Looking Back, Looking Forward

Hey Humble Readers...

I'm sorry that I've been off the grid this past week.  All three of us having a doozy of a summer cold, a teething baby, and a crazy-a$$ heat wave have sapped my energy.  Today we are actually all feeling better, for the most part, and while it's warm, there's a nice breeze that's allowing me to feel human again. 

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It's been a challenging week because everywhere I turned there were reminders of 9-11.  The images, the stories, the pain.  I'm in no way saying that we shouldn't commemorate this day, just that all the constant visual reminders have been very hard on my heart.

Ten years ago today, I woke up to my radio coming on saying something about the airport in K-town being shut down.  I didn't think much of it really, and went to take a shower.  It wasn't until I turned on the tv a half hour later that I saw my first glimpses of the horrors that were taking place.  I went through the rest of the day in a bit of a fog, and grieved with the rest of the world. 

One day changed everything.  The feeling of safety that I remember having all my life up till then was gone.  I wept then for the victims, the heroes, and their families.  And I wept today as I watched the memorial services on tv.  I continue to pray that the families of the victims of such a senseless act of violence have found some peace for their hearts. 

WTC Memorial, New York
(image credit: http://www.fgould.com/north-america/projects/world-trade-center-memorial/)

Three years ago today, I woke up, 11 weeks pregnant and spotting.  I didn't think much of it, I had read that spotting was possible, particularly in the first trimester.  By noon, the spotting was much heavier, and I was scared.  By the middle of the afternoon I had two ultrasounds and it was confirmed.  My pregnancy had ended several weeks before, but my body was just cluing in. 

One day changed everything.  My innocent joy and hope in that pregnancy was taken away, and the trust that I had in my body was shattered.  That day I became a statistic.  That day fear for the future of our family set in. 

Shadow Box Memorial for Emily Hope & Olivia Noelle
We collected the leaves a few weeks after we lost Emily. 
The rocks are from a memorial service we attended that fall for lost babies.

My favourite lullaby.

Emily Hope September 2008
Olivia Noelle January 2009

My Beloved gave me this ring for Mother's Day this year...
One stone for each baby, Emily, Olivia, & Ginevra

Today, I woke up with a hopeful heart. 

12 dpo... Ummmm...

Yup... oh boy...

I wasn't really expecting it, given how ooky this cycle was, but it's happened all the same.  Of course, this is still very early and given my history, I'm only allowing myself to be cautiously optimistic.  I'm calling both Dr. U and Dr. B tomorrow so that I can get blood tests done asap, along with a prescription for progesterone suppositories. 

Is it ok if I just say... Eeeeeeeeee?!?!?

(btw, if you know me irl... PLEASE DON'T SAY ANYTHING YET!  Our families won't know for a few days.)

Bloggity Summer Camp: Just a Wee Hobbit

Howdy Humble Readers...

When I was a little girl, I remember thinking that I could remember every day of my life.  Every single day.  And that I would never forget anything.  I would remember every conversation and every moment.  And maybe I did.  Back then, when I only had 7 or 8 years of experiences, it's possible that I remembered all sorts of things that escape me now. 

Today at Bloggity Summer Camp, Calliope has asked us, "What is your most beloved childhood memory? I’d love it if you shared a photo of yourself as a child with this post!"

As I pondered this question, I honestly struggled to find a 'beloved' memory.  While my childhood definitely had its dark moments, there were also happy times, funny moments that live in the recesses of my brain. 

There was the time when I was just a wee hobbit, sitting on the floor in our living room watching the Mupp.et Show, eating pumpkin pie.  My bio-dad said something to me, and I turned to look at him and somehow managed to stick my foot in my pumpkin pie.  I was four years old

There was the time when I was trapped in an outhouse by a flock of wild turkeys while we were camping.  I was eight. 

There was the time my bio-mom sent me to the store across the street for a loaf of bread.  I had only just learned to cross the street by myself.  We lived on a main drag in that little town, but at the far end, where there was almost no traffic.  Apparently, I stood there for quite some time because if I saw a car three blocks away, I wouldn't cross.  When I finally did cross, I raced into the store, grabbed the bread and ran out.  It wasn't until I was all the way back across the street that I realized I was still holding the money that my bio-mom gave me.  I had to go back across the street, AGAIN to pay for the bread and then finally go home.  What should have taken no more than 10 minutes took me more than a half hour.  And apparently my bio-mom was standing in the tub looking out the bathroom window of our apartment watching me the whole time.  I was five.

There was the time, while my bio-mom was pregnant with my bio-sister, that we were crossing the street in a busy downtown area.  Bio-mom was less than a month away from her due date.  We were crossing the street, and suddenly I remember lying on the ground, with my bio-mom on top of me.  She had fallen, twisted her ankle, and landed on me.  I remember the old man who jumped out of his car to help us up.  I remember his big boat of a car and his light blue suit.  He helped us to the other side of the street and my bio-mom thanked him.  In later years I found out that she thought she had only sprained her ankle, and would walk it off.  She had many things to do in preparation for the arrival of my bio-sister, and didn't want to give up that particular outing.  Of course, true to form for my family, she had actually broken her foot and ended up giving birth while wearing a big heavy plaster cast.  I was almost three.

Calliope has asked for a picture from when I was wee... I found three.  You'll notice a bit of a glare, as these are pictures of pictures, all from one of my scrapbooks.  You may also notice a resemblance to another wee little hobbit girl... :)

My Memory Sucks

Good Morning Humble Readers!

*beware, convoluted tale ahead*

I have yet to put up my new calendar for 2010. I bought it back at the end of November. I could have waited until this week to buy it, and then I would have gotten it at 75% off, but I saw it and fell in love with it, so I didn't want to risk it not being there later.

And it is a lovely calendar... New York (of course).

Why have I not put up my beautiful calendar? Because I haven't transferred over all the important date info yet... Birthdays, anniversaries, all that sort of thing. And why have I been procrastinating on this? Because when we moved a year and a half ago, we lost our 2008 caledar, and it was the last calendar I had on which I had accurate birthday and anniversary listings. Last year there were several birthdays that I just had to guess at.

There are some birthdays I have engrained on my brain... my bio-sister's is the day before mine (kind of hard to forget) ... I forgot my Mom's birthday once when I was in college and she made a big deal about it so it's burned in there too. But Dad's birthday? I know it's in June, always around Father's Day, but I couldn't tell you the exact date to save my life. In order to engrain my Beloved's birthday on my brain, I started using it as a password at work. Mom & Dad's anniversary is in March, but do I have the date mixed up with my sister's April birthday?

And how do you call your Mom, and ask for your Dad's birthdate? Their anniversary?

And yet, you know what I do remember? I remember that a year ago yesterday I was at the doctor, getting an ultrasound. An ultrasound that showed an empty sac, and began the two weeks of hell. I also remember that two years ago tomorrow I took my last birth control pill and that the baby making began. I can tell you the dates of my bfp's, my edd's, and the dates that my miscarraiges happened.

Why isn't it possible to forget? Do I really want to? Am I hanging onto my grief on purpose? Please don't get me wrong, the grief certainly isn't as sharp as it was a year ago, but it's still there. Is it really that I can't forget these dates? Or just that I don't want to? Or maybe that I won't let myself?

Why can't my crappy memory kick in and allow me to pass these dates blissfully unaware, like I did my MIL's birthday last year?