...did being able to hold a sippy cup by oneself qualify as a developmental pillar??? Does it really matter at what age a child will drink out of a cup by themselves????
My one year old would prefer that I hold his sippy cup while he drinks. He can, and has, sipped out of it by himself often, but mostly when given the sippy to handle of his own inclination, he chucks it to the floor, peering down at it curiously to see the pattern of splash drops it has formed. Because, even though the labels totes that it's spill-proof, a three foot fall from the counter above is no match for the rubber stopper under the lid.
There was a comment made (and I won't say by whom) that my son was too dependent on me to do things for him and how that always happens with the first baby. HUH? One, this isn't a first baby and; two, if I choose to hold his sippy cup for him to save my hardwood floors the half moon shaped indentations and my socks from adhering to the sticky mess until he is over his throwing jag, who the H cares???
Me, sensitive? Maybe a little!
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
It's My Party
After several weeks of planning, and many hours decorating to achieve the "construction" atmosphere shown here, Drew was not the excited little party boy that I had invisioned in my everything-will-be-perfect mind.
He didn't get into his presents. He didn't laugh and babble adoringly for everyone and he didn't smash cake all over his face. He played with it a little in his fingers, but didn't even require a clothing change when he was done.
Despite his lack of interest, I still enjoyed watching him turn one. The highlight of the night was glowing ducks for the bathtub. My sister-in-law works at a grocery store and is in charge of ordering. The ducks are for sale individually, but she gave him the whole bin. There's probably 30 ducks or more in the bucket and when you touch their tummies or put them in water (which is what they are intended for) they turn all different colors. All the kids loved these.
He also recieved a Tigger that actually tumbles to the tune of "Can't Touch This". It's hilarious, but right now he's a little less than petrified of it.
Today, he is super interested in the baloons and cake, but yesterday he could give a care. Nevertheless, all of it's captured on video and film for future viewing pleasure.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Insanity in Suburbia
A couple weeks ago, the school asked me to take professional portraits of the cheerleading team. I relented, contending that I was not a "professional", but a devoted hobbiest. The pictures turned out great and I compiled a list of package prices for purchase (at a reasonable cost as far as portraits go, I might add).
It was a simple arrangement. A package would consist of 1-8x10 of the team, 2-5x7's of the individual, and 9 wallets all of one pose for $23. More portraits of that pose or an additional pose were available singly at an added cost, which I listed accordingly.
The orders with money and proofs were due at last nights game. The following is a phone conversation I had this morning with one of the moms:
Me: Yes, this is blah, blah, blah, and I'm calling because there was a problem with your photo order.
Other Mom: Oh, what seems to be the trouble.
Me: Well, you've indicated that you want a 5x7 of your daughter in pose B and a 5x7 of the team, but you only paid $10. It's $10 for an extra sheet and a sheet consists of 1-8x10, 2-5x7's of one pose or 9 wallets of one pose.
OM: Well, I only want one 5x7 of my daugther.
Me: That's fine, I can still do that, but to print one 5x7 on a sheet costs the same as printing two on a sheet. They can't put two different poses on one sheet. They can't do the team and the individual on the same sheet. You'll have to purchase two sheets if you want two poses.
OM: Great, then I want one 5x7 of the team, and one 5x7 of my daughter.
Me: Great, then you'll have to pay an additional $10 and at this point, buying the package is a better deal.
OM: *snidely*, How convenient. Well, what if I dont want a picture of the team.
Me: *Thinking~ WHAT????, didn't you just tell me you wanted the team too?* Saying~ well we can just reprint the proofs of you daughter individually for $10. You'll get 2-5x7's of her then.
OM: But, I want a picture of the team.
Me: *popping a vein*, A team picture will be more money.
OM: Then can I just have the proofs back.
Me: *WTF?*, No, then everyone would be angry that they paid for packages when they could have had the proofs and made reprints themselves (even though the proofs have a copyright stamp on the back).
OM: *sighs emphatically*, You've just made this so confusing to order.
Me: *thinking~out of 18 girls, you're the only mom that didn't grasp this* Saying~it is very confusing how they do reprints. Let me explain again...blah, blah, blah.
OM: I'll call you back.
AAAARRGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It was a simple arrangement. A package would consist of 1-8x10 of the team, 2-5x7's of the individual, and 9 wallets all of one pose for $23. More portraits of that pose or an additional pose were available singly at an added cost, which I listed accordingly.
The orders with money and proofs were due at last nights game. The following is a phone conversation I had this morning with one of the moms:
Me: Yes, this is blah, blah, blah, and I'm calling because there was a problem with your photo order.
Other Mom: Oh, what seems to be the trouble.
Me: Well, you've indicated that you want a 5x7 of your daughter in pose B and a 5x7 of the team, but you only paid $10. It's $10 for an extra sheet and a sheet consists of 1-8x10, 2-5x7's of one pose or 9 wallets of one pose.
OM: Well, I only want one 5x7 of my daugther.
Me: That's fine, I can still do that, but to print one 5x7 on a sheet costs the same as printing two on a sheet. They can't put two different poses on one sheet. They can't do the team and the individual on the same sheet. You'll have to purchase two sheets if you want two poses.
OM: Great, then I want one 5x7 of the team, and one 5x7 of my daughter.
Me: Great, then you'll have to pay an additional $10 and at this point, buying the package is a better deal.
OM: *snidely*, How convenient. Well, what if I dont want a picture of the team.
Me: *Thinking~ WHAT????, didn't you just tell me you wanted the team too?* Saying~ well we can just reprint the proofs of you daughter individually for $10. You'll get 2-5x7's of her then.
OM: But, I want a picture of the team.
Me: *popping a vein*, A team picture will be more money.
OM: Then can I just have the proofs back.
Me: *WTF?*, No, then everyone would be angry that they paid for packages when they could have had the proofs and made reprints themselves (even though the proofs have a copyright stamp on the back).
OM: *sighs emphatically*, You've just made this so confusing to order.
Me: *thinking~out of 18 girls, you're the only mom that didn't grasp this* Saying~it is very confusing how they do reprints. Let me explain again...blah, blah, blah.
OM: I'll call you back.
AAAARRGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, October 24, 2005
Finally, the Conclusion
I know these recent posts have been unbelievably long and I promise to get back to my "normal" style just as soon as the rest of this story is told. Bear with me. Again, thanks for reading and for the support.
PART 3~
After the rocky start to this pregnancy, things smoothed out and went extremely well for the next several months. Until the half-way ultrasound. I was very nervous to even go to this appointment, because this had been the u/s at which we discovered Owen had died.
My worry (as worry usually is) was wasted as everything in the exam looked normal. Until the radiologist read the reports. It appeard that one of the baby's kidneys was enlarged, which in and of itself wasn't necessarily a big deal. Another ultrasound was scheduled to determine if the kidney was continuing to enlarge. It was, so we were sent to a high-risk specialist.
We went to this appointment thinking that worst case, the baby would eventually need kidney surgery. However, the news we got was much more severe than that.
Back in the dr's private office after a two hour u/s, he informed us that not only did our baby have an enlarged kidney, but that he also had a major heart defect. An AV Canal Defect which means that blood can travel cross-wise through all four chambers of the heart. It would require immediate surgery after he was born. Then he told us that because we were dealing with more than one organ and because of the specific heart defect, that the baby would either have Down Syndrome or Trisomy 18 or 13, which meant he wouldn't live longer than a year.
How is a person supposed to react to that kind of news? My brain didn't accept what he was telling me. I didn't hear the word syndrome ~ I heard "symptom". It took several minutes for me to realize the enormity of what this doctor was telling us.
I opted to have an amniocentesis, not because I agree with the procedure, but because I know me and I knew I would explode without knowing for sure. The doctor urged us to have the test because it would better prepare the surgeons for what they would be up against.
I had the amnio and because of the stress of the day and the invasiveness of the amnio, I went into labor. Fortunately, they were able to stop it since I was only 6 1/2 months pregnant.
Three days later, we got the wonderful news that genetically, the baby would be fine. I will never forget the feeling of utter relief that day I got the phone call. Suddenly, the heart and kidney situation didn't seem as bad. At least until the actual birth date and surgery got closer.
More good news came in my 9th month. We met with the pediatric cardiologist and after taking a good look at the baby's heart through high tech u/s, his defect was downgraded to an Atrial Septal defect with a Mitral Valve issue. A much better diagnosis than before requiring surgery sometime in the later part of the first year of life.
Finally, the big day arrived. A c-section was planned two weeks early because the weight of the baby was already 10 pounds. I was nervous that the outcome would not be the joy that I longed for. When I heard his brand new baby cry on that morning, my heart felt so full, it almost hurt. To hear new life was a moment that words can't adequately describe. Then it got even better. The neonatal team that had been in the delivery room to take him away, examined him and said that he could stay with us. We enjoyed holding him and feeding him and just looking at this little miracle that defied all the odds.
Two days later, he was rushed to the NICU anyway for unrelated matters. Somehow, no one knows for sure, he collapsed a lung. Once discovered, it wasn't life threatening, but he wasn't allowed to be with me or leave the hospital until it was resolved. Again, I had to leave the hospital without my baby, but on Halloween of last year, we were finally bringing our miracle boy home.
Fast forward one year and our son is just about to celebrate his first birthday! He's since had a succesful kidney surgery and his heart is completely healed on it's own.
He is my daily reminder to never give up on the beauty of my dreams!!!!!
PART 3~
After the rocky start to this pregnancy, things smoothed out and went extremely well for the next several months. Until the half-way ultrasound. I was very nervous to even go to this appointment, because this had been the u/s at which we discovered Owen had died.
My worry (as worry usually is) was wasted as everything in the exam looked normal. Until the radiologist read the reports. It appeard that one of the baby's kidneys was enlarged, which in and of itself wasn't necessarily a big deal. Another ultrasound was scheduled to determine if the kidney was continuing to enlarge. It was, so we were sent to a high-risk specialist.
We went to this appointment thinking that worst case, the baby would eventually need kidney surgery. However, the news we got was much more severe than that.
Back in the dr's private office after a two hour u/s, he informed us that not only did our baby have an enlarged kidney, but that he also had a major heart defect. An AV Canal Defect which means that blood can travel cross-wise through all four chambers of the heart. It would require immediate surgery after he was born. Then he told us that because we were dealing with more than one organ and because of the specific heart defect, that the baby would either have Down Syndrome or Trisomy 18 or 13, which meant he wouldn't live longer than a year.
How is a person supposed to react to that kind of news? My brain didn't accept what he was telling me. I didn't hear the word syndrome ~ I heard "symptom". It took several minutes for me to realize the enormity of what this doctor was telling us.
I opted to have an amniocentesis, not because I agree with the procedure, but because I know me and I knew I would explode without knowing for sure. The doctor urged us to have the test because it would better prepare the surgeons for what they would be up against.
I had the amnio and because of the stress of the day and the invasiveness of the amnio, I went into labor. Fortunately, they were able to stop it since I was only 6 1/2 months pregnant.
Three days later, we got the wonderful news that genetically, the baby would be fine. I will never forget the feeling of utter relief that day I got the phone call. Suddenly, the heart and kidney situation didn't seem as bad. At least until the actual birth date and surgery got closer.
More good news came in my 9th month. We met with the pediatric cardiologist and after taking a good look at the baby's heart through high tech u/s, his defect was downgraded to an Atrial Septal defect with a Mitral Valve issue. A much better diagnosis than before requiring surgery sometime in the later part of the first year of life.
Finally, the big day arrived. A c-section was planned two weeks early because the weight of the baby was already 10 pounds. I was nervous that the outcome would not be the joy that I longed for. When I heard his brand new baby cry on that morning, my heart felt so full, it almost hurt. To hear new life was a moment that words can't adequately describe. Then it got even better. The neonatal team that had been in the delivery room to take him away, examined him and said that he could stay with us. We enjoyed holding him and feeding him and just looking at this little miracle that defied all the odds.
Two days later, he was rushed to the NICU anyway for unrelated matters. Somehow, no one knows for sure, he collapsed a lung. Once discovered, it wasn't life threatening, but he wasn't allowed to be with me or leave the hospital until it was resolved. Again, I had to leave the hospital without my baby, but on Halloween of last year, we were finally bringing our miracle boy home.
Fast forward one year and our son is just about to celebrate his first birthday! He's since had a succesful kidney surgery and his heart is completely healed on it's own.
He is my daily reminder to never give up on the beauty of my dreams!!!!!
Thursday, October 20, 2005
And the Saga Continues ~ Part Two
I posted a general thank you on yesterday's entry, but I'd like to say again how much I appreciate you all taking time to read my story. And for tuning into the continuing saga today. The events in yesterday's post took place in August 2001. Today's post is about what happened in the following three years. I'll try to keep it brief.
Grieving at home after the loss of Owen was very hard work. Even my own mama couldn't comfort me. Not for lack of trying, but simply because I could not be consoled. This is when I met Clew through an internet loss support group and we became fast friends. It was helpful to me to be able to share with someone I connected with on many different levels. However, I'm not totally conviced that the support group helped me heal. Really, what it was, was a bunch of woman trying to conceive again after a loss. It was not hard to get caught up in the frenzy and I found myself wanting to be pregnant again right away.
By November it happened and I was ever so excited. At least I would be pregnant on Owen's due date, I told myself. Unfortunately, the excitment over this pregnancy was even shorter lived when I was rushed for emergency surgery in the middle of December. The pregnancy was ectopic and I lost my left fallopian tube. More anguish and more disappointment and more grieving for the first loss all over again. The doctor's told me that it was impossible for me to conceive again for several months, but I fooled 'em all when in January, I had another positive pregnancy test. And in January, I had another miscarriage.
Where are we? Oh yeah, 2002. March. Yet another pregnancy and another loss. I was quickly losing confidence in my body's ability to carry a pregnancy. And yes, I was a little obsessed with getting it to work. I was certain that a new baby would heal the hole in my broken heart. No one tell's you that your arms will physically ache when you give birth to a still born. No one tell's you that your milk will still come in 3 days after delivery. No one tells you that you'll hear phantom babies crying in the night. The need to have another baby for me was powerful. I craved it.
Then nothing happened. Months of trying only led to frustration and anger and timed-sex. It was not a fun existence. Finally, a test in October (because my doctor was retiring) showed that my right tube was also blocked now. IVF would be the only way to get pregnant. We went for it. In November I had another positive test, but days later, my blood work showed dropping numbers. Loss #5!
But again, we showed the doctors and conceived on our own the very next month. Again, God decided not to let us keep this baby. I miscarried in January 03.
Are you noticing a pattern? Can you guess what's next?
April 03 ~ pregnant. May 03 ~ not pregnant anymore.
We had test after test after test trying to figure out what was wrong. Finally, I found a doctor that made sense. He surmised that all of the pregnancies had most likely been ectopic but had resolved themselves. After an ultrasound, he determined that, yes, my tube was blocked and we would not be able to conceive on our own.
I guess I don't like being told I can't do something, because in June 03, I became pregnant again ~ without help. The bloodwork numbers were really good and we all held our breath with a little hope. In July, I was rushed to the hospital for another ectopic surgery where I lost my last tube and my 8th pregnancy.
This loss was a major turning point. I finally threw my arms up and said, "Fine God, have it Your way!" After only a few weeks, I didn't want to be pregnant anymore. I was finally happy with the way my life was. Did I even want a baby or did I just want Owen? Regardless, it was the end of the road for us.
Around Christmas, my husband started talking about alternatives such as IVF. I didn't know if I had the energy to get back on that wagon and I knew I didn't have it in me to lose any more babies. But by January he had convinced me and I started giving myself daily shots.
The retrieval part of the IVF was successful, but something went seriously wrong with my body and we were not able to do the second half of the cycle. The actually getting pregnant part. I wasn't even upset.
Turns out the next month, we were able to complete the cycle and two weeks later, another positive pregnancy test. An ultrasound confirmed we were having twins! First yay, then OMG! Twins?!?! When I started spotting a month later, I knew the pregnancy was over. Blood has never been a good sign for me. Sadly, we lost one baby, but miraculously, one was still alive. And it was the longest pregnancy in history with it's own traumas and scares.
To be concluded......
Grieving at home after the loss of Owen was very hard work. Even my own mama couldn't comfort me. Not for lack of trying, but simply because I could not be consoled. This is when I met Clew through an internet loss support group and we became fast friends. It was helpful to me to be able to share with someone I connected with on many different levels. However, I'm not totally conviced that the support group helped me heal. Really, what it was, was a bunch of woman trying to conceive again after a loss. It was not hard to get caught up in the frenzy and I found myself wanting to be pregnant again right away.
By November it happened and I was ever so excited. At least I would be pregnant on Owen's due date, I told myself. Unfortunately, the excitment over this pregnancy was even shorter lived when I was rushed for emergency surgery in the middle of December. The pregnancy was ectopic and I lost my left fallopian tube. More anguish and more disappointment and more grieving for the first loss all over again. The doctor's told me that it was impossible for me to conceive again for several months, but I fooled 'em all when in January, I had another positive pregnancy test. And in January, I had another miscarriage.
Where are we? Oh yeah, 2002. March. Yet another pregnancy and another loss. I was quickly losing confidence in my body's ability to carry a pregnancy. And yes, I was a little obsessed with getting it to work. I was certain that a new baby would heal the hole in my broken heart. No one tell's you that your arms will physically ache when you give birth to a still born. No one tell's you that your milk will still come in 3 days after delivery. No one tells you that you'll hear phantom babies crying in the night. The need to have another baby for me was powerful. I craved it.
Then nothing happened. Months of trying only led to frustration and anger and timed-sex. It was not a fun existence. Finally, a test in October (because my doctor was retiring) showed that my right tube was also blocked now. IVF would be the only way to get pregnant. We went for it. In November I had another positive test, but days later, my blood work showed dropping numbers. Loss #5!
But again, we showed the doctors and conceived on our own the very next month. Again, God decided not to let us keep this baby. I miscarried in January 03.
Are you noticing a pattern? Can you guess what's next?
April 03 ~ pregnant. May 03 ~ not pregnant anymore.
We had test after test after test trying to figure out what was wrong. Finally, I found a doctor that made sense. He surmised that all of the pregnancies had most likely been ectopic but had resolved themselves. After an ultrasound, he determined that, yes, my tube was blocked and we would not be able to conceive on our own.
I guess I don't like being told I can't do something, because in June 03, I became pregnant again ~ without help. The bloodwork numbers were really good and we all held our breath with a little hope. In July, I was rushed to the hospital for another ectopic surgery where I lost my last tube and my 8th pregnancy.
This loss was a major turning point. I finally threw my arms up and said, "Fine God, have it Your way!" After only a few weeks, I didn't want to be pregnant anymore. I was finally happy with the way my life was. Did I even want a baby or did I just want Owen? Regardless, it was the end of the road for us.
Around Christmas, my husband started talking about alternatives such as IVF. I didn't know if I had the energy to get back on that wagon and I knew I didn't have it in me to lose any more babies. But by January he had convinced me and I started giving myself daily shots.
The retrieval part of the IVF was successful, but something went seriously wrong with my body and we were not able to do the second half of the cycle. The actually getting pregnant part. I wasn't even upset.
Turns out the next month, we were able to complete the cycle and two weeks later, another positive pregnancy test. An ultrasound confirmed we were having twins! First yay, then OMG! Twins?!?! When I started spotting a month later, I knew the pregnancy was over. Blood has never been a good sign for me. Sadly, we lost one baby, but miraculously, one was still alive. And it was the longest pregnancy in history with it's own traumas and scares.
To be concluded......
No Longer Under My Heart, But Forever In It
I really wasn't planning on posting this bit of information about myself just yet, but Bainwen set me to thinking about it and I don't think I'll be able to produce a worthy post until I get this off my chest. The following is only a portion of my saga. Part One if you will. It has to be told this way because it's the way I view it - in three different stages. Plus it will get unbelievable long and put everyone to sleep otherwise. Writing it down assuredly gaurantees me a bad day, but here goes:
LOSING OWEN
It was mine and my husbands first pregnancy together. We had wanted for years to start a family and were finally blessed with the wonderful news. The pregnancy was progressing as it should when shortly after the half-way mark, I started feeling less and less movement. We were on vacation in PA when I really started thinking there might be something wrong.
At the ob's office the next day, the doctor was not able to find a heartbeat and sent me to the hospital for an ultrasound. I went home and got my husband and we set out for the hospital. Of course, the waiting room took forever and I was on pins and needles the entire time.
Finally, after twisting and turning down many antiseptic-smelling hallways, I was wriggling my round body up onto an exam table. The technician readied her machine and placed the wand on my expanding belly and the image of our baby instantly appeared on the screen. It was a perfect profile shot with hands and all. Then she started methodically taking measurements of the placenta.
"I'll just take these back to the radiologist and he'll be back out to talk to you."
"Wait," I said, "Did you see a heartbeat?"
In the dimly lit ultrasound room, I saw a lone tear fall down her cheek and she shook her head sadly, "No".
My heart started racing and I began to sob. I literally didn't know what to do. Where do I go, what happens now, maybe you're wrong. Please, be wrong!
My doctor came in then and started explaining what would follow. He spoke of loss support and even when we could try to have another baby. No, no, no! I don't want another baby....I want this baby.
Then he told me that the baby had most likely been gone for a couple weeks and we needed to get him out as soon as possible or my life could be at risk because of possible infection. I went home first to....to....I don't know to what, I just didn't want to be at the hospital yet.
Eventually, my husband coaxed me into getting back in the car and driving to the hospital. I remember as I was walking through the door, that I thought, "the next time I come through this door, I won't be pregnant anymore."
At the hospital once again, there was an aura of confusion. I obviously looked pregnant, but not ready to deliver. The nursed didn't know what to do for me, until a nice woman came and took me by the arm leading me protectively to a birthing room. After a million questions and a lot of sympathetic pats, I was administered the labor inducing medicine.
It started working almost immediately but hours into it, my contractions stopped. Almost as if my body knew it was too early and was trying to right the wrong.
Another dose of medicine and contractions started up again - full force! I kept begging for an epidural ~ actually, I asked to be knocked out ~ but they kept telling me that I wasn't ready. I got up to go to the bathroom and I felt the baby coming.
We delivered his lifeless body by ourselves in the bathroom. For unkown reasons, there was a full length mirror in the bathroom and I remember looking at myself in it and seeing our broken dreams before us ~ a brief glimpse of our family and what could have been and then, a flurry of doctors and nurses. I was led back to bed while the baby was examined.
It was clear that his cord was twisted, cutting off his precious life supply. They handed his 3.5 lb, perfect body to me and it was undoubtedly, the hardest thing my heart ever had to accept. We were able to spend four hours with him ~ four hours meant to replace a lifetime.
When it was time to leave, I didn't want to go. I wanted to be as far away from that place as possible, but I didn't want to leave my baby there. The hospital gave me a special bouquet of flowers with a cherub placed snuggly inside. It was positioned as such, that you had to cradle it just like you would a baby. It's intent was to give the mom something to hold as she was wheeled from the hospital. I hated people's sympathetic stares.
Grieving through the funeral and after proved to be much harder than the actual birthing experience and that is explained further in installment 2. To be continued......
LOSING OWEN
It was mine and my husbands first pregnancy together. We had wanted for years to start a family and were finally blessed with the wonderful news. The pregnancy was progressing as it should when shortly after the half-way mark, I started feeling less and less movement. We were on vacation in PA when I really started thinking there might be something wrong.
At the ob's office the next day, the doctor was not able to find a heartbeat and sent me to the hospital for an ultrasound. I went home and got my husband and we set out for the hospital. Of course, the waiting room took forever and I was on pins and needles the entire time.
Finally, after twisting and turning down many antiseptic-smelling hallways, I was wriggling my round body up onto an exam table. The technician readied her machine and placed the wand on my expanding belly and the image of our baby instantly appeared on the screen. It was a perfect profile shot with hands and all. Then she started methodically taking measurements of the placenta.
"I'll just take these back to the radiologist and he'll be back out to talk to you."
"Wait," I said, "Did you see a heartbeat?"
In the dimly lit ultrasound room, I saw a lone tear fall down her cheek and she shook her head sadly, "No".
My heart started racing and I began to sob. I literally didn't know what to do. Where do I go, what happens now, maybe you're wrong. Please, be wrong!
My doctor came in then and started explaining what would follow. He spoke of loss support and even when we could try to have another baby. No, no, no! I don't want another baby....I want this baby.
Then he told me that the baby had most likely been gone for a couple weeks and we needed to get him out as soon as possible or my life could be at risk because of possible infection. I went home first to....to....I don't know to what, I just didn't want to be at the hospital yet.
Eventually, my husband coaxed me into getting back in the car and driving to the hospital. I remember as I was walking through the door, that I thought, "the next time I come through this door, I won't be pregnant anymore."
At the hospital once again, there was an aura of confusion. I obviously looked pregnant, but not ready to deliver. The nursed didn't know what to do for me, until a nice woman came and took me by the arm leading me protectively to a birthing room. After a million questions and a lot of sympathetic pats, I was administered the labor inducing medicine.
It started working almost immediately but hours into it, my contractions stopped. Almost as if my body knew it was too early and was trying to right the wrong.
Another dose of medicine and contractions started up again - full force! I kept begging for an epidural ~ actually, I asked to be knocked out ~ but they kept telling me that I wasn't ready. I got up to go to the bathroom and I felt the baby coming.
We delivered his lifeless body by ourselves in the bathroom. For unkown reasons, there was a full length mirror in the bathroom and I remember looking at myself in it and seeing our broken dreams before us ~ a brief glimpse of our family and what could have been and then, a flurry of doctors and nurses. I was led back to bed while the baby was examined.
It was clear that his cord was twisted, cutting off his precious life supply. They handed his 3.5 lb, perfect body to me and it was undoubtedly, the hardest thing my heart ever had to accept. We were able to spend four hours with him ~ four hours meant to replace a lifetime.
When it was time to leave, I didn't want to go. I wanted to be as far away from that place as possible, but I didn't want to leave my baby there. The hospital gave me a special bouquet of flowers with a cherub placed snuggly inside. It was positioned as such, that you had to cradle it just like you would a baby. It's intent was to give the mom something to hold as she was wheeled from the hospital. I hated people's sympathetic stares.
Grieving through the funeral and after proved to be much harder than the actual birthing experience and that is explained further in installment 2. To be continued......
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
A War Time Devotional
A picture in the New York Times, dated June 16, 1947.
Neeltje's 6th child, Jan's (John) family upon their immigration to the United States
Just a few weeks ago, my husbands side of the family had a family reunion. He has a HUGE family. Just my father-in-law alone has 13 brothers and sisters. They immigrated to the United States from the Netherlands, er~ the Ald Contlee, when he was 16 years old. Once here, his future wife's family would sponsor them until they could afford to live on their own.
My mother-in-law's family was originally from the Netherlands themselves. Her grandmother's name was Neeltje, prounouced Neecha, and she wrote letters to her children throughout the turbulent times of their country during World War II. She couldn't mail the letters because the postal service completely stopped for 5 years. Five years dragged by without any communication with many of her children. At the family reunion, this journal was photocopied and given to all the decendents. She wrote particularly, on her childrens' birthdates. I am sharing 3 entries here, all written on October 21.
October 21, 1942
~We live in terrible times. We can see clearly what a world is like that forsakes God. I better not write about it, you know more than we do.
It is terrible wet here. We didn't start the stove yet, because fuel is so scarce - it's all gone. Everything is taken from us. If we did not know and believe that God rules and everything happens according to His will, we would fear greatly.
All men from 18 to 45 years old now must enlist or register for Germany. Many have left already.
October 21, 1943
~We do not know if the war has brought you loss. What terrible times we are going through. Tonight again, heavy bombers in great numbers thundered across for a long time, and sometimes we hear an explosion and everything shakes. How long yet? We long for the end.
This summer we took in a wonderful crop; everything in abundance for us and our animals. But the occupation troops take everything away, also the cattle. So much has to be delivered to the Germans. From the little we have, we have give a thousand pounds of meat.
October 21, 1944
~A short time ago American parachutists came down in Gaasterland. A man told Jan (her 6th child, a son) that one of them said his grandmother lived in Drachten. Could that have been one of my grandchildren?!
We live on a busy highway and all we see are refugees carrying packs. All young men have to work for the defense of Germany, but many refuse and hide. Gerben (her 8th child, a son) has also left his family, but the Germans sometimes rob everything from those who refuse and burn the house. All traffic has stopped and there is hunger in the cities. They pay 100 guilders for a sac of potatoes and 4 guilders for a single pail of water. There is no fuel and electricity has been shut off. Great is the need.
Neeltje Holkema Aukema - January 10, 1870 - January 3, 1950
The inscription on her tombstone reads:
For we know that if this earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building with God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. 2 Corinthians 5:1
Can you even imagine the fear and sadness that the people of that time faced? 55 million people dead! 15 million military and 40 million civilians from bombings, massacres, migrations, epidemics and starvation.
What this brave women recorded to her children as a way of keeping close to them in her heart, has become a legacy for all generations to cherish and remember why we value freedom.
I wanted to post one more entry dated March 30, 1943 to show how bad was their experience.
March 30, 1943
~We do not know if we will still be here by the time the war ends. It is terrible. Heavy bombers fly over every night. Last week there was a dogfight in the air over us. Lots of machine gun fire. Not far from us some bullets went through the windows and straight through a baby's crib into the wallpaper. The child was not hurt.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Starbucks ~ Sentiments, ala mode
After a wasted day at the mall looking for my baby's 1st birthday present, I slid into Starbucks for a rich cup of relaxation. I ordered the Pumpkin Spiced Latte in honor of the season and was pleasantly surprised by the smooth taste. To my delight, there was an added bonus printed on the side of the cup.
Excuse me, WHAT?!?! In this so call word of freedom of speech, where kids can where obscenities on their t-shirts and people can sling racial slurs like mud, this company can't put a positive comment on their merchandise without a stupid disclaimer? I don't understand!
The Way I See It #32
All humans realize they are loved
when witnessing the dawn: early
morning is the triumph of good
over evil. Absolved by light we
decide to go on.
~Rufus Wainwright
I thought it was beautiful. I strolled through the mall (trying to remember what entrance I came in) enjoying the delight of both the latte and the uplifting quote. When I got back to the car, I read the cup once again. This time, I noticed the small print way at the bottom of the cup. It was a disclaimer from Starbucks - "This is the author's opinion, not necessarily that of Starbucks."
Excuse me, WHAT?!?! In this so call word of freedom of speech, where kids can where obscenities on their t-shirts and people can sling racial slurs like mud, this company can't put a positive comment on their merchandise without a stupid disclaimer? I don't understand!
The beauty of the quote, which had nothing to do with freedom of speech, was gone after reading the fine print. Why bother at all if you have to justify your position so some schmuck doesn't get offended that "humans realize they are loved when witnessing the dawn".
WHATEVER!
Monday, October 10, 2005
From My Office Window
Lies a dense forest (which incidentally, is my back yard) with towering maples, oaks and douglas firs stretching to the sky above, their tangled branches within becoming more visible every day. I watch gold and crimson leaves make their lazy decent to earth, twirling and floating on invisible currents. They land softly to join their kin on the sienna colored forest floor, where they will eventually rot under the winter snow. With the exception of the evergreens, the oak leaves are always the last to go, hanging on sometimes even after the first snow falls. Not ready to concede winter's victory just yet.
I'm reminded that many of these leaves, all different in shape and size and unique in their own design, are of the same species - the same tree even. Much like the human race. We are each uniquely individual designs that thrive together through one common God and will ultimately gather collectively in the winter of our lives.
I'd like to be an oak leaf in the forest of life.
I'm reminded that many of these leaves, all different in shape and size and unique in their own design, are of the same species - the same tree even. Much like the human race. We are each uniquely individual designs that thrive together through one common God and will ultimately gather collectively in the winter of our lives.
I'd like to be an oak leaf in the forest of life.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Not to be outdone by Clew....
This weekend was my turn to sit in urgent care. Not for me, but for my infant son, Drew.
We had just returned home from a day at the mall, dinner and grocery shopping and were busy putting things away. Drew was crawling around the kitchen floor and made his way into the pantry (a favorite place to play). He somehow got his little mitts on a V8 can and was shaking it vigorously when he popped his other hand with it. It hit so hard that it instantly split it open right through the fingernail and everything. There was blood everywhere and I freaked! The tip of the finger was open pretty wide and we couldn't stop the bleeding so we drove to the ER.
They didn't want to do stitches because they would have had to go through the fingernail so instead, glued and steri-stripped the wound, made a finger splint for him to wear, and bandaged him up to the shoulder with a wrap. He looked like he just had surgery.
He was very brave though and had the whole ER fawning over him. He kept holding up his finger and saying "ohh.....ohh". Which is his version of Uh Oh!
Unfortunately it must have been hurting him because he was up in the night - a lot! And by morning he had pulled most of his outer wrap off and pulled the splint and steri strips off and bled all over the place again. We doctored him up as best we could (which is a trife better than the ER) and he seems to be doing good.
He looks like a kitty cat with a lame paw.
We had just returned home from a day at the mall, dinner and grocery shopping and were busy putting things away. Drew was crawling around the kitchen floor and made his way into the pantry (a favorite place to play). He somehow got his little mitts on a V8 can and was shaking it vigorously when he popped his other hand with it. It hit so hard that it instantly split it open right through the fingernail and everything. There was blood everywhere and I freaked! The tip of the finger was open pretty wide and we couldn't stop the bleeding so we drove to the ER.
They didn't want to do stitches because they would have had to go through the fingernail so instead, glued and steri-stripped the wound, made a finger splint for him to wear, and bandaged him up to the shoulder with a wrap. He looked like he just had surgery.
He was very brave though and had the whole ER fawning over him. He kept holding up his finger and saying "ohh.....ohh". Which is his version of Uh Oh!
Unfortunately it must have been hurting him because he was up in the night - a lot! And by morning he had pulled most of his outer wrap off and pulled the splint and steri strips off and bled all over the place again. We doctored him up as best we could (which is a trife better than the ER) and he seems to be doing good.
He looks like a kitty cat with a lame paw.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Knees Don't Fail Me Now
Am I getting old, or what?
After sitting at the computer for not more than 15 minutes with my almost-one-year-old in my lap, I stood to go upstairs when my right knee collapsed beneath me. Without warning, it just gave out despositing me and said son onto the floor with a little yelp.
I've heard of this happening to other people - older people - but I never understood it. I mean, I knew what they were talking about but I really didn't see how it could be possible. How does a leg that was supporting you one minute, without any trauma, completely fail the next? Shouldn't there be some warning as to the impending disrupture? One would think so, but no.
I should think that my knee would be sore today, because frankly, it hurt like hell when it happened. But just as stealthily as the attack yesterday, it's as shockingly fine today - like nothing ever happened.
Could have done without that, thank you very much.
After sitting at the computer for not more than 15 minutes with my almost-one-year-old in my lap, I stood to go upstairs when my right knee collapsed beneath me. Without warning, it just gave out despositing me and said son onto the floor with a little yelp.
I've heard of this happening to other people - older people - but I never understood it. I mean, I knew what they were talking about but I really didn't see how it could be possible. How does a leg that was supporting you one minute, without any trauma, completely fail the next? Shouldn't there be some warning as to the impending disrupture? One would think so, but no.
I should think that my knee would be sore today, because frankly, it hurt like hell when it happened. But just as stealthily as the attack yesterday, it's as shockingly fine today - like nothing ever happened.
Could have done without that, thank you very much.
Friday, October 07, 2005
And Now a Bit of Humor
A vague melancholy aura has seemed to move secretly into my blog. While I knew that I would post the occasional depressing entry, I didn't mean for my site to take on that general description. In an attempt to lighten the mood around here, I've decided to share one of my most embarassing moments.
The year was 1984. I had just reached the epitome of a teenager's life. Freedom. My own license to drive. Except I had nowhere to drive on a bright fall, Saturday morning.
Wanting to take the care somewhere - anywhere, I talked my mom into letting me get the groceries for her. (A chore I despise as an adult.) She consented and painstakingly made a list of the items she needed in the order that I would encounter them in the store. Then she sent my younger brother with me, "just in case".
Things were going well. All of the groceries were exactly where she said they would be, in perfect order. We were half way through our list when we came to the end of aisle 5. The list directed us to the meat market at the back of the store where we were to buy a package of pork chops, a combination roast, and 2 pounds of ground beef from chuck. The instructions were so clear.
My brother and I proceded to the meat counter where I proudly (and loudly) asked if Chuck were in. The guy behind the stand said there was no Chuck that worked there. After glancing back at my list with a confused expression, all three of us caught on to what I was asking at the same time. My brother, being the supportive type, started laughing his a$$ off, while the color on my face morphed through all shades of the rainbow.
I don't even remember getting the rest of the groceries. Maybe we left the store. I just remember being horrified at my stupidness. Now it's funny, but to a 16 year old know-it-all it was a most sobering event.
The year was 1984. I had just reached the epitome of a teenager's life. Freedom. My own license to drive. Except I had nowhere to drive on a bright fall, Saturday morning.
Wanting to take the care somewhere - anywhere, I talked my mom into letting me get the groceries for her. (A chore I despise as an adult.) She consented and painstakingly made a list of the items she needed in the order that I would encounter them in the store. Then she sent my younger brother with me, "just in case".
Things were going well. All of the groceries were exactly where she said they would be, in perfect order. We were half way through our list when we came to the end of aisle 5. The list directed us to the meat market at the back of the store where we were to buy a package of pork chops, a combination roast, and 2 pounds of ground beef from chuck. The instructions were so clear.
My brother and I proceded to the meat counter where I proudly (and loudly) asked if Chuck were in. The guy behind the stand said there was no Chuck that worked there. After glancing back at my list with a confused expression, all three of us caught on to what I was asking at the same time. My brother, being the supportive type, started laughing his a$$ off, while the color on my face morphed through all shades of the rainbow.
I don't even remember getting the rest of the groceries. Maybe we left the store. I just remember being horrified at my stupidness. Now it's funny, but to a 16 year old know-it-all it was a most sobering event.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
A Bit of Nostalgia
Whatever age you are, there always seems to be a better one.
With all the discussion on olfactory triggers and past connections, and my almost nightly visits to the football field of my alma mater to watch my children cheerlead or play football, I've been feeling a bit nostalgic. Not in a longing-for-yesterday way, but more in a reflective aspect.
I found the following poem on "The Starlight Cafe's Poet's Forum", written by a man that posts under the name ProlificPoet.
Just a little memory song
With all the discussion on olfactory triggers and past connections, and my almost nightly visits to the football field of my alma mater to watch my children cheerlead or play football, I've been feeling a bit nostalgic. Not in a longing-for-yesterday way, but more in a reflective aspect.
I found the following poem on "The Starlight Cafe's Poet's Forum", written by a man that posts under the name ProlificPoet.
Just Yesterday
Just a little memory song
to reflect back on time
In those days of glory
and simple things were a crime
Yesterday….When butterflies floated
and bounced in the wind
And you knew you owned it
as you rode that whirlwind
Just Yesterday….Do you remember
your first love
Those beautiful moments
sent from above
Back in Yesterday….How the sun always shined
on your special playgrounds
Everybody was a friend
when you were around
Upon Yesterday….Can you recall
the first time you hurt
How bad was the pain
who brought the comfort
While visiting Yesterday….How about happiness
when it covered your face
About that smile
that came from Grace
Yes in Yesterday….Do you long
to go back then
Experience one more time
where there was no wind
Inside of Yesterday….Yesterdays and tomorrows
are ours to own
Presents from Him
when we are all alone
From Yesterdays….
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Mystery Olfactory Triggers
I sort of lifted the topic for this post off Tirithien's blog. Not really stole the idea, but rather had a memory awakened after reading that post. Tirithien was noting that certain smells (olfactory triggers) could mentally teleport him to another place and time.
I was reminded that, although I have many triggers that transport me to different places, there is one scent that remains a mystery. It happens very rarely, maybe once every two or three years. I don't recognize the smell as being a familiar one - nothing I can name like Pachouli or burnt popcorn, but invariably it reminds me of something. The eerie part is, I don't know what that something is. I just know unquestionably that it makes me feel good. It's like the memory is in the shadows and if I search hard enough I will find it, but I never do. The recollection is so comfortable and familiar but my mind refuses to encompass it. Maybe it's a portion of my life from infancy. A time when I was too young to place any cognitive connections with the event. If that's true, then it's amazing I remember anything at all, vividly or otherwise.
The rarity of the occasion doesn't aid in the solution either. Without the smell present, the imprint of the memory that is surely there is impossible to capture. It's been at least a couple years now since I've experienced this unique happening. Maybe I'm due.
I was reminded that, although I have many triggers that transport me to different places, there is one scent that remains a mystery. It happens very rarely, maybe once every two or three years. I don't recognize the smell as being a familiar one - nothing I can name like Pachouli or burnt popcorn, but invariably it reminds me of something. The eerie part is, I don't know what that something is. I just know unquestionably that it makes me feel good. It's like the memory is in the shadows and if I search hard enough I will find it, but I never do. The recollection is so comfortable and familiar but my mind refuses to encompass it. Maybe it's a portion of my life from infancy. A time when I was too young to place any cognitive connections with the event. If that's true, then it's amazing I remember anything at all, vividly or otherwise.
The rarity of the occasion doesn't aid in the solution either. Without the smell present, the imprint of the memory that is surely there is impossible to capture. It's been at least a couple years now since I've experienced this unique happening. Maybe I'm due.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Objects in the Rear View Mirror
Something happened very recently proving that feelings I thought were buried in the past, are closer to the surface than I speculated. I debated on how much to discuss in this post, deciding in the end to modestly mention the event rather than bore every one with all the impertinent details. The following song by "Meatloaf" has been flitting around in my head ever since and seemed appropriate enough to convey my general idea.
But it was long ago and it was far away,
oh god it seems so very far
And if life is just a highway,
then the soul is just a car
And objects in the rear view mirror
may appear closer than they are
And objects in the rear view mirror
may appear closer than they are
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Hello, pot? This is kettle.
Eating a grilled chicken wrap and a half order of fries with a so-called friend, she puts both elbows on the table, leans into me and says, "You know, those fries are going to kill you with all the grease they are cooked in - probably give you cancer or something." Then draws heavily on her Virginia Slim. WTF?!?!?
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