Thursday, December 30, 2010

I'm leaving the interwebz.

FOREVER!

Mwhahahaha!

OK, not really. I'm too much of an attention whore to do that.

However, I have encountered an issue. My computer, it hates me.

I hate netbooks, but that's another rant for another day.

My charging port on my netbook (that thing the cord plugs into, I'm not sure if I'm making up its name or not) broke. And it needs fixed. Soooo...it'll be out of commission for a couple weeks. Sure, I have Adams computer but it's stupid. So I usually don't use it. But I'll try...for you peeps. But really, it's stupid. Like when I turned it on, I had to type a password, hit ESC twice, stand on my head & recite my ABC's backwards. Seriously.

But I'll be limited in my writing until mine is functional again. So expect a Christmas blog in like, uh, February at this rate. Let's all just pretend I'm quirky. Yes, just pretend.

I will still be keeping my Joel Project going, btw.

I'm going to go call Asus now to try to get them to fix my computer. Let's hope.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

A project.

So(that’s my favorite word)…who wants to help out with a special project?

I’ve come up with a neat idea. Neat to me, that is. I’ve had some very nice people take various pictures that involve Joel. His name places, places with the name Joel in them…Joel related. I really enjoy them. They make me happy & I think it’s neat (maybe that’s my favorite word) to have pictures from different people from different places who think “this reminds me of them” or “I think I’ll do this for them.” I’ve also discussed the fact that so many people in real life seem to be scared to even utter his name. I’d like to change that, while at the time expanding this neat thing.

For this, I bring you 365 Days With Joel.

It’s a blog, devoted to this project.

It’s a easy, yet special & meaningful project. And I can’t do it…I need help. Hence the name “project.”

So I’m asking you peeps out there…baby loss peeps, real life peeps, or just peeps that enjoy this blog or us in general…help me make this happen.
I’m requesting people to take part in this to give us something special. I’d like people to take pictures that are Joel related.

For example, here is Joel Street our friend Valarie took.

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Or here is Joel in the snow by Bethany.

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Anything will work, your imagination is the limits. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, his name on a piece of paper in your back yard. It can be something like written in the snow or sand. It can be his name on your kids easel. Or it can be places that happen to have his name. There is no wrong way to do this. You can do the same thing as other people have. You can do one, you can do 50, there isn't a limit or rule book. Everything will be appreciated & enjoyed.

Everyday, I’ll share one of the pictures on his blog so everyone can see what people have done. The goal is to have all the pictures collected & around the end of 2011, I’d like to have it made into a photobook keepsake. And maybe, hopefully, this can be a way people can talk about him.

I’ll be honest, I’m a tad bit scared about this. It’s asking a lot to get 365 pictures. Hopefully I can do it. With your help, that is.

To send pictures, I have a neat (I’m just using it to use it at this point) email address. That is 365dayswithjoel@gmail.com. Please include where the picture was taken. And, if you like, include anything else like your name, blog link, etc. Let me know it's OK to share it & I'll add it to the post where I share your picture.

You can start sending them ASAP. I'm hoping to launch the blog officially on January 1st.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Hmph.

I come here to blog, but I can't find the words.

Instead I look at the little flashing thing that is practically screaming, "type, lady!" while I listen to Hoarders in the background, with the sound of the fish tank filter running (yes, we now have a fish tank). We have a lovely Christmas tree, lit up & cheerful.

But be writing tonight doesn't work out. Because if I did, I'd be writing just like when I go through the other motions of life. When I talk to people. When I go shopping. When I talk to family. When I go to the post office. When the collection agency calls about their now $187 that I refuse to pay for "care" rendered to us while I was pregnant with Joel. When people ask how I am, what's going on, or anything else. I usually answer "fine." Sometimes I say I'm tired, once I said I was sick. But the truth is this.

My kid died.

But that kinda kills the "how are you?" I then ask. I'm actually not thinking of it as a snarky comment, but that really sums up how I feel.

I wonder if people, strangers, can tell something tragic happened to me.

I wonder if those who know look at me & think about it when I'm talking to them.

I wonder if they are scared to mention it. Or if they are scared that I'll mention it.

I wonder that if I died, would people sit around & make small talk, never mentioning anything surrounding my existence?

There are only a handful of people around me in my life that acknowledge him. That actually say or write his name. I'm thankful for those people. I don't think it'd bother me so much still if people ever did before. I don't expect people to talk about my dead baby every time they see me for the rest of my life, but jeesh. Once he was...I was going to say when, but the truth is that no one ever said his name. He didn't have a name until a couple weeks before he died. And then, no one cared. He was then the dead baby I was to deliver. He was always just a thing. I hate the people who make me feel like that.

Holy fuck, I hate the holidays.

How am I? I'm a dead baby mom, that's how I am.


I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone.


Yep, I can even steal quotes from prison movies to remind me of my dead baby. I'm that talented. Gold star to anyone who knows it (without google, of course).

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Ornament Swap

I recently took part in an ornament swap for, well, dead babies. There is a much nicer way to put that I'm sure, but you should all know I'm blunt & I believe in owning the term. So, there it is.

Anyway, the swap was called "Remembering Together." Mine, well, sucked. I'm not crafty. I hope mine wasn't a complete disappointment for the parents of the little girl whose memory I made it in, as it was made with respect & care. The one I received, for lack of better words, was fantabulous. I couldn't have hoped for anything for beautiful. Thank you, Jennifer.

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I'm heartbroken for Jennifer & her family. They lost their first born son, Kai, on June 16th of this year. Like Joel, he was full term. A reminder that while I was off in happy land after Blair's safe arrival on June 10th, someone else was experiencing tragedy & starting the hell we know so well after we survived May 28th 2009. Much like the person across the hall in the hospital on that same day, who had a healthy baby while I delivered Joel...stillborn. It's a reminder that I wish they didn't have to be a part of. Rainbow baby peeps, for each happy family let's remember the ones who just started this, well, shitty road. For each eventual happy ending, someone else is starting a nightmare. It's a cycle I wish would never have to happen again.

Thank you to Jennifer & everyone else who took part in this swap. Very kind & I feel special to have been a part of it.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

My virginity, I lost it.

Stop being confused, I know I didn't just lose that virginity, I'm talking about a totally different one.

Peeps, I went out on Black Friday. At midnight.

Eek.

I know I'm behind on this, but I've never gone out on Black Friday before. I think I've only been shopping on Black Friday twice my entire life, & that was at like 7pm.

Once I was pregnant with Jules & did some last minute shopping because I'm an idiot. I was 39 weeks pregnant, so I was walking around with a bowling ball in my pelvis. Most of that shopping was me sitting on a bench.

Another time was many moons ago & it ended badly because I was with an ex who decided to get very jealous of a guy I was in college with & he got all pissy when he thought he saw the guy walking down the mall. That somehow meant something was between us since, you know, we were both possibly at the only mall in the county on the busiest shopping day of the year.

Yeah, right.

Anyway, I'd been saying for a few years now that I wanted to go, but the past 3 years I've been pregnant so that was my perfect excuse not to go out. This year I didn't have that excuse, but I also needed nothing. Seriously, I needed nothing. All the shopping is totally done. Minus a totally optional maybe gift for Jules, there is nothing I needed. But still, I wanted it. I wanted it bad. I wanted to go to Target at 4am! But in my searches, all I could find that I may have needed was a picture frame set for $12. That wasn't exactly worth getting up at 3am for. Or, in my case, staying up all night.

I was doomed, I wasn't going to go out in the wee hours of the morning for some picture frames that I was sure would be there later in the day.

Then I got on facebook at like 10:30 at night. Then a friend, Heather, posted that she was going to WalMart at midnight. She said I should, too. They have frames, even cheaper frames. I'd be up at midnight anyway. So why not?

Note to self...when the best thing you can say is "so why not?" you really shouldn't do it.

Let me just answer that for you.

You should not because people are fucking insane.

I got dressed. I drove down the street. I never really thought this was a bad idea. When I got to the ol' WalMart, I was kinda impressed that it wasn't full as I thought it'd be. I'd convinced myself that I'd never find a parking spot, but I actually did. I walked into the store & I could feel the tension. I decided to do a walk around the store, so I walked through grocery. There is where they had small appliances & steam mops. People were crowded by, staring. It was only like 11:20. I walk all around until I get to the toy section. Well, I kinda get to the toy section.

Here, I encounter cunts.

Seriously, there is no way to put it other than the fact that people were nasty cunts.

First, I wanted to go around so I could get to the area where I figured the picture frames were. People refused to let me through because they thought I was going to steal their spot in line for a fucking ZhuZhu pet. So I have to go back out & around. I tell another lady that they won't let us through because they want to avoid us stealing their spot in line, & she just goes off yelling. Not at me, but down the aisle, talking about rude bitches. Not that I minded, I felt the same way.

As I took the long way around, I pass people with my frames in their carts. I ask where they got them, they pointed me in the right direction. I look them over, other people come by & put them in their carts & walk off. I think, "Oh, so I guess this little stuff I can go ahead & get" so I pick up my boxes. At that point, an employee comes over running & screaming, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT! STOP THAT! IT'S NOT MIDNIGHT!" at me & another woman who had just done the same. She then makes the other lady empty her cart totally...even stuff that wasn't "Black Friday" deals. She made the lady put up her shampoo. She & I stood there, waiting & making small talk. While we do this, we see other people come through & pick up the frames & other things & walk away without any issues at all. Apparently, just me & this older lady weren't permitted to pick them up. OK.

We continue the small talk. Talking about a little craft set, her grandkids, my kids. I check my phone & it's about 10 till. We continue to talk.

A few minutes later...I hear a scream.

Seriously, it was a scream.

The lady & I looked at each other confused for a moment, but we realized that was our signal that it was time because we then heard grabbing, throwing, & more screaming.

Seriously, there were screams.

I was freaked out. But I got my craft set that I wasn't going to buy but I looked at it so long I felt like I should, then I got my frames. I then decided to go through the crowd.

I should have got my crazy ass home.

Most people were fine. Nice. Said they were sorry if they accidentally bumped into you or your cart. Everyone? Not so much.

I got whacked a few times. Not hard, but annoying. People have their babies & small kids out in this mess, sending them in & out of the crazy people. I see people with arms full of ZhuZhu pets & towels. People had this insane look in their eyes. Me? I looked confused.

I didn't know what else I wanted, but I determined to find more. So I walked around in the crazy ass mess & look at stuff. I'd decided that I wanted a $4 ZhuZhu pet. I can't find them. I ask an employee & he seems angry & tells me, "I don't know nothing about no toys." Was that a double or a triple negative? Does a triple negative even exist? I go down to another employee who tells me that they were all gone, they were gone in under a minute & goes into details about the crazy pushing & stuff that went on because of those damn things. I continue my search.

Finally, I pick up a baby toy that is like a giraffe ball popper. I didn't need it, hell I didn't even want it, but there were only a few so I figured I might as well. As I wait to continue my path, an employee is handing out Toy Story dolls. Jessies, Buzz Lightyears, & Woodys. Of course, nothing prepared me for her yelling, "I got a Woody here...anyone want this Woody? It's a Woody! Who wants this Woody I have for you? Come on, I know someone here wants my Woody!"

I finally let a giggle out because it's 12:30 in the morning & I'm listening to someones grandma offer me a Woody. I burst out laughing when a couple other women around me also started laughing. It was like we all felt safe doing it since someone else went first.

As I wonder, employees stop me & ask where I found my giraffe. Apparently, they are now sold out but people were still asking for them so they were wondering if more was put somewhere else. Then I had to get it, because it was automatically rare & special.

I continue my walking. I see tents. Pop up tents for kids. I knew Jules would like a small tent (I'll get to this in the next blog), so I finally decided to get it. It's a dino, it's cute.

A couple minutes later, I threatened to use it as a weapon.

A woman decided to run her cart into mine. Into the side. I couldn't move an inch. She wasn't tapping it. She was ramming it. Hard. Over & over. I say, "please be careful, you're pushing my cart into other people" since she was. She ignored me, if anything she kept getting harder. Over & over. Finally, I snapped like everyone else does eventually & said, "Listen lady, if you don't stop ramming my cart I'm going to use this pop up tent & pop it over your head as hard & often as you're running into my cart."

She stopped.

I didn't feel bad.

I continued walking, one more time. Just because. In the bike section, I find something. I wasn't sure, but I picked it up. I looked around as if someone was going to claim it. I put it in my cart, got out my sales paper. Went through page after page until I found this item. I checked the box, it was indeed one of the kind that was on sale.

What did I find, you're wondering?

A MOTHERFUCKING ZHUZHU PET!

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Last in the store. And it was mine. MINE MINE MINE!

Mwhahahaha!

...I have issues. His name is Kingston. No, I didn't name him, that's his name according to the package. I studied it so, I'll never forget him.

With that, I decided to go check out & go home. Finally. It was 1am at this point.

Here is the lines.

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Awesome, huh? And they just weren't moving. I waited in line for about 30 minutes.

I spent a whopping $97.

I go home, giddy with my awesomeness. I wasn't sure why I was awesome, but I just felt like I was. Of course that's really nothing new for me.

I get home with my prizes. Adam is, to say the least, underwhelmed. Guess you had to be part of the chase & kill to find any glory in my offerings.

But I did take pictures! Look at my amazing crap!

My frames!

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Yeah...they are things that hold pictures. Black. With glass. Really special & worth getting yelled at. Totally.

My giraffe.

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The balls will be gone within 20 minutes. It plays a whopping 2 songs. It's already on my nerves. I can't even spell giraffe without the aid of spell check & this hasn't inspired me to learn.

My tent.

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Also makes a scary ass weapon.

My craft kit.

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Because Jules doesn't already have crayons, markers, & other stuff. Suuuure....

While I was there I figured I'd do a little shopping.

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Q-Tips! What, your ears don't get dirty?

And finally...

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PJ's! Lame, nothing special about them PJ's. But they were $4. I'm sure they are originally like $6. My ZhuZhu pet? I got it for $4, down from the mind blowing price of $7.

I felt lame, like I should have bought more. There were a few good deals, like $19 table & chair sets for kids, but we already have a set. A dude in line offered me the last steam mop in the store, I guess they got one too many, but I didn't need it. They had 24 packs of play doh for like $5, but we already had the same thing for Jules. So I didn't need any of the stuff I encountered. OK, I didn't need any of the stuff I bought. But I needed to get this "I want to go out on Black Friday" thing out of my system.

But the more I think about it...the more I want to do it again. I suddenly don't want to buy anything in advance & on sale like I usually do. I want to save that money for a Black Friday fund & go out to kick some shopping ass. To be angry, violent, & up way too late just to save about $15 total.

I thought I was going to need a xanax to calm down after I got home. I was scared, so I hid.

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Then I peeked.

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Then I peeked a little more.

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Then I just wanted it to stop!

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Jules better appreciate my ZhuZhu pet. That's all I know.

Speaking of Jules...his birthday party is the 11th. He'll be a big boy the age of 3 on the 14th. Me? I'm sad. I asked him to stop growing. He told me no. Even worse, I've started working again. I'm a substitute teacher. I really like it, I'm doing elementary schools & yesterday I did pre-school, which actually made me feel like I was cheating on Jules. I work where & when I want, as often as I want. But with the holidays & stuff, I'm trying to work alot before Christmas break so I can get a decent paycheck during the holiday break. So I'm away from the kids everyday, for the bulk part of the day. They don't mind, they are fine & happy, but I'm sad. After this month I'm just going to do it 2-3 times a week, but this week I have & chances are next week I'll do all 5 days. I try to tell myself that it'll be worth it when I can buy an extra Iron Man toy for Jules.

But enough downer stuff. Wanna see what funny I did?

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I wrote "I *heart* Penis!" on Adam's car window. And I did it on the inside & backwards so the would could read it.

Enjoy that. And the mental image of me beating some woman over the head with a pop-up tent.

A fun holiday blog will be up this weekend. And by fun, I mean awkward & weird.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

The constant cycle of dead baby problems.

Every time I think I've hit a point in my life where I've dealt with most of the issues surrounding being the parent of a dead baby, I find another.

I should just stop jinxing myself, shouldn't I?

Anyway, black Friday shopping (the next blog...oh my) allowed me to get frames. Lots of frames to hang our recent family shots, along with other pictures we've been meaning to hang. For example, our wedding picture. Yes, we've been married for almost 4 years & it's still not hanging up. It's been in a frame even. We're just...not good at doing shit. It happens.

I have 11x14's of the boys. My plan was to hang them in the bedroom, where we keep Joel's corner shelf of stuff &, well, him. But I thought it'd be nice on one wall to have our wedding picture, then the pictures of the kids below it. This wall is in my living room.

See where I'm going with this?

Now, I'm all for dead baby pictures. I wrote a blog, which is still close to my heart, all about them. Check it out here. But...it's hard.

First of all...what if people come to my house & just stare at it. Look around awkwardly. Think it's weird, but not saying anything. How angry or hurt will I be?

Or what is someone flat out looks bothered or looks at it with a sour look on their face? Or heaven forbid says something. Is it still assault if they are in my house & I punch them?

And finally, the worse part really...do I want to look at it constantly?

I don't know.

And for that, I'm ashamed. Because I love him. And I miss him. But I can't stand to look at the picture all the time. I can't decide if it's just painful, or if it's just my fears for the above reasons.

The timing aspect is bad as well. I'm the person who likes to ease into things. Maybe have a playdate with the picture up, then have a couple friends or family over, then a gathering. But Jules is having a birthday party on the 11th. So I'm going to have around 20 people in my house. And curious kids. And people without tact (ah, family). And if I didn't like the look or comment from someone, I'm not sure what I'd do. I'm not sure if I'd curse them out. I'm not sure if I'd just freeze up & be sad later that I didn't say something. Or maybe I'd just run out of the room crying hysterically. I'm really not sure.

Screw you society for making me even second guess my idea of putting a picture in my own home. Screw you some people I know who don't acknowledge Joel for making me worry about putting it way too in your face. And screw me for even worrying about any of this. My house. We pay for it every month (OK, so it's the banks house). I paid for the print. I paid for the frame. Our nails & our hammer will hang it. But I still feel the need to take a poll among people & ask, "do you think it's normal?"

And the right answer to that really is, "what is normal about dead babies in general?"

Sunday, November 14, 2010

When toys attack.

Jules has the memory of an elephant. For example, he'll ask for his paper. Give him paper, & he'll look at you stupid. He'll then say, "no mommy, my paper with the blue lines with the small, 1/2 inch fold in the upper left hand corner with some cheese sauce smudge, & the red blur from the paint I spilled. THAT paper!"

OK, so he doesn't say that, but you get the point. Some time ago he got a Superman vinyl inflatable thing. You know those cheap things at carnivals? One of those. It got ripped, couldn't be fixed. We left it laying in our house for a month. Then, finally, Adam announced he was throwing it away.

About 2 weeks later, Jules was sad because he couldn't find his Superman. Adam tried explaining it was broke but that did no good, of course.

So Jules was sad. And he cried. Not a "give me what I want!" cry, but a sad cry for his Superman. I, as a mother, was heartbroken.

I looked at Adam. "Fix this." He didn't know how, he asked if he should go buy one somewhere. "No, go to the basement, you have to have one. Or hell, you have all of those things, bring them all up for him, what can it hurt? He'll love them."

OK, I know you're confused. What things in the basement?

Well, you see, I married a dork.

The apartment my husband lived in before moving in with me & living in sin (yeah, we shacked up before we were married & did it everywhere in that apartment, even on the kitchen counter, so ha!)...he had a toy display. Yes, toys. Like, action heros. The boxes of comics were bad enough, but he had toys. Tons of toys. Like I said, he had many on display.

And yes, I still dated him. And had sex with him, with the toys staring at us. It was weird looking back on it. But hey, he let me keep my toys (of the adult nature) so he of course kept his. But, eventually, we needed room. And his stuff was banished to the basement.

Back to the present. I knew the husband had something in the basement that would make Jules happy. And, with his recent addiction to super heroes, I knew he'd like it all. So Adam finally had to share his toys.

Hey, don't feel bad for him. He shouldn't have thrown Superman away.

Jules wanted to go to the basement, so to distract him I told him daddy was getting a surprise for him. He asked if it was a present. I said yes. I told him to cover his eyes. He did this.

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Close enough.

When it was time, he was a bit confused.

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As he explored, Adam...well, take a look.

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Oh yeah, he wasn't into the idea of sharing. At all.

Months ago, when I was trying to get Jules to play with something & Adam lectured me on letting him play with his toys how he wanted. I shouldn't tell him how to play with toys, let him use his own imagination.

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I enjoyed his pained expression. I knew that meant he now knew how to felt to see your kid play with their toys wrong.

As Jules in like a kid who just realized there is a toy store in his basement, I decide to go through these things myself. In case you don't know, action figures are hilarious. Let's check some out.

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First, I noticed this dude. This dude was noticeable because, well, he had a great big green penis thing. I asked Adam what I was holding, acting as if I was stupid, he asked, "what do you think it looks like?"

It looks like a fucking long ass green thing coming off some green guys ass, which is a long name for an action figure.

He corrected me, it was "Scorpion." Oh, OK, whatever. My answer was better.

Then I find proof I married the biggest dork around.

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This is Dead Pool. I guess that's how it's spelled. But he wasn't REALLY dead pool.

MY HUSBAND PAINTED HIS OWN DEAD POOL FIGURE.

Acting as if this was totally normal, he explained they didn't sell the figure at the time so he painted his own. I was a bit weirded out. At that moment, we were both probably wondering why we married each other, but for totally different reasons.

But I must admit, he did a decent job.

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Be impressed. Then scared. Then laugh.

This I found this.

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Yay for my 2 year olds new toys.

Then I found this dude.

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Scarecrow. It's like if a scarecrow & Freddy Kruger had a baby. And that baby was turned into an action figure for people to waste money on.

Then I found this thing.

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WTF?

Seriously.

Look at this friendly fellow.

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How did my husband ever get laid? What was wrong with me? I'm really not sure who this collection makes look worse, him or me.

I kept looking for something I'd recognize. Finally, I found something!

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A pirate. A no name pirate. But at least it had no spikes, penis like tails, or weapons. Arrggghhh.

Jules continued his joy. Look, a car!

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My living room, it was destroyed.

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But really that's nothing new.

Spiderman was feeling cool riding as a passenger in the batmobile.

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Adam looked over his kingdom of junk...I mean treasured toys.

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Jules loved this thing, he says it's a giant.

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And he's really friendly. I know this because he gave me a high five!

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I swear my kids own clothes, not just diapers. But you'll have to take my word for it since I never seem to get pictures of them in clothing.

I went back to talk to the husband, comfort him a bit. Then I found this.

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A Star Wars Pez dispenser. Oh wait, look!

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Fresh pez candy.

And by fresh, I mean ass load old. Yummy.

If we didn't have an ass load of cats, I'm pretty sure this forgotten food would mean mice or something. Maybe I should finally go down to the basement & find out what horrors are down there. That'd be a fun blog.

In other news, I somehow injured my shoulder. So I can't do much of anything with my right arm now, even laying on my back hurts. I did it somehow in my normal, daily activities. I tried to think up a cool way to say I hurt myself, but I couldn't come up with anything. I asked Adam to make up a story for me, & all he came up with was I hurt myself giving a hand job. Somehow, I think that's worse that doing it while washing my hair or opening a soda. I'd go to the doctor, but I'm seriously so paranoid about being labeled a medication seeker with a random pain that I can't really prove that I have, I refuse to go. So I'll just sit & bitch until it gets better. That's how I roll.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Alive, that's me!

Hi, peeps.

I've been busy.

By busy, I mean lazy as all hell. Tired, too. But, well, mainly lazy. Plus I've been trying to get pictures of all 12 of my cats for an upcoming blog. Hell of a task there.

If you hate me for being lazy, would you believe me if I told you we were invaded by gnomes?

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THEY EXIST! And they nurse. Weird.

Anyway. I wanted to check in & let people know I'm alive. We all are, & we're all well. Tired, busy, cranky, & sometimes bitchy (that's just me actually), but we are all well.

But hey, since I'm actually here, lets take a viewer question! Yes, I said viewer...because in my crazy mind I'm on like TV or something.

This one comes from a long time stalker, but new to admitting it. Welcome new but not really new stalker! And it's not really one, but it was one comment so let's not get fucking picky here, OK?

What other kinds of neighbors do you have?
Crazy. So crazy they seem to make the camo tarp woman seem normal. On the other side of our house we have Jim. I call him Jim because that's his name. He's a hermit. And I'm fairly sure a hoarder. He let's his yard stay a jungle, he has told Adam that he purposely kills his grass & just lays out that hamster bedding in his yard. His yard is so, uh, fruitful that in the summer you can't tell there is a fence, it's just covered in greenery. He's a "doctor" of something, my guess is insanity. He use to be a professor at the local university. Now he's just the crazy guy next door to us. He also has chains & locks on his gate. And two huge ass German Shepherds. They look like they'd eat children, but they are actually insanely sweet. Kinda sad really.

What kind of music do you listen to?
Hall & Oates. And no, I'm not joking. I rock out to that shit.

Do you like to read?
If it's juicy gossip, totally. If it's funny, usually. If it's deep & meaningful, another usually. If it's educational or Republican, no.

Do you follow sports? Does Adam?
No. Never been a sports person. I don't care to see dudes play with balls. Adam doesn't follow anything. Truth is, I'd never be able to marry someone who did watch people shoot hoopies or make goalies or downies or whatever the hell else there may be. There is only one time I care about sports & that is when Marshall University is playing. See, I live in the town with that place. Everyone looooove Marshall. But not me. So I root for whoever they are playing when they are playing here, so they loose for fucking up my travel plans through town. Last time they had a big game here, I hate to go out at 3am for medication for Blair & the streets were closed off, because the city was cleaning them to make people think they take care of this town. So it added another like 15 minutes to my trip, when I have a baby at home who needs medication. And the next day when the team lost that game, I laughed.

Follow up to your fall in the 'mart story? You know, the one where you fell forward, defying the laws of physics (sarcasm)?
Oh goodness. That shitty store called WALMART gave me a bullshit denial. How did they deny it? They said they were off the hook because the manager went to see where I fell & he could find nothing in the floor that I could have fallen on. Mind you, it was HOURS after my fall before he knew where I fell & by the time he knew where it had happened the floor was RIPPED UP because it was being remodeled. So how he was suppose to look for something where it no longer existed, I don't know. I'm fully convinced they think I just threw myself on the ground since I, like you said new stalker, defied the laws of physics.

BUT! This has given me a new, WalMart free life. After that bullshit, & the fact that no employee even helped my pregnant ass off the tile, I decided to finally accept that WalMart is an evil company who doesn't give a damn about anything. So I've not shopped at a WalMart since that incident. It means I can no longer do my shopping in one place & I pay more for some things, but I don't feel like a dirty whore when I'm done shopping, so that's a plus.

Of course, I'm still getting the short end of the shopping trip. For example, I took this picture at Target on October 26th.

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That says "use by 10/16/10." So at that point is the milk actually sour cream or cottage cheese? Just something to ponder.

And, also courtesy of Target, I must wonder...

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What exactly is one doing that they need a hand towel that reads, "naughty?"

I'm going to go chase down 9 more cats now.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Why I need a house keeper.

People say stay at home mom's don't need a house keeper. Part of my "job" is to cook, clean, & do laundry. I disagree with that. I keep the kids alive & happy, that's my job.

My word as to why I can't do it myself not good enough for you?

How about pictures?!

Laundry fail.

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What's that, you're asking? Dental floss.

As a mom, Jules was playing with dental floss. I floss, sue me. Anyway, to keep him from doing who knows what with the floss or wasting it (seriously, I floss), I put it in my pocket.

Then, as a mom still, I was holding Blair. Then he peed on me. A penis, if not correctly placed in a diaper, will pee where it wants. Today, it wanted to pee on my pants. OK.

So I changed pants. Then, later, I did laundry. But I didn't remember my floss.

Which leads us to...well, this.

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My floss container is almost empty. It was brand new. So that tells you how much I had to cut free in order to dry the clothes. Damn me for flossing.

So fuck all of you people who think I should be cooking, cleaning, & keeping the kids alive all day. I can only multitask so much. Facebook & the kids keep me too busy to worry about that other shit. I'm getting a house keeper who does laundry & dishes.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Some answers.

Hi, everyone!

Thanks for the questions/comments. I will be getting to work on the longer ones soon, but I figured I'd share some stuff now, just because.

From Missy..."I l like to make up words? Got any doozies?"

Hi, Missy! I don't have time to make up words, but I constantly try to make up new ways to through out the word "fuck. Does that count? I have taken calling multiple penises "peni," though how often do you talk about multiple peni? Not since like college at least, right? Right.

From Michelle..."I'd like to read about your life prior to being married & having children, such as where all you have worked. I'm a SAHM and think it's interesting to find out what other SAHMs used to do before they had children."

Hi, Michelle! Before I was married & had kids, I drank alot. There was more to me once before, & I'll be sharing that in a upcoming long blog. Yay! I love talking about me.


From Megan..."I want to know what is going on with your family now. Is everything back to being good or is it still weird and how did it all start and all of that. And what is the deal with your in laws? I'm nosy. And I hope you feel less worried soon."

Hi Megan! Now I'm worried I spelled your name wrong since I already closed the comment window. Yell at me if you have another a, e, or an i in there. Or like a q or something. Never know anymore how names are spelled.

But back to your question...my parents, they are weird. They've gone back into "things are cool" mode. I've gone into survival. Keep peace, be civil, but limit interactions as much as possible & get the hell out of town in the next few years. That's the only way to make anything better. I avoid the drama, I refuse to be a part of it, I did nothing wrong. And even though I'm civil, I'll never forgive them for letting me lay in the hospital, post surgery, Blair in the nursery have breathing problems, me crying on the phone to my dad & him not coming to the hospital. They think they love me, maybe they "love" me, but at the end of the day it's never going to be a genuine relationship. Of course things are also weird with my extended family now, they've all decided that I'm the one who causes drama & apparently stalk me online to try to figure out what I mean by this or that, like on facebook, & then gossip about it. I don't feel like I really have anyone to depend on. That sucks, you know? But we'll be fine. We (the husband & I) get shit done & take care of ourselves & our kids. Be nice to have a safety net, have someone you know you can call & get help from or be there for you, but when Blair was born it proved they weren't. In a way I'm happy it happened, all drama aside, because at least now I know for sure. I can't say it's in my head that they treat me like this or act like this. Kinda makes me feel...right.

As far as the inlaws...oh my. The short version is that they never seemed to like me. Once we were engaged, it was over. I can go into story after story, but it's pointless, so trust me here. Things continued to be bad when we were married & after I had Jules. Very weird, very bad, very awkward. The husband always thought it could work out, but I knew better. After I got pregnant with Joel, they were awful. Didn't want to talk about the pregnancy, & when Adam finally blurted that out his dad told him he didn't consider our kids family anyway, which really pissed Adam off. He & his mom went back & forth in emails for a few weeks, but it just got worse. It turned into, basically, telling Adam I'm an awful shrew & he should get me in line. He communicated with his dad from time to time, his dad never asking anything about the pregnancy, even when I was due or what he was. It wasn't until the night we found out Joel died, I told him to call his parents. They jumped back into "everythings cool" mode. Things weren't cool. A final blow up was between Adam & his sister, finally with him hanging up on her after she complained that at Joel's funeral I wasn't social & welcoming enough to his family. They were told never to contact us again. They still attempt, like they had UPS deliver a package to Adam's WORK for Jules birthday. Sent that back. Oh, he also had an uncle who emailed us, making fun of Joel's funeral & blaming me for his death. His extended family hasn't made contact, minus one Aunt who implied he should just let it all go for the sake of family. She also had already forgot when Joel was born...just over a year after it happened, she couldn't even guess what May 28th was. Cold day in hell before I ever see them again, or let my kids around them. I don't even know if they know Blair exist. And that's fine.

If you'd like to read the loooong version, here are some links!
A blog about when I found out that while I was in labor with Joel, shit was being talked.
The night the final fight went down.
A post about the great email making fun of our dead baby.
A fun one! I burned a book. :D

And the husband wrote about it, too.
Here is a long winded version of issues with his family.
And here is a post you can actually read the lovely email from his uncle.

From Tara..."What is one of your favorite childhood memories? Tell us a list of your favorites, color, smell, activity, food.. Tell us a list of your dislikes."

Damn Tara, you're nosey! :b Oh, hi, btw. This is depressing, but I have no favorite childhood memories. Seriously. I've sat here for 10 minutes, trying to come up with something. But really, are you surprised? If I ever do think of one, I'll share it. I like the color pink. I like anything that smells clean. Living with kids & pets, it's not a smell I get to enjoy as much as I did before kids & pets. My favorite activity is sitting on my ass. I also enjoy laying down. I enjoy most things with my kids, minus shopping. I enjoy having sex with my husband. I also enjoy writing. It's something I can do while sitting. I also love shopping at Target. My favorite food is No Rules Pasta from Outback. I'm a big fan of chicken. And cheese. And bacon. Put those things today & I'm in heaven. I also like potatoes. I dislike more things than I could ever list, but I'll share a few...ranch dressing, mayo, people who are assholes to their pets or kids, cheating, lying, smoking, camo tarps, crack houses, & all of my ex's.

From Elizabeth..."I'd love to get some tips on becoming a Crazy Cat Lady, and since I believe you said that you have 318476513543 cats in your home I'm hoping you can help me out."

OH YES I CAN ELIZABETH! I can't believe I never thought about a cat blog. I HAVE SO MANY! I'll be blogging about them soon! WITH PICTURES!

From Nichole...I wanna know about your crazy ass neighbor! Just started reading ur blog and love it:)

Thanks & welcome! I feel famous, which is lame of me. Anyway, she's a fucking nut. There is the camo tarp post that you can check out, if you haven't. She's been pretty quiet lately. Minus a couple weeks ago she came home at like 2am & started yelling at my dog, Murphy. Which was odd...because Murphy was in the house asleep on the couch until she started yelling, "shut up Murphy!" Then she went outside & barked. She's got a new man from what we can tell, so hopefully getting laid is cheering her up a big. But there is ALWAYS spring time...

From Michy..."I, for one, would welcome stories about your cats, because I love kitties. (I'd better, we have 14!) Oh, and include pictures! Umm, do you like nail polish? What is your favorite dessert?"

Hi! It's not often I find someone as fucked up as I am. You have 14?! I mean, we have had that many at one point. I think the highest number we had was earlier this year at 16. As I said, I'll totally make a cat post soon. I do like nail polish, but I also like ripping my nails off. I've been chewing my nails off for so many years, it doesn't even hurt anymore. It's really embarrassing, but apparently not enough to make me stop. And my favorite dessert is any. I'm chubby, I don't turn down much. Besides exercise.

From Becky..."Yay, I get to contribute. I just realized I hadn't read your blog in a while, although your Facebook comments make my day. I second the post about the before you were a SAHM. I love when other bloggers post a whole section on their "how I got together with my man" story. It's cute to hear how people remember falling in love and starting their lives together. Plus, then you get to bash all the stupid things your mate used to do."

Yay, you enjoy my facebook? I really do try to update with things I think people would enjoy. Of course I also post things just because. I'm weird like that. Anyway, along with the "before I was a SAHM" post, I'll add the husband stuff in there. I'll tell you about how I stole him from some other girl & all about the hilarious email he sent me while he was dating both of us & wanted to CONTINUE to date both of us. Hilarity, it will ensue.

And finally...

Angie says this..."Hey, I'm suuuuper new, in fact this is only the second post I've read. Since it's been two months since our son died, my husband and I are hoping to completely sleep through the holidays this year. No tree, no lights, no presents, no nothin. Although we will be decorating Aiden's grave site with a tree. And my husband had the sweet idea to write out wishes/dreams/hopes and wrap each one for Aiden. I want to know how you and your husband survived your first holiday season after your baby died."

Hi, Angie. I'm sorry you're hear, I'm sorry about Aiden. I think your idea is beautiful. I would try to hold onto any sense of normal for the holidays that you can that you enjoy. Easier said than done, I know, because you rather just lay in bed & die. Even though you feel like your life has ended, it hasn't, & don't feel guilty for it. Something else, in my experience, that is easier said than done. You'll never be the same, but don't totally shut things out. It was different for us, since you didn't mention any other kids in your comment, because we had the other little boy. We did Christmas for him. We were also still riding out the shock from Joel's death & the shock of getting pregnant again after my husband had a vasectomy reversal (in case you didn't know, my husband was fixed about 4 weeks before Joel died, then got un-fixed a few months later so we could try for another). So we had stuff to distract us. But it still sucked. We got Joel an ornament. Nothing dead baby related, but just a boy's first Christmas ornament. I just wanted one that was, well, normal. I didn't want it to be something that reminded me he died, I wanted to focus on him existing & what life he did experience. We also did Angel Tree gifts. Salvation Army has trees with kids who are needy that you can buy for. We always do it, but I'd always tried to pick an older kid. That first Christmas, I picked kids who would have been the age of Joel at the time. Made me feel better to buy for some kid who would enjoy things Joel would have enjoyed. As for getting through the holiday itself, it sucked. I mean, sure, we were happy to have our living kids but it still sucked. And we still felt like crap & like something was missing. And we both wondered what we would have been doing if Joel hadn't died. The first year was the hardest, every holiday you were missing "baby's first." I wish I could tell you something magical to make you feel better or some way to make it suck less, but I don't think it exist. You'll get through it because you have to.

Thanks for the brainstorming, peeps. Now I have to go try to take pictures of 12 cats. This should be fun.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Give me topics.

Stillbirth. Stillborn.

Say those words, or just one of them, several times. In your head if you wish, it's an odd thing to start chanting.

As I look through things, trying to look at stillborn topics, it's dawned on me that it's the most insane word. Who came up with it?

Anyway. That really isn't the point of this post, just my random thought of the night. Well, it can be, it's up to you peeps.

I've hit a writing wall, a blah if you will. But I'd like to write something. Something uplifting, or something depressing. Your choice.

So this is the submission post. Leave a comment with what you'd like to read about. My husband, my marriage, my family, my kids, my dead baby, baby deaths or things surrounding them, my political views, my cats, my crazy ass neighborhood, or anything you can think of is possible. Maybe you want just want to know my opinion on something, I'm mouthy so I'll give it. Shit, tell me something you'd like to see me try to cook & I'll give it a shot. I really have no shame, it's sad really.

I've noticed a few more readers following lately (AWESOME!), so I'd like to please them.

So, you, reader...what would you like to read about?

Give me your ideas. If they require a short post, it's fine. If it ends up being a long best, even better. I'll do a few if I get a few. I may combine them. Just whatever works. Leave your name, I'll give you a shout out! I'll pretend that's a cool thing to get.

Don't leave me hanging, peeps! You got questions & request, I've got nothing but time.

Comment now.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Iz have a sad.

I apologize in advance, this is going to be a rambling blog. I'm not sure where it's going, I'm not sure if I should warn you it'll be long or short. I'm not sure how depressed or desperate I may end up sounding in it. But I do know that, as much as I joke about it, I'm not jumping off a bridge anytime soon or anything, so no one panic! And though I'm blah, I'm not nearly as bad as this post may make it seems, so again, no one panic!

I'm sad.

Yeah, OK, no shit. I get a pass at that, right? I've been through alot.

But boy, am I sad.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with my life, my peeps, & everything in it. But the things that aren't good...boy, are they shitty. And they make me sad.

Now, I have a psychology degree. I have psychology syndrome...I read it, therefore I have it. I still remember a professor telling us, as we looked through our DSM, that "you'll think you have all of this...but you don't!" That was good enough for me to keep denying my crazy! So I always take those things with a grain of salt, like I know I'm sad & I worry alot, but that's normal. We're all sad. We all worry. I just had a baby, I'm hormonal. It happens.

But at what point is it a problem? At what point am I abnormal? The term normal is pretty subjective, but what exactly makes abnormal?

I'm sad. I make sure to make that word funny looking because just typing sad doesn't cut it. And, again, that's pretty damn normal from what I've been through.

I worry that my kids will get kidnapped. Like, not just a little worry like every parent has. I have complete stories in my head about how it'd go gone. I hate leaving my house for more than a few hours because I'm scared it will catch fire, I can see my pets dying in the fire, burning to death. Shit, I can't even wash laundry without checking everything well, just in case a cat is in it. I picture cats dying in my washer. I turn the oven on & I picture something being in there dying. Even when I check, I imagine opening it after it's pre-heated & finding something dead. I think about people breaking into my house & killing me in front of my kids or hurting them. I worry.

I know all of this is irrational. Really, I do. But shit, it scares me. Sometimes I worry until I get a headache. I worry until my chest hurts. I worry.

I'm sad. I'm sad over so much. I'm sad that my husbands family sucks. I'm sad about things with my own family. I'm sad that I'm not allowed to be sad. I'm sad that my son is dead. I'm sad that I feel like a failure at times & I'm not even sure why. I'm sad that I can't make everything work out how I want it to. I'm sad. I'm sad that I worry. Then I worry because I'm sad.

It's an evil cycle.

I convince myself that I should do this or that. Then, in the middle of it, I don't care anymore. I don't want to deal with it, I don't want to do any part of it. Depending on what it is, I get too worried to go through with it. Again, some of this is normal. But, again, how much is normal? And is this really me or am I convincing myself something is wrong because I know the signs of things more than random people off the street do? Or maybe I'm worse off than I even realize because despite my knowledge of things, have I ignored & avoided all the signs for so long that now it's so bad that I can't help but to see it all in front of me?

I've always had, uh, issues. I use to have an issue with numbers. I'd count every & any thing. If the count of, for example, words wasn't a number I liked I'd sit & restructure it to hit a number of words I liked. Not just my words...written words, other peoples words, lines in movies. There was really no limit. I've gotten better over the years, I don't do that anymore.

Now I just worry about my cats catching on fire or my kids having something terrible happen to them. How vivid or in detail are those thoughts? So vivid & detailed that it's disturbing to me, that I can see it happening. I make myself stop & go on with life, I can control it well like that. But is it normal to even think these things?

Basically, I've always been crazy. But when does crazy turn into crazy? And is this as good as it gets?

Sad thing (just sad, not sad) is that really I just fell like "well shit, I'm crazy, that makes sense, I'm going to quit everything & just accept that I'm a crazy person! Yay, crazy!"

I really just don't know what to do with myself. And I don't really care. I just don't want to have to do it. Does that make sense? I mean of course I want to take care of my family & spend time with them...but much past that? Nope, not at all. I feel like I'm lazy, that's all that rings in my head. I can't believe how lazy I am. I was always told I was a lazy kid. Seriously. I was a chubby kid who was too lazy to exercise. I got bad grades because I was too lazy to do homework. But I wasn't. I was so sad back then. I didn't give a fuck. I wanted my life to end at some points because things were just so bad. I don't even think like that now, but the lazy remains. But I wonder now, is the word lazy just a shitty label I was given? Maybe I should have received some sort of help back then. Maybe I'm ruined because I didn't. Maybe I would have been happier if I hadn't just been labeled lazy. Maybe I wouldn't be sitting here now, in shock of how lazy I continue to be when I'm not actually lazy but just depressed instead. Maybe I can't be helped. Even if I can, it's sad to think I've wasted 30 years of my life being sad.

I think Joel's death just gave me something to grasp onto for the sadness. Finally, I have a reason. Maybe because of that it continues to hit me as hard as the day we found out he died. I could say all of this impairs my daily functioning, but truthfully I've never functioned without something going on. I have no idea what it's like to not have some sort of impaired function, I've adapted to live with it. I hate to admit I'm too sad to function like I think I could if I wasn't. It's a shameful thing to admit almost. Of course I think that goes back to my fear of the lazy label. I don't want to say, "Hey honey, I want to drop out of school & never leave the house because I'm sad." Things like that are usually met with a pep talk & dismissed as me being tired or frustrated. Which they are, in part. But the big part is that I cannot convince myself I need to do it. Well, I know I need to do it. But I cannot gather the effort needed to do anything. And that, it seems, makes me lazy. And that shame & embarrassment comes back. It's bad enough knowing your parents think you're a failure and/or lazy, you don't want people you love to think the same. I feel bad enough about myself & things I've done or not done, I don't need people to join in.

I want to be OK more than anything. But, truth is...

I'm not.

Just admitting this makes me worry. And it freaks me out because now, even though I'm thinking it's time to do something about it, I figure if I decide not to people will stay on my ass about doing something to help myself. But I fear help isn't going to, well, help. And my insurance believes that only 20 appointments of help will be more than enough, so after that point guess whose got to foot the bill? And that just bring more sadness & worry.

I really don't know what I should do...what I should want. I'm not even sure what more I should say. Maybe I'm just lazy or worthless. Or maybe I'm crazy. Or maybe I'm beyond help. I just wish I knew for sure.

I'll be OK. I just have to figure out how to get there. And whatever I decide to do to get myself on the best track I can, hopefully people can accept & not judge. People including me.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Even more October Madness...what happens when babies die anyway?

So you're walking around, can't see your feet, your back hurts, & you're getting ready to go through endless pain to bring a human being in this world any day now after waiting 40 weeks. People tell you to think about cute baby toes & fingers, that'll get you through the pain. Besides, hours of pain is nothing compared to a lifetime with your baby!

But folks, someone has to draw a short straw. And in May 2009, I did just that.

What then you ask?

Simple! You get to do the exact same thing as the person across the hall who gets to take the living baby home.

That's right folks, you get to go through it all. Only you have now added this whole emotional "why me, I want to die" aspect.

With Jules I was in labor for 24 hours. Loads of fun. I figured an induction would be just as long this time around. I was wrong.

It was 26 hours, so longer.

I walked my pregnant, but not really pregnant anymore, ass to labor & delivery. Oh yeah, you read that right. I'm pregnant with a dead baby & I get to go through all of this in labor & delivery. I get the hospital issued gown. I get to answer questions about my pregnancy. But at least I don't have to answer questions about taking my baby home, right? They make a list of my belongings, just in case anything gets stolen. Yep, I'm there to deliver a dead baby & I may get robbed. Fabulous.

People ask you about autopsies. And funeral homes. People go over how your baby may or may not look. Let's just be graphic here...your baby may look perfect, like they are sleeping. Or they could end up looking deformed, they can have tears in their skin, they can also be peeling. Sorry for the graphic mental images, but when I found out Joel was dead I googled "what do stillborn babies look like" for answers. I was scared. I couldn't really find anything. So now, if someone googles it, maybe they can find this. Sorry if you're googling this.

Anyway, you get IV's. You get bloodwork. You get some people who ask if you'll try for another. Yes, seriously. You'll hopefully get drugs. Lots of drugs. You will get to push. You will feel everything, you will hear nothing. I went through 26 hours of hell, & really the fun is just starting. Though I do have to say my hospital was pretty hands off. Previously, I'd have to ask permission to go to the bathroom or deal with nurses wanting to check me all the time. This time though they pretty much let me be. And that was a good thing, because I didn't want to deal with any of that.

Know what happens next? You get sewed up. Oh yeah, you still get tears since you pushed out a baby. You can also get hemorrhoids. And your milk will come in. Because even though you baby dies inside of you, there is no switch flipped off in your head. Your body is ready to take care of a baby. As another dead baby mom without any living children once told me, for her, it was like she spent 9 months preparing to be a mother & then nothing. All these things you're ready to do, deal with, things you prepare for...it's gone.

After that, the grief parade will start. I'd tell you how that went, but I paid no attention. Why? Because I had chicken strips. Never, in any hospital stay, have I eaten the food. But on that day? Those chicken strips were awesome. And fries, can't forget the fries. They'd also sent me several packages of any type of sauce ever needed for chicken strips. It was really nice actually. I remember wondering if they called for a tray & told them I was a dead baby mom, it felt like they put extra effort into condiments & if I worked in a kitchen I'd feel the need to do that for someone. So, as people came in & held our dead baby, I nom'ed. I ate like I didn't have a care in the world. And really, compared to 48 hours before, I really didn't. The part of the physical pain & the worry was gone & over with. So I ate my chicken. It was one of the top 5 meals I've ever had in my life.

Eventually, they will want you to get out of bed. So I did. And I showered. And I sat on the floor of the shower crying for most of that. I can kinda see my feet at this point, being not pregnant allows that. Instead, the once pregnant stomach is left with stretch marks that itchy & is complete with a nice jello feeling if you touch it. Other times I didn't mind this, but there was a reward for that jiggle previously. This time, not so much.

Night fell. I did more of asking "why me?" We'd picked a funeral home, on the entire basis of it listing "infant services" in their ad in the yellow pages. We are in our 20's, you think we have a "favorite" funeral home or something?

Now here is where it gets weird for me. Because I know he's dead. Duh. I know our interaction is nothing for him. But it's all I've got. And the worse thing is knowing what will happen once he leaves our room. A morgue. An autopsy. I know that telling someone "go ahead & take him" is basically saying (excuse the bluntness here) "take him to the fridge until the doctor gets his scalpel ready." And I knew that meant never seeing him again. And one of the most painful things, even more painful than we were told he was dead, is the memory of him being wheeled out of that room the next morning.

After that, I sat in the bed. Hooked to IV's. Numb & wanting to leave. My mother in law & sister in law came in. Talked about old times, work, joked around...& there I sat. I stared & read the posted across the room by the sink, the poster I read no less than 1000 times before I went home. A hand washing poster. It was a hand, of course, & said something about "the five most common ways to spread infection." This was my special room, all baby stuff had been removed before I was there. So, instead, just several signs telling me how to wash my hands were up.If I didn't know how to wash my hands before, I totally do now.

Before I'm allowed to make my escape, I have to sign off on paperwork. One form talked about what I wanted to do with "the remains." That's some scary shit right there. You check the wrong box & nothing good can happen. So I made sure to clearly label & sign the right box, telling them to release him to the funeral home. The next batch of paperwork I get to sign, while Adam goes & runs us into some debt at the cashiers office (yes, they wanted paid THEN for things, walked in the hospital with no debt, left with a few thousand in debt), is the form that tells me how to take care of myself. I have to check off that I know & have been told this & that. I could skip the parts about infant care, thankfully. Though I did still have to sign something that said I knew not to hold anything heavier than my infant. Thaaanks.

I get dressed to leave. Oh, that's fun as well. Because, even though you have no baby, you just had a baby. So you still need maternity clothes. That's just salt in the wound, let me tell you. After that, I sat in a rocking chair while the husband carried things out to our car. We finally get to leave. And make the long drive home with an empty car. Minus sympathy flowers of course. No talking, there is nothing to say. Come home & take care of things, because nothing at home has stopped. Flowers to water, pets to feed, pools that needs chemicals dumped in. And I waddle around, trying to do my normal routine, because I need something normal in my life.

We ate pizza rolls, fruit, & veggies for dinner. The pizza rolls from our trip home. The fruit & veggies were from our grief food in the fridge. People caring for our cats & dog, some of the husbands co-workers, were nice enough to put stuff in our fridge while they cared for the pets. Of course, the irony here is that the same day we found out Joel was dead we'd been talking about grief food. Seriously. We were talking about sending something to our friend Dawn whose son had an accident. Adam mentioned he thought people sent food of sorts, I told him grief food was awful & I was not about to send our friend veggies.

I don't believe in karma, but I guess I should believe in jinxing myself.

Jules finally came home. He cried when I tried to get him to be around me. He'd always been a daddy's boy & being away had totally thrown him for a loop so he was whinny &, well, miserable in his own way. Then I cried, because it felt like the living son wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Sure, that was an irrational thought but so many other things that made no sense had already happened so why not just throw in rejection from the toddler, too? The rest of the night I watched Headline News. Over & over. Taking percocet after percocet. Curling up on my left side against the old purple quilt we have & some pillows, just staring through the TV in the darkened living room until just after 5am when Adam came up & asked me if I wanted to come to bed. I said sure, but only so he wouldn't worry I was going to keep taking percocet all night.

The next adventure would be planning a funeral a couple days later. Thankfully I managed to get out of bed for it. And find clothes, that weren't maternity, that fit. Adam, being an english teacher, made the poor guy at the funeral home re-write the obituary over & over for comas & semi-colons. We paid for a death certificate, which I was happy about because I had previously told Adam we may get nothing. I knew we didn't get a birth certificate. Some places didn't even do death certificates I found. So I figured we'd get at least that. Afterward we went driving. I'm not sure how or why we ended up driving around, but we did. And we got to sit behind a school bus since it was time for school to be out. We watched a little boy run out of his house, his mom follow behind him, as he raced down their sidewalk to the bus where his brother, who wasn't much older, came down. They walked arm in arm up to the house. There might as well have been a neon sign pointing at them & someone with a megaphone yelling, "since your baby died, your other son will never have this!" We then picked flowers out at the florist. And a $50 stuffed animal, just because. Fate worked out that to look at the funeral arrangement books, we had to sit in the new baby section of the shop. Yes, seriously. We were surrounded by "congrats!" balloons & baby items. I wanted to take one of those plastic floral card holders & jam it through my eye. Or both of them to at least blind me if it didn't kill me. Sitting there picking out flowers sucked more than picking out an urn. Seriously.

Later on in the grief, I got to pick up Joel's death certificate. That day made me regret I actually didn't stab myself in the eye at the florist.

First off, we didn't get a death certificate like I'd get if I fell over dead right now. It's a "fetal death certificate." Lovely. I looked at it in the car & then again at home. I couldn't stop staring at it in disappointment. Because you see, I'd hoped that at least in death, somewhere, he'd be recognized. But nah, that can't happen. There is a place the doctor signed his name, the doctor who claimed to have delivered the baby & got paid to deliver him, but he actually didn't. The exact thing he signs under states "I certify that on the date above at the location above, the fetus was born dead."

Something about "fetus born dead" bothers me. When I say "something" I actually mean everything.

Next up I noticed that I'm listed, Adam is listed, the hospital is listed, "unknown" is the cause of death, what funeral home he went to & that he was cremated is listed, the date is listed, the fact that he died during pregnancy & not during delivery or labor is listed, hell even the place he was cremated is listed.

See anything missing?

No name. He's just a nameless, dead fetus that was born on May 28th.

And that's all I got. I get no birth certificate. I know that's a hot button topic. I've seen that people fear giving a birth certificate when someone isn't actually alive crosses the lines of defining where life begins, & therefore turns into an abortion debate. I'm prochoice, I think anyone should have a choice.

My choice was to be pregnant & have a baby. My baby died, but I still had him. My feelings come down to the fact that I'm selfish & feel like I deserve a piece of paper that says I went through pregnancy & childbirth. Give me something & call it a fucking stillborn certificate, or even a delivery certificate. I don't really care. But as I talked about earlier, I still went through everything as if he was alive & I think I deserve something. I've seen the argument made that people don't get why it matters, it doesn't make the child come back to life or anything. No it doesn't bring him back & no it doesn't make anything better, but it's something. And when you've got little, you'll hold onto anything you can.

We spent the rest of the summer in denial. Doing what we could to keep busy. Doing things to our house. Going into even more debt for the husbands vasectomy reversal. And drinking. Because at a certain point, all you can do is keep going. And that's what we did. I've been asked how we did it, & it's really that simple. We had to.

We are now one year & 4, almost 5, months post dead baby. And really...it's gotten better. Still sucks. Still cry. But it's better. It continues to change my life & how we do everything. We had some family pictures today. After I found my clothes, helped Adam with his, & picked Jules & Blair's outfits out, I got to sit down & clean the tarnish off of Joel's contribution to the family pictures.

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Those are Thumbies. Expensive, real life set in silver imprints of Joel's hand & foot prints. I mean, I guess they could just be any random hand or foot print, we really wouldn't know, but I'd like to think a company isn't ripped us sad people off.

Of course, like I said, we'll hold onto anything we can.

And, for the rest of my life, I'll hold onto the thing I can't have. That's just how it works.

And that, my friends, is what happens when your baby dies. A part of you dies, too. But you'll be OK. Because you've got to be eventually.

Happy October 15th, peeps.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

More October Madness: Helping someone with grief.

I've seen & heard it asked...different people, with different connections to dead baby parents. Someone has a friend. A person has a cousin. Dead baby disease, sadly, runs rampant. We're always adding new members to this club. Anyway, it's always been asked, "how can I help them?" or "how can I nudge them past this?"

It's easy really.

First, invent a time machine.

Kidding (but if you got one, send me a message). But really, it is easy.

Be there.

Oh yes, it's that easy. Just be there. Be you. But be you for them. Don't say or do what you think you'd want if you were in their shoes. Think of them. I'll explain more about that shortly.

You see, we live in a world where people want to fix things; say something to make a person feel better. We want to give advice. We want to fix it. I appreciate it, really, I do. But you can't. Unless you have that time machine I talked about before. So please don't try.

Here is a list of things that, for me, I did not appreciate:

Now is not the time to spread the word of your god.
Believe it or not, not everyone believes the same as you. I know, I know. Sit down, cry a little, regain your composure & come back to reading. Are you ready now? Good. Telling me that my baby was in the arms of Jesus doesn't help me. Fuck your greedy Jesus, I want my baby back. Telling me god has a plan for everything also doesn't help. Again, sit down, I don't believe in god personally. I think it's great if someone else has something to hold onto & believe in if they choose to, but I choose not to. Telling me that someone I think is a fairy tale has a plan doesn't help. Please, don't try to save me or change my mind. It will not be anymore well received than when the Mormons knock on my door. Which leads me to the next one...

Do not say or do shit to make yourself feel better.
Yeah, you feel bad. You want to make that feeling go away. So you decide it's a good idea to write me an essay with bible quotes &, uh, sections or whatever you call them that you feel backs up your theory. You aren't doing that for me, you're doing it for you. So you can feel like you've done something, so you can feel good that you've helped me. Well, you haven't. You're sleeping better at night, go you! Aren't you a special snowflake?! Me? I'm still crying. My parents wanted to bring us take out after Joel died. I didn't not want it. I don't want your pity food, I don't want to see you look at me like that. If I want to be alone, please respect that. You don't know what's best for me. Please try to remember that.

Do not look on the bright side.
There is no bright side in my world, especially right after Joel died. Don't smile at me & tell me how great I look. I look like someone who isn't brave enough to jump off a bridge. And don't tell me how I already have children, living children. I love my kids, including the dead one. And he'll never get to know it, never get to grow up & know it. My living children aren't Joel. Don't tell me at least I never got to know him. I kinda did. And honestly, it kills me that I didn't get to know him, even a little.

Do not ignore it.
Don't make my dead baby the elephant in the room. I had people who, even an hour after his funeral, try to avoid the topic. When someone else dies, are they ignored? If your mother dies, do you pretend she never existed? Your father? Your spouse? Of course not. Which brings us to my biggie...

Don't forget him.
I'm still hurt by people who forgot Joel's birthday. I'm sad for him. I'm sad for me. He happened. Don't pack him away & never speak of him again or acknowledge his life. Again, would you do that to anyone else in your life who died? No, it's never too soon to mention him or acknowledge his birthday or death. Just like it's never too late. Please don't forget him.

Don't try to nudge me back to who I was.
Hi there. I'm the new me. Hopefully you get use to me. I look like me, act like me alot, but I'm damaged goods. Some days I'll be sad for no real reason. Some times I'll just get emotional. Little things can trigger this, be understanding. Do not try to fix me. If you're unhappy with how I've dealt with things or how I'm not acting, you should go away. The person you knew & loved has had something happened that changed their lives, that forever changed them. I may be nothing like the person you once knew, or I could just have moments where I'm different. Either way, be understanding. Nothing, minus that time machine, will ever correct that. If you really feel like you can't deal with the new me & the fact that old me will never be back, please bow out of my life. It'll cause less pain than if you try to "fix" me.


Don't gossip about it. If you have questions, ask me.

Know that saying "good news travels fast"? Bullshit. Bad news travels more than anything you'll ever know. Suddenly, the 2nd grade teachers cousins wifes next door neighbor knows someones nanny who heard about what happened. If people mention it & you know, tell them my son died & leave it at that. If they want more info, suggest they ask me. Chances are, unless you heard it straight from me, the story isn't exactly 100% on the nose. And if you heard about it, mention it. Don't wait until I'm forced to bring it up in small talk. Then I'll feel like an idiot. And I'll wonder what you heard & if you're giving that look. The look of sadness & pity, mixed with awkwardness while trying to hide it with a smile.


Don't think I'm weird.

Unless you've been through exactly what I've been through, you don't have a right to think I'm weird. If I choose to blog about it, let me. If I choose to search my medical records every other week just to look for something, anything, let me. If I'm online on support groups or I'm not friends with other moms of dead babies, it's fine. If I have a picture of my baby, don't think it's odd. Do not decide what your comfort level is & expect me to stay within it. This goes back to my earlier thought of not thinking everyone would do as you think you'd do. First, you never know what you'd do in this situation. Sure, you think you know, but unless you are in it you will never be sure. I thought I knew, but I was wrong. Secondly, don't decide what's good for the goose is good for the gander (I really wanted to use that phrase for some weird reason). OK, fine, you wouldn't do what I'm doing. Good news, you have that choice! If your baby dies or has died, you can decide what's best for you. Don't pretend to know what will work best for me. If you think I'm an obsessed freak with emotional issues, unless I'm a danger to myself or someone else, is there really harm? Which leads me to the last one...

Do not be an asshole.
Seriously. If you have to stop & think, "should I..." then chances are the answer is no. Remember, you can always say or do something later. But once it's out there, you can't take it back. And everything said or done wrong stays with me...forever.

Up next, a special titled, "My baby has died, what next?!"

Monday, October 11, 2010

The missing days...days 9-11

Life has been busy. A baby shower with old friends, then a meet up with new friends. Then a Monday where I did nothing I was suppose to. Not bad really. Well, some minor drama, but nothing worth moaning & groaning about...at least not now.

Day 9 - a photo you took since your loss.

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I posted this online with the caption, "everyone wave at the crazy lady."

The real caption should have been, "Hi, my baby died 3 weeks ago & all anyone can fucking say to me is how they can't believe how well I"m getting around, which makes no sense since I didn't die, though I kinda wish I did, of course there is still time. Why the hell are we having a cook out? Whose fucking idea was this? Is my zoloft ready yet? Because I need it. Stop looking at me like that. How? You know...like THAT. Like you want to give me some pep talk, but aren't sure where to start. Trust me, you're right, you have no idea where to start. How about this...leave me the fuck alone & stop watching me like I'm a dancing bear. Yes, I just said fuck. Go fuck yourself if you don't like that, I'm damn near 30, married, have kids, & just had a funeral for one of them, I can fucking curse if I want to. Fuck off."

Sadly, there wasn't enough room for that caption.

Day 10 - a photo taken over 10 years ago of you and how it makes you feel seeing it now.

I'd like to do this, but sadly I don't have access to any of my past. Weird, huh? Not that it would give me some uplifting story, it may just make me want to jump off a bridge again.

Day 11 - a photo of you recently and how it makes you feel seeing it now.

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Blair was a hairy monkey with a heck of a nose. Thankfully, he grew into it. Despite the family bullshit, nothing that day was ruined. So take that people who try to ruin things. :b I also feel weird knowing what a hell of a year it'd been. It was 4 days after the one year mark of Joel's memorial service that The Blair was born. And for the first few weeks, I was waiting on him to die, too. Thankfully, I've gotten over that. And my scar healed quite nicely as well. :D That's something else, as not pro-csection I am, I don't regret that at all. I'm not going to become one of those people who tell people, "a healthy baby is all that matters, who cares how they get here?!" but I know for me, the c-section was a good decision. Of course, a c-section with a living baby following a normal birth with a dead baby, well, it's hard not to improve on that feeling of complete & utter misery.

I also feel like that cross placement in the picture is creepy.

Family pictures with Valarie Decker this week, woohoo! She made Blair look as cute as humanly possible in pictures, so I'm sure I'll come out looking like Hedi Klum. Right, Valarie?! Right!

Friday, October 8, 2010

Day 8 of 30

Day 8 - a photo that makes you angry/sad.


This one, my friends, is easy.

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Still can't believe this happened to me. But I think that's pretty common.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Day 7 of 30

Day 7 - a photo that makes you happy.

This one...this was hard. Because I actually have many.

So, here are a few.

Pink elephant.

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No story, just like it.

I've made out with a dolphin.

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Dolphins are a bees knees.

So is Jules.

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I'm unsure how I remember Shannon's wedding.

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Because we were waaaaasted.

My BFF was the big winner at Price is Right!

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And then we lost her car. Or it was stolen. Who knows.

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We didn't.

My little guy.

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Despite my bad times, I have alot of happy in my life. And my peeps rule.

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