I am so busy in my "retirement".
I had a haircut and highlights, a PT appointment, two phone calls received, a couple made to setup appointments, and several emails. Geesh, I can't get any work done!
Someone pitched me a possible job idea. We'll see if it works out and if I am interested.
I am working on cleaning up some essays. I will meet with the professor from my writing class to go over her comments on my essays. I have one I want to pitch to the local paper.
If I do get a job, I want to have time and energy left for my writing. I am quite happy doing this and not being out working. Well, I haven't gone stir crazy after one day. Maybe I should hold off on that judgement?
And I cooked dinner tonite. I am just waiting for Triple S to get back from soccer.
I am really feeling better. I think I needed to get away from the sociopathic boss. That was compounding my stress and anxiety. That is why I am not sure that I want to work again. At least my office-mate now, my dog, is not a sociopath.
This weekend we watched a creepy documentary. Ya know how I said I needed to cancel NetFl1x? I don't know how this movie got in our queue. Triple S denies putting it in there and I don't remember doing it. It sounds like something I would add, and it may have been a recommended movie that I didn't fully understand what it it was about.
The movie was "Deliver Us from Evil", about the priest Oliver O'Grady that was molesting kids for 30 years. Basically, if you want to see the definition of a sociopath, I think this is a superb example. Just the fact that he was willing to be interviewed for this documentary illuminates the fact that he doesn't "get" what he did. The opening sequence is about a girl that is half Asian and half Caucasian. Triple S just looked at me and said, "Yeah, this would never relate to us", like I had told him when we received the movie. Well, we aren't Catholic....
I am trying to learn how to spot socipaths, so that I can avoid them in the future. They are a tricky lot. So many of his characteristics really reminded me of my boss, the inability to empathize, the inability to admit guilt, (all apologies are mitigated, like, "If I hurt... then I am sorry") It's really scary. And that priest is completely free. He lives in Ireland, so there is no sex-offender registry he has to be on either, since he committed his crimes in the US. Does anyone know whether if an American commits a sex crime in CA, or any other country, when they are released and returned to the US, do they have to register?
Ok, I am off to check our queue. We really need something better.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
A Letter to Serenity
Triple S was crying because he was typing up a letter to Serenity.
Today is his sister's birthday. We called her and she hasn't called back yet. Little bratty aunt.
We burnt the letter to send it to Serenity.
I just assume she can read bytes. :) See Serenity, mommy's being funny....
Today is his sister's birthday. We called her and she hasn't called back yet. Little bratty aunt.
We burnt the letter to send it to Serenity.
I just assume she can read bytes. :) See Serenity, mommy's being funny....
I am just tired
I am just tired of feeling so bleh.
My heart is achy, sad, heavy. But nothing is as intense as it once was. This is a background of sorrow. Enough that I am miserable, but never reach a cathartic episode.
I told Triple S that I still feel sad and there is nothing more to say about it. What should I do, state again that I am sad, that this sucks, that it is not fair, that we miss her? It's all been said ad nauseam.
I am tired. I am lazy. I am in the doldrums. I am overwhelmed by all the little things I need to get done and I am under-whelmed by my desire to do them.
OK, I sense that Triple S is crying- I hear his keyboard going.
We hate Sundays.
My heart is achy, sad, heavy. But nothing is as intense as it once was. This is a background of sorrow. Enough that I am miserable, but never reach a cathartic episode.
I told Triple S that I still feel sad and there is nothing more to say about it. What should I do, state again that I am sad, that this sucks, that it is not fair, that we miss her? It's all been said ad nauseam.
I am tired. I am lazy. I am in the doldrums. I am overwhelmed by all the little things I need to get done and I am under-whelmed by my desire to do them.
OK, I sense that Triple S is crying- I hear his keyboard going.
We hate Sundays.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Can I Just Say
That I am biking around 6 miles home from my class, through the certainly-not-bike friendly city, over hill and dale in the high humidity and temperature of the grand Midwest?
(as I break my arm patting myself on the back)
Three times so far this week and once last week.
I am just a little pleased with myself. Bye bye Jelly Belly!
(as I break my arm patting myself on the back)
Three times so far this week and once last week.
I am just a little pleased with myself. Bye bye Jelly Belly!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Honkey Dorey here
My class is going wonderfully. All my writing is going into that. The writer who is instructing us thinks I can submit some of my work. First is to try a re-write of the "Latest Batch of New Americans" (expanded quite a lot actually) that originally appeared here to the local newspaper for an editorial. I will be very busy getting this polished up after my class ends, so that's good, my first little project.
My critique went very well. I had to read a small bit, and I started crying. It's funny, cause I usually don't cry when I hit that spot in that particular essay, but saying that I miss my daughter out-loud in front of 10 people was kind of hard.
The comments were all really helpful and I have lots of ideas to improve my writing. They thought the Natural Disasters one was a poem and loved the piece Don't pick that scab. These were all "improved" after being here on my blog and they certainly need more refinement for a wider audience. The best thing is that everyone in the class was really great about it.
One thing hat stuck in my mind was that several of the people described my work as expressing pain, that they could tell the author was in pain. (We say "the author" so that nothing sounds accusatory, or hurtful to the one receiving the critique. It's very nice). I had never thought of it like that.
Anyway, maybe I can make it! Triple S has taken to referring to me as a bohemian and advocates that I spend time at coffee shops. He's funny. I'd rather not spend our money at coffee shops.
My critique went very well. I had to read a small bit, and I started crying. It's funny, cause I usually don't cry when I hit that spot in that particular essay, but saying that I miss my daughter out-loud in front of 10 people was kind of hard.
The comments were all really helpful and I have lots of ideas to improve my writing. They thought the Natural Disasters one was a poem and loved the piece Don't pick that scab. These were all "improved" after being here on my blog and they certainly need more refinement for a wider audience. The best thing is that everyone in the class was really great about it.
One thing hat stuck in my mind was that several of the people described my work as expressing pain, that they could tell the author was in pain. (We say "the author" so that nothing sounds accusatory, or hurtful to the one receiving the critique. It's very nice). I had never thought of it like that.
Anyway, maybe I can make it! Triple S has taken to referring to me as a bohemian and advocates that I spend time at coffee shops. He's funny. I'd rather not spend our money at coffee shops.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
I miss my baby
That pretty much sums it up.
I was around too many happy kids, running around at our blocks ice cream social. It just makes me melancholy. Luckily, the two babies didn't show up. I don't know how old they are, but all the kids there today are at least walkers. It's fun to see them and talk to them, but sad too. Triple S was making great conversation with the 13-year-old neigbor boy about astronomy, assuring him that our universe may not actually collide with another, just like a curve ball doesn't (usually) hit the batter. The kid loved the explanation. It's just so sad, because Triple S will be such a good dad, and I just miss that he couldn't do that with Serenity.
Triple S woke up this morning around 5 from a nightmare. It's not my nightmare to tell, but it concerns me. I have tried to encourage him to find an outlet; someone to talk to. Good luck getting him to blog. I just got him on face.book - I even had to set the darn thing up for him. His has maybe seven friends, and last night he was like, "Oh...I have GOT to check my face.book." Like it's a chore to be social. At least he has reconnected with some old high school friends. I just think he needs something different than me, but I don't know what.
I feel like crying, but I am just not stricken enough to bawl. If this goes on, it will build until I do cry, but it is torture to have it building slowly, over days. Tuesday will be my turn in class, where my essays are workshopped and discussed by the others. I hope my mood is good that day. I don't want to be crying the whole class, well, actually any of it.
Hope everyone ha a good week.
~a
I was around too many happy kids, running around at our blocks ice cream social. It just makes me melancholy. Luckily, the two babies didn't show up. I don't know how old they are, but all the kids there today are at least walkers. It's fun to see them and talk to them, but sad too. Triple S was making great conversation with the 13-year-old neigbor boy about astronomy, assuring him that our universe may not actually collide with another, just like a curve ball doesn't (usually) hit the batter. The kid loved the explanation. It's just so sad, because Triple S will be such a good dad, and I just miss that he couldn't do that with Serenity.
Triple S woke up this morning around 5 from a nightmare. It's not my nightmare to tell, but it concerns me. I have tried to encourage him to find an outlet; someone to talk to. Good luck getting him to blog. I just got him on face.book - I even had to set the darn thing up for him. His has maybe seven friends, and last night he was like, "Oh...I have GOT to check my face.book." Like it's a chore to be social. At least he has reconnected with some old high school friends. I just think he needs something different than me, but I don't know what.
I feel like crying, but I am just not stricken enough to bawl. If this goes on, it will build until I do cry, but it is torture to have it building slowly, over days. Tuesday will be my turn in class, where my essays are workshopped and discussed by the others. I hope my mood is good that day. I don't want to be crying the whole class, well, actually any of it.
Hope everyone ha a good week.
~a
Friday, June 20, 2008
Have you missed me?
This week has been pretty crazy for me. I am enjoying the class and change of scenery greatly. Also, it hasn't "gotten out" yet that I am a deadbabymama. It will all be out this weekend, as many of the writing assignments I turned in for the class to read deal with, um, the nastiest disaster and biggest mindfuck in my life.
I am tired and feeling exuberant at the same time. The workshop is a wonderful and exhilarating environment for me. I may apply for the MFA program by the Jan 2 deadline.
There was a discussion with a few of my classmates about PTSD. One of my classmate's daughter suffers from depression. The mother believes it was from a burst appendix that happened while she was traveling in a third world country and the physical fallout from that. This was at least 15 years ago for the daughter. Another classmate, a CSW, suggested it might be/was PTSD. It got me thinking. Are we, the DBMs, at risk for PTSD? If not now, what about when we try again? At least, since we are here in blogland, we are talking about it. I think PTSD has to do, too, with bottling it up. But there is such a recurrent theme here in blogland, that we don't have other people to talk about it with. I guess that is why I write. I do have a few folks to talk around the edges of deadbabymotherhood with IRL, but I rarely talk about it so directly. I am coming out a little more though. As the time furthers, I can talk about how much I miss her, or tell someone that my bracelet is for my baby. Triple S has his family sticker on his car.
My essay about the nursery is an interesting case in point. When I wrote it, I started to cry. When I read it to Triple S, I cried. I have read (and tweaked) it several other times. As the words become closer to memorized, they lose some of their power over me. I hope next Tuesday I can talk about this and the other essays in class. It is so painful for me. All the baby crap is here, but not my baby. I feel like the first sentence, "Everything is ready for the baby" is actually talking about the next baby. The one that is not even a twinkle in my eye yet.
Tonite, I am really thinking about postponing a conception until after the 1 year deathiversary. That is such a perversion of the word, but I am sorry, I am not going to say the "A" word. As much as I want a baby, and to doing the mom thing, I just don't feel ready to go for it again, so soon. For so long. 40 weeks. Or wait 40 weeks after our due date. If I can survive the length of another pregnancy, maybe I can survive the next pregnancy.
My heart still aches for Serenity. All I can think is that I miss her. Terribly. Every cell in my body misses her.
*
I am tired and feeling exuberant at the same time. The workshop is a wonderful and exhilarating environment for me. I may apply for the MFA program by the Jan 2 deadline.
There was a discussion with a few of my classmates about PTSD. One of my classmate's daughter suffers from depression. The mother believes it was from a burst appendix that happened while she was traveling in a third world country and the physical fallout from that. This was at least 15 years ago for the daughter. Another classmate, a CSW, suggested it might be/was PTSD. It got me thinking. Are we, the DBMs, at risk for PTSD? If not now, what about when we try again? At least, since we are here in blogland, we are talking about it. I think PTSD has to do, too, with bottling it up. But there is such a recurrent theme here in blogland, that we don't have other people to talk about it with. I guess that is why I write. I do have a few folks to talk around the edges of deadbabymotherhood with IRL, but I rarely talk about it so directly. I am coming out a little more though. As the time furthers, I can talk about how much I miss her, or tell someone that my bracelet is for my baby. Triple S has his family sticker on his car.
My essay about the nursery is an interesting case in point. When I wrote it, I started to cry. When I read it to Triple S, I cried. I have read (and tweaked) it several other times. As the words become closer to memorized, they lose some of their power over me. I hope next Tuesday I can talk about this and the other essays in class. It is so painful for me. All the baby crap is here, but not my baby. I feel like the first sentence, "Everything is ready for the baby" is actually talking about the next baby. The one that is not even a twinkle in my eye yet.
Tonite, I am really thinking about postponing a conception until after the 1 year deathiversary. That is such a perversion of the word, but I am sorry, I am not going to say the "A" word. As much as I want a baby, and to doing the mom thing, I just don't feel ready to go for it again, so soon. For so long. 40 weeks. Or wait 40 weeks after our due date. If I can survive the length of another pregnancy, maybe I can survive the next pregnancy.
My heart still aches for Serenity. All I can think is that I miss her. Terribly. Every cell in my body misses her.
*
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Five Words I Strongly Dislike
A literary exercise meme:
Please list five words you strongly dislike
hate
supposed to
miracle
only
almost
Since we are not only pessimists around here, list 5 words you like
discombobulated
facetious
gregarious
affection
deadbabymama (Perhaps this should be the 2008 word-of-the-year. I am grateful to my fellow blogger who coined it - I remember reading a post on this, please claim this phrase by a comment)
Your dislike/like can be based on meaning or sound or any other criteria you wish to use.
Please tag your fellow bloggers by naming them in your post and alerting them to this through a comment on their blog.
Since I am starting this meme: I would like everyone who reads my blog to post their answers on their blog and to leave me a comment so I can go have a look. If you don't have a blog, register as a blogger or google user and leave your answers as a comment to this post. I can't wait to read what you all write.
Please list five words you strongly dislike
hate
supposed to
miracle
only
almost
Since we are not only pessimists around here, list 5 words you like
discombobulated
facetious
gregarious
affection
deadbabymama (Perhaps this should be the 2008 word-of-the-year. I am grateful to my fellow blogger who coined it - I remember reading a post on this, please claim this phrase by a comment)
Your dislike/like can be based on meaning or sound or any other criteria you wish to use.
Please tag your fellow bloggers by naming them in your post and alerting them to this through a comment on their blog.
Since I am starting this meme: I would like everyone who reads my blog to post their answers on their blog and to leave me a comment so I can go have a look. If you don't have a blog, register as a blogger or google user and leave your answers as a comment to this post. I can't wait to read what you all write.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Busy
Class is chugging along. I asked Triple S what day it was today. I can't believe it is already Wednesday!
All my reading and writing energy (almost) are being used up in class.
Someone asked me today if I had kids. I felt blue and about ready to explode, like the old green poison control/ Mr. Yuck stickers back from when I was a kid.
I looked down and shook my head.
What happened to my always-ready "Not with me". Yeah, I blew it.
Then she said "oh, you're so young yet. I didn't have mine until blah di blah blah blah".
Stop talking stop talking stop talking.
A exercise in class was to write 5 words we hate. See if you can guess why I don't care for some of these:
Hate (These are five words I strongly dislike)
supposed to
miracle
only
almost
All my reading and writing energy (almost) are being used up in class.
Someone asked me today if I had kids. I felt blue and about ready to explode, like the old green poison control/ Mr. Yuck stickers back from when I was a kid.
I looked down and shook my head.
What happened to my always-ready "Not with me". Yeah, I blew it.
Then she said "oh, you're so young yet. I didn't have mine until blah di blah blah blah".
Stop talking stop talking stop talking.
A exercise in class was to write 5 words we hate. See if you can guess why I don't care for some of these:
Hate (These are five words I strongly dislike)
supposed to
miracle
only
almost
Monday, June 16, 2008
Father's Day
Triple S had a rough day yesterday, and so did I. Well, Saturday wasn't great either. We had a fight on the way to the botanical gardens. I hadn't been there since Serenity died. I was kinda avoiding it. This is one of my favorite places and I couldn't wait to share it with Serenity. I wanted to join the mom's walking group there. Well, after being angry at each other for awhile, and smelling all the roses without talking to each other, we finally came around. We went off to smell some lilies, (no smell) and I just started crying. Stress from fighting over something stupid, over my dreams of Triple S dying, over missing Serenity.
I woke Triple S up mid-morning on Father's Day. I couldn't wait any longer to give him his card. It was sweet, about life being unpredictable and he a great husband. He started crying when he say the "Happy Father's Day" at then end. After we hugged and he started to calm down, I gave him his stick figure family. He cried at this too. I made his with a soccer ball, mine as a gardener, Serenity's as an Angel that says "Missed" underneath, and the dog and the cat.
We put the stick figure family on the back side window of his CRV. He chose to put it on the drivers side. After it was up, he said he will be sad every time he gets in the car, but he will also think about our family. As broken as it is.
I woke Triple S up mid-morning on Father's Day. I couldn't wait any longer to give him his card. It was sweet, about life being unpredictable and he a great husband. He started crying when he say the "Happy Father's Day" at then end. After we hugged and he started to calm down, I gave him his stick figure family. He cried at this too. I made his with a soccer ball, mine as a gardener, Serenity's as an Angel that says "Missed" underneath, and the dog and the cat.
We put the stick figure family on the back side window of his CRV. He chose to put it on the drivers side. After it was up, he said he will be sad every time he gets in the car, but he will also think about our family. As broken as it is.
Class Essay
I've started my class. Our first assignment is to write an essay modeled after one we read in class. This essay is about a man going through his "junk drawer". Ya know, that one we all have full of useless crap. So we can write one about our junk drawer, or our attic, garage, etc. Here is mine:
***
My nursery
My nursery is all ready for the baby, even before I am. I have taken so much time in putting it together, carefully researching and selecting each item. I can picture where everything is, so I can find it all in the dark. The bobby is there, right by the rocking chair, within easy reach for a late night feeding. From the rocking chair I can reach a clickable light, just in case. Dim, too, just in case.
Madison Avenue knows how to open our wallets. All that baby stuff is so cute. It’s tiny, so small, yet there is so much to fill. So many hopes, possibilities. Our nursery is filled with adorable onesies, sporting gender-neutral duckies and fuzzy dinosaurs. I feel the soft blankets, so soft that I want to wrap myself, or at least my shoulders, in them.
These onesies and blankets are safely stored in the cutest dresser. I scoured craigslist to find furniture and I hit the jackpot when I found two dressers and a crib for a hundred bucks. The dressers are white, with pale, lime green doors. One can be positioned just so, to be used as a changing table, also with its own clickable light. I am so clever with those clickable lights.
Everything is ready for the baby.
The nursery is stocked with all the consumer essentials. I researched extensively to find the perfect “diapering system”. BumGenius, it has a cute name and is a local company, too. Washable cloth diapers, which are great for the environment and our budget. All the diapers are washed and put back together. Clean and absorbent, just waiting to be pooped in.
There are bottles of goop and goo and every gloppy thing you could possibly smear on a baby’s sensitive skin. All natural diaper cream, lotion, shampoo. Stuff for me too, nursing supplies and ointments that I am not sure I really know what to do with.
I’ve read the books, the ones on how to be pregnant, how to give birth, how to care for a newborn. I picked out which ones I’d like to refer to later and which to pass onto friends. I can’t say that I remember everything from them, perhaps I read too quickly.
Many of our clothes are from what my neighbor terms “the baby black market”. Goods are exchanged when the last child has out-grown them, perhaps worn or used just a handful of times. I washed them all in gentle baby-safe detergent and sorted them for size. There is a bag that I didn’t wash yet, since I won’t need it until the baby is 12 months old.
My friends and neighbors decorated onesies at the baby shower. All of them precious expressions of love for the baby in my belly.
I stand, looking at all the baby gear. The furniture is stacked in my basement, the clothes and blankets sealed away in vacuum bags. The nursery itself is empty, except for a few items on a shelf: a crystal butterfly, a poem on a wallet card, pictures of my and my husband’s grandparents. Lastly, there is an urn, an urn that cradles the ashes of my daughter, who was born in silence. For that, I was not prepared.
***
Well, of course I am not going to submit this one. I had to write it to get it out of my head so that I could write an essay that I could stand having "workshopped" in public and possibly have to read out loud. That one sucks, but is about cleaning out my desk at work (timely, wouldn't you say?)
But, I have to share this one with somebody! I read it to Triple S and started crying. Yeah, not ready for class, but here it is for you! Feel free to give me some literary critique (seriously). I trust you gals and guys with my heart.
.
***
My nursery
My nursery is all ready for the baby, even before I am. I have taken so much time in putting it together, carefully researching and selecting each item. I can picture where everything is, so I can find it all in the dark. The bobby is there, right by the rocking chair, within easy reach for a late night feeding. From the rocking chair I can reach a clickable light, just in case. Dim, too, just in case.
Madison Avenue knows how to open our wallets. All that baby stuff is so cute. It’s tiny, so small, yet there is so much to fill. So many hopes, possibilities. Our nursery is filled with adorable onesies, sporting gender-neutral duckies and fuzzy dinosaurs. I feel the soft blankets, so soft that I want to wrap myself, or at least my shoulders, in them.
These onesies and blankets are safely stored in the cutest dresser. I scoured craigslist to find furniture and I hit the jackpot when I found two dressers and a crib for a hundred bucks. The dressers are white, with pale, lime green doors. One can be positioned just so, to be used as a changing table, also with its own clickable light. I am so clever with those clickable lights.
Everything is ready for the baby.
The nursery is stocked with all the consumer essentials. I researched extensively to find the perfect “diapering system”. BumGenius, it has a cute name and is a local company, too. Washable cloth diapers, which are great for the environment and our budget. All the diapers are washed and put back together. Clean and absorbent, just waiting to be pooped in.
There are bottles of goop and goo and every gloppy thing you could possibly smear on a baby’s sensitive skin. All natural diaper cream, lotion, shampoo. Stuff for me too, nursing supplies and ointments that I am not sure I really know what to do with.
I’ve read the books, the ones on how to be pregnant, how to give birth, how to care for a newborn. I picked out which ones I’d like to refer to later and which to pass onto friends. I can’t say that I remember everything from them, perhaps I read too quickly.
Many of our clothes are from what my neighbor terms “the baby black market”. Goods are exchanged when the last child has out-grown them, perhaps worn or used just a handful of times. I washed them all in gentle baby-safe detergent and sorted them for size. There is a bag that I didn’t wash yet, since I won’t need it until the baby is 12 months old.
My friends and neighbors decorated onesies at the baby shower. All of them precious expressions of love for the baby in my belly.
I stand, looking at all the baby gear. The furniture is stacked in my basement, the clothes and blankets sealed away in vacuum bags. The nursery itself is empty, except for a few items on a shelf: a crystal butterfly, a poem on a wallet card, pictures of my and my husband’s grandparents. Lastly, there is an urn, an urn that cradles the ashes of my daughter, who was born in silence. For that, I was not prepared.
***
Well, of course I am not going to submit this one. I had to write it to get it out of my head so that I could write an essay that I could stand having "workshopped" in public and possibly have to read out loud. That one sucks, but is about cleaning out my desk at work (timely, wouldn't you say?)
But, I have to share this one with somebody! I read it to Triple S and started crying. Yeah, not ready for class, but here it is for you! Feel free to give me some literary critique (seriously). I trust you gals and guys with my heart.
.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
A Wish for all Papas
I wish all the papas out here in blogland a peaceful and love-filled Father's Day.
Monkey off my back...
Albatross no longer around my neck.
I actually had a thought as I was waking up from my half-nap, that I could be pregnant again. (Not, I think I am pregnant). But, that I could half imagine myself doing it. I see other deadbabymamas and infertile queens that I respect and admire so much doing it now.
My levels of stress and anxiety are down so much since turning in my notice at work, and now being done there. I do not think I could have survived another pregnancy there. Oh, just popping into my head, as evidenced by the fact that my baby did NOT survive my pregnancy while I was working there. But, I could not survive the emotional stress and have the strength for a "subsequent" pregnancy there. I can't believe how miserable I was.
I put so much of my self, my energy, my thoughts into my work. It was a career, not a job. I had a lot of responsibility and a lot dumped on me by the stupivisor. He wouldn't have even done it. I was the go-to person in my lab if anything administrative needed done, anything needed done on a reasonable time scale.
My friend asked me yesterday what my boss will do when I am gone. He said my boss would need to hire three people to replace me. I said, well, three to replace the attitude at least.
I am mostly not manageable, I think. I have always pictured myself working independently. As an entrepreneur or something. So, I am going to freelance and try a few things. See which takes off. Make a little money that I can turn over into something else. We will see how it goes.
I miss Serenity so much. I had planned to start this next chapter in my life with her. Thanks to G, who encouraged me to not give up that work dream just because I am not going to be a SAHM. I am just a SAHDBM now.
I actually had a thought as I was waking up from my half-nap, that I could be pregnant again. (Not, I think I am pregnant). But, that I could half imagine myself doing it. I see other deadbabymamas and infertile queens that I respect and admire so much doing it now.
My levels of stress and anxiety are down so much since turning in my notice at work, and now being done there. I do not think I could have survived another pregnancy there. Oh, just popping into my head, as evidenced by the fact that my baby did NOT survive my pregnancy while I was working there. But, I could not survive the emotional stress and have the strength for a "subsequent" pregnancy there. I can't believe how miserable I was.
I put so much of my self, my energy, my thoughts into my work. It was a career, not a job. I had a lot of responsibility and a lot dumped on me by the stupivisor. He wouldn't have even done it. I was the go-to person in my lab if anything administrative needed done, anything needed done on a reasonable time scale.
My friend asked me yesterday what my boss will do when I am gone. He said my boss would need to hire three people to replace me. I said, well, three to replace the attitude at least.
I am mostly not manageable, I think. I have always pictured myself working independently. As an entrepreneur or something. So, I am going to freelance and try a few things. See which takes off. Make a little money that I can turn over into something else. We will see how it goes.
I miss Serenity so much. I had planned to start this next chapter in my life with her. Thanks to G, who encouraged me to not give up that work dream just because I am not going to be a SAHM. I am just a SAHDBM now.
Friday, June 13, 2008
This was me all day today
A couple of my friends said I shouldn't look so happy when it is my last day of work. Oh well, I can't lie very well anyway...
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Happy Loving Day!
Yes, today is the often overlooked holiday of Loving Day. This day celebrates a case that abolished laws preventing interracial marriages.
You see, Triple S and I are an interracial couple. It is funny, I nearly always forget this. It just is, and everyone I know is used to it. However, every once and awhile, someone will actually bat an eyelash, and then it is kinda brought back into focus for me. Luckily, we have never really had any serious problems; more just funny reactions. Like when I went to Panama with Triple S, where "everyone" dreams of a bodacious gringa. Of course, they all dream of blondes (which I am not). Or the time we were in a small town in Taiwan and I realized a kid and his father were staring at me. Triple S said it was because I was a white American. When we lived in FL, I did get worried one time. We were out in the country and there were a lot of confederate flags, on houses and cars, and folks carrying shot guns across their trucks' rear windows. Yeah, I told him to put on a hat while we drove through. It was a little scary. It can all go so wrong, so quickly, and without warning.
Well, it is good to celebrate a holiday. This holiday is good for us. It is about us. Not about imaginary beings made up for kids, not about kids celebrating their parents, basically it is a holiday that doesn't have anything to do with kids. Kinda like Flag Day. Why can't Hallmark get a hold of these holidays and leave Father's Day and Mother's Day alone?
...............
On a related note, I have not seen the crazed and jittery posts about the approach of Father's Day that I saw with Mother's Day. I know my husband is increasingly upset about this. I am sure the other Dads are too. I am anxious about it myself. I dread Triple S having to face this day. It just is not fair to him. He doesn't deserve to be without his sweet, precious daughter. Oh, she would have been Daddy's little girl and she would have had him wrapped around her finger. (She would have learned that from the best).
Well, at least he and I can celebrate Loving Day, which has such a nice, positive name too.
You see, Triple S and I are an interracial couple. It is funny, I nearly always forget this. It just is, and everyone I know is used to it. However, every once and awhile, someone will actually bat an eyelash, and then it is kinda brought back into focus for me. Luckily, we have never really had any serious problems; more just funny reactions. Like when I went to Panama with Triple S, where "everyone" dreams of a bodacious gringa. Of course, they all dream of blondes (which I am not). Or the time we were in a small town in Taiwan and I realized a kid and his father were staring at me. Triple S said it was because I was a white American. When we lived in FL, I did get worried one time. We were out in the country and there were a lot of confederate flags, on houses and cars, and folks carrying shot guns across their trucks' rear windows. Yeah, I told him to put on a hat while we drove through. It was a little scary. It can all go so wrong, so quickly, and without warning.
Well, it is good to celebrate a holiday. This holiday is good for us. It is about us. Not about imaginary beings made up for kids, not about kids celebrating their parents, basically it is a holiday that doesn't have anything to do with kids. Kinda like Flag Day. Why can't Hallmark get a hold of these holidays and leave Father's Day and Mother's Day alone?
...............
On a related note, I have not seen the crazed and jittery posts about the approach of Father's Day that I saw with Mother's Day. I know my husband is increasingly upset about this. I am sure the other Dads are too. I am anxious about it myself. I dread Triple S having to face this day. It just is not fair to him. He doesn't deserve to be without his sweet, precious daughter. Oh, she would have been Daddy's little girl and she would have had him wrapped around her finger. (She would have learned that from the best).
Well, at least he and I can celebrate Loving Day, which has such a nice, positive name too.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
2007 BFP
Need I say more?
Well, I am wordy, so you know I will. Technically, it was Sunday the 10th, but since I am not doing any lab work, I haven't wriiten a date in my notebook so I actually had no clue what the date was. Then, it dawned on me today. Maybe better not knowing what the heck day I am on.
Yes, this day last year I POAS and had a +. I had woken up before Triple S and I just thought, "Ya know, something is different." I wasn't even noticeably late (I have a wacky unpredictable cycle). Yes, something was different, a little baby was growing inside me. We had just decided a few weeks before this to stop "trying not to". I was shocked, but pleasantly.
When I deemed it time for Triple S to get out of bed, I went in and woke him up. I followed him to the bathroom and told him I had something to show him. I showed him that BFP. He was so giddy and in awe. He had such a look of wonder in his eyes. He was a little wobbly in the knees. And he was just so darn happy.
It breaks my heart remembering this. Where are we now, one year later?
I worked so hard during my pregnancy. I wanted to do this once and that was it. (We were still negotiating the number of kids we wanted to have at this point). Pregnancy is a lot of work, as well as wonder and hope and happiness. I avoided drinking and lots of types of food and I exercised and drank so much water. I read and planned and did my kegels. I shopped and saved so that I could stay home for six months. It was a lot of constant responsibility. I didn't realize it then like I realize it now, now when I am thinking that I have to do it all over again. I guess it is more like parenthood than I would have said it was. Similar to parenthood because you constantly worry, even when you are not worried, and you have a constant and demanding responsibility.
Today, this year, at this time in our lives, I can say that Triple S and I love each other more than I could have ever imagined. I think that I found new strengths in myself. Strengths to take determinative action, to take risks, to do what is right for me and my health. This is not something I would have done 367 days ago.
Today, this year, we are facing Father's Day. Triple S is dreading this, has been for two to three weeks. I am more in-tune to this now, to his feelings, anticipating his triggers and planning to help him.
In some ways, I feel more settled into myself this year. I am not struggling with myself. Maybe in this time of grief, I have become my own ally, for myself, for Triple S, for our family, for our future child.
Triple S always argued for two children. Now, I hope he does get his wish, a little sibling for Serenity, one who will be here with us for our lifetimes.
Well, I am wordy, so you know I will. Technically, it was Sunday the 10th, but since I am not doing any lab work, I haven't wriiten a date in my notebook so I actually had no clue what the date was. Then, it dawned on me today. Maybe better not knowing what the heck day I am on.
Yes, this day last year I POAS and had a +. I had woken up before Triple S and I just thought, "Ya know, something is different." I wasn't even noticeably late (I have a wacky unpredictable cycle). Yes, something was different, a little baby was growing inside me. We had just decided a few weeks before this to stop "trying not to". I was shocked, but pleasantly.
When I deemed it time for Triple S to get out of bed, I went in and woke him up. I followed him to the bathroom and told him I had something to show him. I showed him that BFP. He was so giddy and in awe. He had such a look of wonder in his eyes. He was a little wobbly in the knees. And he was just so darn happy.
It breaks my heart remembering this. Where are we now, one year later?
I worked so hard during my pregnancy. I wanted to do this once and that was it. (We were still negotiating the number of kids we wanted to have at this point). Pregnancy is a lot of work, as well as wonder and hope and happiness. I avoided drinking and lots of types of food and I exercised and drank so much water. I read and planned and did my kegels. I shopped and saved so that I could stay home for six months. It was a lot of constant responsibility. I didn't realize it then like I realize it now, now when I am thinking that I have to do it all over again. I guess it is more like parenthood than I would have said it was. Similar to parenthood because you constantly worry, even when you are not worried, and you have a constant and demanding responsibility.
Today, this year, at this time in our lives, I can say that Triple S and I love each other more than I could have ever imagined. I think that I found new strengths in myself. Strengths to take determinative action, to take risks, to do what is right for me and my health. This is not something I would have done 367 days ago.
Today, this year, we are facing Father's Day. Triple S is dreading this, has been for two to three weeks. I am more in-tune to this now, to his feelings, anticipating his triggers and planning to help him.
In some ways, I feel more settled into myself this year. I am not struggling with myself. Maybe in this time of grief, I have become my own ally, for myself, for Triple S, for our family, for our future child.
Triple S always argued for two children. Now, I hope he does get his wish, a little sibling for Serenity, one who will be here with us for our lifetimes.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
T minus
3
Only 3 days left!
Can you tell I am happy?
And worried $$$$$$$$$$$
Triple S says not to worry about the money. That's because he doesn't pay the bills and has NO idea about the money (or lack there of).
Note to self: Don;t work in non-profit sector if you don't want to work for the rest of your life or if you want to be an entrepreneur.
Only 3 ! Yipee!
Only 3 days left!
Can you tell I am happy?
And worried $$$$$$$$$$$
Triple S says not to worry about the money. That's because he doesn't pay the bills and has NO idea about the money (or lack there of).
Note to self: Don;t work in non-profit sector if you don't want to work for the rest of your life or if you want to be an entrepreneur.
Only 3 ! Yipee!
Monday, June 9, 2008
The Me Meme
Good. I am tired and headachy tonite. Easy peasy post. Thanks CLC.
1. What were you doing 10 years ago?
Hm. 1998. Oh yes. I was graduating college and looking forward to the move to grad school with my boyfriend. He broke up with me a few days after graduation (JERK) and so we both moved to FL, separately. I met Triple S the first day of classes, and I wanted to be "friends" since I was just out of a long relationship and I wanted to have some FUN! Ha.
2. What 5 things are on your to-do list for today?
Since it is 10 PM, today's list is finish blogging and go to bed. Maybe take some advi! on the way. For tomorrow, wake up, make it through the day of work (only 4 more to go!). Anything else is gravy.
3. List some snacks you enjoy.
Chocolate. Pretzels (dipped in chocolate or Nutella), chocolate ice cream, chips and hummus or black bean dip (ho'made by moi). hmmm, chocolate hummus, I need to invent that. baby carrots and fruit. dark chocolate.
4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
Own more than a door and two windows of my own house (ie, buy the darn thing) and pay off our cars.
Invest in socio- and enviro-friendly companies to speak with my cash and to secure my future.
Provide for relatives.
Buy my parents and ILs houses near us and VERY far away from us.
Run for political office. Then buy my parents and ILs houses near the white house, my new abode.
Support stillbirth research and awareness.
Set up a science funding institute like HHMI for the plant sciences.
5. List the places you have lived.
Watsontown, PA
Doylestown, PA
Gainesville, FL
STL, MO
6. List the jobs you have had.
Greenhouse staff (waterer)
Plant Tissue Culture Technician
Picture framer (high end- I framed something signed by G. Washington)
Cold caller for therapy staffing
Envelope Stuffer (oh wait, Fulfillment Specialist) most boring job ever- and the boss really had a hard time of it.
Insurance Proposal Filler Outer Summer college job. I could never work in an office again.
Farm Hand (orchards and veggie production, tractor drivin' woohoo!)
Graduate Research Assistant
Biological Scientist
Research Associate
Copyeditor
Lazy Ass (After 6/13/08)
Loribeth, your turn!
1. What were you doing 10 years ago?
Hm. 1998. Oh yes. I was graduating college and looking forward to the move to grad school with my boyfriend. He broke up with me a few days after graduation (JERK) and so we both moved to FL, separately. I met Triple S the first day of classes, and I wanted to be "friends" since I was just out of a long relationship and I wanted to have some FUN! Ha.
2. What 5 things are on your to-do list for today?
Since it is 10 PM, today's list is finish blogging and go to bed. Maybe take some advi! on the way. For tomorrow, wake up, make it through the day of work (only 4 more to go!). Anything else is gravy.
3. List some snacks you enjoy.
Chocolate. Pretzels (dipped in chocolate or Nutella), chocolate ice cream, chips and hummus or black bean dip (ho'made by moi). hmmm, chocolate hummus, I need to invent that. baby carrots and fruit. dark chocolate.
4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
Own more than a door and two windows of my own house (ie, buy the darn thing) and pay off our cars.
Invest in socio- and enviro-friendly companies to speak with my cash and to secure my future.
Provide for relatives.
Buy my parents and ILs houses near us and VERY far away from us.
Run for political office. Then buy my parents and ILs houses near the white house, my new abode.
Support stillbirth research and awareness.
Set up a science funding institute like HHMI for the plant sciences.
5. List the places you have lived.
Watsontown, PA
Doylestown, PA
Gainesville, FL
STL, MO
6. List the jobs you have had.
Greenhouse staff (waterer)
Plant Tissue Culture Technician
Picture framer (high end- I framed something signed by G. Washington)
Cold caller for therapy staffing
Envelope Stuffer (oh wait, Fulfillment Specialist) most boring job ever- and the boss really had a hard time of it.
Insurance Proposal Filler Outer Summer college job. I could never work in an office again.
Farm Hand (orchards and veggie production, tractor drivin' woohoo!)
Graduate Research Assistant
Biological Scientist
Research Associate
Copyeditor
Lazy Ass (After 6/13/08)
Loribeth, your turn!
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Baby birds and attachment parenting
Triple S, the mutt, and I went for a walk tonite, after the temperature finally went below 90 F.
I was quite chatty about all of my money-making scheme ideas since, ya know, I am soon to be unemployed.
We were walking along the sidewalk and I saw a little bird dead in front of us. I tried to get Triple S's attention and pull him out of the bee-line to the birdie. Both he and the dog were clueless to what lay before them. I couldn't get him out of the way in time, and he saw it just in time to miss it. However, the bird reanimated and started chirping. It was a baby robin, who must have fallen out of the tree above.
Triple S and I froze in shock. A little baby birdie. Hurt.
We walked on, guilt and shame weighing heavier on us than the heat and humidity.
I don't know what to do with a little baby birdie. I can't smash its head in to end its suffering. I can't throw it in an alley dumpster. We all know we can't control mother nature. Do we let nature take its course?
Someone once told me that a mother bird will abandon any birdie that has fallen out of its nest. Nature has evolved them to cut their losses and move on. Their is no attachment parenting in the robin's world.
Our walk remained dismal, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I thought about attachment parenting, and a recent post at Dr C's.
Have you ever seen anyone in an old early 20th century photo smiling? They all look grim. My grandmother is of this breed. Our family isn't all lovey-dovey, doesn't say "love you", we don't hug alot.
Maybe this is because babies died at such high rates back in their day. My grandmother lost her third child. She was always reserved. Maybe this was really distance, distance to protect herself from the inevitable hurt that would come from losing another child. Generations of detachment parenting.
**edited**
I was quite chatty about all of my money-making scheme ideas since, ya know, I am soon to be unemployed.
We were walking along the sidewalk and I saw a little bird dead in front of us. I tried to get Triple S's attention and pull him out of the bee-line to the birdie. Both he and the dog were clueless to what lay before them. I couldn't get him out of the way in time, and he saw it just in time to miss it. However, the bird reanimated and started chirping. It was a baby robin, who must have fallen out of the tree above.
Triple S and I froze in shock. A little baby birdie. Hurt.
We walked on, guilt and shame weighing heavier on us than the heat and humidity.
I don't know what to do with a little baby birdie. I can't smash its head in to end its suffering. I can't throw it in an alley dumpster. We all know we can't control mother nature. Do we let nature take its course?
Someone once told me that a mother bird will abandon any birdie that has fallen out of its nest. Nature has evolved them to cut their losses and move on. Their is no attachment parenting in the robin's world.
Our walk remained dismal, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I thought about attachment parenting, and a recent post at Dr C's.
Have you ever seen anyone in an old early 20th century photo smiling? They all look grim. My grandmother is of this breed. Our family isn't all lovey-dovey, doesn't say "love you", we don't hug alot.
Maybe this is because babies died at such high rates back in their day. My grandmother lost her third child. She was always reserved. Maybe this was really distance, distance to protect herself from the inevitable hurt that would come from losing another child. Generations of detachment parenting.
**edited**
Saturday, June 7, 2008
I think we have to cancel N3t*Flix
Every week we get one movie in the mail.
Triple S and I like insightful, often indie or foreign movies. Movies with heart or meaning that use fiction to reveal human nature, or the human condition. Most are heavy or sad, really stir your emotions, or make you think.
When Serenity died, I did a media shut down. I couldn't take the noise of a laugh track or the background of an audience. The TV wasn't turned on in my presence for a week, maybe two or three. The radio was on the classic channel for many days, at a volume almost imperceptible.
When Triple S and I started watching our weekly movies again, I realized I couldn't take anything with kids. Whether it was a comedy of parents griping about their kids, a sad story involving kids or a plucky movie with a child hero. So, we shuffled up the queue, however, to no avail. I have cried at just about every decent movie we have seen.
I was never much of a crier. I cried maybe, three times a year. I've cried at some movies. I cried the first time I saw Sch.indler's list and Life is Beautiful, yes I did. But most movies and most things in my life, are just things I can handle. I analyze them, they make me think, I see the world differently after a great movie. Maybe I compartmentalize.
Now, I have endured real tragedy. Maybe my emotions are so raw, or close to the surface, that the faintest scratch sets them free. Maybe I feel love, the loss of love, the hope of love, the good the bad, all more strongly, more poignantly, more dearly.
Maybe these movies I have seen recently are not really that great, but I truly do think that they are. Here are a few that you may find artful, touching, and tissue-requiring.
D@n IRL. with S. Carrell. Saw this one tonite. Super sweet, kinda quirky with an absolutely wonderful soundtrack. Yep, cried my eyes out.
The Twilight Samurai. Wow. Yep, cried my eyes out.
Babel. Little girl hurting due to her mother's death. Good movie (I was put-off with Brad Pitt, but liked the movie more than I thought I would)
Man on Fire. Little girl getting used by her Dad. Just not right.
So Triple S thought some dumb comedies might help. We tried Ad@m San.dler. Can't say I have really like any of his movies. Chuck and Larry no exception. Just not my thing.
Our neighbors loaned us T@ledega Nights. Will F#rr#ll has made some movies that don't drive me crazy, and have some funny parts. Actually, I really like that one about him having an author write his life (also made me cry) . But pokin' fun at ignert rednecks that still manage to reproduce, yeah, not so carefree for me.
I guess I have to stick with documentaries. Wh0 Killed the E car? Yeah, pisses me off, but I didn't cry. The US vs J0hn Lenn0n. Wow, is that real? Who slant is this from? Well, actually I do think I cried after that one. Maybe I just have to stick with Ath0ny Bourdain and N0 Reser.vations. Love the jaded chef that eats and drinks and smokes. Gad, I love to eat, why can't I be as skinny as him? I enjoy this show and I think it really shows you how people live around the world. I have had the fortune to go to two foreign countries (well, I have been in CA, but Niagara and can't say that really reflects the whole of CA) After just about every AB, NR show, Triple S and I look at each other and say, "I want to go there." This show makes me think: about resource distribution, about food waste, and about, well lots of things. Food and culture are so intricately linked.
There is one aspect of this that I often think about and that Triple S and I have discussed on countless occasions. It is something indicative of, well, an individual's personality, or fear of differences. What I am going to tell you is one thing that Triple S and I love and respect so much about each other. It maybe one of the main foundations of our love.
I grew up in a meat and potatoes family. My dad wants his beef four or five times a week. He tolerates fish or chicken or pork once a week. Ok, so maybe he eats beef 6 days a week. Then, one side is potatoes and the other is one of a limited number of boiled veggies slathered with butter, salt and pepper. l grew up eating this too, and my mom is a great cook. There are only two dishes I didn't like growing up: liver and left over ham 'n scalloped potatoes. Yes, on day one scalloped potatoes are a super yummy comfort food, but, please, please don't ask me to eat them the next day.
Anyway, I grew up with, let's say, a limited range of foods. I grew up in the country, where there were few restaurants and nearly everything I ate was cooked by mom or a relative.
Once I got to grad school, and to a bigger town, and had some coins to rub together in my pocket, I became exposed to new foods. I studied in an agricultural field, so many of my classmates were from outside the US, from countries that still rely more heavily on agricultural development. Many were from South America, China, Africa, Turkey. They would share their food with us. I first had sushi, Cuban, Creole, wow, everything. Triple S would cook an Asian or Panamanian dish. I still remember that first time her opened a jar of fermented black bean paste in front of me. I took one smell of that said "please, I want to try it, but use such a small spoon of it to flavor the dish because it really, really stinks." Well, the dish that he made with that stinky black bean sauce has become what I call his signature dish. It is my favorite and we eat it probably every 2 or 3 weeks. He still likes to jab me about that.
Triple S and I love to try new things. We'll go into an ethnic store, and buy something without any idea of what it is or how to cook it. We have very opened and unstuck palates.
One day, I realized that this is not the norm. My dad. Poor dad. He likely starves at my house. We eat rice every night. My dad slathers his rice with butter, salt and pepper. The first time Triple S saw this he almost feel off his chair. Rice is not a conduit for butter, salt and pepper. They have reached an understanding. My dad will try stuff, and Triple S will cook rice and provide butter.
I am actually quite proud of my dad. Serenity died right at Chinese New Year. We had planned to celebrate the holiday with Triple S's parents (they had arrived a week before her due date) by cooking hot pot. Since his parents live in Central America, it is just too hot to eat hotpot, a great winter dish. Well, I was just home from the delivery, and on New Year's we had a scrumptious hot pot night. My parents were there, too, unexpectedly, of course. Well, my mom and dad used chopsticks and tried hotpot. My dad didn't hate it.
So, anyway, it's not only meat-and-potato folks that have fixed palates. In my career, most of my coworkers are foreigners. I have met people from evey continent that won't try anything new. They have never eaten American food, and they pretty much don't even want to try it. I guess they are curry-and-beans folks, or rice-and-greens folks, or whatever is the equivalent to a meat-and-potatoes guy.
I remember the time a Japanese friend introduce us to Natto. This is fermented soybeans that, when you pick it up in your chopstick, looks pretty much like stringy snot and has quite a strong odor. Well, he was eating it, so it must not be toxic, so what the heck, we tried it. And loved it. I have also eaten Chou Do Fu, which is stinky tofu, which is a dish that some of my Chinese friends have never even tried.
I am just grateful that my palate never became fixed. I am not stuck. I'll try it. Almost all of it. I will admit, I have drawn my line at chicken feet. It just seems like a lot of work to get a little skin from all those bones. And the nails are still on the darn things. Bleh.
Food, culture, identity, commonalty. These are the things I think of when someone offers me a dish that their mom taught them to cook. That we were invited over to experience. It warms my heart thinking that my friend is sharing with me something that is so special to them, that reminds them of home, of a meal lovingly prepared by their mother, grandmother, or even father. I am honored to try it.
This love, respect, sense of adventure, and willingness to be exposed to other cultures were all things we wanted to teach Serenity. She would have been a wonderful cook.
I started with movies, and ended with food. The common link is that I think that we inhabitants of this planet are more similar than dissimilar. Great fiction, even in the form of a movie, speaks across time and culture, just like great food speaks of the long evolution of a people, their culture. These foods are accessible and palatable to all of us. The sharing of a great story, or a special dish, or a song sung in a language that you don't understand, convey the commonalities of the human condition.
**If you actually made it to the end of this novel, please take the time to leave a comment. Let me know what you think, agree/disagree, even a story of your own that relates. Or, just tell me that you did read the whole thing.**
Triple S and I like insightful, often indie or foreign movies. Movies with heart or meaning that use fiction to reveal human nature, or the human condition. Most are heavy or sad, really stir your emotions, or make you think.
When Serenity died, I did a media shut down. I couldn't take the noise of a laugh track or the background of an audience. The TV wasn't turned on in my presence for a week, maybe two or three. The radio was on the classic channel for many days, at a volume almost imperceptible.
When Triple S and I started watching our weekly movies again, I realized I couldn't take anything with kids. Whether it was a comedy of parents griping about their kids, a sad story involving kids or a plucky movie with a child hero. So, we shuffled up the queue, however, to no avail. I have cried at just about every decent movie we have seen.
I was never much of a crier. I cried maybe, three times a year. I've cried at some movies. I cried the first time I saw Sch.indler's list and Life is Beautiful, yes I did. But most movies and most things in my life, are just things I can handle. I analyze them, they make me think, I see the world differently after a great movie. Maybe I compartmentalize.
Now, I have endured real tragedy. Maybe my emotions are so raw, or close to the surface, that the faintest scratch sets them free. Maybe I feel love, the loss of love, the hope of love, the good the bad, all more strongly, more poignantly, more dearly.
Maybe these movies I have seen recently are not really that great, but I truly do think that they are. Here are a few that you may find artful, touching, and tissue-requiring.
D@n IRL. with S. Carrell. Saw this one tonite. Super sweet, kinda quirky with an absolutely wonderful soundtrack. Yep, cried my eyes out.
The Twilight Samurai. Wow. Yep, cried my eyes out.
Babel. Little girl hurting due to her mother's death. Good movie (I was put-off with Brad Pitt, but liked the movie more than I thought I would)
Man on Fire. Little girl getting used by her Dad. Just not right.
So Triple S thought some dumb comedies might help. We tried Ad@m San.dler. Can't say I have really like any of his movies. Chuck and Larry no exception. Just not my thing.
Our neighbors loaned us T@ledega Nights. Will F#rr#ll has made some movies that don't drive me crazy, and have some funny parts. Actually, I really like that one about him having an author write his life (also made me cry) . But pokin' fun at ignert rednecks that still manage to reproduce, yeah, not so carefree for me.
I guess I have to stick with documentaries. Wh0 Killed the E car? Yeah, pisses me off, but I didn't cry. The US vs J0hn Lenn0n. Wow, is that real? Who slant is this from? Well, actually I do think I cried after that one. Maybe I just have to stick with Ath0ny Bourdain and N0 Reser.vations. Love the jaded chef that eats and drinks and smokes. Gad, I love to eat, why can't I be as skinny as him? I enjoy this show and I think it really shows you how people live around the world. I have had the fortune to go to two foreign countries (well, I have been in CA, but Niagara and can't say that really reflects the whole of CA) After just about every AB, NR show, Triple S and I look at each other and say, "I want to go there." This show makes me think: about resource distribution, about food waste, and about, well lots of things. Food and culture are so intricately linked.
There is one aspect of this that I often think about and that Triple S and I have discussed on countless occasions. It is something indicative of, well, an individual's personality, or fear of differences. What I am going to tell you is one thing that Triple S and I love and respect so much about each other. It maybe one of the main foundations of our love.
I grew up in a meat and potatoes family. My dad wants his beef four or five times a week. He tolerates fish or chicken or pork once a week. Ok, so maybe he eats beef 6 days a week. Then, one side is potatoes and the other is one of a limited number of boiled veggies slathered with butter, salt and pepper. l grew up eating this too, and my mom is a great cook. There are only two dishes I didn't like growing up: liver and left over ham 'n scalloped potatoes. Yes, on day one scalloped potatoes are a super yummy comfort food, but, please, please don't ask me to eat them the next day.
Anyway, I grew up with, let's say, a limited range of foods. I grew up in the country, where there were few restaurants and nearly everything I ate was cooked by mom or a relative.
Once I got to grad school, and to a bigger town, and had some coins to rub together in my pocket, I became exposed to new foods. I studied in an agricultural field, so many of my classmates were from outside the US, from countries that still rely more heavily on agricultural development. Many were from South America, China, Africa, Turkey. They would share their food with us. I first had sushi, Cuban, Creole, wow, everything. Triple S would cook an Asian or Panamanian dish. I still remember that first time her opened a jar of fermented black bean paste in front of me. I took one smell of that said "please, I want to try it, but use such a small spoon of it to flavor the dish because it really, really stinks." Well, the dish that he made with that stinky black bean sauce has become what I call his signature dish. It is my favorite and we eat it probably every 2 or 3 weeks. He still likes to jab me about that.
Triple S and I love to try new things. We'll go into an ethnic store, and buy something without any idea of what it is or how to cook it. We have very opened and unstuck palates.
One day, I realized that this is not the norm. My dad. Poor dad. He likely starves at my house. We eat rice every night. My dad slathers his rice with butter, salt and pepper. The first time Triple S saw this he almost feel off his chair. Rice is not a conduit for butter, salt and pepper. They have reached an understanding. My dad will try stuff, and Triple S will cook rice and provide butter.
I am actually quite proud of my dad. Serenity died right at Chinese New Year. We had planned to celebrate the holiday with Triple S's parents (they had arrived a week before her due date) by cooking hot pot. Since his parents live in Central America, it is just too hot to eat hotpot, a great winter dish. Well, I was just home from the delivery, and on New Year's we had a scrumptious hot pot night. My parents were there, too, unexpectedly, of course. Well, my mom and dad used chopsticks and tried hotpot. My dad didn't hate it.
So, anyway, it's not only meat-and-potato folks that have fixed palates. In my career, most of my coworkers are foreigners. I have met people from evey continent that won't try anything new. They have never eaten American food, and they pretty much don't even want to try it. I guess they are curry-and-beans folks, or rice-and-greens folks, or whatever is the equivalent to a meat-and-potatoes guy.
I remember the time a Japanese friend introduce us to Natto. This is fermented soybeans that, when you pick it up in your chopstick, looks pretty much like stringy snot and has quite a strong odor. Well, he was eating it, so it must not be toxic, so what the heck, we tried it. And loved it. I have also eaten Chou Do Fu, which is stinky tofu, which is a dish that some of my Chinese friends have never even tried.
I am just grateful that my palate never became fixed. I am not stuck. I'll try it. Almost all of it. I will admit, I have drawn my line at chicken feet. It just seems like a lot of work to get a little skin from all those bones. And the nails are still on the darn things. Bleh.
Food, culture, identity, commonalty. These are the things I think of when someone offers me a dish that their mom taught them to cook. That we were invited over to experience. It warms my heart thinking that my friend is sharing with me something that is so special to them, that reminds them of home, of a meal lovingly prepared by their mother, grandmother, or even father. I am honored to try it.
This love, respect, sense of adventure, and willingness to be exposed to other cultures were all things we wanted to teach Serenity. She would have been a wonderful cook.
I started with movies, and ended with food. The common link is that I think that we inhabitants of this planet are more similar than dissimilar. Great fiction, even in the form of a movie, speaks across time and culture, just like great food speaks of the long evolution of a people, their culture. These foods are accessible and palatable to all of us. The sharing of a great story, or a special dish, or a song sung in a language that you don't understand, convey the commonalities of the human condition.
**If you actually made it to the end of this novel, please take the time to leave a comment. Let me know what you think, agree/disagree, even a story of your own that relates. Or, just tell me that you did read the whole thing.**
Friday, June 6, 2008
Don’t pick that scab
I remember my mother always telling me not to pick at my scabs.
I was a wild, outdoor child, and always had scrapes and cuts. I was fascinated at how my body could heal. I would pick at my scabs, trying to lift them up to see how they formed and how the skin underneath was healing. It was exhilarating the day that the skin was fresh and pink underneath, and no longer bleeding.
It is four months after my baby’s death, and I feel like the pain of her death has scabbed over. To many it might look like a small flesh wound, but I know that this wound goes to the depths of my soul. It passes through all of my flesh; it pierces my heart.
I try not to lift the bandages I have put over it. I try not to think of my dear, innocent daughter throughout the day. However, like a scab that pulls at your skin as it dries, the pain of my daughter’s death is ever-constant. It starts to itch, and I try to ignore it. As soon as I give it any attention, it becomes all-consuming and must be dealt with.
When I think of how much I miss my daughter, I can see the hole in my heart. It is expansive and cavernous. At this point, the greatest depth of my wound, the blood still gushes.
I try to clean this wound, to keep it as healthy as possible. It is not festering, it does not stink. Friends, family and doctors check up on me, making sure my wound is not life-threatening. It is healing, perhaps slowing, but healing all the same.
Sometimes I pick at the edges. I am fascinated and sickened by the pain. At other times, someone else punches me, or scratches me, or advises me to use a harsh, stinging chemical.
My mother always said not to pick at my scabs, because then it will leave a scar. My body has many scars on its surface, whether I let the flesh wound heal on its own accord or not. The wound that is the pain of my daughter’s death will slowly heal with time. Eventually, the scab will break away as the new flesh becomes strong enough to not need the extra layer of protection. I know, however, that this, this will leave a scar.
I was a wild, outdoor child, and always had scrapes and cuts. I was fascinated at how my body could heal. I would pick at my scabs, trying to lift them up to see how they formed and how the skin underneath was healing. It was exhilarating the day that the skin was fresh and pink underneath, and no longer bleeding.
It is four months after my baby’s death, and I feel like the pain of her death has scabbed over. To many it might look like a small flesh wound, but I know that this wound goes to the depths of my soul. It passes through all of my flesh; it pierces my heart.
I try not to lift the bandages I have put over it. I try not to think of my dear, innocent daughter throughout the day. However, like a scab that pulls at your skin as it dries, the pain of my daughter’s death is ever-constant. It starts to itch, and I try to ignore it. As soon as I give it any attention, it becomes all-consuming and must be dealt with.
When I think of how much I miss my daughter, I can see the hole in my heart. It is expansive and cavernous. At this point, the greatest depth of my wound, the blood still gushes.
I try to clean this wound, to keep it as healthy as possible. It is not festering, it does not stink. Friends, family and doctors check up on me, making sure my wound is not life-threatening. It is healing, perhaps slowing, but healing all the same.
Sometimes I pick at the edges. I am fascinated and sickened by the pain. At other times, someone else punches me, or scratches me, or advises me to use a harsh, stinging chemical.
My mother always said not to pick at my scabs, because then it will leave a scar. My body has many scars on its surface, whether I let the flesh wound heal on its own accord or not. The wound that is the pain of my daughter’s death will slowly heal with time. Eventually, the scab will break away as the new flesh becomes strong enough to not need the extra layer of protection. I know, however, that this, this will leave a scar.
Natural Disaster
My world has become unknown to me.
I find myself in a world that has been plagued by disaster. Tornados, floods and earthquake have changed the landscape into one unrecognizable. The horizon has shifted and I can't orient myself. Stable, recognizable features have been obliterated. The magnetic fields are altered and my compass swings wildly, uncontrollably. Even if I open my eyes to gaze numbly around, the ash from the volcano obscures my vision. I am lost; ungrounded.
Can I learn this new world? Will the sun peak through the layers of ash again? Can I find my way?
I try to identify new touchstones, new geograhpical markers. Can I trust them?
There is still ground beneath me, but how sound is my foundation? Will I step in quicksand or come to a fissure in the earth's crust that is too wide to cross?
I am not stumbling through this world alone. My husband is beside me. But if we don't hold onto each other, we can easily get separated. We fear this so much that we cling more tightly together. We are only anchored against the fierce wind by our combined weight. We have nothing else to tether ourselves to the ground and we have no shelter from the environment.
Sometimes a friend comes into our field of vision. Sometimes we catch a glimpse of a large group, but we can't catch up, we can't get their attention.
Others have walked with us for a spell. But their goals, their plans, lie in other directions. Sometimes our paths cross again and we check in with each other. We ask if they have found the way out. Yes, they know where the sun shines, but they can't tell us how to get there. Our dust storm is massive and follows us relentlessly.
We are adaptable. We will learn to survive in this new world. However, we will always miss the old one. Where the weather was boring and predictable, and where both the sun and the rain carried their own beauty.
I find myself in a world that has been plagued by disaster. Tornados, floods and earthquake have changed the landscape into one unrecognizable. The horizon has shifted and I can't orient myself. Stable, recognizable features have been obliterated. The magnetic fields are altered and my compass swings wildly, uncontrollably. Even if I open my eyes to gaze numbly around, the ash from the volcano obscures my vision. I am lost; ungrounded.
Can I learn this new world? Will the sun peak through the layers of ash again? Can I find my way?
I try to identify new touchstones, new geograhpical markers. Can I trust them?
There is still ground beneath me, but how sound is my foundation? Will I step in quicksand or come to a fissure in the earth's crust that is too wide to cross?
I am not stumbling through this world alone. My husband is beside me. But if we don't hold onto each other, we can easily get separated. We fear this so much that we cling more tightly together. We are only anchored against the fierce wind by our combined weight. We have nothing else to tether ourselves to the ground and we have no shelter from the environment.
Sometimes a friend comes into our field of vision. Sometimes we catch a glimpse of a large group, but we can't catch up, we can't get their attention.
Others have walked with us for a spell. But their goals, their plans, lie in other directions. Sometimes our paths cross again and we check in with each other. We ask if they have found the way out. Yes, they know where the sun shines, but they can't tell us how to get there. Our dust storm is massive and follows us relentlessly.
We are adaptable. We will learn to survive in this new world. However, we will always miss the old one. Where the weather was boring and predictable, and where both the sun and the rain carried their own beauty.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
4 of 12
Tomorrow marks our fourth month without Serenity.
Tomorrow I have a seminar to present. I thought when they scheduled me that "Sure, the 6th is no problem". Why did i think that? Now, I am afraid it will be a problem. I felt it starting today. I have just been off-kilter all day.
Add on to that the fact that my departure will probably come out tomorrow in the meeting. My immediate group knows, but this is the second ring of coworkers. Most of them are close friends that I have known for the last four and a half years I have worked there. I was new to the job and we were new to this city, so most of my friends are coworkers (or former coworkers). That is not going to help me maintain my "composure". Add onto it that I need to stand in front of a group and talk. At least I have already given one tour since being back to work and got over most of the public-speaking anxiety.
My plan tonite- listen to all of the memorial songs, look at our pictures, and cry my heart out.
Triple S and I miss Serenity to depths too deep to describe with words.
My heart aches for her. My whole being aches for her.
4th of 12. Then I can start counting by year instead of month.
Tomorrow I have a seminar to present. I thought when they scheduled me that "Sure, the 6th is no problem". Why did i think that? Now, I am afraid it will be a problem. I felt it starting today. I have just been off-kilter all day.
Add on to that the fact that my departure will probably come out tomorrow in the meeting. My immediate group knows, but this is the second ring of coworkers. Most of them are close friends that I have known for the last four and a half years I have worked there. I was new to the job and we were new to this city, so most of my friends are coworkers (or former coworkers). That is not going to help me maintain my "composure". Add onto it that I need to stand in front of a group and talk. At least I have already given one tour since being back to work and got over most of the public-speaking anxiety.
My plan tonite- listen to all of the memorial songs, look at our pictures, and cry my heart out.
Triple S and I miss Serenity to depths too deep to describe with words.
My heart aches for her. My whole being aches for her.
4th of 12. Then I can start counting by year instead of month.
My Loss
My baby died. It is politely referred to as a loss.
You lose a wedding band in the ocean, but it is somewhere on the ocean floor. Unknown to you, but it is somewhere.
My daughter is not lost.
I didn't misplace her.
I can't retrace my steps in the mall to find her mesmerized by a pink, frilly dress.
She wasn't kidnapped. Her photo is not on a milk carton. There will be no Amber alert.
She was kidnapped by the grim reaper.
She is not lost. She is gone.
You lose a wedding band in the ocean, but it is somewhere on the ocean floor. Unknown to you, but it is somewhere.
My daughter is not lost.
I didn't misplace her.
I can't retrace my steps in the mall to find her mesmerized by a pink, frilly dress.
She wasn't kidnapped. Her photo is not on a milk carton. There will be no Amber alert.
She was kidnapped by the grim reaper.
She is not lost. She is gone.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Husband's Turn
Triple S had a rough night last might. I, apparently, was sleeping quite soundly as I had no idea. I felt so much relief from following through on my decision that I slept with a clear conscience.
I guess Triple S couldn't fall asleep and was afraid he would wake me (fat chance) so he left the bedroom. What did he decide was a good idea? To go look through the box that his sister made for Serenity. She said every time she takes a trip, she will put something in there for her. And she had written her a letter. So, Triple S decided he would read this letter last night. I slept through his sobbing and his cachaca drinking and his getting back into bed. Oops. I don't know what the letter says as I didn't ask him. But he has had a bad day today, too.
At least we take turns.
I guess Triple S couldn't fall asleep and was afraid he would wake me (fat chance) so he left the bedroom. What did he decide was a good idea? To go look through the box that his sister made for Serenity. She said every time she takes a trip, she will put something in there for her. And she had written her a letter. So, Triple S decided he would read this letter last night. I slept through his sobbing and his cachaca drinking and his getting back into bed. Oops. I don't know what the letter says as I didn't ask him. But he has had a bad day today, too.
At least we take turns.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Done!
I tendered my resignation today right before lunch.
My boss was shocked, although I kinda told him yesterday. He lives in a different state than I do...the state of denial.
The President was not shocked. Tells you how much of a state of denial my immediate boss lives in.
I got an overture today for another position where I currently work. (They didn't want to approach me, although my desire to leave my current position has been no secret with these other folks). So ,as soon as it made it through the grape vine, my friend/coworker called me. I am not sure it is a job I want though, from what little I know. I will meet with them tomorrow or Thursday.
I really want to pursue science writing. Like the great essayists of yesterday: Gould, Sagan, Eiseley. If anyone knows an opening (even freelance), please let me know. I would really appreciate it. I also have one lead to get some clips in the stillbirth arena as a volunteer.
Anyway, finally executing the decision feels good. I checked out of the job along while back.
I just have to not stress about money. I do NOT want to tough the "baby fund" that I had saved up to stay home. So I need a bit of income by July just to keep paying the bills. But I can worry about that after my two week workshop!
Triple S is almost forgiven. Still a little tired from that episode. Waking up at 4 AM does not help. Hopefully my mind will be more at ease.
Maybe I will do what G said, Freelance. If I can bring in some dough (even very little) by end of July, I may stick with it (Or work part time at something that is not brain-taxing)
Anyway, feeling ok...
My boss was shocked, although I kinda told him yesterday. He lives in a different state than I do...the state of denial.
The President was not shocked. Tells you how much of a state of denial my immediate boss lives in.
I got an overture today for another position where I currently work. (They didn't want to approach me, although my desire to leave my current position has been no secret with these other folks). So ,as soon as it made it through the grape vine, my friend/coworker called me. I am not sure it is a job I want though, from what little I know. I will meet with them tomorrow or Thursday.
I really want to pursue science writing. Like the great essayists of yesterday: Gould, Sagan, Eiseley. If anyone knows an opening (even freelance), please let me know. I would really appreciate it. I also have one lead to get some clips in the stillbirth arena as a volunteer.
Anyway, finally executing the decision feels good. I checked out of the job along while back.
I just have to not stress about money. I do NOT want to tough the "baby fund" that I had saved up to stay home. So I need a bit of income by July just to keep paying the bills. But I can worry about that after my two week workshop!
Triple S is almost forgiven. Still a little tired from that episode. Waking up at 4 AM does not help. Hopefully my mind will be more at ease.
Maybe I will do what G said, Freelance. If I can bring in some dough (even very little) by end of July, I may stick with it (Or work part time at something that is not brain-taxing)
Anyway, feeling ok...
Monday, June 2, 2008
Contagions
I didn't know that pregnancy was e-contagious, but it is apparently going around in deadbabyblogland. Which is great. I haven't caught it. And I just hope not to catch it yet.
I went to the Dr. today and apparently the nurses were worried that I was pregnant since I am on Day 38. Well, that's pretty normal. I used to have 60 day cycles when I was athletic in HS. I have only had 1 cycle since my February delivery. That's ok with me. My Dr. wants to get me regulated though. I guess thats not a bad idea if I want to have three cycles before my "OK, lets stop trying to not TTC" in August.
Well, I am really happy for those going down the road again before me. I will definitely stay tuned and hope for the best for everyone.
I told my family Dr. about my blogging about "dead baby stuff and how much it sucks". It made me tear up when I told her. I just really appreciate this space and I guess I don't really talk about blogging to anyone but my dh, Triple S. I was a little surprised that I had tears in my eyes, but I have had one of those down 24 hours. Dr. told me I need to get back on the Ignatia (homeopathic not sad medicine). I personally think almost crying once a week is pretty darn good.
I had a rough evening yesterday. My personal deadline for leaving my job is June. I haven't even gotten any interviews yet. I will have to turn in my resignation (probably write it tonite) so that I can take my two week course starting June 16. I will be glad to be out of that lab and not driving 45 minutes each way everyday. But there are so many unknowns after that which have me really freaked out. Like money. I can go on Triple S's health insurance, but that costs more money. At least I should have time to workout more. I just hope I have the motivation. I just hope I can keep my spirits up. Lots of hope goin' on here.
Anyway, Triple S decided to put some pressure on me. He is afraid I won't really leave my abusive work situation. I am committed to leaving, I just don't want to jeopardize our finances. Who really likes their job anyway? But this was not pressure I needed. I already feel tremendous amounts of stress from this situation. Compounded by deadbaby grief.
Just be supportive, will ya?
I realized yesterday that going to grad school and being so highly specialized sucks a55. I am really not qualified for much else and last night it hit me that I may have to give up my dream. The dream that really had started to blossom in my mind when I was pregnant. That I could quit working, stay home with my baby, and start to write more and take part time at home freelance work while my baby toddled around. Well, all that got shot to pieces, along with my heart, when you know what happened. So that's why I was sad, then Triple S decided I need some tough love.
He said he can't concentrate on his work because he is worried about me and I just need to apply to jobs that I am qualified for. Well, I don't want the high stress of lab work anymore and I don't want to be around the chemicals since I want to try again for another baby. I don't think he has any idea what I have been thinking about and he hasn't looked at any of the resumes or applications I have put together. Basically, he just really hurt my feelings and crushed me.
So, led to a pretty lousy Sunday/ Monday.
Ok. Got it all off my chest. Feeling better. And little jumping beans growing inside a bunch of mamas makes me really happy too!
I went to the Dr. today and apparently the nurses were worried that I was pregnant since I am on Day 38. Well, that's pretty normal. I used to have 60 day cycles when I was athletic in HS. I have only had 1 cycle since my February delivery. That's ok with me. My Dr. wants to get me regulated though. I guess thats not a bad idea if I want to have three cycles before my "OK, lets stop trying to not TTC" in August.
Well, I am really happy for those going down the road again before me. I will definitely stay tuned and hope for the best for everyone.
I told my family Dr. about my blogging about "dead baby stuff and how much it sucks". It made me tear up when I told her. I just really appreciate this space and I guess I don't really talk about blogging to anyone but my dh, Triple S. I was a little surprised that I had tears in my eyes, but I have had one of those down 24 hours. Dr. told me I need to get back on the Ignatia (homeopathic not sad medicine). I personally think almost crying once a week is pretty darn good.
I had a rough evening yesterday. My personal deadline for leaving my job is June. I haven't even gotten any interviews yet. I will have to turn in my resignation (probably write it tonite) so that I can take my two week course starting June 16. I will be glad to be out of that lab and not driving 45 minutes each way everyday. But there are so many unknowns after that which have me really freaked out. Like money. I can go on Triple S's health insurance, but that costs more money. At least I should have time to workout more. I just hope I have the motivation. I just hope I can keep my spirits up. Lots of hope goin' on here.
Anyway, Triple S decided to put some pressure on me. He is afraid I won't really leave my abusive work situation. I am committed to leaving, I just don't want to jeopardize our finances. Who really likes their job anyway? But this was not pressure I needed. I already feel tremendous amounts of stress from this situation. Compounded by deadbaby grief.
Just be supportive, will ya?
I realized yesterday that going to grad school and being so highly specialized sucks a55. I am really not qualified for much else and last night it hit me that I may have to give up my dream. The dream that really had started to blossom in my mind when I was pregnant. That I could quit working, stay home with my baby, and start to write more and take part time at home freelance work while my baby toddled around. Well, all that got shot to pieces, along with my heart, when you know what happened. So that's why I was sad, then Triple S decided I need some tough love.
He said he can't concentrate on his work because he is worried about me and I just need to apply to jobs that I am qualified for. Well, I don't want the high stress of lab work anymore and I don't want to be around the chemicals since I want to try again for another baby. I don't think he has any idea what I have been thinking about and he hasn't looked at any of the resumes or applications I have put together. Basically, he just really hurt my feelings and crushed me.
So, led to a pretty lousy Sunday/ Monday.
Ok. Got it all off my chest. Feeling better. And little jumping beans growing inside a bunch of mamas makes me really happy too!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
