What are those? Michigan Flying Tree Whats? So Jason comes to me last night. He says "Dude, I know what I'm going to write a kids' book about! Michigan Flying Tree Frogs!" To which I OBVIOUSLY respond with "What the HELL are you talking about?"
"Ok, so when I was in college..."
Folks, keep in mind, any story that starts "Ok, when I was in college" involves my darling hubby previously stoned or drunk or both and the fact that he can remember anything at all is VERY impressive to me.
"Um, you actually remember when you were in college?"
"Yes, now let me continue! So, when I was in college, my buddy Jamie, he's a guy.."
"I know Jamie, you've talked about him before"
"He had this girlfriend and her family invited a bunch of us up to her family's cabin on Torch Lake..."
"Yeah, you've told me about Torch Lake before too. It was a huge party."
"That's the one. Anyway, the girlfriend, I can't remember her name now..." to which I give him the look of non-surprise at that tidbit "and it was either her or her family, not sure which..." again with the look of non-surprise from me "and they told me about Michigan Flying Tree Frogs."
"Ok, what the HELL are Michigan Flying Tree Frogs?"
"If you would stop interupting, I'd tell you. It's when you fart and you blame it on the frogs."
"What?"
"Yeah, it's when you cut a righteous nasty one and you blame it on the frogs man"
This last statement was done is Jason's "Surfer Dude" voice, think of the Sea Turtles from the movie "Finding Nemo". I'm convinced that he can do this voice so well because it's how he talked while he was in college, the ENTIRE 6 years he was there. Oh yeah, did I mention college was happy fun drunk stoned time for Jason? If only we could all of had that all expenses paid vacation on our parent's tab.
I've been known to "get down". Ok, not really. I am definately NOT the party girl. I've never seen the appeal of getting so you don't know who or what you are. Please explain to me that. I mean really. Ok, you forget life for a while, however when you come crashing back, not only is life still there you have a pounding headache and an upset stomach on top of it all.
I'm not saying I'm a tight old priss. I enjoy having fun, just not where I have to obliderate myself for it. I have a CSM at work who has a difficult time believing that I'm a year older than her. She tells me my whole outlook and attitude is just one of someone so much younger. I'm pretty sure it's a compliment, I think.
They (I still have yet to figure out who the infamous "they" is) say that children help you be young. Well I must be freaking 12! I enjoy playing with the kids. I'm a hard ass when I need to be, but I really like the fun stuff too. Crafts and sledding and goofing off. I am the QUEEN of goofing off, thank you very much.
I mean, sure, if I were more "adult" I'd keep a cleaner house. I wouldn't have so many issues with budgeting our money. I'd be "responsible" and yet oh so boring, at least in my mind. That's just not me, and thankfully Jason understands that. I think Jason's "party years" have kept him rather young as well. After all, he was raised by folks old enough to be his grandparents. And when you are raised by your "grandparents" you tend to come out "older". At least that is MY take on it all.
We have a nicely insulated attic now. I think it was a debacle, though it did get completed. The first blower died. The motor went toast, and it took the outlet that my washer and dryer plug in to with it. I really need that outlet. Dad said he'd come by and fix it for us, thankfully. They took that blower back and got another. The guys kept clogging that one up.
I had to call in to work. I kind of lied, but not really. I really do have 3 sick kids and a hubby with a sinus infection. I just forgot to mention that the hubby was in the attic putting in fresh insulation. My brother got here at 3, which was plenty of time for me to get to work, however I really don't think he would have wanted to watch the kids. Or get up in the attic and put down the insulation while Jason kept an eye on the kids. Dad was outside loading the hopper. Jack came up with the idea of slowly putting in the insulation. Amazingly, even though it seemed like it took longer to do it that way, the time save from trying to unclog the hose every 10 minutes evened it out.
At 7 they were DONE! There is now a noticeable difference when you go upstairs. Oh wait, there is no longer a noticeable temperature difference when you go upstairs. It used to be that you'd go up and the temp would drop about 5 or 7 degrees. Now it is the same as downstairs and I think that it will work it's way to warmer. I'm really hoping we start spending less on the energy bill.
The girls' room still isn't done. I've been slacking on that. Remember that childish youth of mine? It also makes me a HUGE procrasitnator. Katy Beth comes next weekend, I'd like to have the walls painted by then, and the curtains at least made if not hung. I orderd some really cute curtain rods for in there. I'm going to have Katy pick out the bedding for their room. I'm torn between two different styles, I just can't make up my mind. Jayden doesn't care either way. I figure if Katy makes the choice, it'll help her feel like she has some input in it all and it's really her room as well.
Right now I'm up in the air about something else too. I'm trying to decide if I want to write a letter to Vyky's dad. Just to ask how she is, see if maybe he'll send me a pic of her. I honestly don't think he'll respond in any way. I don't know if I have courage to write and mail the letter. We shall see.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Where Have I Been?
I've been on hiatus it seems. Where did I go? No where really, however I've taken a break from a lot of things. Now it's time for me to get my groove back. I want to start posting here at least twice a week. I also want to regularly work on my other blog.
What's this, another blog? Well, yes Bob. It's a blog for my writing, my creative fiction stuff. I'm not sure if it'll be a continuing story or bits and pieces or how it will go exactly. Tis the nature of the creative beast after all. I've only posted there twice since it's birth, so who's to say. The link to this darling pet project is Serial Mommy's Muse and I ask you all to go give it a perusal and keep tabs on it and let me know what you think.
Lately I've been reading quite a few romance novels, or Bodice Busters as Jason calls them. I have been trying to figure out how to write sex in an appealing way. I'm finding in the Bodice Busters it's much too flowery. In Hustler and the like, it's much too crass. I'm trying to find the middle ground. I don't want to just say "They had sex. It was good." After all, that's not how I have sex, and I'm pretty sure others are the same, so why wouldn't I write it realistically?
We got a new printer/copier/scanner/fax dohickey. All right, I KNOW what it is, after all, I'm the one that set it up. The ink cartridges for our last dohickey cost an arm and a leg, and in all honesty, I don't think Jason wanted me to sell Izzy in to future slavery with the company in order to be able to purchase them, so I got something different. Now I get to try to figure out what to do with the old dohickey. I have a feeling it's going to make it's way to the basement or the upstairs storage room and sit there in the dust and dirt until it becomes a true antique about 20 or 30 years down the road. Maybe we'll be able to take it "Antiques Road Show" and find out it's worth something someday.
Now, the new printer comes with ink issues all of it's own. It came with a color cartridge, so I had to purchase the black one seperately. Not a big deal, until I got home and realized, wait a minute, there is a color cartridge in this box. Well eternal Damnation! Good thing I bought it at MY Wal-Mart (that's an entirely different thing, and I'll get to it in a second). I called up there and Bob (yes, that's his real name) told me to come on back. So I did, the manager approved my return, Wal-Mart usually doesn't accept ink cartridge return or exchanges, just so you know. I was going to exchange it for another black, however they were all out. Ugh. So I went across the street to Meijer, paid $2 more and got a black one. I come home, and for some reason the new printer is not recognizing the color cartridge. The one that came with the printer. And of coarse I'm doing all of this at 2 AM and the online chat closes at 11 at night. Whatever happened to all night support for us insomniacs? Long story made shorter, I get a hold of them this morning, the fix it solution they give me doesn't work, they tell me it's a problem with the cartridge and they will send me a new one free of charge. It'll be here in about a week. Whoop dee do.
Now, the MY Wal-Mart thing. I'm not sure why, but that is how we are supposed to think of it, as MY Wal-Mart. It even says on our registers "Welcome to your Wal-Mart". There is an Employee Stock Purchase Program. However, you have to be there for over a year, of which I am currently no where near. Go figure. I don't think that is quite what they are talking about. So I've gotten in to the habit of calling it MY Wal-Mart.
So this year is supposed to be the Year of Moderation. Yeah, not going so great, no big surprise there. I did get two new DVD's in my eternal quest to lose weight and be healthier. I've lost some weight, but let me tell you, it certainly isn't much more than a tiny drop in the bucket. I also keep telling myself that I need to dig out my ab slide. The fact that I have to "dig it out" should give you a big indication about how motivated I am to exercise at all, ever. However, I MUST do this in order to be healthy. Why does healthy mean I have to work out? Why can't I be lazy and healthy?
Izzy is the eternal terror. We have taken to calling him Tiny Terror. He will be 2 in just 2 short months, Heaven help us all. He is still very much obsessed with taking things OUT. This creates for a VERY messy dining and living room. Picking up only does good as long as he's not allowed back in to the room. Why must he take my books off the shelves and the DVD's out of place? Why oh why do they belong on the floor? His toys I can follow the logic on, but that stuff? And my yarn? If it has yarn, it MUST be out, at least it seems to be his line of thinking. At least he's getting some hair. And he's still cute. Trust me, it's the cuteness that keeps him going, because if it were just behavior wise, he'd ALWAYS be cooped up somewhere.
What's this, another blog? Well, yes Bob. It's a blog for my writing, my creative fiction stuff. I'm not sure if it'll be a continuing story or bits and pieces or how it will go exactly. Tis the nature of the creative beast after all. I've only posted there twice since it's birth, so who's to say. The link to this darling pet project is Serial Mommy's Muse and I ask you all to go give it a perusal and keep tabs on it and let me know what you think.
Lately I've been reading quite a few romance novels, or Bodice Busters as Jason calls them. I have been trying to figure out how to write sex in an appealing way. I'm finding in the Bodice Busters it's much too flowery. In Hustler and the like, it's much too crass. I'm trying to find the middle ground. I don't want to just say "They had sex. It was good." After all, that's not how I have sex, and I'm pretty sure others are the same, so why wouldn't I write it realistically?
We got a new printer/copier/scanner/fax dohickey. All right, I KNOW what it is, after all, I'm the one that set it up. The ink cartridges for our last dohickey cost an arm and a leg, and in all honesty, I don't think Jason wanted me to sell Izzy in to future slavery with the company in order to be able to purchase them, so I got something different. Now I get to try to figure out what to do with the old dohickey. I have a feeling it's going to make it's way to the basement or the upstairs storage room and sit there in the dust and dirt until it becomes a true antique about 20 or 30 years down the road. Maybe we'll be able to take it "Antiques Road Show" and find out it's worth something someday.
Now, the new printer comes with ink issues all of it's own. It came with a color cartridge, so I had to purchase the black one seperately. Not a big deal, until I got home and realized, wait a minute, there is a color cartridge in this box. Well eternal Damnation! Good thing I bought it at MY Wal-Mart (that's an entirely different thing, and I'll get to it in a second). I called up there and Bob (yes, that's his real name) told me to come on back. So I did, the manager approved my return, Wal-Mart usually doesn't accept ink cartridge return or exchanges, just so you know. I was going to exchange it for another black, however they were all out. Ugh. So I went across the street to Meijer, paid $2 more and got a black one. I come home, and for some reason the new printer is not recognizing the color cartridge. The one that came with the printer. And of coarse I'm doing all of this at 2 AM and the online chat closes at 11 at night. Whatever happened to all night support for us insomniacs? Long story made shorter, I get a hold of them this morning, the fix it solution they give me doesn't work, they tell me it's a problem with the cartridge and they will send me a new one free of charge. It'll be here in about a week. Whoop dee do.
Now, the MY Wal-Mart thing. I'm not sure why, but that is how we are supposed to think of it, as MY Wal-Mart. It even says on our registers "Welcome to your Wal-Mart". There is an Employee Stock Purchase Program. However, you have to be there for over a year, of which I am currently no where near. Go figure. I don't think that is quite what they are talking about. So I've gotten in to the habit of calling it MY Wal-Mart.
So this year is supposed to be the Year of Moderation. Yeah, not going so great, no big surprise there. I did get two new DVD's in my eternal quest to lose weight and be healthier. I've lost some weight, but let me tell you, it certainly isn't much more than a tiny drop in the bucket. I also keep telling myself that I need to dig out my ab slide. The fact that I have to "dig it out" should give you a big indication about how motivated I am to exercise at all, ever. However, I MUST do this in order to be healthy. Why does healthy mean I have to work out? Why can't I be lazy and healthy?
Izzy is the eternal terror. We have taken to calling him Tiny Terror. He will be 2 in just 2 short months, Heaven help us all. He is still very much obsessed with taking things OUT. This creates for a VERY messy dining and living room. Picking up only does good as long as he's not allowed back in to the room. Why must he take my books off the shelves and the DVD's out of place? Why oh why do they belong on the floor? His toys I can follow the logic on, but that stuff? And my yarn? If it has yarn, it MUST be out, at least it seems to be his line of thinking. At least he's getting some hair. And he's still cute. Trust me, it's the cuteness that keeps him going, because if it were just behavior wise, he'd ALWAYS be cooped up somewhere.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Happy New Year and All That Jive
So it's a New Year. This is to be the Year of Moderation, at least in theory. I don't know if it's going well or not, but most likely not. Tis the way of life if you ask me.
Izzy is now a "big boy". He is officially sleeping upstairs in what is now the Boys' room, no longer just James' room. *sigh* How did he get so big and grown? He is on what used to be the top bunk of the bunk beds. I rearranged the room so that one side of the bed is against the wall and the outer side is the one that used to have the full length railing, which Jason put back on so Izzy won't fall out while he tosses and turns. I also picked him up a new bedding set tonight. It is this set. I think that for James' belated birthday gift I will get him this set, to coordinate with Izzy's. Izzy isn't using pillows yet, at least not regular sized ones, maybe I'll pick him up some when I pick up James' set.
The girls room is slowly progressing, thanks to Jason. He has done quite a bit of work up there. One of my goals for the New Year is to work on their room every day that I don't work at Wal-Mart. My goal is to have it all the way painted by the end of January. I'd love to say it will be all done, however I'm not going to shoot myself in the foot with that.
I think Jason and I have decided that we won't be painting any more walls. We have peeling wallpaper under the paint on our walls. So we need to peel the wallpaper up. However, because our house is so old, we have plaster walls under that, real honest to goodness plaster walls. The wall paper is acting as a protector to those walls, like the layer of paper on the top of drywall. So when we strip the wallpaper, we'd have to put up something else to help protect the plaster. I think we are going to just go with more wall paper. I like this idea because it does open a huge array of designs and color possibilities for decorating. Also I won't have to tape off and paint.
The kids go back to school tomorrow, can I get a Big HOORAY??? I love my children dearly, however they do help create the choas and really don't do much to contain it. Right now, my dining room looks like Tornado Issac hit it. I'd say Hurricane, however there was little to no precipitation when the storm went through.
The nurse from the mid-wives office called me back on Friday after I had left for work, of coarse. She left a message on the voice mail telling me that the results that they have gotten back are normal. I will be calling them tomorrow to ask for more details and to see if they have any other results. Patty, the mid-wife I saw when I went it, ordered enough labs to be done that they took 10 vials of blood! 10! We also discussed other possibilities for the miscarriages. She said she strongly feels it's either developmental/chromosonal as the baby is forming or I'm not producing enough progesterone to suppor the pregnancy beyond a certain point. So the solution is 2 fold. She prescribed for me to take a daily vitamin, though I take 2 children's chewables because the grown up ones don't agree with my stomach and make me throw up, and 2 mg of folic acid a day. She also told me that once I do become pregnant, she will have me come in and do another blood draw and test my hormone levels. Then she will most likely prescribe for me to be on a progesterone suppository for 12 weeks or more.
Jason and I have decided a couple of things. First off is if we have another loss, we won't be trying for another baby after that. The 2nd thing is once our birthdays arrive in June, we will sit down and discuss if we want to continue trying or if we are going to be done and Jason is going to do the follow up with permanent measures to prevent. While we both would love another baby, we do not want to keep doing this for forever.
I'm going to have to say Christmas was a success for the kids. They received quite a bit of stuff. Now it's just a matter of trying to find a place for it all.
With Izzy's crib now taken down and stored upstairs, I have my office space back. I'll be working on reorganizing the mess in here tomorrow. I bought a filing cabinet last night and my hope is that will help.
Izzy is now a "big boy". He is officially sleeping upstairs in what is now the Boys' room, no longer just James' room. *sigh* How did he get so big and grown? He is on what used to be the top bunk of the bunk beds. I rearranged the room so that one side of the bed is against the wall and the outer side is the one that used to have the full length railing, which Jason put back on so Izzy won't fall out while he tosses and turns. I also picked him up a new bedding set tonight. It is this set. I think that for James' belated birthday gift I will get him this set, to coordinate with Izzy's. Izzy isn't using pillows yet, at least not regular sized ones, maybe I'll pick him up some when I pick up James' set.
The girls room is slowly progressing, thanks to Jason. He has done quite a bit of work up there. One of my goals for the New Year is to work on their room every day that I don't work at Wal-Mart. My goal is to have it all the way painted by the end of January. I'd love to say it will be all done, however I'm not going to shoot myself in the foot with that.
I think Jason and I have decided that we won't be painting any more walls. We have peeling wallpaper under the paint on our walls. So we need to peel the wallpaper up. However, because our house is so old, we have plaster walls under that, real honest to goodness plaster walls. The wall paper is acting as a protector to those walls, like the layer of paper on the top of drywall. So when we strip the wallpaper, we'd have to put up something else to help protect the plaster. I think we are going to just go with more wall paper. I like this idea because it does open a huge array of designs and color possibilities for decorating. Also I won't have to tape off and paint.
The kids go back to school tomorrow, can I get a Big HOORAY??? I love my children dearly, however they do help create the choas and really don't do much to contain it. Right now, my dining room looks like Tornado Issac hit it. I'd say Hurricane, however there was little to no precipitation when the storm went through.
The nurse from the mid-wives office called me back on Friday after I had left for work, of coarse. She left a message on the voice mail telling me that the results that they have gotten back are normal. I will be calling them tomorrow to ask for more details and to see if they have any other results. Patty, the mid-wife I saw when I went it, ordered enough labs to be done that they took 10 vials of blood! 10! We also discussed other possibilities for the miscarriages. She said she strongly feels it's either developmental/chromosonal as the baby is forming or I'm not producing enough progesterone to suppor the pregnancy beyond a certain point. So the solution is 2 fold. She prescribed for me to take a daily vitamin, though I take 2 children's chewables because the grown up ones don't agree with my stomach and make me throw up, and 2 mg of folic acid a day. She also told me that once I do become pregnant, she will have me come in and do another blood draw and test my hormone levels. Then she will most likely prescribe for me to be on a progesterone suppository for 12 weeks or more.
Jason and I have decided a couple of things. First off is if we have another loss, we won't be trying for another baby after that. The 2nd thing is once our birthdays arrive in June, we will sit down and discuss if we want to continue trying or if we are going to be done and Jason is going to do the follow up with permanent measures to prevent. While we both would love another baby, we do not want to keep doing this for forever.
I'm going to have to say Christmas was a success for the kids. They received quite a bit of stuff. Now it's just a matter of trying to find a place for it all.
With Izzy's crib now taken down and stored upstairs, I have my office space back. I'll be working on reorganizing the mess in here tomorrow. I bought a filing cabinet last night and my hope is that will help.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
What Was That?
This morning as Jason and I are laying in bed and talking, as we do on the weekends, I tell him I'm going to sell my maternity clothes. I was figuring on selling all of them except the one shirt I really like and my blue sweater. If I were to become pregnant again, I'd want new things I think. Jason says "don't do that". What??? Come again?
This is why I'm confused. Last night we talked, for the first time all week really, about Where Do We Go From Here. I know I'd love to have another baby. I also know I don't want to do any tests that are "invasive". I also know that no matter what they discover, they can't offer me any guarentees. At the stage that I miscarry, there isn't anything they can do to stop it. So if it is going to happen, it will happen, and that's all there is. They can test my hormone levels more, and they can offer me some extra hormones, but that's about it.
Jason said he wants to think about it. He asked me if I could live through it. Well, yes, I can. Many women have lived through far worse than losing a lot babies early on in their pregnancies. I am a strong woman and I will always continue to be. We also decided that if we were to become pregnant again then we wouldn't be sharing that news until 10 or 12 weeks along. Simply because of when the miscarriages take place, by waiting longer, we won't have all the well intentioned sympathy that is so hard to deal with at times.
Jason told me he was unsure as to whether he wanted to try again. I have already told him that if he does not, we won't. This isn't just about me and what I want, it's both of us. I told him that until he was sure, he needed to make sure that condoms were handy, because by not doing, he was still making a choice.
And then the comment today. I know Jason would love another child as much as I would. He is so afraid of what another miscarriage will do to me. This time around the depression was so very hard. I'm starting to come out of it, I can see that. It's easier to be happy. It will always be there, but it's definately not so overwhelming any more. Which is good and means that I am healing.
I still think that I should sell some of my maternity clothes. I may need a larger size if I were to become pregnant, I highly doubt I'd need a smaller size. I also have no idea what season I would be pregnant in, so maybe i'd need all summer stuff. There is also the added benefit that they would probably sell pretty well on EBay, and I'd make some extra money.
I think I want to continue as though I'm not going to have any more children. That that chapter of my life is done. By doing that it leaves for very little disappointment when I don't become pregnant month after month. It seems to be the sanest way to go. A woman who is not going to be pregnant anymore would sell her maternity clothes. Why not the sweater and the shirt? I really like the sweater and still wear it, and the shirt is so nice that maybe I'll give it to someone. Oh, and there is a dress I made, and I'm not selling that simply because I don't think that it would sell well, being hand made and all.
This is why I'm confused. Last night we talked, for the first time all week really, about Where Do We Go From Here. I know I'd love to have another baby. I also know I don't want to do any tests that are "invasive". I also know that no matter what they discover, they can't offer me any guarentees. At the stage that I miscarry, there isn't anything they can do to stop it. So if it is going to happen, it will happen, and that's all there is. They can test my hormone levels more, and they can offer me some extra hormones, but that's about it.
Jason said he wants to think about it. He asked me if I could live through it. Well, yes, I can. Many women have lived through far worse than losing a lot babies early on in their pregnancies. I am a strong woman and I will always continue to be. We also decided that if we were to become pregnant again then we wouldn't be sharing that news until 10 or 12 weeks along. Simply because of when the miscarriages take place, by waiting longer, we won't have all the well intentioned sympathy that is so hard to deal with at times.
Jason told me he was unsure as to whether he wanted to try again. I have already told him that if he does not, we won't. This isn't just about me and what I want, it's both of us. I told him that until he was sure, he needed to make sure that condoms were handy, because by not doing, he was still making a choice.
And then the comment today. I know Jason would love another child as much as I would. He is so afraid of what another miscarriage will do to me. This time around the depression was so very hard. I'm starting to come out of it, I can see that. It's easier to be happy. It will always be there, but it's definately not so overwhelming any more. Which is good and means that I am healing.
I still think that I should sell some of my maternity clothes. I may need a larger size if I were to become pregnant, I highly doubt I'd need a smaller size. I also have no idea what season I would be pregnant in, so maybe i'd need all summer stuff. There is also the added benefit that they would probably sell pretty well on EBay, and I'd make some extra money.
I think I want to continue as though I'm not going to have any more children. That that chapter of my life is done. By doing that it leaves for very little disappointment when I don't become pregnant month after month. It seems to be the sanest way to go. A woman who is not going to be pregnant anymore would sell her maternity clothes. Why not the sweater and the shirt? I really like the sweater and still wear it, and the shirt is so nice that maybe I'll give it to someone. Oh, and there is a dress I made, and I'm not selling that simply because I don't think that it would sell well, being hand made and all.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Where do we go from here?
It's a simple question really, however the answer is not even close. What do we do now? This whole thing is taking it's toll on me. It really and truly is. I know i'm seriously depressed. I'm suffering, and I know my family is suffering as well. It hurts Jason to see me like this.
Being like this makes him wonder if we should even consider trying for another. There are no guarentees after all. He doesn't want me to go through this again, he doesn't want to go through it himself again. Both reasonable and understandable points of view.
Am I ready to be done? To say "that's it, no more"?. I was before we found out we were pregnant. I was really beginning to come to terms with not having any more children. That is why I was so shocked to see that positive test. I couldn't believe that that was going to take place. I should have suspected, and in all honesty I did suspect, that it wouldn't be as it advertised.
I don't remember it hurting like this in June. I had so much anger at that stupid nurse though. Maybe that helped vent it all, I don't really know. Right now I hurt. It's all I do know. I am in no way a functioning person. Oh sure I go through the motions, but I'm on autopilot, doing anything that requires even a little bit of thought just seems to be beyond my ability right now.
Jason is trying so hard to be there for me right now. To be loving and caring and supportive. This is all so hard for him too. And I feel so horrible to put him through this again. To have him suffer because I suffer. I am trying so hard to make it better, to heal, but it's just not happening. It's out of reach for me.
I love my children, I love my life, I love my husband. I know those are truths. But they seem to be figmants that I just made up to get me through this horrible place. Being actually sick on top of it all definately does not help.
When will the ache be less? When will I be able to do more than function? When will I have healed?
The next question that comes up is should I do the testing? Do I really want to know? After all, we DO have Izzy, so something has got to work between us. And I have been pregnant 4 times, so it seems that Jason isn't at fault, it's me, or it's the combination of the two of us. Are those questions that I want the answers to? That all leads me back to the beginning, where do we go from here? Are we done, or do we continue? And if we continue, what answers do we seek, if any at all?
Being like this makes him wonder if we should even consider trying for another. There are no guarentees after all. He doesn't want me to go through this again, he doesn't want to go through it himself again. Both reasonable and understandable points of view.
Am I ready to be done? To say "that's it, no more"?. I was before we found out we were pregnant. I was really beginning to come to terms with not having any more children. That is why I was so shocked to see that positive test. I couldn't believe that that was going to take place. I should have suspected, and in all honesty I did suspect, that it wouldn't be as it advertised.
I don't remember it hurting like this in June. I had so much anger at that stupid nurse though. Maybe that helped vent it all, I don't really know. Right now I hurt. It's all I do know. I am in no way a functioning person. Oh sure I go through the motions, but I'm on autopilot, doing anything that requires even a little bit of thought just seems to be beyond my ability right now.
Jason is trying so hard to be there for me right now. To be loving and caring and supportive. This is all so hard for him too. And I feel so horrible to put him through this again. To have him suffer because I suffer. I am trying so hard to make it better, to heal, but it's just not happening. It's out of reach for me.
I love my children, I love my life, I love my husband. I know those are truths. But they seem to be figmants that I just made up to get me through this horrible place. Being actually sick on top of it all definately does not help.
When will the ache be less? When will I be able to do more than function? When will I have healed?
The next question that comes up is should I do the testing? Do I really want to know? After all, we DO have Izzy, so something has got to work between us. And I have been pregnant 4 times, so it seems that Jason isn't at fault, it's me, or it's the combination of the two of us. Are those questions that I want the answers to? That all leads me back to the beginning, where do we go from here? Are we done, or do we continue? And if we continue, what answers do we seek, if any at all?
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The Thing About Change.
The thing about change is that it sucks. It's hard and horrible and it hurts and it just all around sucks. However, everyone has to have change. And that part makes it suck even more because you know that at some point in the future, at many points in the future, you will have to endure the change.
Many of us get stuck in a rut. It's comfortable in the rut. And if it's not really comfortable, it's familiar. And familiar is good. It's reassuring. However, as I have come to discover, that rut is damaging. It's self damaging. It damages your relationships. It's a hindrance and an inhibition. "I can't leave the rut, it is safe and familiar" is the mantra of the time.
One day, you wake up and you realize you've come to a place where you've packed on 40 or 50 pounds, you're sitting in front of the computer doing absolutely nothing worthwhile (is playing that video game really that fulfilling?), and your children completely trash your house. And all the while you think "why worry about, they'll just do it over again." or even "someone else will clean it, why should I bother".
Well, today that person is me. Replace all the you's with I's and you have where I have been for so long. Why am I in this place? Why am I so willing to stay?
I'll admit, it is so much easier to allow someone else to do all the work. We started out pretty equal. But now, I don't do much of anything. How is that? Why is that? Yes, I let him do it. I just slowly stopped doing, and he started doing more. And when I saw he was doing more, it was really easy to let him keep on going that way.
So today I have to face change. This time it is not being thrust upon me by some outside source. This time, the only one I have to complain to about the pain and misgivings of change is myself. After all, I wouldn't need to be in the place of change if I hadn't decided that the rut was a good place to be.
This change will come about slowly, don't expect me to be a domestic goddess overnight. However it HAS to come about, there is no putting it off any longer. If I am to get what I want to have out of this life, out of this relationship, then I need to step up to the plate and do my part.
Unfortunately, I'll be doing it reluctantly. I don't like work and effort. I'd rather sit here and play that video game. However as that is not an option, as my house is falling in to shambles around me, as my toddler runs rampant, the change is calling to me, begging me to get off my fat ass and do something about it all. And so I must.
And that is what I am going to go do, starting with catching that rampant toddler and making him a little more presentable to the world. After all, pj's are meant for sleeping in bed, not to be worn all day too.
Many of us get stuck in a rut. It's comfortable in the rut. And if it's not really comfortable, it's familiar. And familiar is good. It's reassuring. However, as I have come to discover, that rut is damaging. It's self damaging. It damages your relationships. It's a hindrance and an inhibition. "I can't leave the rut, it is safe and familiar" is the mantra of the time.
One day, you wake up and you realize you've come to a place where you've packed on 40 or 50 pounds, you're sitting in front of the computer doing absolutely nothing worthwhile (is playing that video game really that fulfilling?), and your children completely trash your house. And all the while you think "why worry about, they'll just do it over again." or even "someone else will clean it, why should I bother".
Well, today that person is me. Replace all the you's with I's and you have where I have been for so long. Why am I in this place? Why am I so willing to stay?
I'll admit, it is so much easier to allow someone else to do all the work. We started out pretty equal. But now, I don't do much of anything. How is that? Why is that? Yes, I let him do it. I just slowly stopped doing, and he started doing more. And when I saw he was doing more, it was really easy to let him keep on going that way.
So today I have to face change. This time it is not being thrust upon me by some outside source. This time, the only one I have to complain to about the pain and misgivings of change is myself. After all, I wouldn't need to be in the place of change if I hadn't decided that the rut was a good place to be.
This change will come about slowly, don't expect me to be a domestic goddess overnight. However it HAS to come about, there is no putting it off any longer. If I am to get what I want to have out of this life, out of this relationship, then I need to step up to the plate and do my part.
Unfortunately, I'll be doing it reluctantly. I don't like work and effort. I'd rather sit here and play that video game. However as that is not an option, as my house is falling in to shambles around me, as my toddler runs rampant, the change is calling to me, begging me to get off my fat ass and do something about it all. And so I must.
And that is what I am going to go do, starting with catching that rampant toddler and making him a little more presentable to the world. After all, pj's are meant for sleeping in bed, not to be worn all day too.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
The Deepest Darkest Blue
The deepest darkest blue seems to suit my mood right now. The baby is gone. I don't need a blood test tomorrow to confirm it, I'm living it right now. Having done this before, I know where I am, this is a place that I've been to before that I'd rather not visit.
It all started last Thursday evening. I helped Jason move the furniture in the girls' room so that I could work on getting the rest of it painted before Katy comes for the holidays. I didn't really move much at all, just the two beds, with his assistance. He moved the dressers all on his own. I started spotting. As I have been exactly where I am now, it worried me. So on Friday morning when it continued, I called the mid-wives. They ordered a blood draw for me, though they felt it was more for my peace of mind than any real neccessity. However when I arrived at the lab on Friday afternoon, no one was there. Apparently they all got Friday off early.
I worked all weekend, though oddly enough I had Friday night off. The spotting continued, gradually working up to being like a light period. I went for the draw yesterday afternoon. The numbers were 457. Definately not as high as they would normally like, especially being as far as I was, however up is good. So they tell me to come back on Wednesday. At work, I start bleeding and clotting. And here I am, in all too familiar territory again.
The Platitudes. Those are the worst.
"God won't give you more than you can handle. You can handle this." Well no shit Sherlock, I've "handled" it before, of coarse I can again.
"It's God's way". Who the fuck cares if it's "God's way"? I mean, really, what the Hell did I do to piss off "God" so much that "He" would have "His" way with me?
"It's the natural way of weeding out ones that would suffer." And you think I'm NOT suffering? Do you think that this pain and anguish that I feel isn't suffering? Can I shove your head in a tub of water and hold it under and then tell you that the pain you feel when your lungs start constricting and your vision starts to blacken isn't suffering?
"Cherish the children you have, they just mean that much more to you now." First off, how do you know that? Who are you to tell me how much my children mean to me? What suddenly makes this baby that no longer is less? What is it about the passing of this oh so desired child that suddenly makes my other children more? How does this even make sense? Secondly, who am I to put this kind of suffering and grief on my children? Do you think that they don't see, that they don't feel, that they don't understand what I am feeling? Are you really that assinine? Or did just plain stupidity hit you in the head when you woke up this morning?
Yes, I'm angry. By the way, that's actually ANGRY. Pissed off beyond all belief. Though I think that the anger is what gets me through. Cause other than the anger is the unbelieveable hurt and pain. It's so easy to just sit and wallow in the pain. To feel it wash over you in wave after wave. I think it's addicting, that pain. After all, that pain is justification. It's the reason for not doing, for not being. "I can't because I hurt" becomes the mantra.
That mantra is not mine to be able to take up. Because "I can't" just is not an option. Who would care for Izzy all day if "I can't"? Who would get the kids up for school and out the door if "I can't"? Who would do all the other myraid of stuff that I do if "I can't"?
The pain will ease as time goes by. It's amazing how time soothes all wounds. I don't think it really heals them. Your wounds are yours alone to heal. You can allow them fester and become putrid horrid things. Or you can allow them to heal and create scars that are shiny smooth reminders of where you once were. I know that in a month or so, this wound will be well on it's way to healing. The pain will be remembered, but not so fresh and raw. That is soothing and refreshing a bit because right now I am in the pain and it will help me get through.
Jason told me as he was leaving for work this morning "Don't give up completely, you are too strong for that." I know he meant about having another child. Our heart's desire is to have another child. A playmate for Izzy closer in age. Maybe a little girl to dress all frilly and cute, and Izzy to be oh so protective of. Maybe a boy for him to have as his wrestling foe and partner in crime.
We've wanted this for so long. 16 months of wanting and all we have to show for it is more anguish and hurt. More suffering and pain. More tears and even more fear than before.
I have been told that all I have to do is pray and accept and I will receive my heart's desires. What kind of bullshit is that? Is that what gets you through all the shitty stuff in life? Whatever works for you is great, but trust me, that won't work for me. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, stop crying and go forward. That's what I've always done. It's all there really is to do.
Part of me, ill-rationally I'll admit but still happening, feels as though I am failing my husband. After all, here is a man that loves me with his entire being. He goes to work every day to help support me and my children, only one of which is his by birth. He has accepted me and my children and my entire life as his. And here I am, unable to provide him children. Izzy is an amazing wonder. I love that boy dearly. Apparently, he is also a miracle. My husband has no problem impregnanting me, it's happened 4 times now. However, I have a problem growing his children.
Jason is the one who is strong while I grieve. While I wallow in my pain. While I scream and cry and am wracked with absolute sorrow. He holds me close, and then closer still while I lay there, barely even able to acknowledge him. I know he feels the hurt and the pain, however he sets that all aside for me. If I ever am in need of a hero, he'd be it.
Right now, I'm just writing to write. Maybe it will be cathartic. What exactly is "cathartic" anyway? I don't know, but it seems eloquent and so appropriate. Maybe I'll start a new blog. One to write just to write. Short stories and the like. But then I think, why can't I do that here? After all, this is my blog after all, why does it solely have to be about the family? I don't know, I'm at a loss right now, and the writing is soothing. That's what I do know. And as Forrest Gump likes to say "And that's all I've got to say about that".
It all started last Thursday evening. I helped Jason move the furniture in the girls' room so that I could work on getting the rest of it painted before Katy comes for the holidays. I didn't really move much at all, just the two beds, with his assistance. He moved the dressers all on his own. I started spotting. As I have been exactly where I am now, it worried me. So on Friday morning when it continued, I called the mid-wives. They ordered a blood draw for me, though they felt it was more for my peace of mind than any real neccessity. However when I arrived at the lab on Friday afternoon, no one was there. Apparently they all got Friday off early.
I worked all weekend, though oddly enough I had Friday night off. The spotting continued, gradually working up to being like a light period. I went for the draw yesterday afternoon. The numbers were 457. Definately not as high as they would normally like, especially being as far as I was, however up is good. So they tell me to come back on Wednesday. At work, I start bleeding and clotting. And here I am, in all too familiar territory again.
The Platitudes. Those are the worst.
"God won't give you more than you can handle. You can handle this." Well no shit Sherlock, I've "handled" it before, of coarse I can again.
"It's God's way". Who the fuck cares if it's "God's way"? I mean, really, what the Hell did I do to piss off "God" so much that "He" would have "His" way with me?
"It's the natural way of weeding out ones that would suffer." And you think I'm NOT suffering? Do you think that this pain and anguish that I feel isn't suffering? Can I shove your head in a tub of water and hold it under and then tell you that the pain you feel when your lungs start constricting and your vision starts to blacken isn't suffering?
"Cherish the children you have, they just mean that much more to you now." First off, how do you know that? Who are you to tell me how much my children mean to me? What suddenly makes this baby that no longer is less? What is it about the passing of this oh so desired child that suddenly makes my other children more? How does this even make sense? Secondly, who am I to put this kind of suffering and grief on my children? Do you think that they don't see, that they don't feel, that they don't understand what I am feeling? Are you really that assinine? Or did just plain stupidity hit you in the head when you woke up this morning?
Yes, I'm angry. By the way, that's actually ANGRY. Pissed off beyond all belief. Though I think that the anger is what gets me through. Cause other than the anger is the unbelieveable hurt and pain. It's so easy to just sit and wallow in the pain. To feel it wash over you in wave after wave. I think it's addicting, that pain. After all, that pain is justification. It's the reason for not doing, for not being. "I can't because I hurt" becomes the mantra.
That mantra is not mine to be able to take up. Because "I can't" just is not an option. Who would care for Izzy all day if "I can't"? Who would get the kids up for school and out the door if "I can't"? Who would do all the other myraid of stuff that I do if "I can't"?
The pain will ease as time goes by. It's amazing how time soothes all wounds. I don't think it really heals them. Your wounds are yours alone to heal. You can allow them fester and become putrid horrid things. Or you can allow them to heal and create scars that are shiny smooth reminders of where you once were. I know that in a month or so, this wound will be well on it's way to healing. The pain will be remembered, but not so fresh and raw. That is soothing and refreshing a bit because right now I am in the pain and it will help me get through.
Jason told me as he was leaving for work this morning "Don't give up completely, you are too strong for that." I know he meant about having another child. Our heart's desire is to have another child. A playmate for Izzy closer in age. Maybe a little girl to dress all frilly and cute, and Izzy to be oh so protective of. Maybe a boy for him to have as his wrestling foe and partner in crime.
We've wanted this for so long. 16 months of wanting and all we have to show for it is more anguish and hurt. More suffering and pain. More tears and even more fear than before.
I have been told that all I have to do is pray and accept and I will receive my heart's desires. What kind of bullshit is that? Is that what gets you through all the shitty stuff in life? Whatever works for you is great, but trust me, that won't work for me. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, stop crying and go forward. That's what I've always done. It's all there really is to do.
Part of me, ill-rationally I'll admit but still happening, feels as though I am failing my husband. After all, here is a man that loves me with his entire being. He goes to work every day to help support me and my children, only one of which is his by birth. He has accepted me and my children and my entire life as his. And here I am, unable to provide him children. Izzy is an amazing wonder. I love that boy dearly. Apparently, he is also a miracle. My husband has no problem impregnanting me, it's happened 4 times now. However, I have a problem growing his children.
Jason is the one who is strong while I grieve. While I wallow in my pain. While I scream and cry and am wracked with absolute sorrow. He holds me close, and then closer still while I lay there, barely even able to acknowledge him. I know he feels the hurt and the pain, however he sets that all aside for me. If I ever am in need of a hero, he'd be it.
Right now, I'm just writing to write. Maybe it will be cathartic. What exactly is "cathartic" anyway? I don't know, but it seems eloquent and so appropriate. Maybe I'll start a new blog. One to write just to write. Short stories and the like. But then I think, why can't I do that here? After all, this is my blog after all, why does it solely have to be about the family? I don't know, I'm at a loss right now, and the writing is soothing. That's what I do know. And as Forrest Gump likes to say "And that's all I've got to say about that".
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