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.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
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".
Thursday, November 29, 2007
It's Official, We ARE Insane!
Well, this morning we got the final confirmation, we will be expecting a darling new baby around the middle of August of 2008. Welcome to the Wonderful World of Insanity, and I am your host, Queen of Know It Alls, Jamie.
It came as a shock to all of us. We had taken off that hat. Set it aside. Decided that we would admire it every now and then, however we weren't going to wear it anymore. It was now time to move on to Parents of Older Kids. We talked and talked and had just come to accept that A New Baby wasn't going to happen for us. We had a wonderful family just the way it was. Izzy is a great guy to leave that final note on.
Why did I even have the notion to test, to just "see" if possibly maybe it would come back positive. There was ONE test sitting in the cupboard, it begged me to be used, so I did. I honestly expected to see that singular pink line just staring up at me on that white field, mocking my tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, my darling hubby's spermmies worked with my eggies that month. To my utter shock and amazement, a faint extra pink line was there. Was I seeing things? Could it be?
Just to be sure I wasn't just projecting my hope and hurt on to this tiny defenseless little test, i scanned it in, after taking it apart of coarse (which they say you shouldn't do, however there was no way to take a good pic of it otherwise) and showed to my online friends. Many of them said "Yes, I see it too!!!" So I called up those mid-wives and said "Hey, take my blood" and of coarse they said "Glad to!"
That was the day before Thanksgiving. I was getting the van on Jason's lunch so I could drive up to get Katy Beth and actually be back at a decent hour. Before heading up, I had my blood taken. When I got to Jenn's place, I called them and they said "You are Borderline pregnant, we are closed on Friday, so come back on Monday so we can take your blood again" How you can be borderline pregnant on a yes/no test is beyond me, however that's what they told me.
Me being me, I bought a box of tests. After all, borderline just wasn't a good enough answer. So I tested again on Friday morning and on Sunday morning. They both came up with much darker lines. All right! That's the kind of progression I like to see! With the last miscarriage, I never really got a dark line on a pee test, so it was reassuring to see that line. Throughout the weekend, I kept looking at those tests, making sure I wasn't seeing things.
Monday rolls around. It is slushing from the sky as only Michigan can. I was going to wait to go until Jason got home, so I could run over there real quick before heading off to work. I had to go to the library anyway to return some books that I didn't want to become even more overdue, so I decided to walk, in the nasty slushiness to the hospital, which is about a mile from here. Izzy was protected from the weather in his stroller with the rain cover on it. I didn't fair so lucky. Note to self, next time I go a-walkin' in foul weather, wear shoes that don't have holes. Something with a closed foot would be a much better choice than my crocs.
I make it to the hospital in wonderful time, and back home again. Izzy goes down for a nap, I dry off and spend some time on the computer. I call for my results around 4. They tell me that Yes, I am pregnant, however my number is only 68, and for being 5 weeks pregnant, as their charts say I am, that number isn't high enough, so I have to go back, AGAIN.
On Wednesday, I just waited until Jason got home, and ran over there real quick like and had it done. Called them this morning. After two hours of waiting, they call me back and say my numbers are now 145, which is a little more than double and a good good thing. Therefore, I am officially pregnant, 4 weeks to be exact. Based on my hormone levels, they changed my due date to something more accurate. Maybe this time around I won't have to be induced or go too far over the due date. However, the misery of being 9 months pregnant in August is going to be abject and complete. And I will do it gladly.
It came as a shock to all of us. We had taken off that hat. Set it aside. Decided that we would admire it every now and then, however we weren't going to wear it anymore. It was now time to move on to Parents of Older Kids. We talked and talked and had just come to accept that A New Baby wasn't going to happen for us. We had a wonderful family just the way it was. Izzy is a great guy to leave that final note on.
Why did I even have the notion to test, to just "see" if possibly maybe it would come back positive. There was ONE test sitting in the cupboard, it begged me to be used, so I did. I honestly expected to see that singular pink line just staring up at me on that white field, mocking my tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, my darling hubby's spermmies worked with my eggies that month. To my utter shock and amazement, a faint extra pink line was there. Was I seeing things? Could it be?
Just to be sure I wasn't just projecting my hope and hurt on to this tiny defenseless little test, i scanned it in, after taking it apart of coarse (which they say you shouldn't do, however there was no way to take a good pic of it otherwise) and showed to my online friends. Many of them said "Yes, I see it too!!!" So I called up those mid-wives and said "Hey, take my blood" and of coarse they said "Glad to!"
That was the day before Thanksgiving. I was getting the van on Jason's lunch so I could drive up to get Katy Beth and actually be back at a decent hour. Before heading up, I had my blood taken. When I got to Jenn's place, I called them and they said "You are Borderline pregnant, we are closed on Friday, so come back on Monday so we can take your blood again" How you can be borderline pregnant on a yes/no test is beyond me, however that's what they told me.
Me being me, I bought a box of tests. After all, borderline just wasn't a good enough answer. So I tested again on Friday morning and on Sunday morning. They both came up with much darker lines. All right! That's the kind of progression I like to see! With the last miscarriage, I never really got a dark line on a pee test, so it was reassuring to see that line. Throughout the weekend, I kept looking at those tests, making sure I wasn't seeing things.
Monday rolls around. It is slushing from the sky as only Michigan can. I was going to wait to go until Jason got home, so I could run over there real quick before heading off to work. I had to go to the library anyway to return some books that I didn't want to become even more overdue, so I decided to walk, in the nasty slushiness to the hospital, which is about a mile from here. Izzy was protected from the weather in his stroller with the rain cover on it. I didn't fair so lucky. Note to self, next time I go a-walkin' in foul weather, wear shoes that don't have holes. Something with a closed foot would be a much better choice than my crocs.
I make it to the hospital in wonderful time, and back home again. Izzy goes down for a nap, I dry off and spend some time on the computer. I call for my results around 4. They tell me that Yes, I am pregnant, however my number is only 68, and for being 5 weeks pregnant, as their charts say I am, that number isn't high enough, so I have to go back, AGAIN.
On Wednesday, I just waited until Jason got home, and ran over there real quick like and had it done. Called them this morning. After two hours of waiting, they call me back and say my numbers are now 145, which is a little more than double and a good good thing. Therefore, I am officially pregnant, 4 weeks to be exact. Based on my hormone levels, they changed my due date to something more accurate. Maybe this time around I won't have to be induced or go too far over the due date. However, the misery of being 9 months pregnant in August is going to be abject and complete. And I will do it gladly.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Just a quick jot
Just a quick jot before I head off to the shower and then to slumberland. I must work again at Wal-Mart (the Devil Store as my darling Sister-in-Law calls it) and today was long and tiring, and I know tomorrow will be a repeat of the same. We now have lights on our Christmas tree, or Solstice tree, or Pagan tree, however you want to view it. No decorations yet, except the star at the top. Yes, I have a star at the top. And No, it's not representative of the North Star that the Sheephearders saw upon the Birth of Christ. Yes, I do capitalize all of that, seems disrespectful to a religion not mine to do so, I would ask the same from them.
Anyhoo, we have lights. That's what I did tonight. I brought home for dinner a big deli pizza (fresh pizza, bake in the oven) and watched "Forrest Gump" and put lights up on the tree. Why so early for the tree? Because if I think THIS weekend has been busy and tiring at Wal-Mart, just wait til NEXT!
Oh, Jason and I realized tonight that Izzy loves to walk. He's only been walking for about 2 months now, though it seems like he's been doing it forever. He's very close to running, and Gods help us all when that happens!
Jason has started the budget for when he takes over at the New Year. Already? Seems like he's trying to jump the gun here, getting a bit anxious, chomping at the bit as they say. He asked me if I really felt that he'd be angry at me? Um, yeah, I do. Though, I've never had anyone be nice about it. And when he was doing it, long ago, it made him angry then, so it seems to stand reason that that would not have changed. I realize only time will tell.
Anyhoo, we have lights. That's what I did tonight. I brought home for dinner a big deli pizza (fresh pizza, bake in the oven) and watched "Forrest Gump" and put lights up on the tree. Why so early for the tree? Because if I think THIS weekend has been busy and tiring at Wal-Mart, just wait til NEXT!
Oh, Jason and I realized tonight that Izzy loves to walk. He's only been walking for about 2 months now, though it seems like he's been doing it forever. He's very close to running, and Gods help us all when that happens!
Jason has started the budget for when he takes over at the New Year. Already? Seems like he's trying to jump the gun here, getting a bit anxious, chomping at the bit as they say. He asked me if I really felt that he'd be angry at me? Um, yeah, I do. Though, I've never had anyone be nice about it. And when he was doing it, long ago, it made him angry then, so it seems to stand reason that that would not have changed. I realize only time will tell.
Friday, November 16, 2007
I have been remiss.
Well, what have I been doing? Oh, not much of anything really. Working 4 days a week at Wal-Mart. Taking care of the kids. Worrying about an ex-mother-in-law who fell down and seriously broke her ankle. Trying to help Jason rediscover his "lost creativity".
Lets start with Wal-Mart. Working there makes me realize there is just way too much commercialism and "give-me-ism" centered around December and the associated holidays. Being Pagan, I don't celebrate Christmas with the sense of the birth of Jesus and what not. We do have a tree. It's a Solstice Tree. I even got for it this really awesome rather "pagan looking" (per Jason's description of it) star. I'll have to post a pic of the tree once it's put up in all it's glory. Anyway, back to commercialism. Why do the carols start the day after Halloween? Why can you purchase Christmas themed items sometimes as early as AUGUST? There are many out there who say "Oh, it's the retailers". Well, yes, it IS the retailers. However, they wouldn't do it if people didn't buy it. After all, they only make money on things that SELL. That means that out there, there are people who actually BUY this stuff that early! WHY????
Working at Wal-Mart has really made me feel the pressure to BUY NOW. I'm a late Holiday shopper. I prefer to do it that way. Wait til the last minute, get great deals. This year, I have purchased more for Holiday gifts before Thanksgiving than I EVER have before! What is wrong with me?
I've also come to realize that as I am awake until the very early hours of the morning anyway - if I make it to bed before 1 A.M. I am either sick or just so tired I can't stay awake any longer - that I might as well be working those hours. After all, the purpose of me working is so that we can find our feet financially, isn't it? How can I honestly be contributing if I'm only working maybe 20 hours a week when Jason busts his butt for the full 40? That's another thing about this season. It really reminds me of how much money I don't have. And it only seems to get worse, never really better.
In my search to find my financial feet, I've discovered that I suck at spending money. I buy lots of stuff we just don't need. I just can't help myself. The common sense thing to do would be to hand my debit card to Jason and let him figure out our debt and money. However, that option literally makes me angry just thinking of it. Why you may ask? In all honesty, just previous bad experience with someone else handling MY money. I feel like handling the money, no matter how badly, at least gives me a sense, no matter how misplaced and useless, of power. So how do I overcome this? By swallowing my ill-placed anger and handing the reins over to Jason as of the first of the year. I really really don't want to do it. I guess we are going to try to do it together, but maybe to begin with, I should just step away from the money. I don't even have to physcially hand him my paycheck, it's direct deposited. Hopefully, I will be able to keep from arguing and fighting with him as he figures out my mess of things. And he stays married to me too. I have a feeling that January (maybe February too) is going to be a long, lonely, and cold cold month for me.
On to raising the kids. They are becoming responsible. When did this happen? Are these really MY kids? Well Hell, I must be doing SOMETHING right after all! There have been a couple of mornings (all right, a few) where I have just kept smacking that HORRID alarm clock and overslept by QUITE A BIT. OOPS. James always comes down and tells me "Mom, we are leaving for school now." What? My James? Getting himself and his sister up and out the door for school? Knock me out and call me Suzy! They ride the bus now, because of James' "issues" he gets a bus ride, and Jayden goes to the same place, so she gets one too, however we are still close enough that they can walk. So on these mornings, they invariably do end up walking. It's not really far, but the fact that they don't just stay upstairs and watching movies instead of going to school still shocks me to no end. Apparently, for my kids, a great threat to get them to go to school and behave is to tell them that if they don't, they will be homeschooled by me. Who knew that school was a mini-daily vacation from me as it is for me from them? Learn something new every day!
Izzy can now say 4 words and one sign. His IEP is at the end of the month. He'll then have a speech therapist and an early education teacher coming to the house to work with him and I. Izzy "swallows" his sounds. It sounds like they are "stuck" in the back of his throat or mouth, that they aren't making it to the tip of his tongue and fully out. He says "eat" now, though it comes out sounding like eeeeeeeeeettttttt with a bit of an "n" sound to it - that whole stuck sound thing again. And he can say "eeeeezzzzzzzyyyyy", though once again it's with that "n" sound. He likes to draw the vowels sounds out, and he LOVES making that "z" sound. I'm glad we went with calling him Izzy, instead of Jason's suggestion of Ike.
Jason wanted to call him Ike after his great (possibly great great?) Uncles. He has two. One was Crazy Ike. I think the other was Lazy Ike. Or something like that. Jason felt that Izzy was too "cute" for a boy. I told him that little boys are only cute so long and I wanted my little boy to be Izzy.
On to the Ex-Mother-In-Law. Her name is Linda. She is Homer's mother. She and I get along "famously", in all honesty, much better than my own mother and I, let alone Jason's mother and I. I think with both of those aforementioned women, we just agree to disagree and try our hardest to be cordial. Linda is a wonder. At the age of 63, she went back to school to study Cosmetology. Why? Well, as she told Jason, it's so she doesn't have to bust butt washing dishes for the rest of her life. This is where I get a little angry. Why does she HAVE to wash dishes? Why aren't her children helping her? Because they are too involved in their own lives, that's why. Jason and I both get along very well with Linda, much to Homer's chagrin. She fell down about a month ago and broker her ankle so badly she needed surgery. She was at work when it happened. She just got her staples out last week. She is getting Workman's Comp to pay her bills, but it barely pays her rent. She was working 2 full time dishwashing jobs at the time she fell. And she was finishing up the last big of her schooling.
She's close to 65 now, if she isn't already there. This is where our worry over her comes in. She lives in Wisconsin, so she could be near her brothers and mother and assorted extended family. They have helped her out during this time not at all. They are always too busy to be able to do anything for her. Even to just drive her somewhere. So she is in a town where her family won't help her, and her children are too self absorbed to notice. I told Homer his mom fell and broke her ankle, after giving him her cell number - he didn't have it- over 3 weeks ago, he STILL has not called her. Jason and I have talked and we feel that she should come live with us. She would help us out a great deal just by being here. I could go in earlier to Wal-Mart. Not to mention, then we would KNOW she is ok and she wouldn't have to bust her butt working 2 jobs dishwashing to make ends meet. It's time for her to relax, enjoy her age and the time she has put in. Now comes the intersting thing, how do we convince her that we need her more than we feel she needs to be here?
And Jason's creativity. Jason is in a funk, it comes and it goes, but this should not be news to anyone really. He feels like he is wasting his life away at his job. Like he isn't "accomplishing" anything, or even really providing well for his family. He has no inspiration to draw or paint. He's in an artist's hell. I don't know how to end it. I don't know how to inspire him. I worry over him. I worry over them all, though I am mom, and that is part of the "mom" job description, it says it in the book we get when we become a mom.
And so I leave you on this note. Enjoy life to the fullest. After all, you could be living with your worst enemy.
Lets start with Wal-Mart. Working there makes me realize there is just way too much commercialism and "give-me-ism" centered around December and the associated holidays. Being Pagan, I don't celebrate Christmas with the sense of the birth of Jesus and what not. We do have a tree. It's a Solstice Tree. I even got for it this really awesome rather "pagan looking" (per Jason's description of it) star. I'll have to post a pic of the tree once it's put up in all it's glory. Anyway, back to commercialism. Why do the carols start the day after Halloween? Why can you purchase Christmas themed items sometimes as early as AUGUST? There are many out there who say "Oh, it's the retailers". Well, yes, it IS the retailers. However, they wouldn't do it if people didn't buy it. After all, they only make money on things that SELL. That means that out there, there are people who actually BUY this stuff that early! WHY????
Working at Wal-Mart has really made me feel the pressure to BUY NOW. I'm a late Holiday shopper. I prefer to do it that way. Wait til the last minute, get great deals. This year, I have purchased more for Holiday gifts before Thanksgiving than I EVER have before! What is wrong with me?
I've also come to realize that as I am awake until the very early hours of the morning anyway - if I make it to bed before 1 A.M. I am either sick or just so tired I can't stay awake any longer - that I might as well be working those hours. After all, the purpose of me working is so that we can find our feet financially, isn't it? How can I honestly be contributing if I'm only working maybe 20 hours a week when Jason busts his butt for the full 40? That's another thing about this season. It really reminds me of how much money I don't have. And it only seems to get worse, never really better.
In my search to find my financial feet, I've discovered that I suck at spending money. I buy lots of stuff we just don't need. I just can't help myself. The common sense thing to do would be to hand my debit card to Jason and let him figure out our debt and money. However, that option literally makes me angry just thinking of it. Why you may ask? In all honesty, just previous bad experience with someone else handling MY money. I feel like handling the money, no matter how badly, at least gives me a sense, no matter how misplaced and useless, of power. So how do I overcome this? By swallowing my ill-placed anger and handing the reins over to Jason as of the first of the year. I really really don't want to do it. I guess we are going to try to do it together, but maybe to begin with, I should just step away from the money. I don't even have to physcially hand him my paycheck, it's direct deposited. Hopefully, I will be able to keep from arguing and fighting with him as he figures out my mess of things. And he stays married to me too. I have a feeling that January (maybe February too) is going to be a long, lonely, and cold cold month for me.
On to raising the kids. They are becoming responsible. When did this happen? Are these really MY kids? Well Hell, I must be doing SOMETHING right after all! There have been a couple of mornings (all right, a few) where I have just kept smacking that HORRID alarm clock and overslept by QUITE A BIT. OOPS. James always comes down and tells me "Mom, we are leaving for school now." What? My James? Getting himself and his sister up and out the door for school? Knock me out and call me Suzy! They ride the bus now, because of James' "issues" he gets a bus ride, and Jayden goes to the same place, so she gets one too, however we are still close enough that they can walk. So on these mornings, they invariably do end up walking. It's not really far, but the fact that they don't just stay upstairs and watching movies instead of going to school still shocks me to no end. Apparently, for my kids, a great threat to get them to go to school and behave is to tell them that if they don't, they will be homeschooled by me. Who knew that school was a mini-daily vacation from me as it is for me from them? Learn something new every day!
Izzy can now say 4 words and one sign. His IEP is at the end of the month. He'll then have a speech therapist and an early education teacher coming to the house to work with him and I. Izzy "swallows" his sounds. It sounds like they are "stuck" in the back of his throat or mouth, that they aren't making it to the tip of his tongue and fully out. He says "eat" now, though it comes out sounding like eeeeeeeeeettttttt with a bit of an "n" sound to it - that whole stuck sound thing again. And he can say "eeeeezzzzzzzyyyyy", though once again it's with that "n" sound. He likes to draw the vowels sounds out, and he LOVES making that "z" sound. I'm glad we went with calling him Izzy, instead of Jason's suggestion of Ike.
Jason wanted to call him Ike after his great (possibly great great?) Uncles. He has two. One was Crazy Ike. I think the other was Lazy Ike. Or something like that. Jason felt that Izzy was too "cute" for a boy. I told him that little boys are only cute so long and I wanted my little boy to be Izzy.
On to the Ex-Mother-In-Law. Her name is Linda. She is Homer's mother. She and I get along "famously", in all honesty, much better than my own mother and I, let alone Jason's mother and I. I think with both of those aforementioned women, we just agree to disagree and try our hardest to be cordial. Linda is a wonder. At the age of 63, she went back to school to study Cosmetology. Why? Well, as she told Jason, it's so she doesn't have to bust butt washing dishes for the rest of her life. This is where I get a little angry. Why does she HAVE to wash dishes? Why aren't her children helping her? Because they are too involved in their own lives, that's why. Jason and I both get along very well with Linda, much to Homer's chagrin. She fell down about a month ago and broker her ankle so badly she needed surgery. She was at work when it happened. She just got her staples out last week. She is getting Workman's Comp to pay her bills, but it barely pays her rent. She was working 2 full time dishwashing jobs at the time she fell. And she was finishing up the last big of her schooling.
She's close to 65 now, if she isn't already there. This is where our worry over her comes in. She lives in Wisconsin, so she could be near her brothers and mother and assorted extended family. They have helped her out during this time not at all. They are always too busy to be able to do anything for her. Even to just drive her somewhere. So she is in a town where her family won't help her, and her children are too self absorbed to notice. I told Homer his mom fell and broke her ankle, after giving him her cell number - he didn't have it- over 3 weeks ago, he STILL has not called her. Jason and I have talked and we feel that she should come live with us. She would help us out a great deal just by being here. I could go in earlier to Wal-Mart. Not to mention, then we would KNOW she is ok and she wouldn't have to bust her butt working 2 jobs dishwashing to make ends meet. It's time for her to relax, enjoy her age and the time she has put in. Now comes the intersting thing, how do we convince her that we need her more than we feel she needs to be here?
And Jason's creativity. Jason is in a funk, it comes and it goes, but this should not be news to anyone really. He feels like he is wasting his life away at his job. Like he isn't "accomplishing" anything, or even really providing well for his family. He has no inspiration to draw or paint. He's in an artist's hell. I don't know how to end it. I don't know how to inspire him. I worry over him. I worry over them all, though I am mom, and that is part of the "mom" job description, it says it in the book we get when we become a mom.
And so I leave you on this note. Enjoy life to the fullest. After all, you could be living with your worst enemy.
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