My Brother, My Nephew, and the Cruelty of September

I can't remember the last time I blogged, but I initially stopped writing because I could feel the distinct pang of melancholy knocking on my heart.  In looking at the dates on the calendar, I was sad to realize that it was rapidly approaching the date marking one year since my beloved brother had unexpectedly died at 41-years of age.  The puzzle that is my family was made incomplete that day because a piece will always be missing. . .this side of Heaven, my parents will never have their son and my sister & I will never have our brother.

His death was unnaturally natural.  His aorta dissected in several places.  That is, his aorta split apart and he bled to death.  It's painful, very rare, and usually fatal before the hospital can even be reached.  My brother was unique in that he worked at a hospital and he was able to hit the OR fairly quickly.  Unfortunately, no surgeon on this planet could have possibly repaired such extensive damage fast enough to save my brother's life. 

He died.  He kissed his wife goodbye that morning, went to work, and never came home.  A seemingly healthy man had his life cut short.

I found his death far more difficult to recover from than any other I'd known.  Yes, losing him was even harder than any other loss - harder than seeing my grandfather die right in front of my eyes, harder than thinking of babies I'll never be able to hold in my arms here on Earth, harder than losing my best friend to the ravages of a cruel disease, harder than losing my grandmother when she seemed perfectly fine the last time I saw her.

I still sometimes feel like something is missing and it hits me that it's not something, it's someone.  Someone who I had always had in my life, someone who I had every reason to expect that I'd have in my life for another couple of decades.  My brother.

September 7th came and went.  It wasn't nearly as trying as I thought it would be and I credit the babe in my womb for keeping me from sinking down as far as I would have otherwise.  One year had passed; that crucial year of healing that everyone needs to go through after suffering catastrophic loss.  I could begin to breathe easier, knowing that so much healing that occurred in this year and would continue to occur as time continued marching forward.  I had such unbelievable naivete.

* * *

I was lounging in bed with my 3-year old watching morning cartoons when I received a phone call from a number I didn't recognize on Saturday, September 10th.  I missed the call and almost ignored the voicemail notification because I was tired and snuggling with my son was preferable to writing down a message.  My curiosity is what motivated me to check the message.  I figured that it would be a wrong number. 

I was wrong.

I didn't even recognize the voice, let alone understand the message the first time I listened.  It was a tearful message and my ear finally picked up the name of one of my brother's daughters and that she'd been trying to reach my parents.  I thought that perhaps she was in some sort of trouble and I immediately returned the call. 

When I got an outbound voicemail message, I really began to worry about her.  Why was she crying?  Why was she trying to reach my parents?  Why wasn't she able to get the phone?

My son began to pick up on my agitation and I was able to get him to return to my bedroom to watch some more television while I pondered my next move.  Should I call my parents?  Go to their house?  Try to contact someone who might know what was going on with my niece?

The phone rang and I snatched it up.  It was my niece's cousin and I could hear her tears and my niece's in the background.  My niece came to the phone and the world that had finally felt righted was knocked off-balance once again.

She told me that her youngest brother had died in his sleep.  Suddenly very aware of my pulse pounding, I swallowed hard and chewed on my tongue to keep from crying out.  She was still talking and I was trying to follow her words though my mind was racing. 

The same kid who I had blogged about here had died?  The cousin who my son still asks about at least once or twice every single week wasn't living?  The young man with such a winning personality, sharp wit, and kind heart was dead?

My brother's four children are remarkably good kids, but I had to ask if this was some sort of sick joke.  I didn't want to believe it.  I still don't.  I already knew the answer and was crying when she confirmed that her 17-year old brother had died in his sleep and that her younger sister had found him.

I vaguely recall telling her that I'd go to my parents to tell them the news.  They'd received the news that their only son was dead over the phone and I could not let them learn of their grandson's death in the same way.  She apologized for having to tell me over the phone - see what I mean about being good kids - and I hope she knows that I didn't mean for her to take it like that.  I just felt that it would be easier for my parents if they could possibly be told in person so that I could lovingly hold them while delivering such devastatingly unwelcome news.

I called my husband home.  I'm not sure exactly what I told him.  I may have just blurted it out or I may have just asked him to come home.  All I can remember for sure is that I began to get dizzy and I was having trouble catching my breath.  It reminded me of what happened before my husband called the ambulance when I lost my baby in January and I forced myself to sit down to try to relax. 

I put my head in my hands and began sobbing.  The only thing that prevented me from completely melting down was my son standing next to me, innocently asking, "Are you okay, Mama?  Mommy!"  I wiped my face, hugged him, and said it was time to get dressed.

To keep myself in check, I began doing the most mundane tasks.  I put away some laundry.  I paid some bills.  I was doing anything I could to stay busy and not focus on what my niece had reported.

We took my son to hang out with my in-laws and set out to see my parents.  I kept telling my husband that I don't know how to tell them this and I don't want to tell them this and I don't want this to even be true.  I still don't want this to be true.

My father's first thought when he saw us walking up by ourselves was that something had happened to our son.  He immediately dismissed the thought because he rightfully deduced that I would have been unable to walk if anything had happened to my boy.  But he knew something was wrong.  And he was right.  Something is so very wrong.

I asked him to sit down and he would not so I put my arms around him and told him the horrible news as I hugged him.  I could have lived my entire life without ever again seeing such pained shock and disbelief on my father's face.  He finally said that he'd go up and tell my mother.  Yet again, I could have lived my entire life without ever again hearing my mother's anguished cries.  After my brother's death, I never thought I'd see my parents in such a wounded state.  I was wrong.

* * *

My nephew came out to visit California for two weeks this Summer.  I am so thankful for that for a number of reasons.  Though my parents and I had the opportunity to develop strong bonds with his four children when my brother was stationed in San Diego for a few years, things were dramatically different once his wife divorced him.  I've often referred to divorce as "the atomic option" and it really is because the fallout injures everyone.  As is almost always the case, children are the biggest casualties of divorce.  In this case, the relationships were part of the fallout.  It was wonderful to see that the little joker I remembered had grown to become such a fantastically good hearted kid.

My husband and I had him stay over at our house for a few days while he was here.  I felt bad that most of my house is packed up and it's really empty at the moment, but he didn't complain or even seem to care.  It was hotter than the blazes, but we took him to the standard touristy LA & Hollywood stuff.  Hubs and I made it a point to take him dining around the world and the cuisine we hit included Japanese, Vietnamese, and Mexican.  I chuckle at thought of he and my husband looking like twin Godzillas stomping around in Little Tokyo.  Mostly, I'll cherish the memories of the mornings. . .my son would wake early and come to my room to sit on my bed and watch cartoons so as not to disturb the slumber of his cousin.  When my nephew would wake, he'd wander in, sit on the bed with us, and start joking around with my son.  It was so perfectly normal and comfortable. . .like he was always there and always would be.

Family or not, I might feel a little uncomfortable about a 6'3" guy sitting on the bed, but my mind couldn't help but think of him as the little boy he used to be.  The same little boy who lit up with joy when he discovered that one could not only make fart sounds with their armpit, but somehow also with the back the knee.  The same little boy who maniacally jumped up and down with his brother the year one of them received a CD of "Who Let the Dogs Out."  The same little boy grew to only become a young man before his own life ended and he joined his father in shockingly early death.  The same little boy only lived one year and three days after his father died.

* * *

Brian Rushing was young, only just turned 17-years old, but he had the confidence of a grown man.  He was bright, witty, and charming.  I don't think I've ever known such a young man who was so very comfortable in his own skin.  He knew who he was and he was cool with that because he liked himself. 

He liked watching the news and he was a great conversationalist.  He was able to discuss politics and current events as easily as sports and the current music scene.  Since his visit out here, my husband and I have often remarked that adults would actually like teenagers if every teenager was like him. 

My young son didn't just love his Cousin Brian, he ADORED him.  In only two weeks, my son grew incredibly attached.  He wailed and sobbed on the way home the night that we said goodbye to Brian.  I asked him if he wanted to send his Cousin Brian a special video message before Brian flew home and he did. My son's final line in that message holds a particular poignancy now. 

I hate that Brian's brother and sisters now have to know the unrelenting ache of his loss.  I hate that these three kids have to feel the hurt of losing a sibling because that's a pain I wouldn't wish on anyone.  More than hating the hurt that I feel at Brian's passing, I hate that I'm going to have to break my son's heart by telling him that he'll never see his Cousin Brian again.  I hate that none of us will. . .

Fallacies and Falsehoods on Facebook

I like politics and I like healthy debate.  However, I try my very best to avoid political discussions on my friends' Facebook walls.  I don't steer clear because I am uninformed or because I can't get my point across (some may well say that I'm a little too pointed), but I generally try to restrain myself from participating because it has become abundantly clear to me that political Facebook statuses are meant to become a circle jerk of like-minded believers.  That is, dissent is not usually appreciated or tolerated. 

Why not participate?  I mean, we are all adults and we should be quite aware that the entire world doesn't share our viewpoints.  Besides, learning about and hearing other ideas and thoughts is one of the ways that we achieve personal growth as individuals.  In an ideal world, both preceeding statements would be true.  In the real world, we appear to be stuck in obstinate toddlerhood when it comes to politics - we want to oppose, but we can't truly handle opposition from anyone else.

Put simply I try to avoid commenting on these statuses because, at best, I alienate a friend.  At worst, I end up learning that a friend is too cowardly to let their thoughts (and others') remain and they make active use of their delete button.  I've already blogged about how I feel about trying to erase thoughts as it relates to blogging and I feel the same about people, friends or otherwise, doing it on Facebook.  It doesn't mean that I won't be friends with them any longer because I'm an adult and I accept my friends as they are, perceived flaws and all, but it is disappointing when it happens.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't care if someone is so narrow-minded that they can't handle reading a difference of opinion.  I certainly do care when someone who I care about is off-the-charts judgemental and mean-spirited toward those with different political persuasions.  Those "different" people would be those who share my political thoughts and ideals.  I have to say that I even find it hurtful to some extent because engaging in and condoning name calling against "those" people is the same as doing it to me.  Get it?  What is said about "them" is being said about me.

I don't exactly wear my heart on my sleeve so, my personal feelings aside, I'm more disturbed when I see that someone I care about is whole-heartedly approving outright fallacies and falsehoods.  Seeing a friend spreading and applauding fallacious arguments and outright falsehoods feels like it did when you found out that a friend was behind the vicious rumors about you in high school and it's very much the same thing your Facebook friend is doing now.  "I don't get her or her way of thinking so she must be fill-in-the-blank."  I've actually seen that "blank" filled in with words not based on any facts, but solely designed to incite a violent reaction (verbal or otherwise):  racist, misogynistic, @sshole, stupid, unpatriotic, Rethuglican, Dumbicrat, etc. 

I respectfully submit that it's intentionally ignorant to ascribe a negative name toward someone when you aren't even interested in hearing why they believe the way they do.  This childish name calling is essentially the internet way of putting your hands over your ears and saying, "la, la, la - I can't hear you!"  Even worse is that it's not that they can't hear, it's that they won't hear and there is a huge difference between the two.  Who knows, maybe they have been so conditioned to have an "us vs them" mentality that they really can't hear.  If that's the case, I find it profoundly sad that they've been so brainwashed to have tunnel thoughts. . .like tunnel vision, but infinitely more detrimental.

I have written some controversial blog posts.  I have shared some controversial content on Facebook.  I have sometimes stirred up an entire hornet's nest of venomous activity.  One thing I haven't done, and will not do, is talk sh*t about friends who think differently than I do.  And I surely will not be chickensh*t about it and phrase poisonous ideas about "those" people.  It's not about "you," it's about "them!"  Yeah, keep telling yourself that and perhaps someone will eventually believe it.

Another thing I won't do is delete comments that aren't in perfect lockstep with my own thoughts.  See, I may be an unpatriotic, racist, misogynistic @sshole (all that would be news to me and, I hope, to those who know me - well, except the @sshole part!), but I am not a coward and I am not afraid of people who think differently than I do.  As one who loves freedom, I sure as heck am not willing to censor other people who are flexing their own freedom to share their thoughts.

I love Facebook because it's a great tool to keep in touch with people who I don't often see or have an opportunity to chat with, but sometimes I can really do without the things I learn about friends and family.  Of course, the flip side is that those friends and family members are probably thinking the same thing about me.

How to Help and How to Annoy a New Mother

Whether you have had one child or a dozen and whether you physically birthed the child or not, life with a brand new baby can be hectic for at least a period of time.  A dear friend of mine had a baby recently and I found myself remembering the exhausting newborn days.  A few things stand out to me about that time and here are the things that I found to be the good, the bad, and the ugly of early parenthood.

The Good
- My husband took nearly a full week off of work to be with me.  That was sooo helpful because I couldn't even lift the baby in the first few days and having him there was a great comfort to me.
- Between my husband and my MIL, I never changed even one dirty diaper in my son's first week of life.  I didn't see even one meconium-filled diaper and don't feel that I missed out on anything!
- Friends and family brought us dinners every day for nearly two full weeks.  I can't stress enough how much those meals were welcomed and appreciated when I didn't have the energy to cook and couldn't even manage my way around the kitchen. 
- A lactation consultant who seemed really interested in helping me establish an awesome breastfeeding relationship by helping me work on getting a good latch.  This was in contrast to the first LC I saw while still in the hospital.
- The friend who volunteered to watch our son when he was a couple months old so that we could go to dinner.  I still find it difficult to leave my son with a sitter who he doesn't know and it was incredibly kind that this friend offered because hubs & I definitely needed the time to reconnect at that point.


The Bad
- People who suggested that I stop struggling with breastfeeding and just go with a bottle of formula.  It is no one's business how any mother chooses to feed her child.  Period.  So STFU about it unless you are asked for your opinion or advice.
- People who suddenly developed opinions on my dietary choices. . .and I lost my pregnancy weight by my post-partum checkup!  Yeah, I gained that weight right back (and then some!) once my son was weaned, but it was gone for a period of time.  A woman's doctor is just about the only one who can voice concern about her weight.  If you aren't her personal physician, you just sound like a jerk.
- People who give unrequested advice.  OMFG, this one gripes me!  It's unbelievable how many people try to undermine a new mother's authority over her own child.  The worst was when my husband would be given some choice nugget and he'd take it back to me because then it felt like my husband was being used against me.
- People who expected their dishes back within some unknown timeframe and badger the mother about them.  It is very kind to bring meals to a new mother, but it is very stressful if you call every day to inquire about getting back your dishes.  It's even more stressful if the mother has had a c/s and can't even freaking drive yet!  Drop off meals in dishes that you don't need back right away (or dishes that are disposable) or don't bother.
- People who try to scare you about your new baby by indicating that something completely normal and expected is abnormal and unexpected.  New babies generally do not sleep through the night, new babies do go through a peak fussy period, new babies do experience growth spurts in which they nurse significantly more than they did the week previously, and newborns tend to spit up a bit.

The Ugly
- People who stopped by unannounced and wanted to see the baby.  When a new mother is walking around nearly topless and totally sleep deprived 24/7, this is not an appreciated visit and her ability to shoot the breeze is impossibly impaired.
- People who stayed for what seemed like forever.  When you're operating on two total hours of sleep in a 24-hour period, an hour-long visit is just too long and it's time that could be used for napping.
-  People who are uptight about Thank You notes.  Look, I am kind of obsessive about writing out thank yous and I do it the day that I receive a gift so if you didn't receive one from me at some point, it was most likely lost in the mail (or I held it because I usually see you in person).  But I wouldn't dream of acting like a snarky witch if a new mother hasn't found the time to write a stupid thank you note.  Seriously, is the recipient going to frame it or something?
- People who have the nerve to ask when you're going to clean and do housework.  WTF?!  I swear that my response will be, "as soon as you can help me," if I am ever asked such a ridiculously rude question ever again.
- People who question your parental choices.  I ordinarily have pretty thick skin and can take criticism fairly well, but not when I'm in the midst of the post-partum hormone crash.  I think that these people have no idea how lousy they made me feel when I was at my most vulnerable.

What are your top tips for helping out a new mother?  Do you have any early motherhood horror stories?

A Whole You is the Best Gift to Your Child

A good friend and I had a deep conversation around five months ago.  She mentioned that her therapist said that a whole you is the best gift to give to your child.  A whole you is the best gift to give your child. 

I've been pondering this comment ever since we had the conversation. I have several thoughts and opinions on the matter (shocking, right?), but I'm interested in reading what other people think. 

What do you think it means to be the "whole you?"  Do you think the "whole you" is the best gift you can give your child?  Why or why not?  Do you feel like you're being the "whole you?"  Why or why not?  How do you keep your self "whole?'

I'm Baaaack! (and possibly grosser than ever)

Guess who's back?  I took a looong overdue vacation and gave my blog a break at the same time.  Now it's time to shield your kiddo's eyes from your monitor because this blog is back up & running.

I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to go on this trip since I've been on a travel restriction once this pregnancy began.  My doctor made it clear than car travel would not terminate this pregnancy, but since the pregnancy did begin with a solid month of experiencing a majorly bloody mess, he recommended staying close to home so I could see him right away if further problems arose.  Considering that I've had spotting after the initial daily bleeding stopped, it seems like it was prudent to follow his advice.

I saw my doctor on the 1st and we not only heard our sweet baby's heartbeat via doppler (I never tire of hearing that sound!), but we also were given the auditory treat of several jarring THWAP! sounds.  Yes, that would be my baby kicking the heck out of me.  I wouldn't have thought it possible, but this baby seems even more active than my son was in the womb.  I might end up with internal bruises by the time 40-weeks rolls around!

The doctor gave a tepid green light to our travel plans so we set out after leaving his office.  My husband was in the office with me and I'm glad I had his interpretation of what the doctor actually said versus what I thought I heard or I may not have gone.  I really have a bad way of not hearing anything that a doctor says, any doctor, and it really is helpful to have hubs' ears help me out.

I should add that, much to our dismay, my pelvic rest has been ordered to continue.  I don't think I've mentioned it in this blog, but I haven't been allowed to have sex since I got a positive pregnancy test and I bled for over a month afterward.  I guess my pelvis must need further rest because I've had additional episodes of spotting in the last two weeks (I also did it for several days on vacation), but it really is getting old to not be allowed to sex up my husband.  Heck, it was already old once the initial bleeding stopped and I was up for some action.  Never let it be said that I don't sacrifice for my children, right?

I've been resting my pelvis according to the doctor's orders, but I find that I have scant spotting after I have an orgasm.  No, I'm not getting a little self-love on the side.  I'm embarrassed to admit that I've actually been awakened out of a sound sleep from the spasms of an O.  Yes, really.  Apparently all this pelvic rest is causing my body to behave like an unsatisfied teenaged boy and I'm getting my orgasms wherever I can. . .even if it's only from dreams.

Other than a couple of tearful hormone-fueled meltdowns in front of my family (I'm oh-so-classy, eh?), I had a great trip and feel somewhat refreshed.  I only feel somewhat refreshed because I'm actually more fatigued now than I was just a couple of short weeks ago.  I can't figure out what the problem is other than I did follow my doctor's orders and discontinued taking the progesterone suppositories (I weaned off vs going cold turkey, for those who are interested) while I was on vacation.  So the upside is that my vadge is no longer a constantly drippy suppository-filled mess, but the downside is that I want to sleep all the time.

I've spent months feeling constantly wet down below, courtesy of the progesterone suppositories, and I was looking forward to finally being able to wear panties without a pad to catch the, uh, drippings.  It is nice to not wear a pad, but I've discovered that my ladyparts are still a bit on the moist side.  I don't know if I'm constantly feeling this sensation because I'm chronically horny of if pregnancy-induced leukorrhea has finally made an appearance.  Actually, it could have been there all along for all I know and the melting suppositories just masked what was naturally occurring.  It is an uncomfortable feeling, particularly with my history of bleeding and spotting, and sometimes I'm not sure what I might find when I wipe.  Honestly though, as long as it isn't pink or red, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm over 14-weeks now and, though I've gained less than five pounds, I am inexplicably showing.  This makes absolutely zero sense to me and fills me with particular dread because ALL of my maternity clothes are packed and gone.  The few clothes that I still have in the house will have to last for another couple of months or I'll have to drag my old bones out to the store and do a bit of shopping before too long - bleh!

Prayers for a Friend & Her Baby

I'm soliciting prayers tonight for a dear friend who some readers know very well.  She's one of the wonderful ladies who watched my son when I had to leave him to go to New Jersey last year for my brother's funeral.  She not only volunteered to watch my rambunctious lil' guy, but she also sent a delicious supper home with him that night so my hubs didn't have to worry about food prep.  I might also add that she works from home and has children of her own!  I often think that SuperMom's secret identity has been revealed when I see her making it all work while maintaining her sanity and good humor.

She's a little less than four-weeks from her estimated due date and she's been monitored in the hospital while on bedrest for the last several days.  Her amniotic fluid levels are a bit lower than expected and there is concern that her placenta shows a lot of calcification.  Adding to her worries is that she has Gestational Diabetes and they are having trouble keeping her blood sugar stabilized each evening.  Thankfully, her baby isn't showing any signs of distress.

She's understandably upset and missing her family.  The entire family is lovely and she has such a genuinely kind heart.  Her last blog post illustrated her fears and sadness, leaving me in tears over the entire situation.

Please join me in praying for her physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health during this trying time.  Ask for blessings on the sweet little babe still in her womb.  Lift her entire family up in prayer as this separation and uncertainty is so very hard on them.  God hears our prayers and remember that supplication will bless your own heart too.

Prayers for a Dear Friend

Last week I blogged about a friend who had just lost her mother.  I'm saddened to hear that she lost her father today.  I can't imagine how she must ache, how her entire family must hurt.

I believe in prayer and I have been praying for my friend every day.  At the height of my own grief, immediately after my brother's death and my baby's death, there were days that I couldn't bring myself to pray.  I wanted to, it's just that I couldn't bring myself to do it.  I didn't feel angry with God, I just felt spiritually dull and dry (broken, really), but I know that I was being prayed for by friends and family members.  I'm convinced that those prayers are what kept me going and what helped lift the heavy fog of depression that was beginning to descend.

Christians may grieve differently than some, the promise of eternal life with Him is a great comfort, but they do still grieve.  Even Jesus wept for Lazarus. . .before He restored him.  Her parents are gone from this earthly life, but they have been restored; reunited with Christ and with each other.

My loving Lord carried me through my darkest hours and I'm know that He's with her too.

The Christmas Letter - II

Here is the Christmas letter I never sent out last year.  No photos, of course, unless you'd like to see some awesome pics of our family.  Let me know if you'd like to see some pics and I'll send them via e-mail. . .I have an entire year of my lil' guy and his super-cute photos.

* * *

"We ended 2009 full of promise and hope, sure that 2010 would be our year.  Sometimes life just doesn't work out the way we expect.  This year has been wildly difficult and, as a result, this Christmas letter is far more somber than one I'd normally write.

Where to begin?  For starters, it's important to say that Bill, Heather, & (our son) are all enjoying good health at the moment.  Our family is together and healthy and that is really the most important thing in life and it's what we are most thankful for every year, but especially this year.

We've attended eight funerals this year; we lost close friends, Bill's last grandparent, and, most painfully, we suffered the loss of Heather's only brother who died unexpectedly at age 41.  One of Heather's family members endured six surgeries this year and very nearly passed away on two different occasions.  There is a particular type of turmoil on two fronts that has been on-going since early this year and there is little chance for a rapid resolution. 

It might sound like this has been a terrible year for our family.  And, yes, it has been very difficult at times.  Our faith has been challenged often in 2010.  But these challenges have only served to push us closer to God, to lean on Him, and seek comfort in the shelter of His loving arms.  I find it hard to say that I'm thankful for the pain that we've suffered this year, but I am thankful that I can always fall on my knees in prayer when I can't possibly stand on my own two feet - and 2010 brought many days just like that.

Our little (our son) is 2 1/2-years old now and, if we do say so ourselves, he is so smart and adorable.  He was fully potty trained just before his second birthday and he transitioned out of the crib soon after to help curb night time accidents.  His verbal communication isn't always clear, but he has a lot to say and he's become quite the chatterbox.  Of course, being a typical toddler, some days are better than others.  Most days are a joy and Heather stays busy taking him to playdates, pre-pre-school, and other activities with friends.

We are very happy to announce that (our son) will get a sibling next year.  Yes, after 19-months of trying, Heather is eight-weeks pregnant.  This baby has already brought us such happiness and we're eager to meet the final member of our family next August.  (We lost this baby in the first trimester. . . )

If I've learned anything in this year, it's that life is fleeting.  We might not see you as often as we would like, and some of you we haven't seen even once this year, but we still do care about you and want you in our lives.  In the end, nothing else matters except the love we have for and demonstrate toward each other.

We end 2010 full of promise and hope, sure that 2011 will be our year.

"For unto you is born this day in the City of David

a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."

Luke 2:11"

Aw, well, we lost that darling baby. . .one day, God willing, we will give our darling boy a cherished sibling.

I Think I Must Have Known

Today I stared at the Christmas letter I wrote just a few short weeks ago.  The Christmas letter that I inexplicably never sent to anyone even though I've promised many people the pictures that were going to be sent along with it.  In this Christmas letter, I excitedly shared the news that my husband and I were finally expanding our family.

I'm at a loss to explain why I didn't send it out a month ago.  When I didn't send it out before Christmas, I figured that I would send it out as a New Year's greeting.  I never sent it then either.  The letter and accompanying pictures sit, largely ignored, on our desk.  Now it serves as a bitter reminder of the abundant joy that I had in my heart.

Why didn't I send out this letter to anyone?  Did I know all along, somewhere deep down in a place that I would never acknowledge, did I know that this baby wasn't meant to be born to me?  I found this pregnancy far more difficult than the one I had with my son, but I don't know that I feared that it wouldn't last.  I didn't on any conscious level anyway.

I'm still waiting for the final part of this process to be complete, yet still clinging unrealistically to the hope that there might still be the tiniest heartbeat in my baby.  I know it's going to hurt when it happens and, in a weird way, I'm looking forward to the pain.  I'm hoping that the physical pain will be so great that it takes my mind off the emotional hurt I'm feeling.

As is my custom, I'm trying to find the good in this situation.  It's really hard to find anything to give thanks for in this situation, but what shines out to me is that this pregnancy gave me ten-weeks of joy, heart-filling joy, that I haven't felt in such a long time.  Yes, I'm suffering now, but I wasn't just a few short days ago.  And, for that, I'm thankful.

The World Might Be Ending. . .

I made a ham for dinner.

I realize that a ham dinner doesn't sound all that Earth-shattering, but it is certainly unusual in my home.  I only reluctantly consume pork and ham is my least favorite meat of all.  I've only bought and prepared pork less than a handful of times in my entire adult life.  You get the point; I don't like pork and I particularly don't like ham.

So why did I make a ham for dinner?  Because it's New Year's Day and we traditionally have ham, black eyed peas, and okra for dinner on the first day of every new year.  Most years we also have greens, but my weird food aversions made greens totally impossible to stomach so I subbed in corn instead. 

It must just be my pregnancy-changed taste buds, but I actually found the ham quite delicious.  We made it in the slow cooker and it was moist and tasty.  Unfortunately, I have what looks like a lifetime supply of ham left over and I'm not sure what to do with it.  The only thing I can think of is ham & bean soup, but there must be some other recipes I should try.  What do you suggest I do to use up left over ham?

The Bittersweetness of Christmas

This was a bittersweet Christmas.  That's not to say that it wasn't a good one because it was lovely to spend the day with family - even though I got incredibly SICK after breakfast.  I would have preferred to be able to spend the entire day feeling good, but I've been okay since around four o'clock this afternoon so I can't really complain.  Besides, it's a sickness for a reason that I'm oh-so-thankful to experience.

My son has been excitedly talking about Christmas for weeks.  He points out every Santa, Snowman, and Baby Jesus that we see - an unusual trinity to be sure, but at least he correctly identified one member.  He absolutely enjoyed himself today and he basked in the loving attention of his grandparents.  Of course, he made out like a bandit and I've never seen such an impressive haul of presents for one child. 

I know it's naive, but I thought that by totally focusing on my son, I wouldn't miss my loved ones who are gone.  My son's joy was almost enough to make me forget my sadness.  Almost.

There's a deep pain that I ignored until I sat down to reflect on my day in this post.  Today was painfully strange because this was my first Christmas without a brother.  I have no brother.  I'm without a sibling who I've had in my life since I was born.  He's been gone for over 3 1/2 months and somehow I still expected to talk with him today. 

The meal was delicious, the dishes are washed, the gifts were opened, and the trash is thrown away.  Life seems normal, but I'm very aware that this new reality feels abnormal.  They say that the first holiday season without a loved one is the hardest.  And I can verify that it is.

I hope that you spent Christmas with your loved ones.  If you're separated from loved ones because of bad feelings, consider extending the olive branch.  You lose nothing by trying to make peace and you may regain a loved one.  Life is too short to squander time, spend it with your loved ones.

Merry Christmas from me and mine to you and yours.

Christmas Eve is Here

I hope you've been good this year

because it's almost time for Santa to be here!

General George S. Patton Museum at Chiriaco Summit

I don't visit museums often.  It isn't that I dislike them, I like a few very much, it's just that I don't usually think of visiting one if I have free time.  I had free time today and my hubby was uncharacteristically home on a Saturday (again - yay!) so the family took a day trip to visit the General George S. Patton Museum at Chiriaco Summit.

I realize that WWII happened a long time ago and most people in my generation probably don't know diddly squat about General Patton, but he was a fantastically fascinating and ballsy character in American history.  He was direct and had little tolerance for fear and cowardice.  He may have pushed his men and held them to high standards, but they appear to have respected him for it. 

If you can't bring yourself to read any of his writings or anything written about him, at least take a few hours to watch the 1970 film Patton.  Understand, however, that the film is partially based on Omar Bradley's biography and the Patton family refused to help flesh out the title character for the filmmakers.

Over a year ago, I actually suggested the name Patton to my husband should we have another boy child.  Of course, now our next child is already named. . .and God didn't give this child the name Patton.

The museum is located near the former entrance of Camp Young, Patton's headquarters for the Desert Training Center.  It's a small museum, but there are a lot of display cases exhibiting everything from uniforms, mess kits, rations, sabers, knives, firearms, shells & casings, and many more items.  The highlight, I think, is found outside:  TANKS.  Lots and lots of tanks.  Even my little one liked the tanks.

The museum also has "The Big Map."  Yes, that's the name and, yes, it is.  It is an impossibly large relief map of the entire area.  Let me say that the Desert Training Center was HUGE.  How huge was it?  It stretched from Pomona nearly to Phoenix and from Yuma to the tip of Nevada.  Why was it so ginormous?  Because twenty divisions utilized the DTC to conduct war maneuvers and 1,000,000 soldiers were training there to prepare to fight in the North African theater.

I don't know that I'd recommend such a long drive for such a small venue for most people.  Unless you're a WWII buff or a Patton fan, don't go too far out of your way.  But if you're on Interstate 10, somewhere between Palm Springs and Indio, do stop by for a quick visit. 

PS  Based on how lousy I've felt lately, I'm thankful that I didn't lose my guts at the museum for Old Blood & Guts.

Christmas Menu

I hosted family at my house for Thanksgiving and I'm doing it again for Christmas.  This wouldn't be a problem most years, but it does feel slightly overwhelming this year.  My house is a complete and total disaster after spending this last week on semi-bedrest.  Not a single decoration decks my halls.  Gifts, while thankfully purchased, have yet to be wrapped.  All these things can be remedied in a long afternoon of cleaning, decorating, and wrapping.  My problem is the menu.

I love turkey; after salmon it's my favorite meat.  I generally serve the same meal for Christmas and Thanksgiving:  turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, green bean casserole, corn, green salad, and a relish tray.  I like turkey so much that I always stock up for the year when they are on sale and I currently have four turkeys in my chest freezer. 

Sounds great, right?  Wrong.  The problem this year is that I'm pregnant.  I'm not just pregnant, I'm pregnant with weird food aversions and queasiness.  Turkey is the one food that has consistently made me sick each time I try to eat it.  At this point, just thinking about the smell of turkey is enough to turn my stomach.

So turkey is out for the centerpiece of my Christmas dinner, what else can I make?  Chicken isn't fancy enough, duck and goose are fatty and will most definitely make me vomit, fish doesn't seem "Christmas-y," and I don't care for pork.  What does that leave?  Beef, I guess.

Steaks on the grill don't seem all that festive and a pot roast is something I'd make any ol' night.  I thought about doing a prime rib roast, but I don't care for the cut.  Then it hit me:  beef Wellington.  Of course!  It's fancy enough for Christmas and I'm pretty sure that everyone will like it. 

Unfortunately, pink meat, usually so appealing to me, is yet another thing that makes me ill these days.  That makes it tough to serve up a medium rare supper and it would be just wrong to overcook the meal for everyone just because I can't handle the look of it.  After thinking about it a little longer, I think I'll make individual servings instead of one big filet roast.

The only problem I can see with this plan is that beef Wellington, while easy enough to make, does require a lot of work and I just don't think I'll be up for it after getting the house put together.  Frankly, it's exhausting just to think about all the work that's ahead of me.  I may just end up serving a pot roast.

What does your family serve for Christmas dinner?

The Christmas Letter

As I have done for the last several years, I'd like to send a Christmas letter to friends and family.  Most years, I have no problem writing a fun and upbeat (I think) letter to let our loved ones know what's going on in our lives.  I'm having an impossibly difficult time writing the Christmas letter this year.

We attended eight funerals; including close friends, my husband's last grandparent and, most painfully, my own brother.  One of my loved ones has had six surgeries this year and very nearly died on two different occasions.  I have never mentioned it in this blog, but there has been a particular type of turmoil on two fronts that has been ongoing since fairly early this year and I don't see the situation ever improving very much - if at all.  After a tenancy of more than three years, I lost my condo's tenants and have yet to find new tenants to rent out my condo.  For the first time in our entire married life, my husband and I slept apart. . .this probably doesn't mean anything to anyone else, but it is a huge deal to me.

I am finally pregnant after 19-months of trying to conceive and, quite honestly, that has been the one bright spot this year.  After a solid year of sadness, sorrow, and frustration, God has blessed my husband and me with another child.  And, yet, there have been challenges even in this joyous blessing that still aren't completely resolved at this time.

I've been mentally writing this Christmas letter for weeks, but I just don't know what to write about this year because what I have so far reads like the world's biggest pity party.  I'm seriously considering just sending out a generic note saying, "Merry Christmas" with our latest family pictures because I can't seem to write anything that would be uplifting to anyone. 

Do you write a Christmas letter?  What do you write about in years that are remarkably challenging?

Why I (Heart) Facebook

I am not exactly on bed rest, but I'm not supposed to lift.  Or bend.  Or be on my feet too much.  The ER doctor asked me if I needed a note for school or work.  Considering that I'm a SAHM and the restrictions won't really mean much to my son and his demands, I declined the note.  Here's a quick post before I go lie down again. 


I was pondering the reasons why I love Facebook.  I resisted it for a long time, insisting that I'm not some dork on a computer (yes, I know I am), but I'm sure glad that I finally broke down and joined.

For starters, I love FB because it makes it easier to get back in touch with old friends who I've lost contact with for various reasons.  Thanks to FB, I've reconnected with several old friends who I missed and hadn't spoke with in many years.

Facebook also allows me to stay in touch with friends and family.  I wouldn't pick up the phone and tell loved ones about my son's latest shenanigans, but I will post it on FB and that status usually yields a volley of comments.  I'm particularly thankful that my brother and I were able to enjoy plenty of conversations thanks to FB.

The Facebook pages that I like often yield information about giveaways.  Sure, I follow most of these blogs anyway, but sometimes I do not.  FB helps me find some giveaways that I'd like to enter and wouldn't have known about otherwise.

Are you on FB?  Why do you <3 it?

Busy Couple of Days

I am beat!  It seems a little soon to be hit with early pregnancy exhaustion, but I've been a busy little Bloggy.

We hosted Thanksgiving for nine at our house yesterday and, in typical fashion, I refused most help so I did much of it myself.  I did relent and allow my husband and MIL to sweep and pick up the house.  I also had my parents bring corn and salad.  My BIL brought mashed potatoes and my SIL & mother did a significant amount of clean up.

As if the Thanksgiving party wasn't enough, we're having a bunch of friends over this evening.  I started two crock pots of chili (one top sirloin, one ground beef) this morning and I also have a fridge full of snacks.  I have a friend bringing dessert and another friend bringing her special guacamole.

This has been a busy couple of days, but we have been having a great time with our friends and family.  Of course, we're also pretty tickled to share our special baby news.  I still have prep to do (chili toppings) so I'm cutting this short, but I hope that you've had a lovely Thanksgiving with your loved ones!

Home Sweet Home

My family and I spent the last several days in Utah visiting with my sister and her family.  My son and her youngest are about two months apart in age and it was a real treat to see our sweet little boys playing together.  My son was so tired from the non-stop fun that he actually slept for a couple of hours on the road home and he even went to bed early tonight.

I made a tasty pasta dinner this evening and included my sister's delicious garlic bread.  Our bags are unpacked and laundry is tumbling in the dryer.  I'm currently relaxing while catching up on a missed episode of Boardwalk Empire. 

I'm looking forward to bedtime tonight as my bed is impossibly cozy & comfy.  As lovely as it is to visit family, and it is very enjoyable, it is always a joy to return to my own home.  "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home."

You Get What You Give

I received a sympathy card with no return address in the mail today.  The handwriting was familiar and instantly recognizable to me.  For eleven years, I had worked with the woman who addressed the envelope.   I assumed the card was only from her family.  Imagine my surprise when I found that several of my former co-workers included kind condolence notes in the card.  That might not impress some of you, but realize I have not worked with any of them in nearly 2 1/2 years.  To say that I was touched they were thinking of me or praying for my family after I'd been gone so long would be an understatement.

When I was gone, my son was cared for by friends who have at least one child of their own at home.  My husband received a delicious dinner every night, courtesy of more friends with young children at home.  One day he even received two dinners and another friend dropped off dinner the day after I returned home because she thought I might not be up to cooking just yet.  Some of the ladies at my church wanted to deliver meals as well and, upon hearing that meals were covered, asked that my husband call if he needed any help.  My family has been lifted up in prayer by at least two different congregations and in daily prayers by countless friends and family. 

I don't know how I'd be able to put one foot in front of the other if it weren't for the generous care from our friends and family.

Just yesterday afternoon, I was marveling at the love and support I've had since my brother died and a friend replied, "You get what you give."  That's a fantastically succinct way to put it and I really can't add anything to improve her words.  I just hope that I really do live up to, and continue to live up to, that statement in the eyes of my friends and family.

Ticking Time Bomb

My brother just recently dropped dead at the age of 41 and I can't help but wonder if I am a ticking time bomb.  Am I also likely to suffer an aortic dissection?  Am I going to die within the next ten years?  Will I widow my husband and orphan our young son?  Perhaps this is why I haven't been able to bring forth another child?  Maybe the strain of pregnancy will kill me?  Will my friends and family have to suffer because I'm called home at a young age?  Am I going to die soon?

My mother and my uncle were talking about family this past week and a few important things were revealed.  I was somewhat aware of this, but my maternal grandfather died at age 50.  Yes, I said 50.  Even in 1976, dying at 50 was very young.  However, I was much more interested in learning about my great-uncle's death.  My grandfather's brother died in his 40's.  He wasn't feeling well, went home, sat in his favorite chair, and then he died.

Is there some curse that afflicts the men in my family?  I haven't heard that the women die all that early, but we've identified three men who died at unnaturally young ages from "natural" causes.  Does this affliction skip generations?  My uncles, my mother's brothers, are both in their 60s so I would have to assume that they lucked out.

Since my brother was taken so soon, does that mean that perhaps my son has a free pass?  Will he be safe from aortic dissection?  Of course, since my brother was taken and we are (were) so very similar, I can't help but worry that I might be the next one with a ticket to punch.  I think it's clear that there has been a dark cloud hanging over me and I wonder if it's Death's shadow.  I wonder if I'm next.  Macabre, I know, but there you have it.

I don't fear my own death.  Well, I kind of do because I don't think I'll like making the journey all by myself, but I don't worry about what will happen to me because I am sure that I'll end up in the best place ever.  However, I do worry about my family and I ache specifically at the thought of my husband and son suffering over my loss.  And I don't think my parents could handle losing another child.

I've been beside myself thinking these dark thoughts.  My husband suggested that worrying about it isn't going to give any answers and it will just continue to freak me out.  He asked me to make an appointment with my doctor and undergo a physical (I'm due for a pap too, darn it!) and find out if there are any tests that can be conducted to determine if I have any weak spots in my blood vessels.  It's practical advice and I have scheduled an appointment.

I don't know if I have a ticking time bomb in my body.  I don't know if it would even be helpful to know.  All I can do is live each day as if it's my last because, for all I know, it might be.  I guess that's all anyone can do.