Sunday, November 29, 2009

Goodbye, my friends.

For all of you readers, stalkers, fans, etc....

Tomorrow morning we leave bright & early (OK, it's not bright out because it'll still be dark, but it's early), for Vegas.

Ok, we go to Ohio for our layover, then get on a plane for a 4 1/2 hour trip to Vegas.

Where we promptly get in a car & leave Vegas, heading for CA. Let's hope it doesn't fall off the map while we are there.

There, I will see Conan. And Liz. And then we will drive back to Vegas, eat at Craftsteak, & play penny slots. Oh, & go to the stage show of The Price is Right.

Yay! I shall return late night on the 4th. Miss me. Greatly.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Thanksgiving when you don't feel very thankful.

Thanksgiving to me is about nom's. I like cooking, I just hate the effort & time it seems to take. I need a tv & a chair in my kitchen & I'd be much happier. Peeling potatoes sucks after you've made about 10 other dishes & peeling a bunch of sweet potatoes, which you don't even eat but you just make them because your husband & parents eat them.

I took pictures of my experience, including the exploding glass dish episode. Look for that tomorrow, as long as nothing odd comes up before then.

Anyway, people talk about what they are thankful for on Thanksgiving. It's a rule, even in first grade I remember having to go around & talk about what you were thankful for. I remember hearing all these people being thankful about their brothers & sisters for the most part. And there I sat, an only child. I was thankful for my dog, but I was too embarrassed to say that when everyone was thankful for their siblings. A dog isn't as cool as a brother or sister, even the animal lover in me knew that!

So what did I do when it was my turn? I stand up & talk about how much I am thankful for my little brother.

Yep, I stood up at my desk & made a brother up. I even answered questions about him. If I remember right, I gave him my dogs name. It was Ben, so it wasn't like I said Fido or something. I remember the awkwardness when my teacher mentioned a few days later about my younger sibling to my mom, who explained I was an only child.


So I have a track record of focusing on what I don't have instead of what I do have. I have a husband, kids, pets, great friends, some great family, a house, a car, food on the table. Hell, I've even got a TV on the wall. I should be thankful.

Of course, I should have been thankful way back when I was 5, but I wasn't. I had to make up something extra. It's a bad habit, even things I do I believe are a failure even when they're really not. I mean hell, look at the title of this blog. Fail.

So today, like most other days, I'm thinking of the son I don't have. But unlike the little brother, he was real. He's the unspoken name, the elephant in the room it feels like. He would be 6 months old on Saturday. I keep thinking about how Jules was crawling around at 6 months. I compare what I was doing & thinking this time last year to now. Of course I'm not sure how I expect him to come up in the conversation. Dead babies are an awkward subject, more awkward than a fake little brother. Of course, other deaths are talked about. My mom just mentioned her dead step-father a couple days ago. But you're born into this world without life in your body & you don't get that respect, those memories to be spoken about at holidays & get togethers. Instead, you get looked at with sad eyes when the dead baby topic accidentally comes up. Your son didn't die to people, you loss your baby while you were pregnant & that had to be really hard to go through. So we get some dead baby parent respect, but my sons short life gets none. You'd think I'd be use to that by now. But I'll never get use to it.

Back to today. It didn't help that my mom brought a gift with her. She & Jules used pictures & made a card of sorts for us. Sounds sweet, doesn't it? I opened it & wanted to throw up. Not because I'm pregnant & around food, but because of one of the pictures. It was Jules, on the couch at their house, eating peas & carrots.

You think I'm insane, who would want to throw up over that?

That picture was taken the first time my parents kept Jules for any time longer than for us to go to dinner. While that picture was being taken, I was in a hospital in labor with my dead son. Or maybe it was after he was born. I don't know the time line, obviously.

I know they don't think about it. I know that even if they realized when it was taken, I don't they'd catch on that it could be painful. But it is. I call people out on intentional bullshit, like a couple weeks ago when my mom talked about baby autopsies on TV for a ridiculous amount of time, I called her out on it & asked why she'd think I'd want to hear about a baby autopsy. Common sense, people. But to them, that's just a cute picture.

So as I sit with more thank some have, I'm not thankful. I feel cheated & bitter. And then I feel guilty thinking of people who don't even have a place to call home, because I should be thankful for what I have.

But I'm not. And I reserve that right this year. I'm going to be selfish & bitter. I got fucked over this year, really fucked over. I've earned the right to feel like shit & however else I want to feel.

Wonder what my kids will tell their classroom one day? How many brothers & sisters will they say, will they mention their dead brother? Will I get a weird phone call on the first day of school, asking why my kid is talking about death at 5 years old? I'm not sure what I'd do; someone hints that they want to know how many kids I have or even flat out ask & I'm never sure what to answer as an adult, without a classroom of eyeballs looking at me.

And I thought my made up brother was awkward.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

A bit of everything...the actual post.

I'm an idiot & last night when I started this post, I accidentally hit enter instead of tab, so I didn't type anything. Like I said, I'm an idiot. So let's try this again.

A new found friend of mine, Bree, mentioned to me today that I hadn't updated about Piccadilly lately. I hadn't really thought about it, but I haven't. Since Bree is a very nice woman who makes butterflies for babies & their parents, I figured she deserved a shout out (Hi, Bree!) & I should take her advice & update about Piccadilly.

I'm knocked up. I have almost constant headaches, which with each pregnancy I've been blessed with the entire first trimester. Had been having some problems sleep, but that's been doing a tad bit better. I will officially be 10 weeks on Thanksgiving. Very odd...this pregnancy is going by at a snails pace. I seem to have blocked out every pregnancy, but I can kinda remember my pregnancy with Joel not going this slow. Hopefully after we get through these holidays the time will pass a bit faster. I'm hoping once I get past things I'm looking forward to otherwise, like Jules birthday, our Vegas trip, & Adam getting a couple weeks off for Christmas, time will move a bit faster. At least that'd what I'm going to tell myself. I don't go back to the doctor until the 8th, at that point they are going to set up another ultrasound so I can peak at Piccadilly some more. I'll be around 12 weeks for that scan I'm guessing. Then about 4 weeks after that, I'm planning on making a road trip to Kentucky for one of those elective ultrasounds.

Let me explain. I never got the point of those things. Then I got pregnant with Joel. We had such an issue with the ultrasound people & I regret it now that I don't have him. When I thought I'd have him, it didn't matter much. They never really gave us pictures, I think we have 4 total. The first DVD we bought wasn't formatted correctly, so it didn't work. The tape from the last scan, when they didn't let Adam in the room with me to see the baby, didn't turn out either. So we were basically left with very little proof that he was ever in my uterus. So this time, I'm getting all I can. This involves a 90 minute trip to the closest "Fetal Photography" place, called Lexington Fetal Photography. I figure on popping for the $170 package to get all the pictures, CD, etc. Doing this at 16 weeks because I think it's awesome to see babies all on the screen together (much bigger & you can't see the entire baby), plus at 16 weeks they can tell me the sex. At least we hope. My doctor doesn't the "big" scan around 20 weeks. I am far too impatient for that though. And with what we've been through, I think we're allowed to be insane parents. My doctors office also had 4D machines, depending on if they will do one later in my pregnancy, we may end up going back around 28 weeks for those cute, yet creepy, 4d pictures at that fetal photography place. It's $100 for any future visits.

...I know, it's an overpriced rip off. But if anything were to happen, which I don't really think it will but who ever does, I'd regret not getting something like I still do with Joel.

I'd been kicking around an idea to do something, have a symbol for all of our kids. I thought about my tacky yard flower I'd bought last month at a craft show. In case you missed it...

There it is, in all it's glory. Tacky, but I like it.

Anyway, the guy was really nice & gave me his card with his contact info if I'd ever want to buy anymore or if I'd like him to make something special. I thought about contacting him & getting something like above made, with flowers the colors of the kids birthstones. He also makes things like butterflies & such, so I considered getting Joel's birthstone made into a butterfly. Just one of those random thoughts I think as I'm driving home from the store.

Holidays are coming up. I use to love Christmas...not so much anymore. Last year sucked because of family drama. This is is going to suck because of family drama & that whole dead baby thing. What are suppose to be "first" whatever, are still first but not in a good way. No buying babys first Christmas outfit, instead I get to think about how it's the first Christmas since he died.

Tonight I was looking through my old myspace blog, seeing if there was anything I wanted to mention. In looking back, I went to the first post I made when I found out I was pregnant with Joel. It finally dawned on me that it reads like so many of those other blogs I've read over the past few months read. I've started following many stories in these past few months, sometimes I wonder why I torture myself reading the details of the sadness of others when I have my own to deal with. I'd even go back to the start of some stories, reading about the pregnancy, the diagnosis of whatever issue, & then the losses that happened. It broke my heart each time. But I have the same thing in my old blog. An announcement, then random pregnancy mentions, then a possible problem, then something hopeful, then the announcement of his death. And then several post about funerals & arrangements. It's weird reading those things now, it seems like another person wrote them. It doesn't feel like it's my life I'm looking back on.

I ramble.

I started this last night, but felt like crap so I stopped. Today is a new day. I felt better, but not so great anymore.

It's come to my attention that my husbands family has pictures of Jules on their various networking site profiles. Oh yeah, did I mention they are pictures taken at Joels funeral? That you can see people standing in the background around his urn? I didn't realize they were taking pictures like it was a fucking family reunion until the end or I would have stopped it. I never even wanted to see those pictures, but to know people have them out there with cute little captions while my sons urns is in the background? Shitty.

But back to what I was going to write.

Christmas is coming up & I recently purchased this:


It's an ornament for Joel. Figure Jules gets one every year, Joel deserves one for his birth year. So there it is. Didn't seem right to ignore him, though I'm sure for some people it may be odd. My mom still has a disconnect. Again, she's really sad over Joel dying, but she's got a weird line of thinking when it comes to dead babies. My cousin got married back in August. On their programs, they had a section of "in memory" for my cousins father, as well as two sons of his new wife. I have an aunt who doesn't have much tact, so she went around the reception asking until someone explained they were stillborn a few years ago, twin boys. When I told my mom about it, the point of the story being that I couldn't believe my aunt went around asking people about the brides dead children, my mom instead with responded with, "well they didn't belong on there anyway!" after I explained they were stillborn a few years ago. My mother, having a bit of sense on that day, wouldn't go any further with the conversation when I asked her why she thought that, realizing what she had said. I went ahead & finished my thought though, that if she wanted us to know about them & remember them, she had every right to have them listed there. So again, I think my moms thought is that while his death counts, his life doesn't. That's a common thought I'm finding sadly.

But back to the ornament. I'm sure if she notices it she'll be confused about why we have a new baby ornament, but we can hope that she at least has enough sense to not ask about it. Hopefully she'll just get that awkward look on her face & not have anything to say. That'd be best. I'd hate to have a throw down over Christmas. But trust me, if I need to, I will.

And as usual, we adopted a couple gifts from the angel tree. If you aren't familiar, it's something in our area the Salvation Army does every Christmas. They list needy children along with their toy request & clothing sizes, they hang on trees in various shopping locations, you buy the stuff & donate it. It get delivered on Christmas Eve. I started doing one every year about mid-way through college. I was just looking one day close to the cut off day, because there are always kids left sadly, & I found a little girl named Carla who was 12 & all she wanted was a hairdryer & a hairbrush. I about cried on the spot, just because I'd seen before kids wanting video games & other expensive items, but here was a kid asking for just basic hygiene items. I like to think I made her happy on Christmas. So every year sense, I've looked on trees & try to finder older kids, since they are usually the last picked, & kids who want something simple. I like to go over the top for those kids, just because. Since shacking up with Adam I got him doing one as well. He isn't as picky as me, he just gets a kid who wants superhero stuff normally. Which is fine by me. This year I'd looked a couple places but couldn't find anyone who wanted anything other than Playstation games or Wii games. But finally, while at the mall, we found a couple kids to buy for this year.


I picked Bentley. I suggested Braylon to Adam. I had a new rule this year...I picked a 7 & 8 month old. Do the math...May to December is 7 months. Yeah. I figure since I was suppose to buying those toys & sizes, I still could & I could get them to kids who need them. Mind you, if I'd found some 12 year old in need of a hairbrush again I would have picked that instead. But there were no flat out sad request, so I felt alright getting those age groups this year.

So, as my public service message for the day, go get an angel off the angel tree. Or whatever you have in your area. Or just donate a couple toys. Kids should have good a Christmas no matter what. It makes me feel like less of a crappy person if I help just a couple kids have a good Christmas. It'll make you feel less like crap, too.

I will now go try to fight off this headache...yet again. I hope you enjoyed my random thoughts & notes about my life.

Monday, November 23, 2009

A bit of everything.

Allow me to teach everyone a little something.

I'm by no means a rocket surgeon (that's a joke, really), but I do know a few things. I'd like to take this time to teach my readers some things as well.

Why did I decide to be a teacher tonight? Because while interneting I received an email alerting me to a comment on an older post, a much older post, talking about my problems with my relatives. Let me copy & past this comment for you all, which was left on this post:

Do you know what slander is? You need to remove these comments about my family immediately or I will obtain a lawyer. I will not stand by and let you insult my family. Consider yourself warned. Stop using your loss as an excuse for you bad behavior in all of this.

Now first, I thought my official response would be to post a link so they could be RickRolled. But I decided to respond this way instead. Lessons.

First lesson...


*deep breath*

Really people...REALLY?

That is almost as funny as the anonymous email I received on my private, family only email (read: only my dad, grandparents, & some of my husbands family has it) when we announced I was pregnant with Joel, telling me my husbands family all knew I was tricking him into getting me pregnant, that one day my children would hate me because they would see "the truth" about me, as would he & when he finally left me they'd all enjoy it greatly.

Yes, I really got that email. I deleted it...oh, no, wait, I forwarded it to Adam so I bet it's in my sent items. Let me retrieve it really fast. I know I could just delete this convo with myself, but why bother? This is how my mental processes work, people. Here is the email:

Date: Friday, September 26, 2008, 1:31 PM

This is just to let you know something that I think in the back of your head you already know. No one buys it. They all know what you are. And eventually he will, too. Ripping people apart always comes back on you, coming between others does as well. Using babies to trap someone won't get you very far in life either. So be aware that while people continue to be nice to you, everyone is just waiting for it to happen. Because it will. And once you're out of the picture you've created and seem to think you control, everything will be alright again. I guess you should just ask yourself, will you? Maybe in the short term you will, but eventually your son will figure it out as well, how he doesn't have a family because of you. And same goes for the next child that you've manipulated your way into having, they will figure it out as well. And they will look at you and see what everyone else sees. So enjoy your life now, because when it falls apart everyone else will enjoy that.

So obviously, I'm kinda use to anonymous crazy ass messages.

But I want to teach everyone some other things.

First & foremost, I'm not scared by some lame ass comments on the interwebz. I find that if you have to threaten me without using your name & via a public forum, you don't really have the ability to just go out & hire the lawyer you're threatening. It's called "all talk, no action." If you really mean business, I think you go & do it. But maybe that's just me, maybe I'm weird.

Something else...lawyers are really expensive. And this wouldn't be a case like if you slipped & fell into a pile of watermelons at the local grocery store because they didn't clean up a spill, leaving you with a bruise & now you want to sue for a million bucks. In those cases, lawyers know you'll win because everyone settles every lawsuit & because of that, they are OK with working for free until you get a settlement. Slander? Not so much. If you actually got someone to take a case for slander when no names or any actual identifying information is given (which I'll get to shortly), they are going to want a nice, large, retainer fee on top of any other fees that would get in process of the case. I doubt people making these threats have that much money to throw into the air. I don't either, but hell, with as much support we've gotten from people online & other friends, I bet I could set up a legal fund through paypal. I know alot of people would love to say they had a hand in taking on this situation as well. I could just go into court by myself & laugh right along with whatever judge this would come across as they dismissed it.

And to answer the question the good commenter...uh...commented, yes, I do know what slander is. Do you know what slander is? Because I don't think you do considering you think you can get a lawyer & sue me for it. Let's look up slander, shall we?

In the United States certain facts must be established for someone to be found guilty of slander. Assuming there is proof that the defendant uttered the alleged statement, the statement must be overheard by someone other than the subject or other “privileged” parties. Slander must also clearly identify the party, and the intent must be malicious.

See that bold part? That's where the slander problem comes up. I have never ever said any names in any of my "slander." I cannot slander an anonymous person. No one knows the names of any people I refer to, not even my best friends because they don't even care.

It also means...

A false and malicious statement or report about someone.

Prove anything I've said false. You may have a different view of it, but you can't look anyone in the face & say none of it happened.

My dear friend, Liz, looked up things & found this. I share it because I think it works wonderful with the situation. Just a FYI for anyone who wants to try to sue me for "slander":

Not all derogatory speech is defamatory, however, and not all lies that are posted on the internet are actionable. True statements and pure opinion that does not imply false fact are legitimate defenses to a defamation action. You should have an attorney review the complaints made to see if, first, you have any action and, second, if you do have an action, to see if the action is worth pursuing. Defamation lawsuits are expensive, especially when they involve anonymous posters on the internet, and you should have demonstrable reputational injury and a solid case before proceeding."

Again, that's just a FYI.

Personally, I think the contacts I've received fall under the category of harassment.

Criminal harassment is defined as "engag(ing) in intentional conduct which the actor [harasser] knows or has reason to know would cause the victim, under the circumstances, to feel frightened, threatened, oppressed, persecuted, or intimidated; and causes this reaction on the part of the victim.

I think threatening to sue me causes me to feel frightened, threatened, oppressed, persecuted, AND intimidated!

OK, not really, but mine makes more sense than "slander." Plus, I'm not a big cry baby about the interwebz.

And as far as me "using" my dead son...I won't even dignity that one with a comment. I will say not to talk about my dead son though, he's been dead for almost 6 months now, no one cared when I was pregnant so I don't think his death means you have the right to talk about him or mention him in any way, shape, or form. Oh, how about this comment...stop using my dead son as some passive aggressive way to hurt me. It doesn't even work, it just makes me roll my eyes really.

OK, so I guess I did dignify that with a comment.

Finally, if you really want to spew your opinion, it's easy. Go here. Unlike a lawyer, it's free. Just don't slander me.

And oh, fuck it, click here while you're at it.

That Rick Astley, he's got red hair. OMG, that wasn't slanderous, was it?! Eek!

My best piece of advice is cheer up. If I can cheer up, anyone can. And use google to find out if your threats are possible before throwing them around.

Oh yeah, we're doing great, thanks for asking! Thanks for the congrats on the new baby, very nice of you. Jules is doing good as well. We're both in grad school so we're busy, plus we're planning a trip to Las Vegas after Thanksgiving. We're so busy! But, again, we're doing great & I thank you for asking. I know you didn't flat out ask, but I'm sure you just forgot in your frustrated sounding message to me. So I decided to just read between the lines. :)

Thanks for reading,
The Interwebz Lady

Monday, November 16, 2009

Lasagna...the non-vegan way.

My dear friend & wife (long story), Liz, is a vegan. She asked for suggestions a while back of new things she could try to cook. I suggested lasagna. Not sure why, just because. I guess because I'm a meanie & want to remind her that she can't have ricotta cheese anymore.

Anyway, Liz attempted vegan lasagna this week. This, my friends, is the non-vegan way of lasagna. Along with my screwed up cooking adventure I always seem to have.

Doubt me? I've made burgers. I've made dessert. I've made apple pie. Those were interesting times, let me tell you.

But anyway, back to lasagna. This is my own special recipe for lasagna. Consider yourself special if you're reading this. Enjoy.

First, for my non-vegan lasagna you need the most non-vegan product ever...meat. By meat I mean beef. I like ground chuck personally.


You'll want to put that in a frying pan to, duh, fry it.

As that's frying, you'll want to gather your other items. First, I get my glass baking dish. To get it, I must get into my pan cabinet.


...yeah, it didn't take long for my previous kitchen organization to go out the window.

Get your pan out...


Make sure you have no counter space. Make sure you leave everything out in your way. You can't cook right if you have too much space. Oh yeah, wait, one more thing...


You can't cook lasagna without your husbands cordless drill on the counter by your purse. It's a rule. If you don't follow that rule, you're lasagna will fail.

Continue getting your ingredients out. Next up for me, cheese. Nom, nom, nom, I love cheese. To the fridge.


Gee, this is going to be so easy to find something in here. First, look in the drawer.


That's where the cheese is suppose to be. No cheese. I have no idea why a piece of coca cola packaging is in the drawer. I left it, of course.

I continued looking when I finally see the sprinkle cheese...


See it?

Oh, I call it sprinkle cheese in honor of Britney Spear's father. He calls all shredded cheese "sprinkle cheese" so I can't take credit for that fabulous phrase.

So here are all of my fridge ingredients.


Sprinkle cheese, ricotta cheese, cottage cheese, some Parmesan cheese. Like I said, I like cheese.

After I get all my fridge items, I move onto the noodles in the...noddle cabinet.


I have no sense of organization, can you tell?

But finally, I find my noodles.


Oh shit.

I'm kinda OCD, but I've also found the magic number of noodles for lasagna that isn't too dry or too, uh, juicy. You need 10 noodles, 5 for each layer. That was not 10 noodles. I should mention that I'd been out shopping on this day, but I just didn't bother to check to make sure I had noodles. Sadly, I do that alot.

I tell Adam & he says, "we can just have spaghetti."

I calmly yell at him "WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! I'VE ALREADY STARTED THIS, I WANT FUCKING LASAGNA, NOT STUPID SPAGHETTI!" My eyes bugging out adds just that special touch to let him know he needed to get the hell out of the house & to Kroger for noodles.

Here is Adam pulling down the drive way, on his way to do his portion of dinner...get the noodles.


I think I should also mention that you should have bread with your lasagna. I like rolls. Here are mine.


They are fancy, from a bag.


They were frozen. Wanna see proof?


See? Frozen together.

The beef is still cooking.


But I like mine very very very done. So it's got more cooking time to do. I throw in some dried spices because I have a spice rack & it sounds like a good idea. Some basil & oregano. No garlic. Never. I can't eat garlic without becoming violently ill, so I avoid it at all cost.

Great, now everyone who hates me will send me garlic to spite me.

As I try to waste time, I prep my ingredients. I need to mix my cottage cheese with an egg. Why? Because I'm trying to make this as non-vegan as possible. No, not really, it helps it all hold together better. To do that I need a bowl. Sadly, I never have bowls for mixing, they are always holding something.


Like old grapes.

But I just get rid of those & toss in my cottage cheese & egg. I washed it out first. I think.


Next up I open my ricotta. Have you ever tried to open ricotta cheese? It's dreadful. There isn't any way to grasp the plastic & pull it.


You can even squeeze the crap out of it & it's still sealed up. See?


I finally get a knife & cut it, also cutting the plastic container it's in.


Now I'm left with an empty pot of boiling water.


Some trash.


And some very done beef.


Normally, for less dishes, I use the same pot I boil my noodles in to cook my sauce & beef, but since I still have to cook the noodles, I'm stuck using another pot. I add my beef, then I start my special pasta sauce.


Newmans Own. It's awesome.

Adam finally comes home & I meet him at the door for my noodles.


Yay, noodles!

Then your son & husband should get in your way to fight over popsicles.


I let my noodles cook, but not too long. I don't make them too soft, I like them to still have some firmness...they should still kinda break instead of bend for me to consider them right.


Then you can have a facial with the steam, if you're into that sort of thing.

Your sauce is done when it's popping & making a mess.


Now you're ready for your magical layers! Sauce first, it's a rule. Just because.


Then noodles.


I break them up some to make a nice, even layer. Again, OCD.

Then I plop down some ricotta.


Smear it around, of course.

Then add some of your cottage cheese & about half of the sprinkle cheese.


Then more sauce. Then more noodles.


Then dump the rest of your sprinkle cheese.


Then add some Parmesan mix.


Then finish it up with more sauce & a little more Parmesan.


Told you I loved cheese. Nom nom nom.

You should then see a cat.


Put it in a 375 degree oven. I started at...


Then at...


It was done. See?


Rolls, too. See those fancy layers?


You should then serve it to your family. Your husband should look odd.


You son should be without his pants, standing in the chair not eating.


And that, my friends, is how you make non-vegan lasagna.

I'm just happy that for once, I'm not posting food that's burning, contaminated, or very ugly. That alone is a victory.

Saturday, November 14, 2009 what?

Today has been a blah kind of day for me. I blame last weeks cold on making this weekend not fun, along with the fact that I'm not sleeping well. Had the same sleep problems when I was pregnant with Jules, I can get to sleep, but staying asleep doesn't happen. Most nights I now wake up after 3 or 4 hours of sleep, if I'm lucky, & I'm awake for about 5 more hours. And, again if I'm lucky, I get another hour or two.

I could go like that in college, it was easy. I look back now & think "My god, how the hell did I get up & get to school at 9am the morning after being out until 2am drinking rum & coke?!" I'm just not made that way anymore. I guess once you hit like 23, those years are over.

Anyway, last night was the usual. Went to bed kinda late because we had a Mario Kart battle to play with friends & the trip to Vegas to discuss (don't eat the sushi in Vegas, btw). But I was awake by, I believe, 5. Was up & down, mainly up, until like 10am. I decided to lay down in the bed (I'd been on the couch since 5) once Jules got up with Adam. I slept well...until I happened to wake up & see something laying bedside me.

A simple Fed Ex envelope.

I knew what it was, I figured Adam brought it up because he figured I'd want it ASAP, & if he'd asked I would have. But laying there, looking at it, I was filled with a feeling I can only describe as "ughblahfuckmeshit."

That's my word. Use it, but credit me, please.

Anyway, as I laid there I tried to ignore it. Finally, I decided to throw the damn thing out of bed, in hopes of going back to sleep. It was starting to work...

then Adam came in the room with Jules & placed it back on the bed to keep the little guy from stomping it.

At that point I gave in & opened it. Inside it was a smaller envelope with my address as well. I opened it & pulled out a simple piece of paper that was neatly folded. I made the quick scan of it to make sure all the needed info was on it. It was, I laid it down. I was slightly disappointed a letter of apology wasn't in there, I looked around & then I saw a card had fallen out. It was Tom's card. Wrote on the back to call if I needed anything else. I flipped the card over & was filled with anger. I realized I recognized him & his title...he was one of the many people I'd sent my letter to. He was one of the people who ignored it. I wanted to call & yell at him, ask him why he was so heartless, ask why he didn't just lay it all out on the table on the phone yesterday instead of acting like until the past couple days he'd never heard of me. The only thing that stopped me was realizing that wouldn't make him care either. I figure I've wasted enough time & breath on these assholes. I also wanted to yell at them because the bill also list a "creation date" which they listed as a month ago. Suuuure...again, assholes.

Since I couldn't sleep anymore, I did what I do best...interneted. Not facebook or anything like that, I wanted to know what every number on that bill meant. I looked up codes, as if I was just waiting for one to tell me it means "this person is a bitch & we just gave her this to shut her the hell up." But no, there wasn't one like that. Just things like...

88012 Necropsy; infant

Being an idiot, I didn't know what the hell necropsy was, so I threw that in the search engine next. The first result was a wiki page for autopsy.

Again, silly me.

But in that moment, I couldn't help but to think it is over. You'd think I'd be happy to have this over, but hardly.

Yep, this is it. The only 2 forms my sons name will ever be on are his autopsy report & the bill for that autopsy. Everyone officially can wash their hands of this entire situation, they've all done what they are required to do. I now become a distance, bad memory for several medical professionals when it comes to my pregnancy & son. It's all over.

It's over for me, too. No more battles to fight. At least none that I can see in my future. You'd think I'd be relieved, but I'm not. Now I'm faced with the knowledge of what I said before, we're a distance, bad memory. A statistic. A fluke. Something to move on from.

Sadly, I can't just do it that easily. I can't just write it off as a fluke, a statistic, or a bad, distant memory. And I can't just write off that angry bitterness that I shouldn't have anyway. I shouldn't have been fighting these battles with hospitals & medical professionals. Maybe if I hadn't, today I wouldn't be sitting home, feeling like I've been hit by a truck. I could have had this feeling months ago instead of this delayed feeling.

So now I'm sad & I'm angry, & I have no one to yell at.

That ughblahfuckmeshit feeling...I don't see it going away anytime soon.

Friday, November 13, 2009

I won...the extended version.

Let's review real quick.

First, I was angry because a hospital sucked.

Then I asked for you peeps to get angry with me & give the hospital hell on our behalf.

And earlier, I posted that it had worked.

Caught up? Good. Now I'll give you the details.

I was contacted & told to expect a phone call around 2 from that Tom guy. About 2:15 or later I got that call. Tom along with some other important hospital rep to try to cool me off.

Tom started by telling me that "it's obvious that alot of people are angry over this issue" & asked me to tell him what had all gone on. I did. He hands it off to his witness...uh...I mean his legal rep...ummm...I mean, his other concerned co-worker who is very focused on the fact that they did in fact have a right to charge me for the autopsy. She wasn't on my good side for whatever reason & I wasn't on hers, it was clear. She tried to talk over me a bit I felt like, she came across as a bit defensive, & tried to explain to me that it's a confusing thing, an autopsy, because the hospital doesn't do alot of them. As she went on to try to tell me that they don't do alot, I spoke up &, with a laugh, said "trust me, how this has been handled I'm very aware that you guys must not do many of them at all." They both just sat in silence for a few moments, I think that's when they realized I wasn't in a great mood & I wasn't going to be bullshitted.

She went on to explain to me what "doa" was, but I interrupted her & told her I already knew. She said that they contact the county & state if cases of "healthy people dying without an exact cause unexpectedly" & they usually do those, not the hospital & that "your stillborn didn't fall into that category" unless I was "accosted" or in an accident.

Yes, she said "your stillborn." She continued to ramble on & on about how they were allowed to charge me, the supervisor last night misspoke, blah blah blah.

On a side note, I had already seen in my medical records that they'd contacted the county & the state, both declined to get involved with the case. So that made sense to me. Mind you, I think my unborn child should fall into an unexpected death of a healthy person, but he's just a fetus, so I guess that's why it doesn't count. He was never born, just a dead fetus.

Anyway, I sat there a moment & finally interrupted her with, "Well, fine, listen I don't care if my son who happened to be stillborn falls into that category or not, that's really besides the point to me right now. The real problem for me is that rightfully charged or not, your hospital has ignored me & pawned me off time & time again for months."

The guy spoke up & rambled a bit about how it wasn't right, it was a huge screw up & he was sorry for it. Then he added, "but sitting in front of us right now is a bill we've created for you."

Set off some fucking fireworks.

I tell him that's great, but it's sad that it's taken all of this & me contacting the media for them to give me something they could have given me months ago without any run around & that I need that paper ASAP since I only have 2 weeks to submit it to my insurance. He told me he would overnight it today if that would be best, I told him it would. The woman spoke up & confirmed my address, I again confirmed with her she'd send it overnight & she said she would.

Then Tom went back into how he was sorry about everything & to call him if there were any problems with what they send me, though we went over what it was & it is suppose to be what I need. As they were going over what was needed, the woman told me it was what they'd submit to insurance, so they assume that's what I need. I listed off the things then threw in, "you're a hospital, you bill insurance all the time, I'm sure know what all needs to be there in order to get paid."

I was kinda snarky at that point, I couldn't help it.

Of course, Tom really did seem nice & sorry about the situation, but he said something towards the end that I officially hate.

"I'm so sorry for your loss...but I know how you feel, I loss a child as well."

OK, let me discuss this for a moment.

I don't have a problem with people telling me they've also had a loss, but when you've fucked up? Is that suppose to make me feel more connected & less angry about the situation?

The lady I spoke to from Cabell Huntington Hospital actually said the same thing. Her mom loss a baby & she had a sad story her mom went through, I guess so I could see that I wasn't the only dead baby mom out there treated like shit. She also went on to tell me that "you may not know it, but many of our employees have had losses like yours."

Know what? Sorry about your loss as well, but really? REALLY? I can't help but to feel when people tell me things like that in a situation like I'm being screwed over by a hospital that they are telling me in a way that, "yes, this sucks, but all dead baby parents have bad things happen."

Trust me, I know this. But really. REALLY. I should have asked Tom, "Wow, sorry about that...which hospital fucked around with you & didn't give you a bill you asked about for almost 6 months?" I should have asked Cabell Huntington woman, "How many of your employees were refused medical treatment when they came to your hospital?" I mean, if we are going to bring up your loss when dealing with my loss & how you've made it so much worse & more complicated, I'd like to know how it really compares. I want to hear who made that pain worse, who was a torn in your side. Until you have a story about being shit on, do not tell me about your loss when talking about my loss & how you've made that even worse than it needed to be. And if you've really had something like this happen to you & you really know how I feel, how about making this process not suck? How about helping? Doesn't that give you more of a reason to treat us dead baby parents a little better?

Obviously not.

Oh yeah, I also didn't "lose" my baby. My baby died. Let's stop talking like we went to WalMart & couldn't remember what aisle we may have dropped him in. I didn't lose a cat. I don't get the option of posting ads & hanging up flyers to ask "Have you seen my baby?" & offer a reward. My baby died. Sorry if that word makes you uncomfortable, but you know what? Spending 5 months on the phone & writing letters talking about my sons autopsy makes me uncomfortable. If I can deal with that, you can deal with the fact that he's dead & not lost.

To think, I was always annoyed when people talked about "finding out the gender" because you don't find out the gender, you find out the sex. Sex is biological, gender isn't. I could bore you with some long explanation of the male & female spectrum, but I won't. Just remember it's not gender, it's sex. Stop trying to find another word to use because you're weird & don't like to use the word "sex." Could be worse, you could have to use a word like "death."

I'm rambling.


Problem solved. The masses were heard. We are getting our paperwork after 5 1/2 months. Now I get to fill out forms for insurance & talk about my sons autopsy with them as well.

I swear, when this is said & done, I never want to talk about an autopsy again. Ever.

Calm down, angry peeps.

Short update on my last post (scroll down, I'm too busy to link)...

The hospital finally contacted me and they are over nighting the needed paperwork for me to submit the claim to my insurance.

While I didn't flat out ask if they received angry basklash, it was clear they were very aware of the case & that people were very angry. The guy even had someone special in the room to discuss with me their right to charge for the autopsy even though my son was "doa." I'll get to that later, too.

So yeah, I won.

Thanks, angry people. Good job, too.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Dead Baby Angry Letter Campaign

The back story is here...

A couple people have mentioned they'd love to write an angry letter on my behalf to express outrage over the hospital refusing us a bill for our sons autopsy, so...

Here is the contact info you need if you'd like to write or, heck, even call.

Pleasant Valley Hospital
2520 Valley Drive
Point Pleasant, WV 25550

The number is (304) 675-4340.

You can also go to their contact page & submit a message.

You're contacting them on behalf of the family of Joel Culver, the mother they've ignored all this time is Jessica Culver. They ignore me, therefore they ignore my dead son. I do not like that. Not at all.

Ask them how they sleep at night ignoring the situation & why they are being so damn secretive about the charges. Those are just suggestions, of course.

I've contacted the Vice President of Patient Services, Vice President of Financial Services, both billing departments (physician & hospital), & the patient advocate program. None have ever responded to me. The department directory is here, if you'd like to check that out. I've been told I can contact someone named Tom Shouder at ext.
1360, he's a higher up of billing administration.

This might seem lame & maybe nothing would come of this either, but I'd like them to be haunted by my story if nothing else. Of course, I'll update you on any happenings that come up & I appreciate anyone for even a short a message sent on our behalf or an angry phone message you may leave.


I just spoke to a supervisor at the hospital who shed alot of light on the situation. My son, even stillborn, was considered "doa," dead on arrival, since he was already confirmed dead when we went to the hospital. For any situations like that, THERE IS NO CHARGE FOR AN AUTOPSY. I shouldn't have been charged. She told me I would never get a bill because it was suppose to be free. When I told her I was charged $2800, she was speechless & couldn't get off the phone fast enough.

Mystery solved. These people blow. They used my dead son to rip me off $2800.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

The days & weeks...they drag on.

I really have nothing to blog about. But I feel as though I'm neglecting my readers & I want to write something. I'm just not sure what.

I'll give it a shot anyway.

First, in a bit of an update, I told you about the angry letter I sent the hospital who was ignoring me & refusing to give me a bill for Joel's autopsy so I could submit it to insurance. If you don't remember or want to read my anger, check it out here.

I lie when I call it an update, as there is nothing to report. Mailed out 5 letters to different departments & supervisors almost a month ago & I've heard nothing. They really don't care. Part of me wants to take this further, to do something, but I'm really out of ideas. Part of me just wants to call & leave angry messages, but I know that wouldn't help anything. If they were going to do anything for me or contact me about this, they would have done it in the about 3 weeks since they received the letters. I really just can't get over it, part of me wondered if my letter was a bit too harsh but now with being ignored I kinda wish I cussed in it. Maybe that would make me feel better about it.

Or hey, anyone wanna start an angry letter writing campaign? I'd love to share the contact info with anyone who may want to send something. Seems lame to ask people online to send angry letters on behalf of me & my dead baby, but if they can just ignore me maybe they can't ignore people in numbers. Just a thought.

Pregnant still obviously. I've never been one to count each day of a pregnancy, I've had enough that it's really no big deal. But since becoming a dead baby mom I count the hours. I'm not even 8 weeks & I'm not sure how I'm going to survive this. I'm constantly paranoid & waiting for the ball to drop. That second ultrasound last week made me feel better, I don't worry I'm losing the baby anytime soon, but I'm still scared. Part of me wonders if Jules was a fluke for that guy I married & myself. What if this baby has something wrong, something fatal?

I've seen blogs from people who've had more than one loss, some have had more than one very late term loss. Those people are brave, I don't know if I could do it all over again if something bad happens this time.

I've been lucky enough to catch a cold a few days ago, so I'm still recovering from that. I'll blame the snot on my lack of entertaining blogs. Hopefully I'll bounce back soon & be as annoying as I ever was.

Friday, November 6, 2009

I have a doctor & Conan tickets...could life actually be, well, good?

The past 24 hours haven't sucked. I'd venture to say they were good even.

It's been a while since things were good, mind you.

Yesterday I met with the doctor I used for my pregnancy with Jules. They have a new office with quotes from Buddha on the walls of the exam rooms. Of course the real odd thing was in the exam room I realized there

But not just any music, music that made me feel like I was watching some Discovery network show about dolphins. Then upbeat Survivor like music would come on, complete with chanting.

I went from a nervous wreck, crying in the waiting room, to just hoping I didn't burst out into hysterical laughing as soon as the man walked into the room.

Yeah, I was a nervous wreck. I really have no idea why this got to me, but it did. About the time I was pulling into the parking lot I started freaking out. As I was filling out paperwork I was forgetting things, like my birthday & social security number. Even my address. I then got to fill out this form "All About You!" which was thrilling. After going over my medical history, I turn the page & get to do a math problem. What kind of math problem?

The dead baby pregnancy living children math problem.

How many times have you been pregnant.
How many times have you had an abortion.
How many times have you had a miscarriage.
How many living children do you have.

Then there was another comment under those questions I had to fill in that read "If your final number of living children differs from your number of pregnancies, please explain in the space below."

At that point I wrote this: My son died when I was 40 weeks pregnant. I believe you call that a "fetal demise," but my son died. Please refer to him as my son, not a "fetal demise" in my presence. Thanks.

I then went on to list the names of my children, including Joel. Since I thought it'd be confusing, I considered drawing an arrow from his name to the explanation above, but I worried that'd be overkill.

I finally get called back by a very nice nurse. She ask me if I"m switching providers or just considering it. I look confused & then blurt out, "It's a long story, but my other OB broke up with me because they think I'm too high risk, so I"m here to see if he'll see me before I have to drive 45 minutes to see a regular OB who plans to follow the same recommendations that are already in my chart."

She took my rambles as a champ, even seemed to understand. She took my blood pressure which I was expecting to be ridiculous but it was perfectly normal. I kinda freaked out at that news.

After I enjoyed about 30 minutes of tribal music, all while pretending I'm on the finale of Survivor in my head (what, you don't do that?), the doctor comes in. His first question was basically "what happened?" I asked if he wanted the story some doctors keep giving me or our story, he wanted ours. So I told him. I told him about the kidney, how everyone keeps telling me you can live with just one, but we basically thought there were fluid issues. For once, a doctor didn't interrupt me & tell me, "Oh, no, you can live with just 1 kidney, that wasn't the issue!" He was surprised they didn't monitor me even if they thought they found a 2nd kidney & seemed to buy my theory when I explained the only kidney Joel had was a smaller pelvic kidney. He looked through everything, told me they could handle me without a problem, said they'd do everything recommended since that's basically what they'd do anyway. Her told me the only thing they couldn't do was the fetal echocaridiogram, which was suggested since Adam's sister had a heart condition, & then he told me they'd refer me to an office for that to be done around 22-24 weeks. Without even being told, he assured me they wouldn't send me to the local office to do it, the office where Joel was misdiagnosed, they'd send me to a different one.

He then sent me for another ultrasound, since I was paranoid & my measurements were 8 days off from what my due date was suppose to be. About 20 minutes after that, I got another peek at Piccadilly:


Baby has a heart rate that is good, measures that he/she has grown since earlier this week.

That scan showed me to be 7 weeks exactly instead of the 8 weeks exactly my last period would have put me at, so my new due date is June 24th. The doctor saw me again & showed me the report they'd already given of the ultrasound. He was really open about talking about everything with me, he realized I studied all of this stuff over the past few months, so he basically treated me like I knew what was going on. That was really my only complaint about him last time around, so I appreciate he didn't fall back into that. He offered to see me before the regular 1 month appointment, but I told him a month was fine, minus any issues of course. He then chased me down the hall not once, but twice, to tell me something he'd forgotten to mention before. Some may not like that he forgot to tell me a couple things, but hey, he eventually remembered & made an effort to make sure I knew. Nothing too important, but still.

And hey, if you really want to involve yourself in my life, feel free to Pick Piccadillys Stats.

Of course things got even better luck wise this afternoon as I was checking my email & found out that I'd won the ticket lotto for Conan O'Brien tickets when we're out west at the end of this month. So November 30th, my pregnant ass is going to see Conan live. Woohoo!

So I have a doctor. And I get to see Conan. Things are good. My mother is still nuts & bitter, but hey, I don't live with her so who cares?

My luck the past 24 hours has worked out so well I should have bought a lotto ticket when I was shopping tonight. I went shopping for food & came home with about a dozen types of yummy desserts. Yay for pregnancy. No, I don't blame the pregnancy for wanting to eat lots of ice cream & pie, it just gives me a better excuse than usual.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Dead baby pictures.

I'm lame & like the internet. More than I should. I've met friends online & even that guy I married. So yeah, the internet (or interwebz as I usually call it) are neato to me.

When you're knocked up the first time, you get online & go crazy. At least, that's what I've always seen. I'm part of the babycenter community. I'm not going to bother linking it, copy & paste it in your browser if you're really concerned.

So whose on babycenter? The smartest, best parents ever. Seriously, everyone knows everything about everything. It's awesome. Of course that's sarcasm, but some people really believe it. The place usually runs a regular course...when you're pregnant you debate things about labor & delivery, with a newborn you debate feeding & if moms who stay at home are better than working moms, & then once the toddler years hit all the debates usually turn passive aggressive. No more blatant insults, people just go on & on about how their 18 month olds can recite the declaration of independence & anyone whose kid can't, well, they must just be stupid. I usually get on just to find the most insane story of the day for Adam & I to make fun of. Hey, it's something to do & sometimes some really interesting things come up. Like one time a woman was confused about why her husband would go "night fishing" & would come home at like 4am smelling like booze, smoke, & cheap perfume & wanted to know if that seemed odd to anyone else.

What does this have to do with dead babies? Simple. The other day I missed the earth shattering debates on if it's wrong for dead baby moms to have pictures of their dead babies online. People went as far as to say the pictures were weird, gross, & disturbing. Some people said it was unfair of us dead baby moms to have them on babycenter, because it's unfair that we scare the pregnant women. So while moms of living babies can display their pictures with pride, dead baby moms should keep them in a private folder somewhere to be seen by no one.

I remember the night we came home after confirming that Joel was dead I googled everything I could. I wanted to know what dead babies looked like. I'd never seen anyone who was dead before. Seriously, even wakes & things have been closed caskets. So the thought of seeing my dead baby was scary as all hell. I don't remember much of anything I found, minus one message board thread somewhere that talked about how disturbed they were to see a picture of a dead baby in the newspaper obituary. People questioned why the newspaper would allow such a disturbing image. One person started the message out by saying it was unfair to judge the parents. I thought, "finally, someone sticking up for the dead baby parents!" But no, as I went on to read they explained that the parents must be grief stricken & one day they'd regret sharing a dead baby picture & how bad we should all feel for them for making such a rash decision in grief.

Here is my formal opinion on people offended by dead baby pictures & want to bitch & moan about them:

Go fuck yourselves.

Seriously. Go do it right now. Come back & read the rest of this when you're done.

I've seen people compare a dead baby picture to a picture of a dead 10 year old, people tried to make the argument "would you show pictures of your dead 10 year old? If not, why show your dead baby?" That's the most fucking ridiculous statement I've ever heard. To compare a child dying & a dead baby is impossible. I would love to share pictures of Joel's first bath, his first birthday, his first day of'd be great. But sadly, all I & many other moms have are those few pictures from the few hours we ever got to spend with our children. It's all we've got, it's all we'll ever have.

I also enjoy the statement that it could scare other pregnant woman. Hey, other pregnant women, here is a message for you, too:

Your baby can die. My baby died & I did nothing wrong. Many other babies die & their mom's did nothing wrong either. No one is immune to this. Do what I wish I had done, demand good medical care & monitoring of any problems. Don't just hear some good news & be so happy to hear it that you are willing to run with it. Worry. Be an advocate for yourself & your child. If you feel like something is up, demand answers. And always remember when you take your baby home from the hospital to care for them like you know you should, some of us wish we had that chance. Realize that your baby isn't a right. It should be, but it isn't.

Trust me, I'm totally aware that to many who have never been in "the club" dead babies are disturbing & upsetting. But good news, you didn't have to live it. You didn't go through a pregnancy, labor, & delivery only to send your baby to the morgue before you go home to your baby free house. You should be upset by the thought, I know I am. Before I lost Joel I never thought about dead babies, I saw them from time to time online & never thought twice about it besides how awful it would be to go through that. As annoyed as I get by things, I was never upset by dead baby pictures. And now, more than ever, I'm not upset by them. In fact, I'm appreciative of them. I'm so happy I decided to go ahead & get Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep to come in when we lost Joel. I wasn't sure I'd ever look at them, but I'm so happy I have them now. I can't imagine going through all of that & having no real proof of his existence.

I'm pissed off. I really am. I'm tired of being treated like I'm treated, being thought about like I'm thought about.

I don't like that some people find out I'm pregnant again & get that "oh god, not again?!" look on their faces. I shouldn't have to worry that when I tell people about this baby I'll get that look from them possibly. I don't like the fact that my doctor broke up with me because they are just convinced babies die in me & don't want to risk it. I don't like people deciding how I should or shouldn't act when it comes to my dead baby. I don't like that I don't get credit as a mom. I'm the woman who had a dead baby. Or, as I've ranted before, a dead fetus. I get no recognition that I delivered a baby. I look back to my first visit with the doctor this pregnancy & he didn't ask anything about my delivery with Joel or his stats, even though he asked for others. He just wrote it off as the "miscarriage" it's marked down on my chart as. I would never argue that a miscarriage isn't painful & emotional, you have still lost your child. But if I had a choice I think I'd much rather had a miscarriage early on than go en entire pregnancy to end up with a dead baby & to have to go through 26 hours of labor in the hospital before pushing out said baby, only to check out of the hospital & go make funeral arrangements. At least then I wouldn't be looked at like a weirdo. Miscarriages are accepted, they are something that happens in the medical community. But a 40 week loss? You become some freak of nature. I can almost understand why it's hard for people to connect to dead babies that aren't theirs. They weren't real to those people like they are to us parents. But the fact that people can write off my experience & the experiences of others really gets to me. My mom, who is sad over Joel, talked before I got pregnant this time about "if Jules ever has any younger brothers or sisters..." & got upset when I reminded her that he does have a younger brother. Her response was some babbling & finally coming up with "well...I can't see him." No shit you can't see him, I can't either. But I see the stretch marks he gave me. I remember the stitches he gave me. I remember feeling & seeing his kicks. I remember seeing that positive pregnancy test. And I remember watching him get wheeled out of the room on his way to the autopsy. Just because we can't see him doesn't mean he never happened.

And that brings me back to the dead baby pictures & talking about how us parents don't know what we're doing because we're so grief stricken we don't know better at the time to not share these awful pictures. I remember reading online one day about a woman who was very upset, all her co-workers have children & their pictures on their desk. Her baby, full term, passed away a few hours after birth due to medical problems. She took a picture into work, put it on her desk, & people were bothered. Everyday she'd come back from lunch & find the picture of her daughter turned around or upside sown. She eventually found out who was doing it, asked them about it, & they admitted that they & several others were disturbed by the picture knowing that it was taken with the baby so close to death & they didn't want to look at it. She was asked to remove it. I'm not sure what happened with that situation, but I like to think she went crazy & burned the building down. I know I would.

I don't claim to speak on behalf of everyone in this unfortunate club, but let me explain something to you...people need to suck it up & get over it. When we're told not to show pictures of our babies or people act awkward on the topic of our babies, that is basically telling us to get over their deaths in my opinion. If I can be expected to just get over a death, I think people can get over some pictures or whatever else.

I'm not sure what I'm most angry about really...that he doesn't get recognition or that I don't get any for all that I went through.

I remember the days of innocence. Days of thinking nothing this bad could happen to me. Thinking that these like this only happen to other people. Of having no worries about simple things in life or things that should be simple. I guess people don't like to see the proof in front of them that bad things can happen & that they do happen. They want to continue to live in that bubble of innocence. Can't say I blame them, that was a much better place. But don't expect me to help you live in that bubble, don't expect me to hide in the shadows, never talking about my son or his death, don't expect me to hide his pictures away in some lock box like a family secret that needs to be buried. You can keep living in your dream world & that is fine, but don't try to ignore my nightmare or expect me to in order for you to be more comfortable. If anything, feel better knowing that you get to live in that wonderful dream instead of in the hell we've been through the past few months.

I'm proud of my son. I'm sad that I didn't get a chance to see what he would be. And I refuse to feel bad for holding onto the few things I have of him. I refuse to hide him away. It's something I can't make you understand unless you've been through it & I hope it's something you never have to understand. Instead, choose to understand we're making the most of what we have & we shouldn't have to hide that or apologize for it.

And, like I said earlier, if you've got a problem with that, seriously, go fuck yourself.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

The best wedding ever...and not just because we found the best gas station ever.

I hate weddings.

I know, I know, it's beautiful & blah blah blah.

I hate weddings.

The nosey part of me likes them just so I can go & see the insanity. Of course, I've only ever been to family weddings for the most part, so of course they are insane. Well, I did go to another. The grooms parents wore matching flannel shirts. Yes, really. I need to dig those pictures out & scan them, huh?

Anyway, I received a wedding invite from my friend Shannon a couple months ago. Shannon is someone I met working in hell...Office Space in real life. Seriously, our supervisor was like the supervisor in Office Space. Know the scene where everyone keeps talking about TPS reprts & the memo he was suppose to get? Well, I had that convo once.

Amanda: Yeah, about your MPS, we need a different header on those from now on, we sent an email.
Me: Yeah, I know, sorry about that, just a mistake got the email & already took care of it.
Amanda: I'll forward you that email. Be sure to fix that when you have time.

*15 minutes later*

Tina: Yeah, Jess, I just saw your MPS, we sent an email, maybe you didn't get it...
Me: Yeah, I got it, sorry about that, I already corrected it & talked to Amanda.
Tina: Well you'll need to fix those & I'll go ahead & send you that email again & let Amanda know you fixed those.

I hit my head on the wall at this point, only for my phone to ring 30 minutes later, it was another supervisor who didn't even work with me, asking if I missed that email since my MPS was wrong. I also often fought losing battles with the fax machine, but who doesn't?

Yes, we really had MPS reports. Of course, I don't know why this is so suprising to me, when I was pregnant with Jules my supervisor told me every since I became pregnant I wasn't doing as good of a job as I once was & that it was really interfering in my job. I'd just come back from 2 days of bed rest, btw, & got wrote up for it. Fabulous.


We'd just lost Joel &, well, I wanted to go. She's fun, the guy she was marrying was fun, I'd been out with them before & they like to drink like I do & their reception was in a pub, so Adam was in as well. So I promptly checked "will attend" & mailed it back a couple days later, thinking what a loser she must think I am for getting it back to her like 6 weeks in advance.

Decide to just go for it. Adam took the day before off & we decided to stay at the really nice (read: expensive) hotel they were having their wedding at.

This, friends, is the story of our adventure. With pictures, of course.

We set off on a Friday afternoon & I quickly realized I forgot to call the trail riding place.

Did I mention I was going to make Adam go horseback riding?

He'd never been on a horse, so I thought it would be extra fun. And the hotel was about 15 minutes from a ranch that did horse back riding, so I was totally in for that.

Anyway, back to the road. After we enjoyed our regular Starbucks...


I spent time on the road trying to get an internet signal on Adam's netbook in order to look up the horse place. We never had much luck on the road.

We took an exit to a town called "Big Otter." Yes, really. We wanted to get gas & some drinks. Here is that station.


Smileys Exxon.

I made the mistake of going to the bathroom at this point. I didn't have a lock on the door, instead I was suppose to use...


A piece of tape that you held while on the toilet to keep the door from flying open.

As I went to wash my hands, I was sad I'd already gotten a wedding gift because...


What is better than a Love Kit?

As we left we saw something fun. Across the street, at some diner, we saw this sign...


They have wireless internet. In this random, out there place. We pulled into the parking lot & used their connection to look up the horse place. Made an appointment for Sunday afternoon. Yay!

We had some fun on the road there, like making fun of this...


Noah's Ark didn't survive the flood obviously.

Then we got on the longest road EVER. Seriously, it was bad. Directions suck. Since when does a "slight left" mean you go through a turn? Seriously, it's a fucking turn, not a left. Either I go left or I would go into a tree.

Eventually we figure out we are in fact on the correct road, even though we were skeptical about that many times. We happen upon an Exxon. The weirdest Exxon ever. For one thing, they have only 1 gas pump.


And even better? They sold...


Chicken Manure.

They also sold light & phone poles. Because it's so rural, the electric company makes you find your own. Insanity, right?

You've obviously never walked into this place if you think that is as insane as it gets.

Everyone stopped when we walked in. It was like we'd showed up from Hollywood on an Amish farm. Of course, I took pictures of this place while Adam worried we were upsetting the locals. Personally, I doubt I was the first person to come take pictures. Pictures like these...



This place had everything. From taxidermy animals to kids toys to...


huntin' clothes.

Speaking of huntin', look what someone bagged & put on display...


And the fun thing was the mens bathroom...


Where the lock was on the outside of the door.

According to Adam the windows were right there with the urinals & as he used the bathroom he was waiting on some inbreed boy to peek into the window & stare at him.

We hit the road again before the locals decided to stone us to death, only to have Adam freak out over...


"A WIND FARM!" He just kept saying it over & over, demanding I take pictures. Weird.

Once we arrived in town, we went to eat.



What, you don't get thirsty when you eat?

Funny I mention my told job, because the woman who waited on us looked & sounded just like one of the supervisors I spoke about earlier. She even brought the wrong drink & got all defensive about it, just standing there like she was so sure I'd asked for water & was just waiting on me to agree. It was weird. I thought she was going to ask if I got that email about the MPS's.

We went to our hotel, which was nice. Until Adam messed up the bed.


Then he really messed up the bed...


The bathroom was nice.


But every time I looked at the floor...


I thought there was poop on the floor.

And I know I love a view of the world when I pee.


Now the weird thing about this hotel with the air conditioning. It only went down to 70, which sounds cook but it really wasn't. We had to leave the fans on all the time to keep even kinda cool. Adam called & ask about it & the lady told him the power kicked off if it went below 70 & had some long, drawn out explanation that didn't make sense & seemed like a cover. Of course she gave a great idea for how we could cool off the room...if we were hot, we could "prop open the door into the hallway & let that cooler air in."

...I was paying $130 a night & they just told me to prop open the door?

Adam later asked again & the guy that time said what we figured. They lock it at 70 to keep power cost down but he said he thought it was unfair.

I suddenly missed my $60 a night hotel with unlimited AC.

We went to explore the hotel & found a hallway.


We were really excited to see where it went. Please see this picture...


We went down the first hall. Then we were shocked to find out that it was just a wheelchair ramp that went down to the doors, which you can see in the above picture.



But at least I got a picture with the dog at the entry.


I really liked those dogs.

We also found a piano bar. It had drinks.


And it had a guy that played the piano.


But not just any guy, he was famous!


At least according to him he is. Trailer Park Boys? Really?

They even advertised him under our hotel room door...


I have no idea why there needed to be so many dots. I also have no idea why it said he was "on" the piano. To me, that implies he was on the piano. He was not on it, he was playing it. If he could do both, I might be impressed.

The day of the wedding I put Adam to work...


Then we were ready for the wedding.


Yay, wedding!

Of course, no one was excited as Shannon.


While waiting on the reception to start, I got a thirst.


And then I saw my mother in law.


At the reception we got to see the candy bar. No, they didn't display a single candy bar, they had a bar with candy.


This posed a question from me to Adam...why didn't he think of neat ideas like that for our wedding?! I suddenly wanted to divorce & remarry him.

But he didn't care, he was eating candy.


They also had the neatest cake ever.


Mine just had a big dumb "C" on it. Poopy.

Adam drank. Alot. So much he decided it would be fun to add a giant Pixie Stick to his booze.


This attracted Shannons attention, at which point she told him he was drunk, because he wouldn't shut up. I was not. Which was amazing since I'd downed an insane amount of booze. At that point I think I was on like margarita #6 or 7. Of course, it then came up that I'd never done shots. So...


Then I did more.


Then shortly after I remember going to the bathroom to pee & thinking "why won't this floor stop mooooovvvvvinnnnggggg." I realized that was my head moving, not the floor, & the blurry vision wasn't helping me at all. I then joined Adam, who was talking to some guy about education. It sounded serious. I was too busy thinking "lights are sure pretttttty...." to really understand what was going on though.

We were drunk.


I think I was just starting to feel those 6 or 7 margaritas when I did the shots, which didn't help. After the reception we went back to the room. But, of course, stopping to pose with the dogs again.


Told you he liked that pixie stick.


Me? I just like life.

After Adam went & threw up in our bathroom, we went back to the bar with the wedding folks, then back to the pub. Fun times. I'm really amazed I remember much of it.

OK, I don't remember cake. I mean, I remember it, I remember eating it & loving it, but I can't tell you what it was. Adam? He doesn't even remember cake. But he does remember discussions of zombies & survival. And really, is there anything more important?

On the way home I asked Adam, "are you going to ever drink again?" He told me he would. I told him considering I was never as drunk as I was the night before, I don't think I could for a while.

That night, I got a positive pregnancy test. Oops.

So not only did I have a great time, Shannon & Lee get the honor of being the first people to get my kid drunk. In the womb even. Good job guys, good job.

Of course here were oddities on the way home as well. Like this guy...


And his personalized plate.


...really? No, just no.

Soon I'll share the story of horseback riding. Good times there, too.

Thankfully we were sober for that experience.


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