Thanks to my son's racing obsession...

Tonight, I was watching NHRA Mac Tools US Drag Racing Nationals with Samual and saw this car...



Naturally, I was curious about the design. On the "doors," it says, "Eric Blake Faulkner...In God's Hands...May 24, 2007."

CLERMONT, Ind. (August 24, 2007) - Mike Ashley, driver of the Torco Racing Fuels Dodge Charger R/T, will drive a special tribute car at the US Nationals designed by legendary Chip Foose and painted by the team at Illusions Custom Paint and Body. The car is part of a fundraising campaign for the Eric Blake Faulkner Foundation and, after its single-race campaign, will be sold to the highest bidder at the Barrett-Jackson Collector Car Auction, January 12-20, 2008 in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Losing a child is possibly the most tragic event a parent could ever face, and Donnie and Hollie Faulkner know that pain all too well. Their son, Eric Blake Faulkner, was stillborn on May 24, 2007, and the experience pushed the couple beyond their limits. Were it not for the angelic support of the St. Vincent's Perinatal Bereavement Program in Little Rock, Ark., the couple said they would not have survived with their sanity. Determined to turn tragedy into something positive, they created the Eric Blake Faulkner Foundation to help others faced with a similar situation.

The Faulkners are the proprietors of the traveling Oakley merchandising trailer that covers the 23-race NHRA POWERade Drag Racing Series, and are an integral part of the family-centric experience of NHRA drag racing. Support throughout the community has been immense, and Evan Knoll, owner of Torco Racing Fuels and a father himself, sought to find a way to help his friends Donnie and Hollie. It was late one evening when Donnie Faulkner's phone rang, and on the other end was Knoll, asking, "Donnie, how can I help?"

With planning, the vision started to take shape, and the next call was to Mike Ashley who was chosen to drive the tribute car at the biggest race on the NHRA schedule - the Mac Tools US Nationals.

"There is no greater loss than to lose a child," Ashley said, "and it's truly an honor to be able to support this cause with our car at the US Nationals. When Evan approached me about this, his first thought was to give his sponsorship of the car at the US Nationals to help raise awareness and money for the foundation. He's such an incredible, caring man."

Knoll said, "It's just terrible, and I want to help. We're all drag racers, but we're people, too. I'll gladly give my sponsorship on Mike's car to help such an important cause. It's the least I can do, and I'm sure we'll raise a lot of awareness for the Foundation as well as a lot of money when the car goes to auction in Scottsdale."

In addition to Knoll, support for the project includes Ashley, who is donating a rolling chassis and coordinating the project; Jim Jannard, founder of Oakley and Red, a sponsor of Ashley's and longtime friend of the Faulkners; Chip Foose, the legendary auto designer who has directed the design and worked with Mark Adkins and the team at Illusions Custom Paint and Body of Bristol, Tenn. to create the one-of-a-kind paint scheme; Valspar, who has donated all the paint for the project; MOPAR, who has donated a 2007 Dodge Charger R/T body specifically for the project; Phoenix Custom Apparel; and MAC Tools, the title sponsor of the US Nationals, who has donated a complete rolling toolbox painted to match the original FOOSE design. Other contributors to the project include Phoenix Custom Apparel and Impact Racing Products.

After the car is run at the US Nationals, it is headed to the auction block at the world famous Barrett-Jackson Collector Car Auction, to be held January 12-20, 2008 in Scottsdale, Ariz. The auction is known as for being a strong supporter of children's charities, raising $4.16 million for charity in 2006.

"Barrett-Jackson is pleased to be a part of the process and is looking forward to working with Mike Ashley and the Faulkners. We are presented with so many requests to help during our auctions, but this car rose to the top and tugged at our hearts. We really want to spotlight this car to help get the word out," said Gary Bennett, Barrett-Jackson's Senior Automotive Specialist.

Bennett said he is working to feature the car in the Barrett-Jackson Auction Company booth at the SEMA Show, Oct. 30 - Nov. 2 in Las Vegas, Nev.

Donnie Faulkner said, "I can't change what happened, but I can help others get through it. Hollie and I have made it our purpose to remember Eric and help other couples that suffer the way we have. It was the most terrible thing we ever went through, but both Hollie and I believe that everything happens for a reason. We don't understand it, but we can make something positive come out of it."

Faulkner said all donations and funds raised will go to support the St. Vincent Perinatal Bereavement Program in Little Rock, Ark. According to Faulkner, a new hospital is being built close to their home in Little Rock that will have a bereavement area separate from the standard delivery room area named after Eric Blake.

The Tribute car will be officially unveiled before Ashley's first qualifying run on Friday, August 31, and will be campaigned only at the Mac Tools US Nationals at O'Reilly Raceway Park just outside of Indianapolis, Ind.

For more information about the tribute car, visit Mike Ashley's racing website at www.MikeAshley.com , Torco Race Fuels Inc. at www.torco.com or Barrett-Jackson Auction Company at www.barrett-jackson.com .

I blame Steve

We were watching two baseball games on split screen tv...the Cubs on one side and the Indians on the other.

Steve wanted to take a nap.

So now we're watching The Wonder Pets on one side of the split screen and Thomas the Tank Engine on the other side of the split screen.

*sigh*

Hysterical laughter of the insane

The OB, Steve and I had a good laugh today and I can't even remember why it was so funny.

Oh! I know what it was!

Dr. A decided to give me my steroid shots this week (lung development, early delivery, blah, blah, blah). But that meant one today and one roughly 24 hours later. Well...tomorrow is Saturday and the shot is intramuscular (arm or ass...I opted for ass since it can tend to make the arm sore). So who does that leave to administer said injection? LOL!

Notable quotes that made me laugh even harder...

~Me to Steve: Intramuscular means in my rear, honey...and I don't bend that way...which means someone else needs to do it for me. That someone would be you.

~Dr. A to Steve: Do you hunt or shoot?

~Dr. A to both of us: It's ok if you can't, I don't want to cause marital strife.

~Steve to Dr. A: Is there some sort of tranquilizer gun I can use to just shoot her (in the ass) from across the room?

~Dr. A: You really can't miss.
Me: My ass is a big enough target.

~Me to Steve: You're only going to get an opportunity like this ONCE in this lifetime.

~Me to Steve: I knew I should have had you practice giving injections to the horses.
Steve to me: Yeah...they wouldn't hurt as much when they kick me, I bet.

~Dr. A to Steve: The plan is to find the moment when the baby is doing good and the lungs are mature and...bail.
Steve to Dr. A: So induction really isn't an option?
Dr. A to Steve: Well, we could try, but it's a process and there are a lot of uncontrollable variables that come with each process.
Me to Steve: In other words, my freaky uterus is unpredictable and we don't want to chance it.
Dr. A to Steve: Right.

Seriously...all three of us were LAUGHING so hard that Baby Myles was kicking around like, "What the...???"

So yeah, that scream you hear tomorrow around 5pm...that's me being stabbed in the ass with a needle...by Steve, who neither hunts nor shoots. Or maybe it's Steve suffering my wrath after being stabbed in the ass with a needle. Either way, one of us is going to be screaming, I'm sure.

It is going to be a great day

It's 9:30am (work starts at 8) and I am just now logged into my computer due to "server issues."

The air conditioning, that was reportedly "repaired" this morning, is blowing out hot air into this building that was built in 1810 and has absolutely no air circulation otherwise.

I got up no less than eight times last night and am tired and cranky (and now incredibly hot).

Maybe I'll just leave blogging for another day.

***update:

One client is charged with contempt based on an affidavit that is filled with untruth (I don't want to call someone a LIAR...but you get the idea...and I have the documentation to PROVE it...sucker!).

I had to speak very slowly to a clerk at the Secretary of State's office. Heaven help us when he gets his bar results and actually becomes an attorney.

I smell from sitting in this heat.

I have to work late to make up some time.

I just discovered I will be 1.5 credits shy of my continuing legal education requirement unless I take a useless class that I won't need in my job.

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But I received a gift from my American Business Women's Association secret pal today (delivered to work)...so that made me smile.

My son has soccer practice again tonight...so that made me smile.

And my husband got himself a NEW JOB and was able to turn in his resignation today at the place that remains nameless (there may be more about this in subsequent posts...AFTER he is safely out of the hot zone)!!! In the meantime, please join me in offering CONGRATULATIONS!!! to my dear husband. I am so so so proud of him and I hope this new job provides him the professional happiness I know he has so desperately been looking for. I love you honey.

Mommy will not cry

(photo removed)

**Just a note: This was at meet-the-teacher. Sam hasn't had his first day yet.**

Lunch at 1300 hours

I'm not the mom that worries about her kid adjusting to new things. Heaven knows, Sam's done beautifully adjusting to so many changes in his short life that I marvel at how he could possibly be MY child (I don't do change well). I'm also not the mom to get all emotional about "my baby" growing up. In fact, I tend to inwardly cringe when I hear other mothers refer to their child in such a fashion. I mean, really...cut the cord already.

So you can imagine my surprise at finding myself ranting and raving to my husband yesterday upon his return from Kindergarten orientation. Now first, I was a bit miffed because I did not get to attend said orientation because it was scheduled at 2pm and someone had to stay home with Sam because it was "for parents only," and we do not have a local babysitter. And yes...I am also irritated that I am taking tomorrow off of work to accommodate their scheduling his meet the teacher time at 10am on a Wednesday...as if parents just don't have work schedules. But I digress.

Steve came home from orientation and gave me his impressions of the kindergarten teacher. His description? "Not exactly warm and fuzzy." In fact, "She seems to have a lot of rules." In kindergarten? OK...I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, I'm not a kindergarten teacher. She SOUNDED really nice in the little letter she sent home, specifically addressed to Sam. How bad could it really be?

But then Steve said, "And do you want to hear something truly absurd?" And that is when all bets were off. Let me try to calmly tell you about the absurdity...

Recess is fifteen minutes before lunch. If the class goes outside, everyone goes outside...no exceptions. Upon returning from recess, the class will go directly to the cafeteria where they will eat their lunch...there is no returning to the classroom between recess and lunch. Now, this poses two problems for me and my son. First, what if he brings his lunch? How exactly does it get from the classroom to the cafeteria? Teleportation? And second...and this is the one that sent me on a rant of epic proportions...

We live in an area called THE SNOW BELT. All children are to wear appropriate snow gear...coats, hats, mittens, snowpants, boots. They are going to spend fifteen minutes out in the snow...and then head directly to the cafeteria where they are expected to eat their lunches IN THEIR SNOW CLOTHES. Forget the discomfort of overheating while you eat. Forget the fact that I'm sure more than one kindergarten student will promptly throw up their lunch when they finally do return to the classroom and remove their layers. Let's focus on my child for a second. My child who suffers from Reactive Airway Disorder. My child who suffers asthma-like symptoms when faced with extreme temperature changes. My child, who is not allowed to dispense his own inhaler/medication, but must ask the teacher to send him to the nurse (provided it's not on Friday because the nurse doesn't work on Friday).

Am I the only one who sees a problem with this plan? Really, what would it take to allow the kids to return to the classroom to remove their snow clothes before heading to the cafeteria to eat? Would it take up too much precious finger-painting time? I mean, it's just KINDERGARTEN!

So now I have gone from laid-back-mom-who-doesn't-worry, to a complete and total freak. I know other moms who already have their first day of kindergarten stories to tell. For the most part, they seem to be relatively pleasant. There is one mom whose son was allowed to take his stuffed animal to the first day (Sam is allowed NO TOYS at kindergarten) and it really got me to thinking my baby is not going to do well if this kindergarten teacher is more like a drill sergeant than a kindergarten teacher. He IS a sensitive kid, despite what he may have been through during the past three years. He DOES need love and attention more than cold rules and strict routine. How do I send him off to the care of a stranger and just hope that she understands him? How do I send him off to the care of a stranger who seems less than interested in trying to understand him?

I know these questions and worries are not unique. I know mothers have faced them since the beginning of the public school system. I know that my child will be ok, one way or another. If I have to step in and talk to the teacher, I will certainly do that. If she won't listen, I will not hesitate to go over her head. I don't want an adversarial relationship and I hope it won't be necessary.

I guess I'm just sad that it is starting this way. "Be all you can be" is a nice slogan for the military...I'm just not sure it has a place in kindergarten. I'm sad that we don't seem to have anyone on "our side," who is as interested in guiding our boy as we are...with love. I want Sam to love school and I'm terribly afraid this is going to produce just the opposite reaction in him.

A kindergarten riddle

What do you get when you have a Bachelor's in Nutrition and a Master's in Business Administration?

School lunch options that include Tony's Pizza every.single.day (except for the one day of the month when the options include Domino's Pizza).

No, I'm not kidding.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

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I neglected to share...My son and my husband brought me flowers and a funny card on our wedding anniversary...then they took me out to dinner. I did nothing for them. I suck.

While at dinner, Steve and I were both a bit disconcerted that our waiter (who was also the bartender at the bar) looked A LOT like our son's pediatrician. I felt like I should order something healthy...which is so NOT the point of eating out.
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I got a new cell phone. An LG enV Orange. If you click the link you will see why I'm a little afraid of it.
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A good night's sleep does not come without a price in my whackadoo brain. See, the last two times I got a good night's sleep while pregnant resulted in dead babies. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why my mind freaked itself out on Tuesday morning when I woke up from a surprisingly nice sleep (I only had to visit the bathroom twice during the night). I am eternally grateful to whatever power allowed me that sleep without waking to a dead baby. I am, however, a bit perturbed that I had to break out the doppler first thing in the morning "just to check." The emotional toll of the morning almost completely negates the restful sleep of the night before.

And as an added bonus, I couldn't find a heartbeat at first because Baby Myles had scrunched himself up in a tight little ball in my upper right abdomen...above my belly button. My boy and I are apparently going to have to talk about the exit being to the south and not up and out my throat.
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All H@me Dep@t's are not created equal. And L@we's may be more expensive, but the extra $ is worth it for the better customer service. I'm just saying.
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At the end of the work day, I hide in my office instead of going home. I don't want to go home to be all by myself with the dogs. At first I thought it was because I didn't want to clean up any messes they may have left me. Now I realize it's because I don't want to be alone with all the bad thoughts. I'm disappointed in myself. I thought I was doing better.
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Thursday, 5:59pm, I saw my belly move for the first time this pregnancy from a distinct baby kick.
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An interesting article about Mother Teresa's Crisis of Faith.

There are two responses to trauma: to hold onto it in all its vividness and remain its captive, or without necessarily "conquering" it, to gradually integrate it into the day-by-day.
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I feel so grown up. I got "the look" today from my boss when I handed him my son's kindergarten schedule and informed him I would be arriving late and leaving early on those days I have to provide transportation to my munchkin. It's only two hours a day on those days and I can really do the work at home, but I agreed to work in the office an extra two hours on the other days of the week because he "needs the hours from me." Whatever. My office neighbor is leaving to work in private practice in a couple of weeks and has promised he will keep his eyes and ears open for any opportunities for me. There is hope.
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Much appreciated

Thank you all for indulging me in my episode of self-pity yesterday. I'm feeling much better today thanks to a bowl of ice cream last night. One high glucose reading was well worth the satisfaction found in those Moose Tracks. In fact, my numbers are very well controlled by diet and I can reduce the number of finger sticks to a couple times a week as long as I promise to follow the diet. I promised...and I will.

It's not that it's hard to do...it's that it FEELS hard to do. It's like I'm juggling all these crazy emotions over this pregnancy, Sam starting kindergarten, Steve finding a new job (hopefully a post is coming soon about that), and me just feeling all this pressure to make everything work. It all falls down on me at unexpected times and I write it out here so my poor husband doesn't have to listen to me whine about it (I swear, that man is a saint).

Anyway...Baby Myles is doing well. He did a little jig for us during our spot ultrasound today. He is, if I'm allowed to say, absolutely ADORABLE...even in his transparent and slightly scary way. Everything looks good and we're up for steroid shots in two weeks as a precaution in case there is a need to deliver early due to any weird uterine infections cropping up. I am slightly very anxious about the fact that we talked about early amnio and delivery by c-section. It's not ideal for me and I really wonder if there is any wiggle room with that option. I mean, I struggled to VBAC two dead babies so I could avoid surgery (70+ hours with Alex)...I would hate to think I could have just opted for a section since it makes no difference now. Maybe I'll email Dr. A. and see what he thinks.

Now I must ask you something...did you know that in the ice cream brands I compared, the no sugar added version only had ONE less gram of carbohydrate per half cup than the regular old sugar filled ice cream? What's the point? And how about this...ONE slice of stone ground wheat bread has almost as many carbs as TWO slices of Light Wheat bread (and light wheat tastes better)? I used to think those truth in food labeling advocates were a little off their rockers, but now I remember what all the fuss is about. There are some people for whom label reading is very important. Can you imagine believing you've bought the better bread only to find out (at home) you can only have HALF a sandwich? That would really tick me off.

Thank you all for your suggestions for yummy food ideas. I'm really doing ok. I've not gained any weight for three weeks now and Myles is growing and grooving. And there really isn't too much deprivation...it's just a matter of having to THINK about it now instead of mindlessly eating...instead of mindlessly doing anything. I miss the old days where I could be pregnant without having to think about it. But this is my life now. And I'll do it because I want this baby boy here and alive more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. Guess I'm not really as selfish as I sound.

**Warning: regular/normal/ungrateful pregnancy whine

I would do ANYTHING to get Baby Myles here alive and healthy.

But I just have to get this out because it is making me crazy...

I want to EAT! I'm HUNGRY! Nothing I want to eat is good for my or my blood sugar levels. I'm TIRED of green leafy vegetables and meat. I want to eat a bowl of pasta and follow it up with an ice cream sundae! I want to EAT CARBS! AND SUGAR! And I want to NOT think about whether it is poisoning my baby.

I normally LOVE to cook. I can't even stand to walk into the grocery store anymore because I'm bombarded with all the lovely summer fruits I can't eat...the snack chips I can't eat...the CAKES and the COOKIES I can't eat! It's torture! It makes me want to cry with frustration. I've put off buying a loaf of bread for fear I will sit down in front of the tv, slather the bread with peanut butter, and just eat until I explode. Seriously...this is the stuff I fantasize about (besides bringing home a living baby boy).

Add in that I'm so tired of feeling like a freaking pincushion...One belly injection in the morning, four finger pricks throughout the day, the looming promise of steroid shots, and the prospect of insulin shots sometime in the future...Good grief! I'm bruised and pinched and hurty in places that drive me crazy. Have you ever tried typing with fingers you've stuck multiple times a day? It sucks! My pants are too damn small again and the belly bruises from the injections are PAINFUL! I'm thinking of just buying all dresses (without waistlines) so I don't have to deal with it anymore!

I just want to curl up in a ball until this is all over. Hand me a healthy and happy baby and I'm sure I will think all this has been worth it. But right now, hormonal me just wants to have a good cry and not be told to look at the bigger picture.

One of a kind

The child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn't been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him. (-Pablo Casals)

His name is Myles Fisher C-----.

We want everyone to know him...now and forever.

There is no special significance to his name...no family names included...no stories to be told. It is his name and his name alone...only because we like it. We hope he likes it too.

And we hope he gets to use it for a very long time in this life.

Welcome to the world Baby W!!!

In the category of better late than never...

Congratulations to Clare on the arrival of little Miss W!

4am freakout

It's 4am and I can't sleep. GB's heart is still beating...I checked because I figured the reason I couldn't sleep was because something was wrong (naturally).

So now I've been sitting here for a half hour, surfing the net, telling myself, "HE'S JUST SLEEPING! STOP FREAKING OUT!" It's not working.

So what's a girl to do? Why, blog, of course.

This is a switch. My pre-appointment freakout was relatively mild last night...I've apparently shifted to post-appointment freakouts now. How perfectly poetic. (Do you sense the sarcasm there?)

And I'm hungry.

Great. Just great. So I can freak out...screw with my gestational diabetes...and get fat...all at the same time.

This is the stuff that reality shows are made of....thrilling human drama (and too many ellipses...and yes, I had to look up ellipses to make sure it was the right word. What do you want? It's 4:30am, for God's sake!)

GB just gave me a big ole kick as if to say, "Hey nutcase...get your fat ass back in bed and let me sleep." Already this kid has opinions...

I'm tired.

I don't want to share!

No, this isn't a childhood temper tantrum we're dealing with...It's a full-blown adult sized mommy temper tantrum. I shamefully admit that this 35-year-old woman is capable of having such breaks in my otherwise refined veneer as to have childlike temper tantrums. In other words, it ain't pretty. So I come to the fine internet folks to tell my sad tale of woe...after warning my husband it was coming and assuring him it isn't ABOUT HIM (a point I think I kind of lied about...cause yeah...it is about him a little bit).

We're going through some changes in our house. Some of them come as a result of Sam's being five years old...some as a result of "the new baby" (a reference I am REALLY growing to hate so much that it may just prompt an early reveal of Gummy Bear's real name...SOON)...and some of it is surely a combination of the two. Intellectually I understand that my baby is growing up right before my eyes. And I'm ok with that. Really. I am...OK.with.that. Oh...shut-up...I can hear you laughing from here and I think that's just plain rude.

Anyway...

Bedtime has always been our "snuggle time." Me and Sam. When all other attempts to soothe the savage in him had failed, I could lie next to him in a darkened room and melt his willpower with the sound of my breathing. Snuggle power.

It only worked if Steve was thrown out of the room. Daddies only stir up trouble, don't ya know? Distraction had to be eliminated and that meant daddy had to leave us alone. At first, when Sam was an infant, I think Steve took a bit of offense to his lack of snuggle power. But after a couple of weeks with little to no sleep he realized the magic...and he too melted to the awesome power of the mommy snuggle.

As Sam gained years, we developed our own little nightly ritual. I would look up from whatever I was doing at the appropriate time (or when Sam was exhibiting unusual fussiness/crankiness) and announce, "Snuggle time!" It was the rare night when my little munchkin didn't smile as he bounded into the bedroom and hopped right under the covers...ready to meet sleep with his mommy snuggled up by his side.

I remember so many nights, smelling his hair, listening to him breathe, checking to see if his eyes were closed (laughing when he would surprise me by popping them open and giving me a grin). I wished there was a way to bottle it up and keep it forever...those moments that made me feel so much like we are mother and son...those moments that, quite honestly, made me feel the POWER of that bond we share.

I tell you all of this, not as a means to elicit "awww, how sweet" from you...but so that you will understand exactly how this latest phase of growing up has bruised my heart. As with all things related to raising children, those moments couldn't be bottled up to be kept forever. Time couldn't be stopped. Things change.

Sam wants his Daddy at bedtime.

He asks him to stay and snuggle instead of going out to the barn to do his nightly chores. Mommy snuggle power just isn't enough.

I knew this day would come. And I tried my hardest to steel my heart against the disappointment that our magical time was over. But guess what? It didn't work. I'm sad and I don't wanna share!

But I will.

Because I love him with every fiber of my being and I want him to be happy.

Here I am!

Genius or madness?

This arrived in the mail today from my crazy dear friend, Cynthia. Yes, it's Spam. Baby's First Spam, to be exact. Complete with a Spammer's message from Iwan Yomunny...soliciting Gummy Bear's participation in "an investment opportunity in Nigeria."




Thank you for the laugh, Cynthia. Steve is now convinced we should meet in person. He says, "She's our kind of people." I'm not sure if that's good or bad. LOL!

Save the planet...save yourself

I normally don't blog about things like this, but the Skin Deep:Cosmetic Safety Database has been a real eye opener for me. Check out the beauty products you use every day. You may even want to rethink using some of them. I have.

Lucky 13

I will love you forever as I love you now...

...with all that I am and all that I have.

~Happy Anniversary~

Secret Pal 11

There has been a serious lack of craft posts on this blog for a while now...a fact I hope to change in the very near future (like this week). But for now, I'm posting this questionnaire (so I won't forget).

1. What is/are your favorite yarn/s to knit with? What fibers do you absolutely *not* like?

I'm allergic to wool...so no wool. Anything else goes. I LOVE alpaca and silk (or a combo of the two).

2. What do you use to store your needles/hooks in?

My crochet hooks are stored in a hook roll in my bag. My knitting needles are thrown into a laundry hamper/wicker basket I use to stash stuff in my living room or a plastic tub I use to stash stuff in my craft closet.

3. How long have you been knitting & how did you learn? Would you consider your skill level to be beginner, intermediate or advanced?

I would consider myself an advanced crocheter and a beginner knitter.

4. Do you have an Amazon or other online wish list?

Yes, but it doesn't have much crafty on it at the moment. I will see what else I can add.

5. What's your favorite scent?

Sweet scents...vanilla, cookie, etc.

6. Do you have a sweet tooth? Favorite candy?

Of course! Anything chocolate!

7. What other crafts or Do-It-Yourself things do you like to do? Do you spin?

I do not spin. I love to sew clothing. I love to scrapbook but hardly do it anymore. I am trying quilting, but it is a slow going process. I love to cook and bake, but time and my husband's picky eating limit what I can really do in the kitchen.

8. What kind of music do you like? Can your computer/stereo play MP3s? (if your buddy wants to make you a CD)

I am a country music gal. My computer and my cell phone can play MP3s...and my husband has an iPod that I steal from time to time.

9. What's your favorite color(s)? Any colors you just can't stand?

Love purple. But I like just about any color (depending on the project).

10. What is your family situation? Do you have any pets?

Married with one five-year-old son and one son due December 22 (will probably deliver in November if all goes according to plan).

11. Do you wear scarves, hats, mittens or ponchos?

Scarves, hats, and mittens...yes. No ponchos.

12. What is/are your favorite item/s to knit?

I like to knit scarves...but that's just because I'm a beginner and it's the easiest thing I can find. I crochet just about anything...and love to do little baby items.

13. What are you knitting right now?

I'm crocheting an old-fashioned granny square afghan for my friend, a baby sweater for a friend's baby, and I'm about to start a baby blanket for our new baby (can't decide whether to knit or crochet...still percolating that in my brain).

14. Do you like to receive handmade gifts?

Of course!

15. Do you prefer straight or circular needles? Bamboo, aluminum, plastic?

My favorite so far are bamboo straight. I've tried straight aluminum and they are ok. My least favorite were the plastic circulars.

16. Do you own a yarn winder and/or swift?

Neither...and don't really want either.

17. How old is your oldest UFO?

The granny-square afghan for my friend is almost a year old. I get bored easily...and granny squares are quite boring in such a large quantity.

18. What is your favorite holiday?

It's not really a holiday...but my birthday is my favorite...followed closely by my son's birthday and my husband's birthday.

19. Is there anything that you collect?

Nope.

20. Any books, yarns, needles or patterns out there you are dying to get your hands on? What knitting magazine subscriptions do you have?

Nothing I really HAVE TO have at the moment. And I don't have any subscriptions...at all...to anything.

21. Are there any new techniques you'd like to learn?

I'd like to ramp up my knitting education. I've got the basics figured out...now I think I'd like to try a real knit pattern of some sort.

22. Are you a sock knitter? What are your foot measurements?

No, I'm not a sock knitter. I wear a size 9.5.

23. When is your birthday?

February 8.

24. Are you on Ravelry? If so, what's your ID?

No...don't even know what that is (I'm lame, I'm sure).

Miscellaneous Thoughts

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Sam announced last week that he is now ready to pee standing up. Oh joy! Let the cleaning begin!
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I'm afraid to go to the post office. I have forty-six MOM bracelets and a baby gift to mail out...all of which will require metering. The man that runs the post office counter hates it when I come in and is rather surly.
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Speaking of mail...I still haven't mailed my brother-in-law's birthday card/gift. His birthday was July 11th. And grandma lives on...
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Sam got mad at me two Sundays ago...because I like Tony Stewart and he was racing ahead of Kasey Kahne, the driver Sam likes. When Steve tried to tell him that that wasn't very good sportsmanship, Sam replied, "Sportsmanship is just for soccer." I think we need a little work on the concept.
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Speaking of which...we signed Sam up for soccer. We'll see how this works. He's an only child with only child syndrome. Not sure if team sports are such a good idea.
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I told Steve...the diagnosis of gestational diabetes felt like a huge crushing failure on my part during my first pregnancy. But now it just feels like a tiny drop in a giant bucket of huge crushing failure. Perspective is funny that way, I guess.
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Please don't forget my online Tupperware party (if you are so inclined).
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I am really tired of women, particularly mothers, being stereotyped as stupid or lazy. Surely we're bright enough, even in the face of a free can of formula, to maintain our competence as parents.
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Congratulations to Claire's Friends on receiving a rather sizeable donation. I know that your kindness was one that stands out in my mind when I think of that awful time after we lost Alex and Travis. And your friendship continues to inspire me...to do more...to be more...to find my own answers. I love you.
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I seriously need one of these.
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Yeah, nothing insightful this week at all. At least not yet. I do my best philosophizing on Fridays.
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So let's add sick to the mix

The humidity is apparently too much for my sinuses. Now I've got the makings of a lovely summer cold...stuffy sinuses, scratchy throat, tiredness...blah! I'm going to curl up in my bed early tonight and watch tv.

I've got to feel better by Saturday since I promised Sam we'd go to the fair. And a five-year-old at the fair doesn't take kindly to being held back by a tired pregnant cranky sick old mommy. It takes stamina to keep up with him.

I want to post but...

...it's so dang hot my brains have melted and I am not capable of putting words together to form sentences.

It's not the heat...it's the humidity. Oh, who am I kidding? It's both. 88 degrees with 74% humidity. Blech.

awwwww...

Ha! Take that nurse Marilyn!

Never one to take no for an answer...

Dr A:

Marilyn called me Friday to tell me that my glucose test results were slightly high and I needed to do the three hour screen. Since I have the meter, etc., and already know the drill, can I skip the screen and just start testing my blood sugars at home? If so, what testing schedule should I use?

Thanks,
Catherine

Hi, Cathy,
That'll be fine---yes, please check your levels fasting in the morning; 2 hrs after breakfast/lunch/dinner; and at bedtime---we'll see how the numbers behave on your diet...
Hang in there,
Dr. A

So I win and nurse Marilyn loses! neener neener neener!

And here I was all worried

There are so many times I worry about what the last two years has done to Sam. Have we scarred him emotionally for life? Will he need counseling? Will he become a hermit in the woods of Montana writing his manifesto?

And then we have these moments that I begin to think all my worrying is for nothing.

He doesn't remember Rolie Polie Olie. For almost an entire year, that is the only show he would watch on Playhouse Disney. I bought him a stuffed Olie...and bowed to DEMANDS to replace him after one of the dogs chewed his antenna off.

Yesterday we were going through the trash bags of stuffed animals and happened upon Rolie Polie Olie and sister Zoey. Sam looked at them...then at me...then at them...then at me...totally blank. He had ZERO recognition of these characters who were so dear to him just a few short years ago. He didn't even know their names.

So now I'm left to wonder...would it be better if we let Alex and Travis fade away into the fog of childhood memories? Should we make less of an effort to keep their memories alive in our home? Maybe I am creating the very issues I was seeking to avoid?

I have, as of late, had my own feeling of needing to replace the photos and momentos of Alex and Travis...to put the memories away for safekeeping. Not all of them...but some of them. I know part of this is wanting so badly for GB to fill up some of those dark places with the light of hope and happiness. I know I would much rather see smiling photos of happy living children on my walls. I know that no amount of looking at the past will make things 'right.' Maybe by looking so much at the past I am missing out on the joy and anticipation of what lies ahead. Maybe I need to find a more balanced place for all of us. And maybe I worry too much about the wrong things...

Tonight I will pack up Rolie Polie Olie and sister Zoey in the cedar chest of memories. And maybe I will put a couple other things in there too.

Strange things you see at Wendy's

Yes...that is the Scooby Doo Mystery Machine.

Some day I hope to catch Herbie the Love Bug on camera too (he apparently lives around here somewhere).

If wishes were babies...

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My planned (large) diaper bag came in the mail today (my friend made it).
We went shopping and I bought baby clothes and a baby blanket and a (little) diaper bag.
We talked about the baby's name.
We talked about the future...we joked whether Sam would teach the baby to be cranky...especially when hungry.
We debated car seats and strollers and swings and bassinets...we planned which baby gear we will buy (most likely on the way home from the hospital).
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We've buried two babies we wanted very much.

Today at the mall we witnessed a woman say to her not-more-than-three-year-old son, "B!tch, if you don't hurry the f*ck up and get up here I'm going to beat your f*cking @ss."

Noticing that people were looking at her in horror, she followed up her loving proclamation with, "And other people should mind their own d@amn business if they don't f*cking like what I have to say."

Normally I would cry about the unfairness of my life.

Tonight, I cry for the unfairness of that little boy's life.
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If wishes were babies, our little GB will arrive healthy and perfect...without question.

And that little boy in the mall will grow up to be an amazing and wonderful man...DESPITE the woman who has so clearly not earned the right to be his mother.
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I forgot the best part!

I can't believe that in my retelling of my annoyances yesterday, I forgot the best part! I was talking to Marilyn the nurse on the telephone and told her I was concerned about waiting to do the 3 hour glucose tolerance test for a week, when I could be testing my blood sugars now. Do you know what she told me?

It is not urgent and I should try not to stress...think good thoughts...because stress isn't good for me or the baby!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the medical professional told me to think good thoughts.

And do you know what I did? (This certainly tells me how far I've come in the past two years as a person.)

I told her that stress wasn't the issue. I told her that I lost my previous two babies due to "freak things that shouldn't happen." I told her that Alex died from a bacterial infection and Travis died from a viral infection. I told her that stress is the least of my worries and I didn't appreciate the advice to just think good thoughts because good thoughts weren't going to cut it because, at this point, I figure if the plague is out there, I will contract it. I told her that, for that matter, the implication that bad thoughts hurt my past pregnancies is cruel and I didn't appreciate it. I was completely honest...without being rude. I hope she really heard me and never offers such a cliche to any other patient.

normal = 130 and 12

So I had an appointment yesterday. Nothing too exciting. Just little annoying things.

The nurse who is concerned that I haven't had a pap or chlamydia screen in more than a year. She wants to do this now? Uh...no. This is my weird infection phase...you aren't sticking anything up there now. Move along.

The med student with the overly enthusiastic attitude. "There's the heartbeat...can you hear it?" with a great big grin on her face. Uh...yeah. Now reassure me it will be there in ten minutes...tomorrow...Sunday. Can you do that? Then lose the damn smile and stop acting like this is cause for celebration. Do I mind if you measure my belly? Well, actually, yeah, I do.

The other med student who stood there awkwardly with a weird smile on his face. What's the matter? Never seen a freak before? Yeah, don't be too happy...that bugs me. Don't be too serious...that bugs me too. But what is that weird look you have? Fear? Don't worry, it's not catchy.

The doctor who admitted he sent the med students in to see us to get them out of his hair. I appreciate his honesty but next time I may have to strangle him.

The lab technician who literally shouted at me from down the hall to have a seat and someone will be right out. I just need the damn glucose drink. I don't need you for an hour. Wait! Stop! Listen! grrrrr....!!!!

And then today...the nurse (Marilyn) who called with my lab results but got my voicemail and couldn't leave the message except that we needed to speak...she would try my work number (I wasn't at work today...I was at a conference...hence, my inability to just answer my cell phone). I call back and get someone else...Marilyn is busy, can she call me back? I explain my unavailability until 4:30 and the receptionist suggests I call back then. I express that I'm a little concerned because Marilyn was calling with test results and made it sound important. What's my social? xxx-xx-xxxx. Oh, it's nothing urgent but I can call back at 4:30 and I will be put right through? You are obviously LOOKING AT my test results...can't YOU just TELL ME what it says? No? Ok...I'll call back. *sigh*

My blood glucose was 133...normal is 130 or less. My iron was 11.6...normal is 12 or above. Great. You want me to do the three hour? Can't I just skip it? I mean, I see where this is headed and I have the meter and all the supplies...can't I just pass on the test and treat myself as if I have gestational diabetes...record my numbers...and we'll go from there? No? OK (I'll email the doctor tomorrow to ask. I mean, really, we all know how this is going to go.)

Oh yeah...and the farrier called to cancel our appointment for this afternoon.

I've spent the day in a continuing legal education conference that was so irritating I was figuring the odds that someone would say, "This is bullshit," and walk out. Unfortunately, nobody did...but I could tell some really wanted to (including my boss).

It's 90+ degrees outside and I feel huge and hurty and very very cranky.

Anyone needs me, I don't care. I'll be eating ice cream in front of the tv (while I still can).

Missed opportunity?

She had it all figured out.

Now she's on bed-rest for contractions.

She's not due until October.

Maybe I should have said something.

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FINALLY a coherent response

I got this email from a friend (who I love dearly)...

Sorry to give unasked for advice, but here it comes. I can't help it. Before your next dr visit or ultrasound, please ask yourself what good does it do to stress myself out and worry over something that may never happen? If something bad is going to happen, it is going to happen regardless of whether you worry and stress about it. And if you go through this pregnancy and something wonderful happens, it is going to happen regardless of whether you worry and stress about it. The worry and stress is not going to prevent anything bad happening. Picture some medieval monk flogging himself. Realize that's pretty much what you're doing to yourself. Once you realize the futility of flogging yourself, you will have the control to make yourself stop doing it. You, and you alone, are in control of it. This is going to be a long pregnancy, and you deserve only good things. This is a time to pamper yourself Catherine. It will take concentration to recognize the signs when you begin to get stressed, and it will take concentration to recognize it for what it is and then to abolish it. But you will be able to do it. There is simply no reason to allow it in your life right now. Think of it as an invading intruder that has crept into your family's home. You need to protect you and your family from this harm. Yes, Sam and Steve don't deserve to have you so worried and stressed either. I'm sure it effects them in a very negative way too. And of course your baby. So do it for them too. As a replacement, meditate on beautiful and fun things instead.

I took a deep breath and tried to explain it...and I finally have something I think makes sense. Two simple points...it's really not all that complicated once you've had time to sort it all out...

You know I love you. And I love unasked for advice. :o) But it’s just not as simple as not worrying. It really messes with your head, having a baby (or two) die inside of you. As a woman, you’re raised to think it’s your job to protect your children (if you become a mother). And over time, as your children grow, you learn that you can’t protect them from everything this world will throw at them. But the ONE thing you never really consider is that your own body will betray you in your effort to keep your children safe. You never think that it will be YOUR failure that will kill your child. Yes, I know there is nothing I can do to control it. Trust me, I’ve learned that in spades. But there is more than just fear…there is guilt and doubt and all sorts of other things that you can’t help but feel when you are the one and only thing keeping a baby alive.

And then there is Sam. You say there is no reason to allow the fear into our lives…but there is. You see, nobody knows, unless they have lived it, what it is like to tell a child that their brothers died before they were even born. At five years old he has learned more than I had to learn in THIRTY years. And as his mother, I can’t help but feel anger at how unfair it is…and I can’t help but want to protect him from more disappointment and heartbreak. See, while other people are planning what to buy their new baby, I’m planning what to say to Sam if things go wrong again. While people talk about what will happen when the new baby comes…we have to talk about IF the new baby comes. We have to. I have to. Because that’s my job as his mother. And while I would love to be all sunshine and roses with Sam, I have to always remember that that isn’t reality for us…that we have to remember that our risks are different than everyone else’s and that there is a possibility that this won’t work out. And while I find that so incredibly difficult to prepare myself for, I also have to prepare my Samuel. Because that’s my job. I’m his mother. And I would be doing him a disservice if I just smiled and pretended like everything was guaranteed to be ok. I can’t and I won’t set him up for that heartbreak ever again. It’s not about fear. It’s about reality. Yes, it’s harsh reality. But it is OUR reality and we can’t ignore it. So if that means a few sleepless nights before doctor appointments, then so be it.

Don’t think it’s all bad. We have allowed ourselves to hope. We have purchased baby clothes (and left the tags on). We talk about what fun it will be if the baby comes home to live with us. We do think about the good things. Just because our perspective is different than everyone else’s, doesn’t mean we’re incapable of feeling the potential and the happiness…it just means we’re realistic about it.

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.