Monday, July 27, 2009

Me write good.

For weeks, I went back & forth about writing an angry letter to Cabell Huntington Hospital, the hospital we went to confirm that we'd lost Joel after we went to our midwife appoinment and there wasn't a heartbeat. In case you don't know or you forget, we were told by our midwife who spoke to the head OB nurse to bypass registration and go directly to the OB floor, that any paperwork would be filled out there. When we got there, that wasn't the case with the lady working the window. She refused to let us back, I had to blurt out that my baby had no heart beat before she'd even consider letting me back to be seen. And even when she agreed to let me go back she kept insisting that Adam go downstairs to register me. You know, without knowing if his son was alright or if I was alright. She was rude, uncaring, kept trying to interupt anything we said to her, and even made the situation worse by trying to get in one last insult in when I was trying to just get Adam to go along with it so we could find out what was going with Joel.

I felt like it was lame of me to hold something like that againist people, but I couldn't help it. The day we got Joel's death certificate in, which listed nothing more than the fact that we'd had a dead fetus on May 28th, I was done. Just done with it all. I don't really take well to being treated like crap and that was my final straw in this situation, I was tired of being just a number on the list of dead baby moms.

So I sat at my computer and wrote. I wrote until I felt better. I wrote until I hit 3 pages. My computer lost my letter, but I eventually recovered it. I went back and forth on if I should send it or not. I decided I would. I didn't care if no one else cared, I did. And I was done being written off as just a number, I was done having my son ignored. I addressed it, put 2 stamps on it because it was so thick and heavy, and I mailed it out almost 2 weeks ago.

Early on I didn't care if I had a response, but as this past weekend hit I was annoyed again that no one seemed to care. I sat and typed in another angry letter last night that I was going to mail out this week if I hadn't heard anything laying out my intentions to contact local media on how awful our treatment was and how the hospital ignored our complaint. Face it, the 5pm news show loves sad tales and this is a sad tale if I ever heard one.

Sadly, I'm not able to send that second angry letter, nor will I be on he 5 o'clock news anytime soon, as a nice lady named Jennifer called me. She admitted when she was handed the letter, because of how thick it was, she was scared and filled with doom, thinking it was some petty person complaining about each and every thing humanly possible. But she admitted that as she read my letter she realized its length was justified and by the end she was crying. In these two weeks, a full investigation was started. They knew the employee right off, I'm guessing because she'd had other indicdents of being a crappy person. And funny enough, the incident happened right after a training on being caring and effective communication.

What I knew all along was confirmed, that the situation was not handled as it was suppose to be handled, that the employee was very wrong. In the official apology letter we're getting the head of OB admits that it was uncalled for and was "pathetic" of the employee. The nice lady also implied to me that the lady no longer had a job with their hospital (though I can only assume), telling me I would never have to worry about seeing her again if I returned to the hospital. They admitted they sucked, that they were icky people. That made me happy, part of me was paranoid they'd try to justify it or deny it happening.

I also made people cry with my letter. The lady kept me on the phone for 20 minutes telling me how sorry they were and how upset she was along with the head of OB. And my letter was so well written & vivid, they are using it as a training tool. They are blacking out my info to show staff that how they treat people even in a moment can hurt them for a lifetime and the staff in the OB are going to be reminded of how to treat parents in our situation.

I'm pretty good telling if people are just blowing smoke up my ass, but I really don't believe that was happing in this situation.

So now, finally, something about this situation has allowed me to feel like maybe, just maybe, for other parents this road won't be as hard as it's been for us. I'm selfish, I'm doing it for myself. But I'm also doing it for Joel.

And speaking of Joel, we got his pictures in today. I wasn't sure I'd even look at them myself, but funny how things change over the weeks, huh?

Mr. Joel Tristan Culver...

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He was real. Moving on doesn't mean forgetting.

I have reasons for everything in life I do. I'm now starting to work on things for Joel. Nothing that will change our outcome, but hopefully things that can help others in the future. It started with an angry letter and changing a hospital a little, I hope I can do bigger things for him in the future. I'm at least going to try.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

I am woman, watch me work & cook.

If you know me, I’ve never been one for physical work. In fact, I’ve never been one for physical anything. I only did enough gym in high school to get a grade of a C. I don’t like to sweat. So I’m not sure why I come up with more & more ways to make myself do physical labor. Mid you, last time we really did house stuff it was more of me picking things & Adam doing them. But this time around I picked something that I planned on helping with. HELPING. Not doing. Please note that.

I hate carpet. I hate our carpet. You try having carpet with 34845654 cats, kids, & a husband who doesn’t take his shoes off & see how much you like carpet. Tan carpet at that. The idiots who “flipped” our house didn’t know how to lay carpet but they sure didn’t let that stop them. So on top of cheap, ugly carpet that I can’t keep clean to save myself, it’s put down poorly. And no where was it so poorly than the stairs. Not cut correctly, not laid correctly, with nails coming up in some places that made you bleed. And then you bleed on the tan carpet, which leads back to the keeping clean problem. It’s a vicious cycle.

So I decided “I have a GREAT idea! Let’s re-finish our stairs!” That meant ripping up carpet, sanding (oh god, please, anything but sanding), then staining. Simple enough, right? RIGHT!

So Simple I added other task, including but not limited to…

-Putting handles all on the kitchen cabinets

-Painting the back bathroom, along with adding new fixtures & trim.

-Pouring some concrete to connect the concrete pads on the side of our house to the back.

We also, of course, added some minor wall decorating in the living & dining rooms, & adding a couple corner shelves in the living room. Oh yeah, & a pantry in the kitchen. But we’ll get to all of that in the future, I promise.

On one day we decided my parents could baby-sit a few hours & we’d work to get as much done as we could without interruptions. So I now bring you what Adam & I did on that day. With pictures, of course.

Adam’s first job was the concrete, which he started when I left for my parents house. He was preparing the location. He was still doing that when I came home. Fine, I move in the house to start on the stairs, thinking he’ll come join me soon enough…

Here are the stairs, from the top down…

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Please note the nice, fancy decorative door knobs at the bottom. I hung those up all by myself.

In case you’re wondering why I didn’t take a picture from the bottom, the answer is simple, I was already at the top of the landing when I remembered to &, as I said, I don’t like physical activity so I didn’t want to go down & have to go back up.

I’d cheated the night before & removed the carpet from the bottom step, & it was ugly…

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Of course, what was more ugly than that stair would be my arch nemesis, the staples…

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If you’ll remember, I’ve said before that the people who did our house were idiots. This wasn’t anything they knew how to do, so they just did everything badly & used staples to try to make it work. I pulled over 50 staples out of the one bottom step. FIFTY! On top of the various strips of nails used to “hold” the carpet down. And on the bottom step they put so many staples in the corner, it messed the entire corner of the step up…

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Every step had at least 20 staples, some more than that, some had 2 or 3 staples on top of each other. Lots of fun. See?

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See all that foam? That’s the padding, where you see that there are multiple staples. And this was AFTER I removed half from that step. And lets not forget the fact that I’m also prying up nail strips, too. Lots of fun.

And really all I’m getting in return is ugly steps. Of course, I found uglier. Our landing…

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I almost felt like it looked as though a pirate had hidden his treasure under there.

Oh yeah, Hammy wants you to know he approve of this, too…

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Adam comes in as I’m doing this to make a phone call about graduate school. I only know this because he came to me & asked, “so what do I need to ask them about?” So then I spent a few minutes telling him what he needed to call for. I then go back to work.

I go for about 1 ½ hours, then I’m finally done. Ugly, bare steps…

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I’m tired. I’m sweating. I’m cranky. And you would be, too, if you’d just been doing that & were covered in what I called “carpet ickies.” I felt grimy thanks to the dust off the carpet & padding. I wonder where Adam is, so I head outside. He must have something done now & going to come inside at any minute, right?

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That’s it. Still. He tells me about all of this mathematical stuff he’s done in effort to pour concrete in the holes. Silly me, I thought you just poured concrete. He uses the excuse of his phone call earlier taking time away from his work, which I don’t accept as that was something he had “been meaning to do” for over a week. So I suck it up & head back in to move to the next project.

Oh yeah, Adam did take the time to make sure he had music…

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Did I mention I’m sweating?

I go back in the house & move to the kitchen where I’m going to drill holes in the cabinets & place handles. It seemed easy enough, but I was freaked out because this is something you really don’t want to mess up, putting holes in your cabinet. You can always repaint & things, you can’t undo a hole. Here is before, without the handles…

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Again, excuse the mess, we live here & it happens.

Anyway, I take my time & do one set of cabinets without any problems. Hooray!

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Like I said, hooray!

I then move onto the other side of the lower cabinets, this time with drawers, only to discover this problem…

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Fail. My screws were too short to drill through the drawers. I take it in stride & move on to the rest of the cabinets. As I work on cabinets above the counter I realize this is messy, sawdust would get everywhere. On the floor it didn’t matter, but I didn’t want it all over the counter, so I came up with this idea…

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I would hold a plate underneath while I drilled. Dumb? Maybe. But it worked.

And in a “WTF?!” moment I get on the chair to get the cabinet doors over the stove & I found this…

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AN OUTLET?! IN A CABINET?!

I’m sorry, but is this normal?

I didn’t care though, I moved on & had all the cabinet doors done in another hour or so…

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Have I said hooray yet?

I then check on Adam again. He’s now smoothing his concrete. So then I made dinner after I did the steps & the cabinets, cleaning up after both projects as well…

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I even prepare & light the grill. As I’m taking out the chicken & stuff, I see this…

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Adam has left me a gift of his socks in the doorway. I knew then it must be a day that ends in “y” for him to leave me the gift of socks in my way.

But I continue out & grill…

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Oh yeah, at this point I tell Adam I’m going to be sure to blog about all the work I did on top of cooking dinner while he just did a concrete step. He wanted to make sure I mentioned that I prepped all the food the night before. So yeah, I prepped all the food the night before. At around 2am, while he was playing video games. So I guess I cheated there, please excuse me for it though.

While cooking dinner, I fed Jennifer…

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That’s Jennifer. She’s the newest cat the neighbors stopped feeding & threw her out after she had a litter of kittens. It’s likely she’s one of the kittens from Macy’s first litter. So now we’re feeding her. Ugh. Getting her spayed in a week or so though in order to prevent anymore kittens, so that’s one good thing. She has a very crappy attitude & snorts as she is attacking you for food. We’re considering renaming her Muffin.

But anyway. Dinner was pretty & good. I meant to take a picture of it all done, but I was hungry so I forgot. Then I took a quick shower before driving over into Ohio to get Jules.

So, in that 7 hour period I stripped carpet & 34534534 staples from the steps, cleaned it all up, put handles on all the cabinets, cleaned up that mess, cooked a nice dinner with dinner rolls at that, showered, fed a cat I don’t own along with cats I do own, picked up my kid, and then came home. The only thing I failed to do? Pick up those damn socks when I did 2 loads of laundry that night.

And Adam? Well…

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He poured a concrete step. A, as in one. And at first he wanted to use a 5 gallon bucket to mix the concrete up in. He’d still be outside doing it as I type this if I hadn’t talked him out of that great idea.

I swear I had “I am woman hear me roar” in my head while I was doing most of this.

And a couple days later, I got the pleasure of sanding all of the steps. Alone. I did that while Adam went to Lowes because he got the wrong size replacement step so he had to return it & get what we needed. While I was at home. Sanding. Do you know how messy sanding in your house is? You’ll get to see soon enough.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Great, I'm one of those women.

I've always known of or heard about women who lose their wedding rings. I've always thought, "how does one lose their wedding ring?!" but today I found out.

Yay, I'm one of those women who have lost their wedding ring. And I'm totally hopeless on finding it.

Very odd really. I take my rings off in the evening because since I had Jules, my fingers swell at night. That's very odd, too, as I was able to wear them my entire pregnancy but soon after having him they swelled & it's something that now happens nightly. Like I said, odd. Anyway, I put them in a couple places depending on where I take them off, often they are in the bathroom on our vanity as I take them off before I shower at night. High enough where nothing can bother them. Never had a problem. Various times today both Adam & I went into that bathroom without a problem, but when I went into it this afternoon I noticed 2 of my rings in the sink, but my wedding band was missing.

I panic because that obviously means it's down the drain. Well, no, it can't be. The plug in our drain is very small & the rings can't fit through it to go down the drain. I actually used my other rings as an example to try to actually force it past to go down into the sink & it wouldn't even go close, seeing as my rings are all the same size my band couldn't have fit either.

Looked everywhere in the bathroom, it's not there. Looked everywhere upstairs (minus our bedroom since the door had been shut so it's impossible it's in there) & it's no where. Looked on the stairs & it's not there, nor is it in the living room area.

Of course, I'm very curious on how they even got knocked down at all. There are only two options, Jules or cats. The only way Jules could have got them is if Adam was holding him & he grabbed them, but Adam hadn't been in there since between the time I knew my rings were safe on the vanity & when I found two of them in the sink. Plus, usually Jules shows you everything he gets or finds so I'm guessing if he'd encountered it anywhere he'd ran up to us, proudly showing off his neato find. The cats being at fault is possible I guess; if they were after a fly or something they could have jumped up there, hit stuff on the vanity, & sent them flying. Of course, there are several other things in the area of my rings, light things that would have went flying very easily, & they were totally untouched. It's really almost like my rings got up & decided to try to kill themselves & took a leap off of the shelf then the band just vanished into thin air.

As I said, we've looked everywhere possible. It's no where. There is no where it could have just vanished to, no where it could have fallen into or anything.

The only place we didn't check was the toilet & I'm now paranoid I should have. Silly me, when I walked in the bathroom I saw them laying in the sink & just assumed they were all there so I used the bathroom, of course flushed, & then realized my band was missing. So now I'm wondering if maybe, just maybe somehow, it wound up in the toilet. If it did, it sure isn't there now.

I'm upset, but thankfully I'm on zoloft so it kinda makes me void of human emotion at times, so I'm not sitting here crying. I give that till tonight though.

So now I get to walk around looking engaged, so people can see me with my son & think "poor girl, her boyfriend will never marry her if he hasn't already!" or people can see me & Adam out & think he's cheating on his wife with some slut whose engaged to someone else.

I over think things, I know. If anyone has any magical, psychic powers, feel free to share. I guess I'll go look at all the places my ring isn't at until then.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Oh hi there, I'm bitter, how are you?

Oh, the might emotions I've felt the past several months. It's really been a roller coaster. And I doubt it will ever end. I try to pick myself up, only to be drug back down again. It's an annoying pattern that I can't seem to beat.

Saw my midwife on Friday. She went over the test results with me more & is going to get us in for a pre-conception meeting with a high risk OB specialist. I guess then we'll get a better idea of what we're dealing with.

She gave us the copy of the autopsy results. There was a form included of ordering further test of things if we signed & returned it...within two weeks. That was sent to the OB about 5 weeks ago, so the 2 weeks has passed. So that was an annoying bummer. Not saying we would have, but it would have been nice to have the option since, well, we were suppose to. Of course it did suck that it said the sample was of "products of conception." I'm so happy paperwork keeps telling me I didn't have a baby or even a son, instead just a "dead fetus" or "products of conception." I wish someone told us that before we got all sad all those weeks ago.

Anyway, have you ever seen an autopsy report? It's very simple, broken down into sections. Only a couple pages. Somehow an autopsy report words things better than anything as, as it list his name & that he is the "stillborn son of Jessica Culver." That was a nice change. But a couple things were odd. Under the section of physical apperance it was listed that Joel had "unusual facial features." Not sure if that could indicate something or if he thinks our genes make odd looking babies, but the midwife called & left a message for him to clarify that. Also going to be clarified is the statement on the kidneys. It listed that they ID'ed the pelvic kidney, but then it noted that a 2nd kidney couldn't be found at all. This is odd because he was suppose to have 1 really good, healthy one & then a smaller pelvic kidney. Some things listed as being decomposed & such, like a couple things the doctor couldn't ID perfectly or check for defects with, but it just said "2nd kidney could not be located." So we're trying to find out if there was a reason they couldn't find it or if they are suggesting it isn't there. Part of me is hoping it's option B, because that'll give me answers & tell me it wasn't my fault.

After this we go out to eat & end up eating at the bar since the resturant was so busy. After we sat down 3 people came & sat beside us including a pregnant woman. The guy working the bar made small talk about kids & the topic of hoping for a boy or girl came up, which then inspired a more than 5 minute convo between the 3 people about how it doesn't matter as long as it's not dead, has a brain, both legs, etc., along with jokes about babies being born with this or that wrong. As a woman who had a dead baby several weeks ago, that wasn't something I wanted to sit beside. Part of me wanted to jump in with, "Know what's worse than having a baby with 1 leg?!" but I refrained. Be proud of me.

I'm on birth control again now. Something I never thought I'd have to take again. No reason to be on it right now, but since the reversal is going to happen in a couple weeks I figured better now than later so we can hopefully control this somewhat. Don't want to be suprised this time around.

I have further proof my inlaws can never do anything right, that's it's been ruined forever. We'd talked in advance that I'd be pissed if his family responded to the news with "are you sure you should?" or something like that. The best response in my eyes would have been "whatever makes you happy." They needed to be middle of the road, not questioning. Of course they also couldn't be happy about it I found out. Adam mentioned to me after he told his mom that she seemed to get a little choked up at the news (or something along those lines, I forget the wording), which honestly made me want to go through the ceiling.

I know you're thinking, "but why? That's a good response!" but it's not. My first thought was "why wasn't Joel good enough for you to get choked up over when you found out we were expecting him?" In case you aren't aware or forget, we didn't talk to months because after finding out we were expecting Joel my inlaws reaction sucked, including comments like "well, it's a baby so I guess you have to be happy about that," & just overall avoiding the topic & when forced to talk about it the response was that we weren't like family to them so they weren't happy about it.

I'm pissed off that she thinks she has a right to be happy about it. Why not get choked up over that news the first time around? Why did Joel have to die before a happy reaction would come out of us having a baby? Not that I think they wanted anything bad to happen, but if they could have just been happy all those months ago it would have saved us all so much grief. And trust me, we've had enough for a lifetime now.

My head knows it's not a fair reaction, I'll fully admit that. But try to explain that to my heart, which has been hurt for years by these people. I feel bad for feeling this way, but at the same time I think now is the time in my life I'm allowed to feel any damn thing I want to feel, rational or not.

I guess it comes down to the fact that I wanted my son from the start. I still do & I always will. I wish they wanted him from the start, too. I wish we didn't have to hit rock bottom for a child to be appreciated, like I feel has happened.

Of course on top of all of that I wonder how Joel will effect the next pregnancy for the family. My family pretty much screams it from the roof tops as soon as they get a positive pregnancy test. But I know my inlaws think it's something that shouldn't be told until you're pass the "safe" point. I've never been one to do that & even now if I found out I was pregnant I'd tell the world as soon as I knew. That's just how I am. Plus, for me, when is the safe point? I was way past the "safe" point & look how that turned out. I know I can tell people myself, we have the ability to do that just like we told people as soon as we found out we were expecting Joel, but I don't want me telling people to be questioned, nor do I want to get any attitude from people because we tell the good news. I don't want to be the hidden pregnant woman & I don't want to have to explain that to people. And if something happens, maybe I'm weird for it, but I'd like people to know. I don't want it to be some secret. I don't want to deny the existance of a child, no matter how small they are. But my husbands family seems good at dealing with anything involving emotions by ignoring & hiding them like they never happened. I'm weird because I can't do that.

There are so many things I'd be fine with hearing from them to just help me move pass these bitter, angry feelings, but they aren't willing to say any. And I'm not willing to accept ignoring things. I hope they realize that, because if they don't that means they think that Joel dying is a chance to "start fresh" like they've wanted to do. Starting fresh is the way they say "just get over it & pretend it didn't happen." Not only do I think it's disrespectful to us, but to the memory of Joel. I refuse to let his death allow people a new chance without any changes. I'm not going to allow Joel's death to be some catalyst for Sunday get togethers. Don't get me wrong, I think that it should be a catalyst...a catalyst to make them look at things they've said & done, the things they've missed out on, & make them want to make changes. Even my mother has learned something & changed some of her ways since we've lost Joel. If my kooky mom can change, I really believe anyone can. But, like most things in life, it's a choice. You can want it for someone as much as you can, but if that person doens't want it, it's not going to happen. Vauge words aren't enough for me. They never have been, but this gives me more of a backbone. I'm not just sticking up for myself anymore, I sticking up for Joel. I was helpless to save him, but I'm not helpless in this.

Nothing like being sad in the middle of the night, let me tell you.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Kitchen WIN

My house is small. Alright, it’s actually not that small. But we have too much stuff, that is the problem. So we’ve been trying to come up with better ways to utilize space in hopes of saving our sanity. We’ve added shelves & a cabinet to our living room, a office cabinet in our back room that serves as a, well, office like room. The next step is the kitchen.

I don’t have a lot of cabinets, but again, I have a lot of stuff. Some stuff is on the top of the cabinets, I can’t get some things down myself, our canned foods are in a small cabinet, & it’s just blah. Our pots & pans cabinet is the worse & for that I blame my mother in law. How? Well, let me explain.

When we moved into the house they came up the next day to “help.” My mother in law hung up a set of blinds in the kitchen with me while I was going through stuff, sorting & such. I found these little pegs & I had no idea what they were. I asked her. She looked at them & told me something along the lines of “Oh, you don’t need those, they are just extra stuff the people must have left here.”

Please note, at this time I didn’t know the woman had it in for me.

A few days later Adam asks where the pegs for the lower cabinets are because he’s going to put the shelves in.

Oops.

So I have no shelves in the bottom cabinets. And his mother totally knew what they were & even Adam thinks she did it to screw with me, & in turn screw with him in hopes he’d get tired of my messy cabinets & leave me.

That’s my theory at least. And really it’s so messy I’ve thought out moving out myself, or at least never cooking again. How bad? This bad…

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Now as much as I’ve loved digging through our cabinet of pots & pans while being able to scream “damn your mother!” it’s gotten kind of old at this point. So I looked for other options which lead me to my glorious dream…a hanging pan rack.

I never really considered it for a few reasons...

First, I thought it was weird because I thought everyone who had one put it over an island. But upon some research, I found that other people put it over the sink. I have a sink!

Second, I have a thing about hanging things up from the ceiling. When I was a small child, my mom thought it was a good idea to tie fishing line to all of my stuffed animals, who were my best friends, & hang them from my bedroom ceiling as a way to decorate & get things out of the way. I still remember the horrors of my childhood friends…hanging…over my bed…scary.

And finally, I’ve been trained over the years from my dad that you don’t put holes in your house. Anywhere. Ever. Growing up my parents never hung much of anything on their walls. My dad even barred me from using tape. Tape! We never decorated for holidays because my dad said Christmas lights meant you put holes in your house, which led to decreased home value. I was like 5 when he started teaching me this. Of course, my parents also taught me that if your car gets dusty it will scratch your car, so they are just weird. Anyway, I really never thought, “Hey, lets drill holes in our ceiling!” because my dad trained me better than that.

But still…I wanted one. I thought they were snazzy. So because I wanted a place to put my pots & pans while defeating both my father & his weird hole paranoia & my mother in laws evil plot to make Adam leave me over messy cabinets, I ordered one from Target. It was delivered quickly & Adam was so excited about this process!

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He also looked happy to encounter one of our 2342387 cats.

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Please ignore the messy kitchen. We live here, so it happens. Happens even more when I come up with "great" ideas on how to improve our house. I really need to stop that.

Anyway, then came Adam’s favorite part of doing anything with me, the whole “where do you want this thing?” question. Of coruse, I can’t just look & say here or there, I have to actually SEE it there. So first I made him hoist it over one place, while he was fussing at me because I was fussing at him because he was blocking my view so I couldn’t really see how it’d look…

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I couldn't really take it in though since he was saying something about "boo hoo, this is heavy" or something along those lines. I'm not sure, I forget, but I'm sure it wasn't important.

Of course, it’s a good thing that I took a picture because I have no memory anymore so by the time he moved it to option b for hanging place, I would have forgotten what it looked like with option a.

We decided to go with option a, since option b was a dumb idea since I was also ordering a kitchen pantry thingy that is like 5 ½ feet tall, therefore it would have been in the way of the pot rack. So over the sink it was.

Have I mentioned how Adam loved doing this job?

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He looks like his family on our wedding day.

Hammy wants you to know that he approves of this process as well…

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Now, if you don’t know how to hang a pot rack, let me tell you now. You need to hit ceiling joist…I think that’s what they are called at least. But if you remember, my house is, well, fucked. Studs are there, there, & everywhere you don’t need them to be & of course the ceiling isn’t any different. We hit joist on 2 of them, but even though we should have hit them the other 2 times, we didn’t. Yay. So we needed to use the suggested anchors that the pot rack instructions told us to use.

Problem? They didn’t come with them. Why in the world would they not come with the pot rack?! I think it's a an evil plot againist me, but maybe I'm just paranoid. So we had to stop our 2am pot rack hanging (what, is that late?), & we were going to get the anchors the next day.

Next day we go & are looking, I remember that we need special anchors & they are called auger anchors.

Oops, I’m an idiot. Never listen to the person who can’t remember what something looked like in another place, because I messed up. We needed toggle anchors. Toggle...auger...I'm a girl, I shouldn't be expected to know these things anyway. So the next day (yes, again) I went out to Lowes to get said anchors.

It was then I discovered why the anchors weren’t included…they are impossible to find. Lowes had nothing we could even rig up to hang our pot rack, the hook provided was too big for any toggle anchors. The Lowes people said they’d never seen a toggle anchor as big as I’d need. They had some huge one that fit size wise, but the screw end of the anchor wasn’t made to fit that type of toggle anchor because they were made for bolts. I never knew bolts & screws were different, I’m an idiot I guess. So nothing would work.

On a whim I decided to check Home Depot. This time I decided to just figure it out myself, which meant I stood there & opened about 10 different packages. I finally found some special type of huge toggle anchor that required ½ hole drilled into our ceiling. But it would work, so I didn’t care. My dad would have jumped of a bridge if he knew this.

So, that night, on day 3, we start again & the process is a success. Adam gets all 4 chains hooked. Hooray! Then I told him to turn into Jeff Hardy & since we didn’t have a bunch of drugs & bad face paint, he just did this…

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Then he cried because he had been up there so long he forgot how to get down…

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And yes, he’s wearing the same shirt that he started this process. I can’t break him of that “I’m a college guy living on my own so I just wear the same stuff over & over again” habit. But at least I got him to stop selling plasma for beer money, so I guess I’ll pick my battles.

But anyway, it was finally there!

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HOORAY!
Then I filled it with pots, because, you know, it's a pot rack & that's what it's for.

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HOORAY AGAIN!!!!

I then spent the rest of the night just gazing at it’s glory. And taking more pictures!

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I love this thing much more than I should. I suddenly wanted to go out & buy everyone a pot rack. And look at my cabinet now!

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I am victorious against the evil plot of making my cabinets messy. Insert an evil, victorious laugh here, please.

This, my friends, is an epic WIN. I feel like I’m snazzy. More so than usual even. What the TV on the wall is to Adam is what this pot rack is to me. I spent a ridiculous amount of time just staring at it. Yes, still. I’m lame, but at least my kitchen isn’t.

Of course I like to believe in fate, so I think fate had me go to Home Depot that day so I could come up with our NEXT house adventure. We're going to be re-doing our upstairs bathroom floor. Lets all hope grout is less confusing than toggle anchors.

And coming soon…A special picture blog of all the hard work we did one day. When I say “we” I mean what all I did while Adam dug a hole & filled it back up. It will be amazing.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Genetic Fail.

Writers note...you can find the update to this story here. Good update. :)

When you lose a pregnancy late (meaning, when you lose your child) do you know how much blood they take from you?

31. That's the number of tubes of blood I had to fill before I was even admitted to the hospital. Yes, 31 tubes. I thought I would need a transfusion. I also gave several others while there & again right before I left because they kept coming up with more things they should test me for. As someone who cringes anytime blood or needles are mentioned, it sucked. I was told in advance that while some of the test will be done in the hospital, some have to be sent out & would take several weeks.

Well, several weeks passed & no one ever contacted me. No news is goods news usually, but I don't really trust that line of thought anymore so Monday I called the doctors office myself since my midwife hadn't contacted me in about a month to ask about my results. A lady checks & says everything is back in. I say great, I would like to know them. She then tells me no, I can't.

She goes into some crap about how if I know what the name of the test are she can tell me, but she can't just go over them with me. I say fine & ask how I can just get my own copy. She tells me I have to sign a release then pay for copies. Of course it's not as easy as it sounds really. I have to sign a release, then wait several buisness days for it to be "processed" before returning to the office & picking them up 45 minutes away from my house. No, they can't mail them or fax them, they can only give them to me in person after checking my ID. Fabulous, I think.

Of course I need these results, so I don't try to fight the system. Funny enough, at 10pm Monday night my midwife calls & tells me "Oh, your results are in & I spoke to the doctor today to have him explain everything to me!"

Is it just me, or isn't it odd she calls me the same night I called wanting my results?

Anyway, I call her back & of course she's on the road & her phone is breaking up. But it's finally confirmed that there is a chance I killed Joel.

Isn't that fucking lovely?

I have "genetic mutations." One of which is pretty rare, like only 1% of people have the form of it that I have. You'd think I'd play the lotto more with my odds. But there are 4 things that are above the normal range, which means I have mutations of those "factors" & there is something else I also came up with as having a mutation of part of one gene (there are various parts of one gene that can be mutated).

So what does this mean?

My midwife doesn't really know. She fully admits this is totally over her head & that the OB didn't really help her to understand much of anything. I google these things & I don't understand but every other word. The words I do understand aren't good though...down syndrome, spina bifida, clift lip, clots, misscarriage, my old favorite of "fetal demise" & my new favorite "poor pregnancy outcome"...things like that. The OB suggested Adam get tested for these things as well so we can see if he is a genetic mess, too. If he is, our odds go up for something bad happening again if we have another child. Of course, my odds are automatically set at 50-50 now according to my midwife since the Joel situation. And as I said, it's all confusing & I really don't get all of it.

But here is what I gather from my research & my midwifes limited ability to explain things to me: some of the things I tested elevated for can cause problems with development of the baby. This can be helped by taking medications, including large amounts of folic acid along with things to help my body absorb it. Of course, the odds of the baby having something occur defect wise basically depends on what my numbers are &, again, what numbers Adam may have. My numbers may be low enough to make it unlikely & not many precautions will have to be taken. But if my numbers are too high or if Adam also carries high numbers, well, they makes the odds of something higher obviously & more effort will need to be made to try to prevent any defects if possible, as well as monitering for possible defects.

Defects...as lovely as the word "demise."

Of could it gets more fun! Some of the things I test for also means I'm more likely to have clots, which in turn can cause miscarriage & "poor pregnancy outcome." This, too, can be treated by blood thinners. Again, depending on my numbers it could mean something as simple as an asprin or as thrilling as large daily injections into my chubby belly of blood thiners. Cause, you know, I love needles so very much & there is nothing more I'd enjoy in the world than injecting myself every single day for 9 months or longer.

Mind you, none of this really tells us anything. Doesn't mean any of this happened with Joel, it just means that it's possible.

So now I get to live with the whole "I may have killed the baby" thing, as well as the thought of "I could kill others in the future." It's a fun place to be in, let me tell you.

Now what? Well, we get Adam's blood tested to find out if he is a mutant as well. Finally, blood taken that doesn't involve my veins. Even if he isn't, we are then sent to someone who practices in genetics who will sit down with us & give us odds on this & that happening in the future. I'm not sure if my midwife was told anything by the OB, but she did make a point to tell me "before you decide on having more children, you should see what you're told to see if you want to take any of those chances." This could just be a comment, or it could be that she was told some possible odds that weren't that great by the OB but just doesn't want to say as neither of them are experts when it comes to this issue. After that, I guess I get to see someone else if we decide to try this again to see if I should start on preventive measures before I even try to get pregnant again. But no matter what, I'll never be a boing pregnant woman again, I'll get the joy of being considered "high risk" which means more visits, more ultrasounds, & depending on how things go during the pregnancy an early delivery. How early depends on what happens during the pregnancy, but around 38 weeks is reccomended even if things go smootly. Which is fine with me after my last pregnancy that lasted to 40 weeks & we all know about that outcome.

This of course leave me with all sorts of thoughts. And while some are amusing to me, like "will I look like a drug addict with all these needles around?", at the end of the day I wonder if, depending on the odds of "defects" is it really fair to have another child? I'm selfish & want what I want when I want it, but even I have my limits. So I guess we wait & see what happens & hope for the best. But even my best option sucks in this situation.

I have mentioned I love needles, right?

Oh yeah, & if you're on blood thinners you can't have an epidural from what I've seen. The only needle I want for an induction & I can't have it. Fabulous.

But everyone feel special. You can now tell everyone you know that you know a real live mutant! And she blogs.

And let's not forget we get told this AFTER we pay to book that August 4th appointment for that pesky reversal surgery for Adam. But I'll let him share those facts for you. His testicals, he can talk about them. I'll stick my my mutant genes.

But no one tell my inlaws about this whole mutant status. It's bad enough they think I've ruined their son, they really don't need to know that I've offically be told I'm a mutant, which to them would just reassure them that they are right when they say something isn't normal about me. I can't give them that joy.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Welcome to Epic Fail

Hello dear friends & loyal readers. You either know me, are stalking me, or happened upon this blog somehow. Either way, I hope you enjoy my words. Unless you're a creepy stalker, then I want you to go away.

In case you have no idea who I am (or need a reminder), I'm some girl who married some guy who has a college degree she doesn't use because she stays home to take care of children, the house & several pets. Most of which I refer to as an epic fail. Mainly because I think the phrase is funny, but it's kinda true most of the time. You'll see.

I've wrote for years, which I guess everyone can say if they went through like 1st grade in school. I'm still working on that dream of becoming famous for my funny words, but I don't think I'm funny enough for it to happen. Who knows though. My dream is to write a book one day...not really sure about what & really I don't even care to get paid I just want my name on amazon. I'm not holding my breath, but it wouldn't suck.

So in my life I have a cast of characters. First there is me, who collects animals & tries to make my world pretty. My friend Liz has a blog that follows her life of trying to make things pretty, too. She does a better job that I do most days, but I try. I try to clean my house, doesn't always work out too great though. I can only cook about 4 different meals, but thankfully my husband doesn't mind. And he's still waiting on me to sew a pair of his pants...I think I told him I'd do it in early 2007 before we were married. Wait, it may have been late 2006. Either way, he's been waiting a long time. Basically, I'm a housewife who sucks at it. But I try & I'm able to make fun of myself, so that's always good, right? But overall, I'm a failure at that in the eyes of people. If you don't believe me, ask my mother in law, I'm sure she'd LOVE to tell you. She may even have a power point for it by now. It's my goal though to have a pretty house with pretty decorations that remains clean for more than 7 minutes at any given time. We do plenty of fun home improvments ourselves, most of which are my ideas that end with me asking Adam in the middle of them, "WHY did you let me do this?!" Have you ever refinished wood floors? Something I don't reccomend in any house you live in or have to clean up. More on that in the future with plenty of pictures, I promise.

Oh, I like pictures. I'll share plenty of those at times, too.

I'm a mom. I've managed to keep my toddler alive, as well as various animals. My son, Jules, is cute, acts fabulous in public, but is evil at home. But he's a kid, what do you expect? I have a dog who runs circles because he has an anxiety disorder. He can go for hours & hours nonstop. I have 8 cats. I had 3, but then a knocked up stray showed up & not trusting strangers we only gave 1 of the 5 kittens away. I love animals, my parents never were ones to let me take in strays, but my husband is. Even now he's telling me I can have a hound dog (why I want one, I'll never know) & I have to tell him no, we can't take in another pet. As much as I want one, I think I'd move out if another critter moved in. Of course, we are feeding yet another stray cat my neighbor threw out of their house, which is how we ended up with the knocked up cat. And our dog. But more about them in the future, I'm sure.

I'm a meanie. I make very bad jokes. People would burn my house down if they knew some of the things we said around here. I use alot of bad language. I'm blunt. If you're offended by anything I say, too bad & you should just go away now. Save yourself the anger & outrage now. I will use this blog as a way to vent, be funny, & just write out my thoughts. Some things I hope my friends will be amused by, other things may be real downers but deal with it.

Speaking of downers, let me share one now. I'm the mom of another son, Joel. He died when I was 40 weeks pregnant just a couple months ago. When I think I'm done crying, I'm up till 5am crying some more. Of course when you plan for a baby for months, decorate a room & name him only to be told he's dead & you get to then go through 26 hours of labor only to leave out the back door of the OB department without a baby, I guess that's a normal reaction. We've been told no one knows why it happened, but tonight funny enough I found out it's my fault afterall. I'm a genetic fail, but more on that in another post.

So with this blog I will attempt to entertain myself, my friends (hopefully keep in contact with them, too), & just have a record of all the stupid things I do & the stupid people I encounter. And some good things, too, I'm sure. Maybe.

And for you myspace folks, you'll see blog post you've seen before because I plan on moving some of my favorite blogs here so in case Tom kills myspace I'll forever have chicken penis & my memories of hanging a TV on the wall. Oh, the joys I've expierenced.

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