more birthday news

Wyatt’s birthday ended up being great. I had a little boo-hoo toward the end of the day, but mostly it was just a great day of hangin’ with Hubby and Pup and being together. We did some errands, which sounds horribly un-birthday, but they kept us busy. We also went on a hike, seeing a rattlesnake, which is quite exciting and also kept us busy in a different way. Hubs made a deeelicious homemade cake, we put a big “1” candle on, lit, and sang happy birthday around. That was a little sad, but then we ate the cake which helped to make up for it. One Wyatt birthday down, only every other one for the rest of my life to go…

Today is MY birthday. I’d rather have a poopy baby’s birthday to celebrate, but whatever. I actually had a much bigger cry today than I did on Wyatt’s big day. It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to, right? Only I didn’t really have a party. I did get a massage, go out to breakfast, have a good doctor’s appointment, watch a movie on the couch, and diddle around relaxing and doing whatever I wanted. So that’s good. And of course we made new cake, which always helps. It killed my last year’s birthday, if that matters to you. 

About that doctor’s appointment: we set an induction date. If Nugget BabyHood2 doesn’t come before August 4^th we are going to go in there and get it on out. I can’t wait to find out if it’s a boy or a girl; saying “it” is getting kind of creepy. Oh, and I can’t wait to see a living newborn squiggle onto my chest, hear a living newborn’s cries, look into a newborn’s—my newborn’s—open, confused eyes, and hopefully bring one home. It’s going to be so hard, but it’s going to be so amazing. Extra amazing because of Wyatt. I’ll keep you posted. 

while I don't really care, I wouldn't be
sad if my newborn baby was as cute as this one

Friends rule!

We just had a ten day visit “back East” to visit family and friends and I already wish I could do it again. I love my friends. I love my family too, but we can talk about them some other time. My real friends are amazing. They look at my new belly and smile but don’t make weird comments about it or look at it sneakily like I would scold them for doing so. They know they can partake in my new life. My real friends acknowledge how hard this must be for me, even if they really have no clue because they haven’t been there themselves. They ask how I’m doing and I know they mean in my heart, not in my uterus. Or if they mean my uterus then I can tell the difference because they make it clear. They want to see photos of Wyatt and tell me how excited they are for another Josephine baby. They don’t say things like “oh, I know you’re going to be fine this time” because that is not true nor does it make me feel better. They ask questions excitedly. They give good hugs. I am glad for my friends and I hope Nugget gets some just like them someday, although I’m not sure how anyone could be so lucky. 

and who doesn't love triplet bear cubs
in their parents' backyard?

Mother's Day

What a drag.

The past few weeks have been Mother’s Day this and Mother’s Day that. Every store has some giant poster in the window, every restaurant and spa is offering some deal, everyone is worried they won’t do their mom justice with whatever gift they decide to give. I was more nervous about making it through the day then I actually had trouble once it was here because of this commercial mayhem. Silly build-up.

Unfortunately, in the frenzy, some mothers get forgotten. And some "motherless" children too—they’re sad too, don't forget them. Well, screw that. Happy Mother’s Day to ME. I got sunburned on a snowy hike with my brother, Hubby, and dog, had a Shirley temple while watching some basketball playoff game in a bar, ate gross nachos, and watched a few episodes of Jersey Shore. Maybe nobody was here to give me a present, but maybe someday there will be. That will have to be enough for now. 

The [dreaded] shower

I’m supposed to be a glowing, basketball-bellied, excited mama to be. I’m supposed to be giddy and giggling and have ants in my pants about the unknown. I’m supposed to complain about how much weight I’m gaining, worrying about stretch marks and pooping on the delivery table (some baby magazine said that was the #1 concern of 64% of expectant mothers in one poll!) and oh, how annoying it is to be pregnant. I would say I’m about 50% those things and 50% completely different things. Being pregnant for 7 months and giving birth to a perfect little boy who just happened to not be alive will do that to you next time around I suppose. In fact, 50% might be pretty good, all things considered!

So, I may be wary, nervous, and feel at times like an absolute worry wort (wart?). I may have sad memories and awful predictions as compared to other lucky, naïve moms-to-be. I may get mad that I have to think this way. But one real kicker, really kicking me when I’m down, is: the baby shower. The dreaded shower. Really. Oy. What could be more awful than sitting around with a bunch of ladies, drinking tea, eating decadent snacks, having people fawn all over you, and opening baby presents?

 If it doesn’t sound that bad it’s because it’s not. I mean, people love showers. Especially the people who throw them. So I feel terrible warning people they better not try to throw me a shower—or else. Capital ELSE. I couldn’t take it. I can hardly stand it anyway, being anti-social and uncomfortable in groups, but celebrating something I don’t even have yet seems to be asking for a big slap in the face. And what if I have to pack those presents away because Baby#2 can’t use ‘em? What if I have all these cute photos from the shower and I just end up wanting to rip them to shreds to erase the memories? It’s so totally unfair that this is my point of view, but it is. Alas. I can’t do it. I will have to eat bonbons and buy things by myself. The real pain though is that I feel guilty. People want to throw me a party. They want to buy presents. They want to be a part of this difficult time in my life. Those are not bad things. And I have to push them away and say no. It’s terrible. But this Average Josephine is bucking tradition for the sake of her sanity. You can send me a present later, ok?

Oh, shopping

 Girls are supposed to love shopping, right? Well, for me, especially now, not so much. But online shopping—or at least online window shopping (what’s that called?)—has become a wonderful tool in my “subsequent” pregnancy.  If I get excited about looking for something, I can just do it. I mean, that’s the whole point of online shopping anyway, but for most people it’s the simple convenience factor of remaining on the couch that’s the draw, not the fear factor that’s the repellent (I suppose for some people it’s both). I can shop for baby and mama stuff without having to see smiley, happy, oblivious pregnant people everywhere I go who remind me what it should feel like and how sad it is I can’t feel that way.  Or I can at least online “shop” without buying anything so when I do go into a store I know exactly what I want and I can get out of there ASAP (for the same aforementioned reasons).

Now, we’re pretty conservative in what we think is important to have before Nugget comes (we don’t have any money anyway), but I still want to try to be a normal pregnant lady and have a little fun spending cash and dreaming about cute little clothes and fun , frivolous nursery decorations. The Internet is where I get to be that lady. I’ve braved myself into a few stores, but mostly at curious times of day when they’re not busy and I have errands to run so I can’t stay long regardless of what I find. You don’t have to be brave to type in some web address and look around! Actually buying stuff has become a little easier as time passes…but I’m still holding off on the big purchases. I just can’t do it yet. Sometimes I feel lucky we hadn’t done much shopping for Wyatt—there wasn’t too much stuff to seal away in the attic. But sometimes that makes me sad because he don’t have much we can call “his” and therefore hand-me-down to whatever little creature comes out. So mostly I’m just in a non-buying limbo, thinking about fun stuff we can get ready at some undetermined time in the future. At least it’s good for the bank account!

ps. this is only a dream image of Average

Josephine braving the world of cute onesies 

and other fun, unnecessary things

April Fool's!

We played a neat trick on our team today and I was afraid we wouldn’t get to pull it off. A couple of them were quite excited for the day of pranks so we knew it would have to be tricky. That’s why, at our game, we got the referees involved. Before each game, the girls have to pass a “stick check” that ensures their stick is legal; if it’s not they can adjust it, so it’s not actually that big a deal, it’s just annoying. We asked the refs to say they were all illegal (usually 0 or 1 stick is) and they thought it was the best idea ever. Because they are referees, none of the girls dared to question the decisions, even though they thought it was quite bizarre and unbelievable and watched them do the check which, of course, seemed legal as usual. About halfway through the team, the refs started laughing and had to spill the secret and it was ha-larious. The team thought it was a good one, although one girl is still mad about it. Ha!

April Fool’s Day got me thinking about other pranks, tricks, and superstitions. For example, I am looking at flights and had a panic attack when one of my options was Friday the 13^th. I promptly dismissed traveling that day, even though I first thought about how dumb that is (and it could potentially be the best flight and price). I guess I’m not going to take any chances this time around…why take the risk? I mean, some places won’t even have a 13^th floor because it’s apparently so bad for you. Go figure.  

Planning ahead...or not

Merriam Webster says the future is: 1: that is to be, 2: of or relating to a time yet to come, 3: existing or occurring at a later time. Well, I agree—how can you argue the dictionary—but I am having trouble picturing the future of me and my Nugget. I’m enjoying the diaper shopping, don’t get me wrong, but it’s still a foreign idea that some little person is going to get to use said diapers. I don’t really think I took pregnancy for granted last time, but I sure didn’t think I would spend 7 months pregnant and not get a kid out of it. Geez. So my near-sightedness makes sense, it’s just not cool. People allow pregnant ladies to complain, so I am.

At the same time, I feel that familiar curiosity about what the heck is going on in my body; what kind of thing is nature going to throw our way? I know it’s human, since we’ve seen it on ultrasound. I know it’s okay, so far, so that’s good. But what kind of person will it be? Who will it look like? Will it have all its parts? What kind of private parts? What’s its name going to be? Will it even make it out alive? Is it then going to have colic? Is it going to slack off in school? The worry is never going to end. So maybe, for the sake of not stressing out,  it’s better to accept some of my inability to look ahead and enjoy the ignorance. 

Plenty of dumdums have successfully raised children, right? Eek!

it's a new month

I have to admit I extra-enjoy ripping off calendar pages these days. Throwing February in the recycling bin was a fun activity that gave me a puff of courage: one more month down, one less to brave ahead. I have nothing against February of course; it’s just the months between now and my due date in general that I’m not so keen on. Plus, our lacrosse games start in March (tomorrow in fact) and that means I can actually see how I’m doing at my job and how the heck we hold up under pressure and in real competition, so that’s a bonus. Also, it means I will be extra busy and I’m hoping that means the time flies by. We’ll see.

It’s funny how sometimes life seems to go so slowly or so quickly and you can’t even be sure why it changes or what makes the difference. I’d like to see some psychology studies on that. Since November I’ve definitely felt the days dragging, yet turned around and suddenly found it three weeks later than I thought it was. While I’m not rushing through the days, I highly enjoy when they’ve passed and
I’ve still got a baby on board (obviously). As hard as I try to avoid the
morbid thoughts, they sometimes hit me. It’s usually when I’m tired,

p.s. check out this crazy pillow for the knocked-up

which makes me cranky and hormonal anyway, and I just can’t help but wonder if everything’s okay at the same time as wishing I wasn’t in this situation. I had a baby 7 months ago…but I don’t have a 7 month old baby. It’s so unfair! I just want to punch stuff. 

But mostly I’m good at remaining positive—

as long as I get enough sleep I’m fairly optimistic. 

Note to potential dads out there: let your woman sleep! 

Gentle...

My nipples are killing me! Why can’t that part wait until there’s a crazy kid latched on, sucking the life out of me? Ugh.  This hasn’t really happened to me before, but I have read and heard it’s a normal part of the ol’ pregnancy hormone cocktail. That means I’m not worried, but why can’t said cocktail just make me feel drunk instead of give me nipple pain? Someone could get really rich working that idea. Alcoholics, hear me out.

My boobs feel fine, and I still am embarrassed to report they are no bigger than usual. I can’t complain about saving money by not having to buy bras and it’s great being able to workout without giant mama-knockers in my way, but it feels like random pinches and a constant subtle electricity current running through. Certain fabrics might start a fire. I could rev a dead car battery with these babies. Ridiculous.

Everything else is going well, however, so life is good. Wyatt’s sibling has begun kicking me and I’m in a good mental place. Can’t worry too much about the random nipple-caused wildfire if everything else is just peachy. 

Just a funny cartoon

This is just a cute cartoon I came across. Silly girls get it so rough. 

So far I haven't had to cry on the scale. In fact, I'm not sure any pregnant lady should even consider being upset about her weight gain. Maybe that's because I haven't gained any weight yet, and last time it was "right on target," as they said. We'll see what I think after the next visit though. At least my pants still fit...

Dreams: Part 1

I have heard this before, and I experienced it a little in my last pregnancy: pregnant women have weird dreams. I’m talking about everything from flirting with old boyfriends to random sci-fi, mad scientist style adventures. I’m no psychologist, but I can guarantee that many of my recent dreams have to do with my concern that this time will turn out like last time (i.e. sad baby dreams). Many, many of them make absolutely no sense though (i.e. what is my 10^th grade biology group doing here?). If I could write a book about my dreams, actually sit down after each one and outline what happened so I could fill out the story on paper, I would instantly be on the New York Times Bestseller list. That is not an exaggeration. Maybe I should do that. In today’s Dreams: Part 1, I will share some of the weird baby dreams I have been having. It amazes me that I have yet to dream about babies dying, and that I haven’t woken up sad from any of these dreams, but something about them is so surreal and weird I guess I just know they aren’t scary and realistic.

The first baby dream I had was a long time ago, maybe even like a month ago, just a couple weeks after I found out I was “expecting.” I went to go pee and something weird was, like, sticking out of my you-know. I couldn’t tell what it was, and I know you aren’t supposed to pull stuff out of there (well, maybe tampons), so I sat back on the toilet and waited. After a few minutes I felt something sort of move around a slide out, and this crazy, dried up, crusty thing was just there in my hand. It is so hard to explain. It was sort of like a mummified cat you see in Ancient Egypt museum exhibits. There was a crispy, yellowed umbilical cord sticking out to the left, which makes sense I guess, and the mummy didn’t look like a baby, especially not a human baby, but I figured it was something like that. I don’t know where I put it, but I didn’t feel sad or bad about it, I just put in a maxi-pad in case I started bleeding and I went on with my day. Weird!

Last night I had another good one worth sharing. There have been a few in between, but this one is fresh in my mind. We were out somewhere with our friends who have a 3 year old and a six-month old who was born a week before Wyatt. I think we were at the rodeo because we went there last Sunday. Anyway, I was in charge of the stroller with the baby in it. This baby was not the chubby six-month old; I mean, it was him, but it was like a mini-grown-up-version, like a gnome or something, and he kept getting away! He would somehow get out of the seatbelt thingy, and then somehow leap out of the stroller, and then somehow careen down the hallway until he bumped into something and then I could capture him because he was stunned and writhing on the floor. Man, it was frustrating. Then, suddenly, I was pushing a double-stroller with both kids in it, and we were going down a slope, and I flipped the stroller on its front, and when I picked it up the baby went flying. It was like a cannon shot him 15 feet away (the three year old was just laughing, strapped into place). So his dad was like “Oh my God!,” and I wondered why he was still letting me push them, and he ran over and picked up the baby by one arm and he was just dangling there flopping around by his arm with his big baby bobblehead. What the?!

I have so many more to share, and I am sure I will collect even more as time passes; I’ll be sure to relay the good ones. Some good ones will be exhibited in Dreams: Part 2, which will discuss sexy dreams I have had. 

The perils of secrecy

We had to tell our families about Baby #2 between weeks 7 and 8 because they came out to the mountains for the holidays and it would have been SO obvious. Have you read my ode to wine? Yeah, that’s why. But I would have preferred to wait a few more weeks, maybe until 10 and 11for them and another few weeks for everyone else? I don’t know why. Maybe because that’s when we shared last time? After the first ultrasound it was too damn exciting to keep just between Hubby and me; this time I need the support anyway. Squealing to our parents was majorly emotional—for me as much as them—and every time I think of people being excited for us, I get anxious. I’m not a big center-of-attention person (duh) and all those people being happy just freaks me out. Having to share the news about Baby Wyatt’s death was like rubbing stagnant, dirty ocean salt in a ridiculously gross, old, National Geographic science/medicine article (with pictures) wound. I know I should believe I won’t have to do that again…but it’s damn hard.

That’s not the point though. The point is that we are waiting to tell people but finding many perils to said secrecy. I had to tell one of my besties a really long time ago because we share some tough, real things and this should be one of them. Then I had to tell another good friend because she was sooo great to me after Wyatt died; she sent me literally 100 funny emails on October 14^th, his due date, when I feared the worst for myself. Also, she’s pregnant—about five weeks ahead of me—and told me right away so I wanted to return the favor and have someone to freak out with. Then, Hubby told someone over email by accident when he thought he emailed the ultrasound photo to his mum and dad, but really it was to his mum and a friend. Oops! Then I told two of my other buddies because I had this urge to do so; I thought maybe staggering the announcements would help, and they’re so far away and I miss them and want them to be there through it. Then my cousin moved to Guatemala and started a travel blog, and I became one of her “followers,” so I’m pretty sure she’s gonna find out the next time she logs on and researches who the hell Average Josephine is…the list goes on. Add to it the fact that I completely do not trust Hubby’s mother, no father, to keep a secret and we’ll have absolutely three people left to tell when we finally make “the announcement.” Maybe if these accidents keep happening it will be easier to do? Oy it’s stressful. Three weeks until the next doctor’s appointment and said “announcement.” You can do this Average Joey, you can do this.

ps. here is a sweet, accurate drawing of a week 10 fetus.
I think it looks just like me.

bye bye 2010!

I can hardly believe 2011 starts tomorrow. It’s been 5 ½ months since we lost little baby Wyatt—how did that happen? Sometimes the time just flies; sometimes it drags ass. Looking out at the cold, windy street I can hardly remember how hot the summer was it seems so long ago…but when I was sitting in the apartment in July, sweating and having hot flashes, trying to get comfortable with a big ol’ belly, it surely felt like the days and days of heated misery would never end. Then, when Wyatt died, I thought time would never pass, the new year would never come, my pain would never subside.

But looking back on it, how the hell did I make it this far without him so quickly? I’m awesome! Hubby and I can seriously do anything after this! Isn’t time funny? Not really. I still want that damn time machine for fast-forwarding purposes.

Happy new year to all angel babies and babies-in-waiting alike! (and everybody else too, of course).

Enjoy your midnight booze-fueled-Snooki-ball-dropping party while I am in my fourth hour of sleep!

Hammer Time

Apparently, in Hubby’s family, Christmas Eve is Hammer Time. I’m not talking about MCHammer and his magical pants. I am talking about BoozeFest of the year. And for Hubby’s family, that means a lot. Let’s just say I’ve seen them all mixed-taped on more than one occasion. Since we have previously split Christmas Eve and Christmas between families, spending the Eve with mine, I had only heard of said Christmas Eve debauchery; I just had no idea how intense it really was. A tradition started by the neighbors, whom Hubby’s family visits every December 24^th, involves Aquavit and pickled herring. If you can think of anything grosser, you win. This wonderful family tradition usually entails teetotaling mother-in-law driving everyone the 100 yards home and some points of blacking out by many. In the case of 2010, when our families combined, things got even better.

Combining families can be stressful, and stress can cause, well, drinking, especially in people who a) drink a lot anyway and/or b) often self-medicate with booze because of awkwardness and random bursts of enjoying extreme drunkenness. Plus, it’s the holidays (When else can people drink if not during the holidays? They just spent their year’s paycheck buying crap for otherpeople, they deserve it). If a 12 pack, four bottles of wine, free-flowing scotch and vodka, and two (or more?) rounds of Aquavit among six drinking people is not enough to make us all comfortable together, then I don’t know what would ever work. But I can tell you what happened here, from the eyes of someone who was Fetus-Friendly among boozehounds: The same two people spilled two beers and an enormous glass (aka bowl) of red wine, all on white-ish carpeting; More than two people slurred their speech during the Yankee Swap, which was not even the last event of the night; There was at least one red-faced tackle during said Yankee Swap; This tackler confessed to booting for half an hour upon arriving home, which I find magical; Father- in- law stole at least five fondue meats from my dad, who finally had to say something in order to get any of the evening’s meal (did you know fondue sets are smart and make it so you can tell whose little stick-guy is whose? Well, they do); people actually ate the pickled herring, which obviously is due to being inebriated. This is just a sampling of drunken activities I witnessed. And I have so many weeks before I can participate in this type of activity…That’s okay though, really.

Wanted: Time Travel Creator

So, I know I’ve discussed Doc Brown and the amazing DeLorean before, but really, can’t someone please invent time travel? What’s so hard about it? You can clone some random person’s dog, if they pay you enough, but you can’t help me skip ahead 30 weeks in my own simple life? That movie’s gotta be at least 25 years old too; there must be some leads we could have been following all this time. It’s a major disappointment that something so many people want just can’t be created. I mean, someone followed through on the hoverboard, right?

I know most people would go back in time to change something, to make their lives better, to save themselves from something stupid or to keep that girl, maybe to experience their senior year of college again, but me, I’d whip off my pregnancy (maybe after going back to senior year), fast-forward, skip ahead, whatever you want to call it. If I had the option to black out until I go into labor I would seriously consider it. Revving a DeLorean to 88mph would be more fun, but I would really look at any option.

If I had a science degree, or understood anything about physics, I would find a lab somewhere and get to work. I guess for now I’ll be making Christmas cards and sleeping as much as possible.

sisters in law and show and tells

I’ve been thinking about when I will tell people about this pregnancy. I suppose I could call it a baby…but I just called it a pregnancy instead so, hmm. No need to overly psychoanalyze that one. Anyway, I’m definitely closed until I see the heartbeat, and that’s not for a god forsaken 12 more days (hopefully!). Parents and brothers can find out then. Last time we told people around 11 weeks after we had seen the first pictures; it was too exciting to hold in! This time, I’m torn between sharing early so we can all be happy while it lasts and keeping it completely secret until someone just calls me out on wearing maternity pants so I don’t have to talk about it. Hubby wants to tell his boss ASAP to make him feel better about having his own baby, but I’m still going to need to be convinced on that one. I don’t see why he can’t wait a while like everybody else, and I don’t think we need to worry about making him feel any better. (Hubby’s so much nicer than I am). Boss’s already sending us ultrasound photos (no joke) and I don’t need him any more shary-shary than that.

Mostly I figure I don’t need to tell people until they’re going to find out just by looking at me. And that’s how sister-in-law (SIL) found out yesterday. Cripes, I’m not even 6 weeks “along!”I’m not sure if she was just really curious and pushed the subject or if she actually thought I was pregnant but she certainly weasled it out of me. Here’s how it went: SIL is two years older than me and dying to have a baby. Problem is, she’s in school and has to convince her husband. With graduation a mere 6 months away she’s got her eyes on the prize and literally talks about making babies all the time. Not in front of the boys, just with me. And, she admitted, with one other friend. She wants to try some crazy natural family planning method, which the

other friend uses, but I am trying to convince her to stay on birth control because there’s just no telling that one little slip won’t make a baby. I don’t think she would be too sad about an accident, but that’s not the point. The point is she started asking me about a thermometer in the bathroom and if I was using it for basal body temperature taking, which has to do with charting ovulation, etc., etc. Then she talked about missing Wyatt for Christmas, her natural-family-planning friend’s miscarriage, how she can’t wait to make a baby, and on and on about charting fertility, blah, blah, blah. I pretty much blacked out wiping the counters down so many times out of nervousness. I realized after I washed my hands the sixth time that my face felt beet red and I couldn’t turn around without telling her the truth. So I did. And I got the biggest hug ever and some tears of happiness. She claims we had a sparkle in our eyes, but it was probably gas on my part. I just hope I don’t have to tell anyone else until we get some good news from that scientific wonder we call ultrasound.

Still there, phew

So far, every morning I go pee and simultaneously check for any signs of blood. Morbid, right? But I can’t help it. Every little twingy cramp, every time I feel “off,” every time I read something scary, my first wonder is if I’m not pregnant anymore. So many pregnancies end in miscarriage, and then, as we’ve learned, so many end after that, I just can’t get in into my head that this is real yet. I want to believe, and I even made Hubby buy me some baby stuff for Christmas (although it was really just this week and I won’t be putting it under the tree), but it’s hard to be convinced of it yet. I suppose that’s normal for someone who’s been burned like me, so I guess I don’t feel badly about it, but still, it stinks. I almost chickened out of blogging my good news for fear of jinxing myself. I’m really not even superstitious*.

You know what though? It’s exciting, and I feel like people will be psyched to hear the news (although I might just wait until the birth announcement to tell people so there’s no chance I’ll have to “untell” because man did was that terrible). They want us to be happy, and they know we want a baby, so they probably assume a new baby will make us happy. Transitive property and all. I just hope they don’t forget this one is Baby #2 and we all still need extra hugs for Baby #1, that little nugget Wyatt. I hope my uterus is one sticky, nutritious bitch this time!

*In my last post I had to use a different pregnancy test image from before, just in case. So I guess I am superstitious. Whatever.

Now what?

We went back East for a quick visit based around a memorial service, the one for my friend’s mom. It was amazing; I only hope my friend agrees. The service was beautiful, happy, and promising. There were approximately one million people there. It was a gorgeous day. They hosted a busy, smiley, cozy party at their house afterward and a beautiful candle-lit walk that the mama used to do with her dog every night. We had a sleepover with a bunch of friends and a great hike capped off by lunch all together. I just really can’t explain how nice it was. My only problem, and my friend expressed this a little bit too, is: now what?

After people leave, after a little bit of time has passed, after you spend so much time trying to memorialize someone, find the perfect urn, write the perfect note, etc., now what? Life goes on all around you. Except the one life you just want so much, you miss so much. It feels like a different world almost, like something is constantly missing. And you have your good moments, where you can tell a happy story and laugh about your loved one, look at the photo album and smile, but mostly it feels foreign. Like you just can’t put your finger on what’s missing in your daily life. Obviously you know what it is, and other people do too, and it doesn’t hurt as much as time goes on, but it’s just a void. So, if you have any advice, let me know: now what?

Double whammy

One of my bestest friend’s mum died yesterday. She had a long, brave battle with the evil Brain Cancer. She was a warrior, and I’m talking Xena Warrior Princess, Brad Pitt in Troy kind of warrior. It’s just so sad. Why do we have to lose good people? Babies who didn’t even get to meet anyone, moms who are amazing? It’s a lesson in a lot of things, and a lesson nobody should have to learn. Why don’t they just try to teach us this crap in school and forget the “real-life” aspect of it? I mean, I know half the kids wouldn’t do their homework, but that seems worth it to me. So they don’t get an A in that class, big deal.

I’m feeling sad for my friend, for her family, for her mom…and yesterday on top of that I couldn’t stop thinking about Baby Wyatt too. It was like another round of smacks in the face. I was shedding tears for more than one person, and that is not a fair or fun situation. I never thought much about Heaven before, Dog Heaven maybe, but now I can’t stop thinking about how I hope there is a Heaven, and I hope the people there get to do whatever they want and be their best, happiest, shiniest selves. And I hope all the people I know in Heaven get to meet each other and see why they mean so much to me and how awesome they truly are. When I’m really sad I try to think of that and make myself believe that they’re having a good time, even if they miss us too.

praise be, October is ending

I know I’ve done some bitching about October in the past, so I would really like to celebrate its closing with a bang. I haven’t come up with any Earth-shattering post to create said bang, but would that I could. (I bet you thought I was going to apologize to October for hating it, didn’t you. Fat chance). I can’t imagine an October that doesn’t involve missing Baby Wyatt like crazy. I can’t imagine much of the future like that anyway, but I think October will be especially sucky. At least we can remember his birthday as something good—who doesn’t like cake and ice cream, or for those gluten-free relatives screwing with my gene pool, ice cream cake—with a party and presents (for me, probably). Plus, July is basically when everyone in my family is born anyway so it makes perfect sense to throw in yet another day of celebration and just keep that train rollin’. Additionally, I was finally cleared for health insurance and I think—think—I’m ready to “try again.” Boy, do I hate calling it that. It sounds like last time was an Epic Fail (http://failblog.org/), which, as you know, does not suit my competitive drive. It just sounds sad. Well, I guess it is sad. To celebrate the end of October, I’m going skiing. Take that!