside an ice cream sundae greeting card...and a jar of gherkins. She said it is proof that there is a fine line between genius and madness.

She also sent me a couple little baby gifts. And gummy bears that Sam did not see the meaning in and promptly asked to eat. :o)

Thank you again Cynthia!
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Apparently my "news" is out now despite my having told only one or two people. If I have to answer "How are you doing?" every day I may just go mad.
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I am putting together a baby registry (deep breath) and have discovered that there is, in fact, a plug-in baby swing. This will save us a small fortune in batteries.
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Am I the only one who thinks it odd that Katie Holmes was photographed in NYC this week wearing a trench coat? The temperature is mild for this time of year, but it's certainly not trench coat weather.
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After more than a week of not having anything to read online, I have discovered that my Bloglines was not working properly. People were updating their blogs...I just didn't know it. argh!
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In my humble opinion, it is not faith if you believe it out of fear.
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I may settle a big case at work. Keep your fingers crossed for me. It would be a BIG accomplishment (we're talking RAISE type accomplishment).
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My OB's office called as "a courtesy" to let me know that Dr. A will be out of the office this week due to a family emergency, but the midwife would be available. What that would mean for me...I would have to tell my story yet AGAIN to another stranger in exchange for a blood pressure check, belly measurement, and Doppler check. It ain't worth the stress in my opinion, so I canceled. I can do all those things at home if I want...and not have to deal with "the look." Next Thursday is the big ultrasound.
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I made a client cry earlier this week. I apologized for coming off as callous and/or rude, but still...I hate that I made her cry. Sometimes I have a hard time balancing the lawyer side of me with the human side of me. I really need to work on that.
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There is another hole in my household where "my" dog used to be. Perspective tells me that he was just a dog. But my heart and my memories tell me that he was more than that and it's going to take a while to stop missing him.

And then of course there is the old standby guilty feeling plaguing my days and nights (either that, or pregnancy insomnia has kicked in big time). Did I spend enough quality time with Isaac? Was his life a happy enough one? I know I could have done more for/with him. Did he know I loved him?
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I bought THREE things for the baby. A blanket and two sleepers. (deep breath)
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We had a lovely time celebrating my mom's birthday on Sunday. We went to one of the local metroparks where they have a fabulous train display on exhibit this summer. Sam's little head just about exploded with the sheer excitement of it all. Pictures will follow sometime...as soon as I figure out the cheap way to get them off my camera phone (I forgot the real camera at home).
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Why is it so easy for human beings to be dismissive?
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I have honed in on something that I have been contemplating for a while. Why does it bother me so much that people say, "God has a plan," or, "It wasn't part of the plan," or, "It wasn't meant to be." And I think I've stumbled onto something big...for me anyway.

People may very well believe what they say. And when they said these things to me, in the midst of raw grief, there was a definite inference that what I was doing was somehow "wrong" according to, not only the person saying it, but according to some higher power. So my pregnancies with Alex and Travis were deemed mistakes...against the plan...just plain wrong. People want to offer hope...that there is some reason for all the madness...I get that. But what I think they miss is that that particular message of hope is the message that says, "You were walking down the wrong path in the first place so God had to kill your babies to get your attention." The weight of that message is unbearable (and doubtful in my humble opinion) at ANY time...let alone when you are in those intense days of mourning.

And for me, it's a bit more because I have always lived my life in fear of judgment. I do all the right things not because they are the right things, but because I'm afraid of the "punishment" if I break the rules. The guilt associated with God's plan...well...I just can't buy into it.

But I've been thinking about what I do believe. And this post by my dear friend, Holley, comes pretty close to what I think and feel these days. I'm sure there's more, but I'm not even going to try to put it into words right now.
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Thanks to Walmart.com, I was able to get my son a compromise bicycle helmet...Lightning McQueen. He still isn't convinced it's worth being five years old. So I'm looking for ideas for things to do as a "big kid" that he couldn't do as a three-year-old. Got any?
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I've been working on this for over a week. Time to post it before I forget again or something else gets in the way. But before I go, I wanted to say a big
Congratulations!!!
to msfitzita
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Mom school

There are some lessons I think should be taught in a special school for moms. Because, quite frankly, some of this on-the-job-training sucks.

Monday was supposed to be a special day for Sam and Steve. Father-son bonding time. They had the whole day planned and had been talking about it for weeks (mostly to help alleviate the fear of the pediatrician Sam would be seeing at 4:30 Monday afternoon). Steve was going to pick Sam up before naptime. Sam had specific instructions not to eat lunch, because Steve would take him out to McDonalds. Just the two of them. Then they would hang out during the early part of the afternoon and head to the pediatrician in time for Sam's appointment (where he was going to get ONE shot).

Then Isaac got sick and decisions were made and plans had to change.

Instead of the day that he was looking forward to, Sam had to spend the morning saying goodbye to the dog, the early afternoon listening to a crying mommy, lunchtime eating lunch with both somewhat shell-shocked parents, the middle of the afternoon listening to his father cuss as he installed the flooring transition strip between the living room and what will some day be the dining room, the later afternoon at the pediatrician getting THREE shots, dinnertime visiting the McDonalds playland with the incessant buzzing from the lights that drove us all mad and, I believe, eventually pushed us over the edge so that we all went home with surly attitudes.

So I, being the completely enlightened mommy with more than my share of experience seeing Sam's childhood reactions to shock and mourning, expected some grief behaviors. But this is more than even I can take.

Monday afternoon, during the transition strip install, Sam took a potty break during which he started bawling hysterically about a balloon he had lost THE DAY BEFORE during our trip to the metroparks for grandma's birthday. He was seriously inconsolable.

Tuesday at daycare he apparently refused to let go of his stuffed anteater (which has, ironically enough, the same coloring and fluffy texture as Isaac's fur).

Last night, while looking at some old photos on the computer screen saver, he starts crying and shouting that he doesn't want to be five anymore...he wants to be three...because being five is STUPID! He said he missed his race car bike helmet from when he was three (that he has outgrown and can no longer safely wear). Steve suspects he saw Isaac in the photos too.

During last night's freakout, I just held onto him and snuggled him and told him how sorry I was that he has had to say goodbye to so many important things during his short life...how I knew it was so unfair and that I wished I could make it all better.

I didn't sleep much last night thinking about how I'm supposed to handle all this. And the best I can come up with is that there should be some sort of mommy school that should teach this stuff. No wonder kids end up screwed up. How the hell am I supposed to figure this all out on my own? Practicing law is a hell of a lot less complicated and I had to go to school for three YEARS in order to do it. I'm not equipped for this!

I'm off to search for a race car bike helmet for my five-year-old. The least I can do is try to fix the things I actually CAN fix. Right?

Thank you!

Thank you to everyone who is contributing to my MOM Project effort...
Holley (special thanks for the plug on your blog)
Megan
Roberta
Darcie
Marcia
Jenne
Cecily
Mary
Selina
Michelle
Sherry
Stephanie

With your help, I was able to buy beads and findings, make these fifteen bracelets (with beads left over for more), ship them, AND still have a working cash balance for more! You are all awesome! I can't thank you enough.

(Sorry for the crappy picture...the camera phone is convenient but not high quality)

In loving memory

Our first baby
Isaac Ramone
November 1992 - July 2007
We love you sweet boy...run free and give the boys a kiss from us.

Paypal link is up!

And it works!

Thank you so much Princess Holley!

Shameless plea

I'm working my little fingers off trying to make free Mother's bracelets for the Memories of Mariam Project.

But here's the thing...I'm running out of beading supplies and we've got FOUR MONTHS of orders waiting to be filled.

Do you like to make bracelets? Would you consider donating your time?

Would you consider passing up that Starbucks for a week and donating five or ten dollars?

We're trying to make this free of charge to grieving moms. But it's getting harder and harder to do.

Sadly, as most of you know, there is a pretty large demand for pregnancy and infant loss memorial items. We simply can not keep up at this point in time.

Thanks.

**Edited to add***
You can send the money to me or to the project, whichever you feel most comfortable doing. If you send it to me, I can share what I do with it (which I always have fun doing). If you send it to the project, you can take a tax deduction as soon as we get our official non-profit status from the IRS (already have it from the state of Illinois).

Here is my reference page about wire and crimp beads. The rest is just generally creativity on your part. Usually, bracelets are 7-7.5 inches in length...though we do make some larger for those that request them.

I have also recently tried this style of bracelet. It's a bit more labor intensive, but the end result is nice. I use silver plated materials because you get a nice wear but not the expense of solid sterling.

I will email you ASAP with instructions on where to send completed bracelets.

THANK YOU!

**Edited to add**
I'm working on getting a Paypal button for my links list.
GOT IT! See it over there---------------->
(look up a little bit on the right)
Catherine's MOM Project bracelet fund.
Now, somebody try it and tell me if it works.

Worry

So today I'm wearing a Dividends maternity dress that gives my belly plenty of room (see yesterday's problem with pants). Trouble is, now my belly has lots of room. Without the squish factor, I don't feel GB moving around as much (if at all). gah! This is too hard!

I think it's time for bigger pants

I found the distinct imprint of my pants button on my belly when I was in the bathroom a few minutes ago. (And if I were a better blogger I would give you a photo...but I'm not...thank your lucky stars.) I think it's time to look for some bigger work pants.

Different shades of bitter

I just had a nice long talk with the "new" coworker in my office (I'll call her NC). She's been here over a year and I still learned something about her today that I didn't know.

NC has a three year old daughter who is absolutely precious. Perfect in every way...including her little attitude. When NC was six months pregnant, she was told that her baby had a one-vessel cord that was probably an indicator of Down's syndrome. She was advised to have an amnio and she consented. The amnio confirmed Down's syndrome. Yes, remember that bit up there where I said that she is PERFECT in every way...including her little attitude. She does NOT have Down's syndrome. She is healthy except for a small digestive system deformity that was corrected by surgery earlier this year.

Now HOW does that happen? NC says she suspects someone screwed up the test results somewhere. She says she feels bad because she is certain there is some mother out there who was expecting a healthy baby and ended up with a baby with Down's syndrome. Can you imagine?

But what fascinated me was being able to talk to her. Three months she visited a high risk doctor. Three months she lived in fear that her baby would die before birth. She listened as they prepared her for an extended NICU stay and her child's multiple health problems. She practically lived at various doctors' offices as she submitted to NST's and ultrasounds and "reassurance doppler checks." She didn't buy anything for the baby. She didn't set up a nursery. She lived her own version of "normal" as best she could, fully prepared to walk out of the hospital with empty arms. And in the end, she walked out of the hospital with a healthy baby girl.

Fully expecting her to tell me I am crazy, I asked her how it made her feel. I mean, after all, she has a happy and healthy child, right? So it shouldn't bother her to talk about pregnancy? To see pregnant women? To hear conversations about strollers and diapers? You know what? Three years later, she still is "bitter" toward happy shiny pregnancy talk (her word, not mine).

So how's that for a kick in the pants?!?! She got a healthy baby out of her ordeal and she's still less tolerant of the same things I'm less tolerant of...after three years! Her experience still provides her with a perspective that requires her to see the forest AND the trees. To be realistic...even if it means being the scary one in the room. She has an insider's view. And even though she came out on the "winning end," her attitudes and personality are still shaped by what she went through.

Now I feel...I don't know...somehow...justified. (I think I'm going to have to ask her if anybody has told her to get over it.)

She also said that her mother-in-law told her that the reason her daughter was "spared" was because of divine intervention. "God wouldn't do that to you." NC's response? "So God WOULD do that to someone else and their child? Why?"

Oh my gosh! She gets it! She doesn't have a dead baby...and she gets it! To me, she is an amazing find. A rare gem. Talking to her somehow lessened the headache I woke up with this morning after a night of dead-baby nightmares and fitful sleep. And when I told her that, she understood that too.

I guess bitter ain't so bad if you've got good company.

I can't believe I ate the whole thing

Good news Monday

My friends' baby had surgery last Tuesday and it went well. The doctors are optimistic for his future health.

My other friend had brain surgery Friday to remove a tumor. They got it out, there were no complications, and she is going home today.

As of yesterday morning, GB still had a nice strong heartbeat.

There is nothing better than good news to make me smile.

My name is Catherine and I'm a re-gifter

My house is filled with chachkies...crap, if you ask Steve. And while much of it has not seen the light of day since the great house renovation of 2006, it still lurks in boxes all around the house, singing the siren call of old habits to me...begging me to place them out on every available flat surface. I have, so far, resisted the urge. But I am left wondering what I am to do with all the boxes of...well...crap.

See, I have this problem. I attach emotional meaning to every single gift ever given to me. My memories are intricately tied to the items that sit on the mantle and the bookshelf and the coffee table and...et cetera...et cetera...et cetera.

There's the spun glass heart on the musical mirrored stand that was given to me by an eccentric friend of my mothers at my bridal shower. For the life of us, we can't even remember how she got invited in the first place. So that always makes me smile.

There's the charming white wicker garden tricycle that I'm sure was once used as a small planter...given to me by my crazy grandma one year in my Christmas bag of "crap." I have no idea why she thought I would like it and I have no idea why I like it since it is totally not my style. But there you have it.

There's the ugly vase that was given to Steve and I as a wedding gift by a widowed friend of Steve's family (who I have never met). When it arrived, it didn't have a gift receipt...just the actual receipt...and we were shocked to learn that he had spent $66 on this ugly vase. Who spends $66 on a vase? Of course, that was back when Steve and I could live off $66 for quite a while. So we keep it as a reminder...of what, I'm not sure.

But this morning I gave something away! As a gift. A re-gift. The someone I gave it to has no way of ever even meeting the person who gave it to me so I feel relatively safe in that regard. And the someone who gave me the gift in the first place apparently doesn't know me all that well, since the meaning behind the gift was a bit confusing and I was left feeling no real attachment to the item. No, I'm not going to say what it is or who it was from or who I gave it to. I am afraid I would be outed as a re-gifter and hurt someones feelings if I did that. It would have to take an elaborate game of telephone for the original gift giver to ever know, as I don't think she reads here...but I don't even want to risk hurting anyones feelings.

So this is me. Feeling relief at being able to confess. Feeling guilt at re-gifting. Feeling happy I was able to make someone smile with my re-gift (and clear out SOME of the crap). Feeling embarrassed because I did admit the re-gift status to him. All of this over one chachkie. Good grief. I think I better find some plastic storage bins to store the rest in. If I even attempt give them all away I just might have a complete mental breakdown. (No smart remarks about that Steve...I KNOW what you're thinking.)

I had a nice long photo post about our wonderfully relaxing weekend and Blogger would let me post the photos. Since the photo post loses something without the photos, I opted for this lame post. I heartily apologize.

Live Earth hilarity

I watched a very touching short movie about the production of steel...from charcoal...from rainforest lumber. It was fair in that it recognized the balancing act between the needs of the humans who rely on the production of these things for their lives (not livelihood...LIVES). It made me think.

It was followed by a commercial for the Infinity Razor...made with the same "carbon-injected steel technology used to make the sharpest knives."

Now, I'm no expert in these things, but a clean-shaven anything seems a small price to pay to help save our planet.

Way to go Universal HD! Great product placement!
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Enrique Iglesias was just molested by some blond guy wearing red in the front row at the Hamburg show. The guy was seriously caressing him all over...stomach...thighs...butt. Not surprisingly, when they showed the front row again just shortly after, the blond guy wearing red was no longer in the front row.
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I had a Take 6 CD a long long time ago. I wonder what ever happened to it.
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Genesis looks old.
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Steve was thrilled to find that his buying iTunes is actually good for the environment.
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The sound is pretty good. And don't tell Steve, but the HD is really cool for watching this stuff.
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29. Alex Gerard (5/11/05) & Travis Leo (5/8/06) ~ We love you to the moon and back.

I can't believe I didn't post this earlier!

Back in May...Balloon #29 joined 149 others for Alex and Travis and too many other lost babies...from some friends in the UK.

Cleveland Grand Prix

Stillbirth news

Fifth Disease apparently doesn't always carry the long-term immunity that doctors once thought it did, said Joliet pediatrician Dr. Paul Aschinberg at Provena Saint Joseph Medical Center and Silver Cross Hospital, both in Joliet.

The Herald News

Still alive

Appointment went fine.
Gummy bear is still alive.
Steve asked if it was too early to determine gender and I said, "Hey, don't be so impatient. It's still alive...that's enough for now."
Big ultrasound scheduled for the 26th (not really looking forward to it for historical reasons).

I'm fine

Really. To everyone who has emailed and inquired, I am fine. I'm just not in a posting mood right now. I know it's odd, since I have posted pretty much every day for the last 2+ years, but I'm just no good at it right now. My friends' baby is having his heart procedure tomorrow and my other friend is having brain surgery on Friday. I can't or won't be reminded that bad things happen to good people...and being here reminds me...in spades. Call me naive or stupid. Whatever. I just can't deal with it right now.

What's been going on with us?

Last weekend we went to the Cleveland Grand Prix. Sam loved the race cars. I have many pictures to upload.

This past Saturday, I took Sam to his very first garage sale(s). After wrestling with the concept of shopping in other peoples' garages, he fell right into the routine and scored himself some fun toys. All in all, it wasn't bad entertainment for a total cost of $3.

I was offered salvation at one garage sale (happened to be in a church's "spare room"). It was funny and sad all at the same time.

Sunday had me craft shopping with my mom. I bought some beads for MOM Project bracelets. OK...OK...OK...I bought A LOT of beads for MOM Project bracelets. I apparently have a problem/obsession. lol. But there was a clearance sale and I got really good deals...so I can justify it, right?

Anyway...other than beading, I'm going to be whipping up a little sheath/underdress for this amazingly bright peasant/gypsy skirt Mom bought to wear for the medieval faire this year. We got some nice light yellow cotton broadcloth and it should take me a day or two to get it done (I love SEW EASY patterns). Now that I have room in my newly renovated house, I may even get working on the more formal gown Mom requested two or three years ago. I bet I could get it done in time to wear for the last weekend. We shall see...

I had a good time talking to my mom while we were out. I felt like the old me...the pre-dead-baby me.

Mom told me that my Aunt J was going to have a garage sale to get rid of Grandma's things...but she just ended up giving it away instead. I guess Aunt J is having a rough time with the anniversary of Grandma's death. I wish I could tell her it will get better. But none of us know that for sure, do we? My advice, in case Aunt J stops by and reads here...drink heavily for a few days.

Mom asked if I still have nightmares and I told her the truth. I no longer dream about the dead babies I have. I dream about potential future dead babies. Does anyone else feel like this is the same dance to a different tune?

So help me out...

If you were going in for brain surgery and were facing four weeks of recovery, what kind of little gifts would you like from your friends? I'm putting together a care package a la my friend, Cynthia...a package of little presents that can be opened when my friend feels like she needs a lift. So far, my list includes:
~Coffee & creamer & mug
~Teddy bear
~Candy
~Yarn & knitting needles a crochet hook & crochet book
~Magazines
~A book
~Handheld game Puzzle books
~Notecards & pen
~Bubble bath & a candle
~Pajamas
~A DVD Gift pass to Netflix
~A CD
~Flower seeds & a planter
~A manicure set

What else?

Tomorrow is another appointment...

I'm fine.