Chip should have been born this week.

I'm so conflicted on how I should feel about this. I'm certainly sad. I certainly haven't forgotten about him (or her)--but it's almost like I knew from the very beginning that the little beaner wasn't going to make it. But there was hope, for sure. But hope and hope lost, again. I never pictured myself making it all the way to 38 weeks, preparing the nursery, folding little onsies again. But maybe I just wouldn't let myself picture those things. It's hard for me to picture them with this one, too, even though this is a completely different kind of pregnancy. It's a more pregnant kind of pregnancy, which I'm thankful for. But am I able to imagine October? Not really.

To think about how different things would be right now, this week, is difficult. I think about that nearly empty bedroom we call "the nursery" when no one else is around. The one that only holds a few plants, a garage sale glider rocker and Nate's chest of drawers. How different it should look today.

I'm sorry, little one. I'm sorry that you never got a chance. You're not forgotten.

Ewwww.....

Guess who I ran into this weekend? My ex-boyfriend. I had neither seen nor talked to him since we broke up, let's see, three years ago? We were together for six years. Six! I totally wasted my twenties on this guy. Actually, for a long time we had a lot of fun. He was in a cool band. He knew lots of cool people. He was a DJ on a cool radio station here in town. So, you know, he was pretty fun to begin with. Then he started running. A lot. And not just 5Ks. He did marathons, 32 mile ultramax races, adventure races, Ironman stuff. He spent all of his money on bike gear and nipple guards and I'd end up with crap presents for my birthday like a computer generated coupon for a backrub or some such shit. Also, with all of this activity, I was eating more than he was and I was on Weight Watchers most of the time. He got so thin and began acting like an asshole constantly. I think that his brain was being eaten by his body.

So he sounds like a real catch, eh? I still started bugging him about getting married around four years into the thing. I was watching all, and I do mean ALL of my friends get married and started to panic. Finally, we ended up in therapy. Just one session, though. That's all it took for me to realize that I was being a complete needy idiot. He had no intention of ever marrying me and I wasn't going to waste one more day on this guy. The end.

So, three years later (last Saturday, specifically), standing in the bagel shop, I hear:

"Laura?"

I turn around and see a even thinner John, standing there looking like a scarecrow and I almost throw up on the floor. (Which I was going to anyway, if I didn't get my bagel soon.)

"Oh, hey!", I say fakely and give him a fake hug.

(small talk, small talk)

He looks at mid-section that I'm trying to disguise with a baggy Riverdance t-shirt.

"Are you having a baby?"

I guess by my third go at this, I'm looking more pregnant than I really am. I look down at my belly and say, "Oh yeah. I am. But I'm pregnant a lot, so we'll see. Heh, heh." Ack! Who says stuff like that? Way to be morbid, Laura. And then 'heh, heh?' I should have just told him, "No I am not pregnant. I am fat. You asshole."

"Oh, I heard about what happened last year. I'm sure sorry," he said.

"Thanks. It's been really hard."

And then more small talk where I discover that he's still doing the same boring, self-centered stuff that he's done forever and will probably be a very lonely old man, doing the same thing. I've known from the very beginning how lucky I am to have found Tom. I know that I griped about him a bit yesterday, but honestly I could fill volumes with testimonies on how wonderful he is. And when it comes to gift-giving, you could say that a coupon for free hugs is romantic and sweet and it's the thought that counts. But a Tiffany bracelet for Christmas is a whole hell of a lot better. Call me petty.

Thank you for all of the happy, happy comments! Things are fine here. Still pregnant, no spotting (which by this point I was spotting daily with Chip), taking two naps a day and the only things that I want to eat are pop tarts, waffles and Life cereal. It's the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions. Pretty much everything is grossing me out--in fact, there's some cat puke in my laundry room that's been there for an hour and a half. I need to put in a load of undies soon, and there's only so many times that I can step over that stuff. So, I'll get right on that.

I feel bad for my husband, he's hungry. But I think that in the past couple of days he's figured out that if he wants to eat something other than the previously listed items, he's gonna have to cook it himself. Also, my house is dirty. We had a huge fight about this on Sunday--but I think that it had something to do with the fact that we'd been watching How Clean is Your House on BBC and he likened our fridge to one on the show. This makes him sound like a total caveman, but I mean, shit, I'm home all day. My house should at least be clean. I'm tired though. I think after the Big Argument, he's understanding where I'm coming from a lot more. (Now, he reads this blog, so don't say anything mean.)

So, I've been kicked in the arse by Beth to write more, so I'm going to. I doubt very seriously that I'm going to talk about being pregnant much, at least for awhile. I'm tired, sick and I've got wicked gas--not much good reading there. I do have a couple of meme type posts to get caught up on, and I've got some other posts that have been kicking around in my head in the early morning hours. So, I'm going to try very hard to get back in the habit of writing. My problem is that I'm such a lurker. I never thought that I had anything very interesting to say.

I've got a worry that has been really bothering me, other than just the obvious worry of getting through the first trimester. Some of my family members and very good friends found out about this pregnancy through this blog. I feel bad about it. This time was just so weird though. I just couldn't bring myself to pick up the phone this time. I was happy to find out that I was pregnant again, but I'd say that excited wouldn't be the word for it. I just knew that as soon as I told people, I'd be calling them right back to tell them that I lost another one. I don't know. I'm so afraid that I've done irreversible damage to my friendships this past year. I've just been dealing with this the best way I know how, and obviously that's to pull away from everyone. I love my friends and I miss them. I just wanted to say that.

Okay, Okay, Okay. Geez.

I really was working on a good post, but then I got sidetracked when I decided that I just HAD to decorate my house for Easter. Good Christ, I had daffodills coming up but no bunnies in my house. What, what? Yeah, that's a lousy excuse. Anyway, after a really good OB appointment here is my news...

Third Time's the Charm??

It measured today at 8w2d with a heartbeat of 175. I'm sleeping or just gorked out in the recliner all the time, which may account for my lack of posts. Also, last week I puked!! Hooray, I feel like shit! I'm serious, this is good news. Remember last time, I was so freaked because I wasn't sick? Yeah.

I haven't said anything, because I didn't want to jinx myself. This time is really different--it's much scarier now. I had late pregnancy to worry about, and now I'm terrifed of this early part, too. I hold my breath everytime I go to the bathroom. BUT...I had a great appointment this morning and I get to have another ultrasound in two weeks. Hanging on to the positive!!

So there's my news. Ta da!

Holy Crap, I Suck

Oh man, I haven't written a word since last month. That is just inexcusable.

I just wanted to say hello to the nice people who are still checking in! And I promise that I'll write something good (or maybe not good, but something) tomorrow. I just don't know about what, though. It might be about pie or flowers or my weenie dog. Wow, I'm so uninspired lately. I've got major writer's block. Major, major, major.

Ummm.....I do have something to talk about, actually, but I'm going to sit on it for awhile longer. How's that for a tasty teaser?

Talk to you tomorrow....

Hi

Okay, well. Hmmm.

I seem to have been at a loss for words the past couple of weeks. I did this after my miscarriage, too, so I guess that it's something weird that I do. I just haven't known what to say about....anything. I told a bloggy friend this morning, I'm just feeling extremely "blah". No joie de vivre, as they say.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing now. It's like I've given myself that year to do whatever I needed to do...hole myself up, scream and cry, lose 50 pounds, gain a ton back, learn to sew, plant things, scream and cry, pull my hair, scan the obits for dead babies, have a pathological fear of Target and their fucking Lullaby Club, don't return phone calls, don't return emails, bitch at my husband, cry myself to sleep, cry myself awake and then wonder why I'm so goddamned lonely all the time. It boggles my mind that it's been a year. I've been crying for a year. I must be chronically dehydrated.

I've been thinking a lot since his birthday about this time last year. When we finally did go back to our place (we'd stayed with my mom for a few days) I sat at the kitchen table for like, a week. Hours and hours upon end. I am serious. I just sat there listening to the radio and knitting lace pillowcase inserts. Or I would just lay my head down on the table and bawl and scream uncontrollably. But I stayed in the kitchen. The mental pain was so mind numbingly horrible that it even overshadowed the physical pain of my c-section. I remember thinking, "What was everyone's problem with this? It doesn't hurt that bad."

So that's my thing right now. I don't know what to do with myself. All the "firsts" are gone and now every year is just going to blur into each other. His 2nd birthday and his 32nd birthday. Now what? I've turned into a very boring person. Hey, did I tell you that I saw the guy who does the weather on tv at the grocery store this morning? Yeah, that's all I got. I know that it is stupid to say, "Okay, it's been a year. Pull up your big girl panties and get on with things." That's what clueless people say. I guess that I'm afraid that it's been a year and I'm still having trouble functioning on a halfway decent level. When do I get excited about things again?

Nate's Portrait

Here is the portrait of Nate that my sister, Jessica, drew for us.

And here's a close-up so that you can see the detail.

I should have taken it out from behind the glass before I took the picture, so there's a reflection in the way a little bit. What do you think? Isn't it great? I have it up on the mantel and just can't stop looking at it. I love it so much, and particularly thankful for it after that Dear Abby letter today. 

Morning Paper

Did anyone read Dear Abby this morning? Here is the article.

I'm not sure how to feel about this. It makes me feel a little sick, mainly because the author keeps using the word "it. 'We have to look at it.' Is this child a boy or a girl, or did the author and her bitchy co-workers even ask? I probably wouldn't display a picture like this of Nate, just because I'm very selective of pictures that I show to people. It's my way of protecting him and if anyone ever recoiled in horror upon seeing a picture of my son, I would just die.

I just feel so badly for this woman with the baby. Because I know how she feels...you feel that motherly love for your child no matter what. You're proud of that child no matter what, but in this society you're not allowed to be proud with pictures. Yet again, something else that we've been gypped of. I mean, I know that I need to be sensitive. Having a baby that has died is such a part of my reality, that seeing a picture of one doesn't even faze me. I don't see "dead", I see the beauty of the child. However, if "old" Laura, especially "old pregnant" Laura had seen a picture like that, I think that it would have really upset me. I've been thinking lately what the old me would have thought coming across a blog like the one I have now. I know that I would have never thought that it was "yucky", but it would be so out of the scope of imagination for me--something that would be impossible to happen. Never in a million years. It blows my mind that now I feel like a baby to bring home would be nearly an impossibility to happen. I hate being that negative, but I think that it's fear more than negativity, honestly. But when it's all you know, it's all you know.

I know this discussion comes up a lot, but what do you think about this article?

Thank you so much. Thank you so much for thinking about me, for saying that my baby was beautiful. It helps my heart so much.

We made it through his first birthday and it was just like the "veterans" said, the leading up to the actual day was so, so much worse. I just wanted to lay down and die on January 30th--I just didn't think that I was going to make it, and I didn't want to. I was terrified to go to sleep that night and by the next morning, I knew why. Part of me actually believed that I was going to have to do it again: all of the trauma, all of the blood loss, surgery and very worst of all, the realization that my baby was unconscious in the NICU.

But I woke up.

And it was just morning. I was healthy, so much stronger than I was one year ago. No morphine, no blood, no horrible realization that my baby was sick. Just the peaceful feeling that I wanted to make this day nice for my son, for his memory. To spend the day with my husband and have a wonderful time together seemed like a perfect tribute to Nate, and I think it was.

Tom took the day off of work and I cancelled my music lessons for the day. We went to Home Depot to buy hardware for our new doors and then we bought a new orchid, something that I've decided to do every year on Nate's birthday. We cuddled together in the same recliner and watched tv. And we went to the cemetery. I had put together a little arrangement of daisies and little wooden cutouts of a train, a lion and an airplane that I had glued on dowels and stuck in among the flowers. We released some big, beautiful balloons that came with a huge flower arrangement from Tom's office. And we cried. It was so cold and snowing and the strong wind carried those balloons off fast--it was so hard to watch them disappear. But I think that we both felt good when we left.

That night I made a huge, cheesy lasagna and a chocolate and carmel cake. I opened the bottle of chianti that my mom had brought back from Florence and that I was saving for a special occasion. And it was good. Really good. The lasagna and the cake were pretty damn good, too.

And then today. Today is the day that we disconnected his life support. It was the day that I finally got it. He wasn't going to come out of this and he was already gone, really. I probably need to write about this, but I can't do it right now. Those days were so dark that I only remember them in black and white. Looking back, I have no idea how we made it through. Today, I'm going to stay busy, I think. I've got my baking class and then I'm going to pick up Nate's portrait. Maybe start painting Kaitlyn's bedroom. We've been in this house for like nine months and all of the walls are still white. I'm ready for some color in this place. I'm ready for some color in a lot of places.

One

Happy Birthday, Sweetpea. We love you so, so, so much.

Last

One year ago today...

The first day of my maternity leave.

The day that it was really sinking in that I was bringing you home and soon, too.

I finally finished your little apple hat on this day, a year ago.

How many more sleeps would it be until you were in my arms? Just one, as it would turn out.

I had that sleep and you were gone, your little body there, your sweet soul was not.

I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry that my body failed you, my beautiful boy.

Every minute of every day, I think of you. I never thought that I could love anyone as much as I do you.

My sweet boy.

Maybe?

Someone's been playing with my one-year-old nephew's toys.

My sister called a few minutes ago to ask if anything weird has been happening around my house. I said, yes, a couple of things have happened that could be weird or they could be the cat. She told me that Connor's electronic toys have been going off by themselves this week. Two in particular: a toy laptop and a driving simulator. The laptop is operated by touching the "mouse" and a picture comes up on the screen. The child then has to touch the matching picture on the keyboard and if it's correct, it makes a sound. She said that a picture of a train came up on the screen and a few seconds later, she heard the sound of a train coming from the toy. The little driving toy has been honking. Both of these toys don't make any noise when they are turned on or off. If that was the case, then the batteries just might be dying. Certain buttons have to be pushed for them to make noise--especially the laptop. Not only were buttons pushed, the correct button was pushed in order for the train to sound. I don't know. But it is interesting that this is happening during his birthday week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of birthdays...what did you do or what do you plan on doing for your child's first birthday? I'm going to make an floral arrangement for the cemetery and I'd like to release some balloons, but I would love to know some ways that others have celebrated their children.

Random Stuff

In my Quest to Stay Busy, I'm taking a class at the local technical college called Professional Baking. It's every Saturday for four weeks, four hours a day. This past Saturday was yeast breads and the one before that was quick breads--biscuits, muffins, scones, etc. I have never been able to make a decent biscuit--they always turn out like hockey pucks. I'm pleased to announce that it only took me 2 tries to make the Most Awesome Biscuits Ever. Tall and flakey and everything. I'm excited to beat out my frustrations on some yeast dough this week. This coming class will feature cookies and pies--I am very excited about this. If I don't smoke all those old ladies at the pie contest this summer after all of these classes, well, then I'm just going to have to hang up my apron. The point of this paragraph is--I think that I'm going to go to culinary school for real. Not just adult continuing ed. classes. This may involve me giving up teaching music. You heard it here first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who wants to hear more about my period? Nobody?......okay skip to the next paragraph then. I've been on my period for over 30 days now. This is very depressing to me and is also putting a bit of strain on the relationship with my husband if you know what I mean. Right now I think that I'm on my period for real, because it changed from just spotting at about 28 days after it started, so I'm hoping that it's actually going to stop this time. And this point of this paragraph is....even though my doctor told me that it was stress that was causing this menstrual bullshit, something that a very good friend told me actually put my mind at ease. She was in the Army and until very recently, did counterintelligence in Iraq. She told me that many women would have their periods the entire time that they were in Iraq or not have one at all. This implies that the impending first birthday of my dead child and the realization that my due date with Chip is quickly approaching might just be as stressful as facing roadside bombs and mortar attacks. I believe it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My little sister is doing a portrait of Nate and I'm so excited. She is an extremely talented artist and I could brag about her all day. She's also wicked smart--she's a pre-med student with plans on becoming an OB/GYN, mostly because of what happened with me and Nate. I haven't been able to put up any pictures in my house, other than one of his feet, and I think that I might be able to actually look at a drawn portrait of my son and not feel sadness. I never thought, though, that I'd ever give anyone a picture of my child to draw with the instructions, "Can you just make him look 'not dead'?" ~sigh~ I know that it will be beautiful, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think that the cold in my house killed most of my plants. However, my orchid was safe at my MIL's the whole time. I think that I'd just be like, "Oh well. Go buy new plants." But these were plants that were given to us after Tom's dad and Nate died. Peace lillies and stuff. I always feel extra guilty when funeral plants die. I'm never going to give anyone a plant for a funeral again. They're kind of a sad reminder and then you feel an extra obligation to keep them alive. You know?

It Sucks

Yesterday I didn't spend the day on the verge of tears or sobbing uncontrollably in the shower, like I did on Saturday, but I was just mean. I wanted to kick-bite-punch everyone in my sight. I decided that I needed a nap, but I didn't sleep. I just went to my bedroom, rolled up like a burrito in my comforter with only my nose and eyes showing and watched an hour and a half of stand up comedy.

Eventually I drug my only slightly-less-bitchy self out of the bedroom and joined the living in the family room.

Kaitlyn said, "Can I have a snack?"
I grumped back at her, "How can you possibly be hungry? We had a ginormous lunch."
"Well, I am."
"Okay, go for it."
She walks in to the kitchen, puts some Goldfish crackers on a saucer, comes back, hesitates in the doorway, stumbles and flings crackers all over the floor.
"Kaitlyn! You need to be more careful!"
"Oops. Can you get the vacuum for me?"
"No! Those are too big for the vacuum! Pick them up yourself!"
She moves her foot and crushes several crackers with her boot and Tom laughs and says,
"Ha, ha! She's crushing them with her shoe!"
Again, Kaitlyn asks me, "Can you get the vacuum for me?"
The top of my head is about to pop off.
"It's in the hall closet!!!!!!"

Kaitlyn goes to get the vacuum and comes around the corner with a brand new one!! One of those badass Dyson ones that don't lose suction and look like a racecar or a rocket ship or something. And yes, I'm such a dork that I get excited about vacuums, especially this one--I've wanted one forever. So, they had planned the whole thing and snuck off to Home Depot while I was being cranky in my bedroom. I think that Kaitlyn is quite the little actress. I played with it right away and was facinated and also disgusted to see that even though I had just vacuumed that afternoon with the old one, the Dyson picked up a dust/dirt/hairball the size of my head. I am serious. I love my new vacuum.

From the frozen tundra she emerges....

Hi! Here I am!

I'm okay--relatively unfrozen. Thanks for checking on me, guys :) We got power back a few days ago and I've been a complete turd and not updating my blog or catching up with everyone. I've just been running around saying, "Wheee!" and "Hooray!" and baking and cooking and using my dishwasher, washer/dryer and vacuum with reckless abandon. (Which coincidently, I was just talking my husband into buying me a new vacuum. I just ran it and the whole house smells like ass over dog now. I changed the bag and everything.)

Speaking of dogs, all mine are fine. Henry is absolutely over the moon to be home, Shirley was probably less than pleased to leave Camp Weenie Dog, but she seems to have warmed up to us again, and the cat is pissed that we're all home period.

So, I promise to write a decent entry tomorrow. I had a really hard time yesterday...a Nate milestone...but today's a little better. I'm just trying to stay really busy.

Still no power, still no power, still no power. Shit. All of the newer neighborhoods with their cute, little trees and underground utilites have power. I just had to have the old house with the big trees. Goddammit. My animals are spread out all over town: Shirley is at a neighbor's with a generator and three other weenie dogs having weenie dog fun. Henry (my beagle) is at my mom's--also with no power, but warmer than our house is currently. I dressed him in a doggie hooded velour jacket that is too small. He is a fatso and looks like a before picture for diet pills. Beverly the cat is still at the cold house, running around all batshitty and becoming feral. We're still at the MIL's and I'm so thankful for her and her hospitality and the fact that she's awesome and not one of those MIL's, but I really, really miss my house and tomorrow it's going to be a week since we lost power and they're saying that it might be another 10 effing days! ~sigh~ Anyway...that's my craptastic update. I am cranky.

This was in our newspaper yesterday. It's not my street, but it looks identical to it--I had to really look carefully to see that it wasn't.

We are refugees at my mother-in-law's house, one of the few (very few) homes where I live that have power. The governor has declared our city and the surrounding towns in a state of emergency and the National Guard had been deployed. (You really dodged a bullet with this one, huh, Michelle?)

We lost power on Friday night. We hardly slept at all listening to the huge trees up and down our street moan from the weight of the ice, crack like a gunshot and then with the sound of a pane of glass, shatter on the ground. Every one sounded like it landed right on our house, so every 15 minutes we'd sit straight up in bed and look through the blinds of the windows right behind our headboard to see that it was actually across the street. When one fell close enough hit the gutters, we knew it. Oh man. By the second night we realized that it was kind of stupid to sleep with our heads pointed at a window which was directly in line with a gigantic oak tree, and we slept in another bedroom. Oh, my poor trees. I love our trees so much, the two huge oak trees where the first thing that I noticed when we looked at the house. Now they are trashed.

My town looks like a tornado ripped through it. Whole trees and limbs everywhere, utility poles snapped like twigs, electric lines down across streets and yards. There is a eerie feeling to the city--everything so covered in ice and silent except for the constant crack, shatter of the trees. Without the sun shining, everything looks like it's in black and white. Traffic signals and street lights are out and when night comes, it's pitch black. Gas stations have run out of gas and of course, all of the crooks have come to town in their 18-wheelers, selling generators and camping equipment out of the back for two and three times the price. My neighbor actually bought one of their $900 generators. The utility people say that we may not have power until the end of the week, and with sub-zero temps, there are practically riots when Lo.we's or Hom.e De.pot get in a shipment of generators.

After two nights in our frigid house and a nasty bout of stomach flu on my part (Great timing. Thank goodness we had water to flush the toilet) ,we decided that it wasn't an adventure anymore and gave up. So, we packed up some stuff for a few days, grabbed Nate's box and came here. I'm so thankful that we had some place to go--the shelters in town are filled to capacity. We are really, really lucky. Tom is checking on the house right now. So far, we've just had some gutter damage but I'm so terrified that our big tree is going to come down on our little house. I've seen it happen to others this weekend--this place is a demilitarize zone. Unbelievable. I have some pictures of our street and house, but they'll have to wait until we've got power again. It's going to take a long, long time to recover from this, but the important thing right now is that we're safe and warm and I've stopped barfing. Thank goodness.

Yes I'm Serious. And Don't Call Me Shirley.

Meet Shirley!

She's the new member of our family. Shirley is a mini doxie and very tiny--about 7.5 pounds.

This is where Beverly hangs out now that Shirley has joined us: on top of the cabinets in my pie basket.

This is where Shirley hangs out. She loves her Dad.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Natey's orchid bloomed again. I can't believe that I've kept this orchid alive for almost a year! I was getting pretty discouraged, but I hung in there, watering and feeding a stick in a pot on my kitchen windowsill for most of the summer and all of the fall. But what a reward!

Oh, I love orchids.

Catherine's Tarot Test

Yikes...Well, I did just put up new curtains in the family room.

You are The Empress

Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.

The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents,
beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home
decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.

The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born. This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love. Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, then sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can, in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.