This of course relates to yesterdays post... These are some things I learned from my Gramma.
It's not a Sofa, or a Couch... It's a DAVENPORT
Always stop at Wall-drug
Barefoot is BEAUTIFUL
It never hurts to spruce up one's hair, even if only to go for groceries.
Splurge a little and get your hair done once in a while (when going with grandkids in tow, choose a salon that comes with lollipops).
When there's no one else to blame... blame Bobble-head (Republicans are ALWAYS a good choice).
Never be afraid to voice your opinion.
Try not to look too "festive" when attending a funeral.
Willow-trees are not for swinging on, but they are good shade to play ball under.
If there are moaning sounds in the night... chances are it is not monsters or ghosts but wind in the pines... But checking with a flashlight just in case is ok.
Chattery grandchildren make good sleeping companions.
A little spoiling never hurt anybody.
If you eat too many sweets, too fast.... you WILL get a bellyache (something I didn't fully believe until adulthood).
Say Thank You.
Cards for Halloween, Valentine's Day, etc. are not excessive.
Attics are not scary.
Try not to look as if you were dressed by a pitchfork.
If you put a slick sleeping bag on top of a slick comforter... you may end up cold and covered up in the curtains by morning.
Always keep a stash of Milky Way bars in the fridge (I suspect her reasons for doing so were different than mine are now).
Speaking of stashes--Always have some Graham Crackers nearby.
Shots aren't so scary.
You can find friends even in weird places like hospitals.
Momentos of places visited and people loved should be kept and will be cherished by those who come after you.
Beaded necklaces, if worn well, are very fashionable.
Fiestiness will help you fight life's battles.
Marry a man who would make a good tricycle plumber.
The experience of pregnancy and childbirth will stay fresh in your mind long after your own kids are grown and gone... and you can and should share that with other generations when their time comes.
70+ years is not too long to love someone... especially your husband.
Having a 'perfect family' is unattainable... but having one full of love is noble and should be strived for.
These are things I thought of when I looked back over time with Gramma. Some of the things I remembered through conversations with other family members, some from things Mom would say that came from Gramma, and most came from... memories of times spent with Gramma herself. I think Gram was a pretty smart lady.
I was uniquely blessed to have such an amazing grandmother around when I was little. Gramma W. was one of my very, very, very favorite people to see... I loved when she came to see us, and I LOVED going to see her. I have so many memories wrapped up in their old green house. I always loved hugging her when we saw her and feeling her soft cheek up against mine... And I loved being spoiled (how awful was I when I'd come home from her house, Mom and Dad??? No... don't answer that).
I was sad and jealous when Gramma and Grandpa moved to Idaho and Luke and Gavin got to be the Grand-kids in proximity... But now I know that they needed Gram and Grandpa more than I did then, and I am thankful that they helped make them into the remarkable men that they are.
I have so many kid memories of Gramma... but the fewer 'more grown-up memories' I have are just as precious. When I called Gramma about this baby on this way she was by far the most excited person I talked to... And I was amazed at how much she remembered from each one of her pregnancies... and how happy her voice was recalling the entrance of each of her kids into the world. I so wish that she could see this little girl when she arrives... but little girl will be just as impacted by Gramma Wherry because of the impact Gramma had on me, and all of my family.
Those are some memories and thoughts that I have... I miss my Gramma already.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
The Last Three Days...
I feel as if I have been beaten.... I'm still trudging on, but my body, mind, and heart are just exhausted. The last three or four days (not to mention the last 3 or 4 months) have been absolutely brutal.
On Monday night while talking to Dad, I found out that something had happened to my Grandma W. who has lived the last decade or more with my aunt in Idaho. We weren't sure what, and Mom and Dad had had a rough day of too much time in the hospital, so I called Aunt Kathy to get to the bottom of things.
I found out from her that Grandma had had a stroke. She was responsive, and ornery... though she was having some trouble processing her words... Aunt Kathy sounded more worried than normal though. I wasn't sure what we were looking at. I went to bed with a bad feeling in my stomach, but thinking "Ok, this is just a stroke... Gramma bounces back. We'll get through this. She still has to meet her great-granddaughter."
I was still sleeping at 8:30 the next morning when my phone rang. It was my cousin Luke. He was very, very upset and I could tell it was about Gramma. I knew I was missing part of the puzzle--it was just a stroke, right? No... Gramma was dying. We had hours left. A few phone calls later I found out that she had been doing well the night before, but in the middle of the night she started bleeding internally. Her blood count when they were deciding what to do was down to 4. The best decision seemed to be to make Gramma comfortable and let her go.
So here I sat. 9 months pregnant. Baby coming any day now. I was pushing the envelope when I went to IL for weeks 34 and 35 of pregnancy. Travelling to gramma by plane was completely out. Travelling 10 hours by car didn't sound like a wise idea either, did it? I called our Doula, "Don't do it. You could have this baby any day" (this from the same woman who has been telling me I have weeks left and that this baby won't come anytime soon). I called my doctor, "Travelling that far is highly unadvisable. You will either get a blood clot or go into labor" (Really--it'll be an either or scenario?). And then... there was the issue of my husband. I may be dumb enough to travel 10 hours when I'm full term, but not dumb enough to do it alone, and he had been working 12 hour days with no weekends promised. How could he leave for this?
At this point let me explain that my Grandparents lived most of their lives near where I grew up. That was "home" to them. So... Bizarrely, I knew that my whole family would be heading to my hometown for the funeral and I would not. I can't explain to you what a helpless feeling it is to be 39 weeks pregnant... knowing that general wisdom says STAY PUT NO MATTER WHAT... knowing that getting to my Grandmother--before she passed or after--meant a 10 hour car ride, and that there was no way to get to my hometown for the funeral to grieve with my family.
On top of that, I know how sick my Mom is... I know that the family will converge upon her house. I know that her and Dad might not be up to it. I know that now she will need to grieve the loss of her mother on top of fighting for her life. I want so badly to be there to help them walk through that. Was there nothing I could do???
Andy came home and we tried to figure out what to do... after crying a lot and hashing it through I realized I HAD TO GO. Whether I got there before Gramma died or after, I HAD TO GET THERE. So... we went about looking into logistics. For once, we felt taken care of by the Navy. Before Andy had even called work back, he was set up with 4 days special liberty (he is very low on leave because of baby coming and needs this year). But... we had to call the Red Cross and get an emergency call in. I won't even tell you the whole story about the Red Cross phone call. Let me say that I am VERY GRATEFUL for the service they provide in helping servicemembers and their families connect when there are emergencies.... but they need to have people who know something about the military on the other end of the phone and they need to realize that when people are in the midst of emergencies they don't have time to spend an hour on the phone answering assinine questions and having to clarify that the servicemember in question is in the NAVY not the AIR FORCE or the ARMY (something I tried to make clear in the beginning of the call, but obviously didn't).
After... throwing our world together and finally straightening things out (and thumbing my nose at my doctor...), we were on our way. Let me pause to say that... packing a car knowing that you a preparing for the death of one family member and the birth of another is completely surreal. The car was packed to the gills with... well, all we would need to deal with a few days of what you do in life after a person dies, and... bags for the hospital, a car seat, baby clothes--just in case the baby came along the way.
Then, Aunt Kathy called and told us Gramma was gone. I debated for a little bit about whether we should go at that point... but something in me knew I needed to be with my family and to take part in the process of saying goodbye to Gramma in some capacity.
So... we headed out to Idaho. It was a long ride... 10 hours... Heavy with my unborn child and thoughts of how she would never meet one of the most extraordinary women to have helped to shape my life. Knowing that I had been excited about moving to this part of the country because I would get to visit my gramma, and that despite our being here 9 months, we hadn't been able to do so yet... and knowing that I promised I would bring my gram her great-granddaughter to see as soon as I could after she was here... and that I wouldn't be able to fulfill that promise.
I made the right choice... I did need my family--even if it was just the small part that gathered in Idaho. I was able to contribute to the bigger picture of our grieving as a family and doing the business of things that need done when a person dies. Most importantly, I was able to say good-bye to my grandmother... We went to the funeral home handling things in Idaho and we were able to see Gramma. I whispered the name of our daughter to her... She is the only one who knows her name, and will be the only one who knows until she gets here.
Yesterday we helped with odds and ends before we headed back here, and my Idaho family headed to the airport to go back to my hometown. And then we travelled the long 10 hours back. Guess what--despite my doctor's and doula's fears the baby didn't come and I didn't get a blood clot. But.... she may decide to get here anytime now.
I figure maybe Gramma left when she did because she didn't know of another way to be with me when the baby is born... This way at least her spirit will be able to hover with us when she comes into the world. That is a comfort.
But I still feel beaten... I can't explain to anyone what it is like to be 9 months pregnant, to be fighting with my mother for her life against the beast of Stage 4 lung cancer, to know that my husband has only weeks left with me before a potential 10-12 months away from me and our daughter (with short reprieves in the beginning only), and to lose my grandmother days before my daughter comes into the world.
The vast majority of people in my life have no idea that the last 3 days even happened. For all they know, I've been sitting at home just waiting and preparing for my daughter to arrive (I have to admit a part of me thinks that's what life should have let me do). Those I have talked to don't seem to have any concept of how... very wearying juggling all of these major life complications and worries and fears and realities are. I almost feel as if the general consensus feels I should just be trudging merrily along (after all I'm having a baby and that's great, right?). This is something I can't understand because I've seen a good deal more space to deal with things given people tackling things one at a time rather than all at once. I feel very alone, very tired, and as I keep saying... beaten up.
But I'm not down and out. I'll pop up before the 10 count is done. I'll give birth to this little girl... I'll deal with her daddy leaving...I'll hold the knowledge close to my heart that my gramma loves us and is with us even after death, and that my mom and dad love us and are with us even from a distance... I'll get to my mom when I can to spend as much time as I can with her... I'll do what needs doing... and I'll keep finding out that I'm stronger than I ever imagined. (And I'll try to drown out the voice that says that other people don't seem to think things are as tough as they are, so maybe I really am just being a baby).
I'll do all this because that's the other thing I am finding that I feel lately. When I don't feel like collapsing into a puddle of tears... or throwing up my hands and saying, "I'm done," I confess to feeling a small amount of pride. Am I broken? Yes... I become a little more so each day I think. But... to put it in the words of one of my favorite verses, "I am pressed, but not crushed, persecuted not abandoned, struck down, but not destroyed." I will keep going until Abba says stop. I will rest when I am able. I will fight when I am able. I will cry when I must, and laugh when the moments afford. But I will keep going. I have kept going. And I think that's something worth being proud of.
On Monday night while talking to Dad, I found out that something had happened to my Grandma W. who has lived the last decade or more with my aunt in Idaho. We weren't sure what, and Mom and Dad had had a rough day of too much time in the hospital, so I called Aunt Kathy to get to the bottom of things.
I found out from her that Grandma had had a stroke. She was responsive, and ornery... though she was having some trouble processing her words... Aunt Kathy sounded more worried than normal though. I wasn't sure what we were looking at. I went to bed with a bad feeling in my stomach, but thinking "Ok, this is just a stroke... Gramma bounces back. We'll get through this. She still has to meet her great-granddaughter."
I was still sleeping at 8:30 the next morning when my phone rang. It was my cousin Luke. He was very, very upset and I could tell it was about Gramma. I knew I was missing part of the puzzle--it was just a stroke, right? No... Gramma was dying. We had hours left. A few phone calls later I found out that she had been doing well the night before, but in the middle of the night she started bleeding internally. Her blood count when they were deciding what to do was down to 4. The best decision seemed to be to make Gramma comfortable and let her go.
So here I sat. 9 months pregnant. Baby coming any day now. I was pushing the envelope when I went to IL for weeks 34 and 35 of pregnancy. Travelling to gramma by plane was completely out. Travelling 10 hours by car didn't sound like a wise idea either, did it? I called our Doula, "Don't do it. You could have this baby any day" (this from the same woman who has been telling me I have weeks left and that this baby won't come anytime soon). I called my doctor, "Travelling that far is highly unadvisable. You will either get a blood clot or go into labor" (Really--it'll be an either or scenario?). And then... there was the issue of my husband. I may be dumb enough to travel 10 hours when I'm full term, but not dumb enough to do it alone, and he had been working 12 hour days with no weekends promised. How could he leave for this?
At this point let me explain that my Grandparents lived most of their lives near where I grew up. That was "home" to them. So... Bizarrely, I knew that my whole family would be heading to my hometown for the funeral and I would not. I can't explain to you what a helpless feeling it is to be 39 weeks pregnant... knowing that general wisdom says STAY PUT NO MATTER WHAT... knowing that getting to my Grandmother--before she passed or after--meant a 10 hour car ride, and that there was no way to get to my hometown for the funeral to grieve with my family.
On top of that, I know how sick my Mom is... I know that the family will converge upon her house. I know that her and Dad might not be up to it. I know that now she will need to grieve the loss of her mother on top of fighting for her life. I want so badly to be there to help them walk through that. Was there nothing I could do???
Andy came home and we tried to figure out what to do... after crying a lot and hashing it through I realized I HAD TO GO. Whether I got there before Gramma died or after, I HAD TO GET THERE. So... we went about looking into logistics. For once, we felt taken care of by the Navy. Before Andy had even called work back, he was set up with 4 days special liberty (he is very low on leave because of baby coming and needs this year). But... we had to call the Red Cross and get an emergency call in. I won't even tell you the whole story about the Red Cross phone call. Let me say that I am VERY GRATEFUL for the service they provide in helping servicemembers and their families connect when there are emergencies.... but they need to have people who know something about the military on the other end of the phone and they need to realize that when people are in the midst of emergencies they don't have time to spend an hour on the phone answering assinine questions and having to clarify that the servicemember in question is in the NAVY not the AIR FORCE or the ARMY (something I tried to make clear in the beginning of the call, but obviously didn't).
After... throwing our world together and finally straightening things out (and thumbing my nose at my doctor...), we were on our way. Let me pause to say that... packing a car knowing that you a preparing for the death of one family member and the birth of another is completely surreal. The car was packed to the gills with... well, all we would need to deal with a few days of what you do in life after a person dies, and... bags for the hospital, a car seat, baby clothes--just in case the baby came along the way.
Then, Aunt Kathy called and told us Gramma was gone. I debated for a little bit about whether we should go at that point... but something in me knew I needed to be with my family and to take part in the process of saying goodbye to Gramma in some capacity.
So... we headed out to Idaho. It was a long ride... 10 hours... Heavy with my unborn child and thoughts of how she would never meet one of the most extraordinary women to have helped to shape my life. Knowing that I had been excited about moving to this part of the country because I would get to visit my gramma, and that despite our being here 9 months, we hadn't been able to do so yet... and knowing that I promised I would bring my gram her great-granddaughter to see as soon as I could after she was here... and that I wouldn't be able to fulfill that promise.
I made the right choice... I did need my family--even if it was just the small part that gathered in Idaho. I was able to contribute to the bigger picture of our grieving as a family and doing the business of things that need done when a person dies. Most importantly, I was able to say good-bye to my grandmother... We went to the funeral home handling things in Idaho and we were able to see Gramma. I whispered the name of our daughter to her... She is the only one who knows her name, and will be the only one who knows until she gets here.
Yesterday we helped with odds and ends before we headed back here, and my Idaho family headed to the airport to go back to my hometown. And then we travelled the long 10 hours back. Guess what--despite my doctor's and doula's fears the baby didn't come and I didn't get a blood clot. But.... she may decide to get here anytime now.
I figure maybe Gramma left when she did because she didn't know of another way to be with me when the baby is born... This way at least her spirit will be able to hover with us when she comes into the world. That is a comfort.
But I still feel beaten... I can't explain to anyone what it is like to be 9 months pregnant, to be fighting with my mother for her life against the beast of Stage 4 lung cancer, to know that my husband has only weeks left with me before a potential 10-12 months away from me and our daughter (with short reprieves in the beginning only), and to lose my grandmother days before my daughter comes into the world.
The vast majority of people in my life have no idea that the last 3 days even happened. For all they know, I've been sitting at home just waiting and preparing for my daughter to arrive (I have to admit a part of me thinks that's what life should have let me do). Those I have talked to don't seem to have any concept of how... very wearying juggling all of these major life complications and worries and fears and realities are. I almost feel as if the general consensus feels I should just be trudging merrily along (after all I'm having a baby and that's great, right?). This is something I can't understand because I've seen a good deal more space to deal with things given people tackling things one at a time rather than all at once. I feel very alone, very tired, and as I keep saying... beaten up.
But I'm not down and out. I'll pop up before the 10 count is done. I'll give birth to this little girl... I'll deal with her daddy leaving...I'll hold the knowledge close to my heart that my gramma loves us and is with us even after death, and that my mom and dad love us and are with us even from a distance... I'll get to my mom when I can to spend as much time as I can with her... I'll do what needs doing... and I'll keep finding out that I'm stronger than I ever imagined. (And I'll try to drown out the voice that says that other people don't seem to think things are as tough as they are, so maybe I really am just being a baby).
I'll do all this because that's the other thing I am finding that I feel lately. When I don't feel like collapsing into a puddle of tears... or throwing up my hands and saying, "I'm done," I confess to feeling a small amount of pride. Am I broken? Yes... I become a little more so each day I think. But... to put it in the words of one of my favorite verses, "I am pressed, but not crushed, persecuted not abandoned, struck down, but not destroyed." I will keep going until Abba says stop. I will rest when I am able. I will fight when I am able. I will cry when I must, and laugh when the moments afford. But I will keep going. I have kept going. And I think that's something worth being proud of.
Monday, February 21, 2005
End of Pregnancy Musings
It's interesting being at the end of this pregnancy. I watch the count down to my due date (8 days), and know that I'm full term and can't help but wonder, "When will it be?" I wake up every morning and think, "It could be today. It could be in three weeks."
Every 'off' symptom makes me wonder. Wow--my back is hurting... is that it? Wow--my stomach is crazy... are we close?
I'm walking and walking and walking, trying little things that I've heard are good for helping babies get positioned correctly (whether they're legit or not, I don't know. Can't hurt), consulting my "What to Expect..." books regularly.
I'm daydreaming more and more about what my daughter will be like. I still feel a good deal of peace about her arrival, despite the general disarray of the room full of her stuff. I do have some nervousness about "And factors." ("And factors" are things that go beyond one scenario or another... for instance: "having a baby AND dealing with Andy's det. schedule) But, by and large... I am just anxious to meet my daughter.
We will admit to wanting our little one to get here sooner than later, and I think we have legitimate reasons to hope for this. The boat will be calling far sooner than we want, and we need time to be together before that happens.
Still... people say nearly every day, "You're at that point when you just want her out, aren't you?" I can't say that I am, though I wouldn't complain at ALL if she came right now. Life lately is teaching me in many different ways the importance of time. This is the time I am given, and I will live it and live in it. This is time with Andy. This is time for preparation. Rushing things or trying to hide from life are not options right now. I need to be where I am when I am--alert and involved, and so I am trying to be so.
That doesn't mean that I'm not ready to get rid of these swollen ankles, sleep without waking up 25 times to change position and/or pee, bid farewell to my achy back, and maybe possibly kick the rest of the congestion I'm feeling. It's just that, those things really are minor and the days of experiencing them are numbered.
I wanted to enjoy my pregnancy. It was one of my goals when we first found out I was expecting. Though there have been days that I would say I wasn't exactly cheerful about the process, for the most part I must say I have. I can't think of a time in my life when I have felt more lovely, believe it or not--even if I am rather large. I love my shape. I love my belly. I don't even mind my stretch marks too much. (Was that oversharing?) I'm not sure I'll tell you that I miss pregnancy when this is over, but I can certainly think of worse states to be in. (Note: I hope not to forget the tough stuff to the extent that I cannot empathize with others in the throes of "I'm not glowingness").
And again I tell you... The timing of this baby's arrival must really be of God. He knew she was needed and needed now. Again and again I draw peace from that. Given that, I can only trust that the exact timing of her arrival will be 'just on time' too... even if it is later than we hope.
Now it's time to head to sleep, so I can wake up again tomorrow and wonder, "Is today the day?" We shall see. We shall see.
Every 'off' symptom makes me wonder. Wow--my back is hurting... is that it? Wow--my stomach is crazy... are we close?
I'm walking and walking and walking, trying little things that I've heard are good for helping babies get positioned correctly (whether they're legit or not, I don't know. Can't hurt), consulting my "What to Expect..." books regularly.
I'm daydreaming more and more about what my daughter will be like. I still feel a good deal of peace about her arrival, despite the general disarray of the room full of her stuff. I do have some nervousness about "And factors." ("And factors" are things that go beyond one scenario or another... for instance: "having a baby AND dealing with Andy's det. schedule) But, by and large... I am just anxious to meet my daughter.
We will admit to wanting our little one to get here sooner than later, and I think we have legitimate reasons to hope for this. The boat will be calling far sooner than we want, and we need time to be together before that happens.
Still... people say nearly every day, "You're at that point when you just want her out, aren't you?" I can't say that I am, though I wouldn't complain at ALL if she came right now. Life lately is teaching me in many different ways the importance of time. This is the time I am given, and I will live it and live in it. This is time with Andy. This is time for preparation. Rushing things or trying to hide from life are not options right now. I need to be where I am when I am--alert and involved, and so I am trying to be so.
That doesn't mean that I'm not ready to get rid of these swollen ankles, sleep without waking up 25 times to change position and/or pee, bid farewell to my achy back, and maybe possibly kick the rest of the congestion I'm feeling. It's just that, those things really are minor and the days of experiencing them are numbered.
I wanted to enjoy my pregnancy. It was one of my goals when we first found out I was expecting. Though there have been days that I would say I wasn't exactly cheerful about the process, for the most part I must say I have. I can't think of a time in my life when I have felt more lovely, believe it or not--even if I am rather large. I love my shape. I love my belly. I don't even mind my stretch marks too much. (Was that oversharing?) I'm not sure I'll tell you that I miss pregnancy when this is over, but I can certainly think of worse states to be in. (Note: I hope not to forget the tough stuff to the extent that I cannot empathize with others in the throes of "I'm not glowingness").
And again I tell you... The timing of this baby's arrival must really be of God. He knew she was needed and needed now. Again and again I draw peace from that. Given that, I can only trust that the exact timing of her arrival will be 'just on time' too... even if it is later than we hope.
Now it's time to head to sleep, so I can wake up again tomorrow and wonder, "Is today the day?" We shall see. We shall see.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Sunshiney Day and Special Place
Spring is already sprunging here on the island, and it's beautiful. Today, we went to a new to us beach overlook that Jamie shared with me. It was chilly, but lovely. Below are some of the pictures we took while we were there. This should satisfy those of you asking for 'new preggo pics' and it satisfied my need to picture share. Yeah... maybe I went overboard. But you know you like looking at pictures!
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
I lost my....
Ankles.
Really. My leg just goes down to... well, my feet... but they don't look like my feet. I don't know whose feet they might be. They don't even walk like my feet. They look kind of like vaguely feet-shaped pillows. Maybe that's what they are. If so, where have my feet gone?
*sigh*
I hope my feet and ankles come back soon... Like... in a week or two. And I hope they bring my daughter with them.
Really. My leg just goes down to... well, my feet... but they don't look like my feet. I don't know whose feet they might be. They don't even walk like my feet. They look kind of like vaguely feet-shaped pillows. Maybe that's what they are. If so, where have my feet gone?
*sigh*
I hope my feet and ankles come back soon... Like... in a week or two. And I hope they bring my daughter with them.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Showers of Blessing
When I first got pregnant and realized the timing with our relocation, I was a little sad because I didn't think I would be able to have any baby showers. As it turned out, my friends and family all over more than came through for me.
Nonetheless, because of the location of much of my support group, I have been worrying about post-partum things... Especially as it is looking more and more like Andy will leave soon after baby girl arrives. How soon after really depends on baby girl. I have been fretting over who I might be able to call on to help. I have made one very good friend here, and we do churchy things... but mostly we have a lot of acquaintences.
And then... Charlotte called last Sunday. And I found out my Bible Study group and the Sunday School teachers were throwing me another shower. I was really suprised and felt a little awkward about it. But... I went today and was just SO blessed.
Here I was, for the first time in my whole nine months really, surrounded by Mom's. Some were Mom's with grown children, and some had little ones not very old at all. Many of them were Navy wives or former Navy wives. I got to hear about births in Hawaii, and Japan, and... Nevada (pretty exotic, eh?). But all of their eyes sparkled when they talked about their kids and their birth experiences, and they all told me that when it was all said and done, the nine months and the 'fun' of labor would be worth it.
On top of that, people mentioned making meals for us, and helping in whatever capacity possible. One person, who I've mentioned here before (She's the one who talked about how wonderful being a mom is even though she thought pregnancy was awful sometimes), was sure to give me her number to use any time I needed.
Then I came home, and called a lady here whose husband has been dealing with a spot on his pancreas. I wanted to see if there was anything THEY needed. While there wasn't now, she promised to call if/when there was something we could, and expressed her want to be an 'auntie' to our little one. Hehehe...
Looks like I might have some help afterall! I imagine it will still feel awkward to ask for it... but at least I have some idea of where to go, and an inkling of who will be 'safe' to ask for help. That brings me some much needed peace of mind tonight.
And now... I shall go continue trying to muster up my nesting instinct. The house has turned into chaos this weekend, and there's a baby to get ready for!
Nonetheless, because of the location of much of my support group, I have been worrying about post-partum things... Especially as it is looking more and more like Andy will leave soon after baby girl arrives. How soon after really depends on baby girl. I have been fretting over who I might be able to call on to help. I have made one very good friend here, and we do churchy things... but mostly we have a lot of acquaintences.
And then... Charlotte called last Sunday. And I found out my Bible Study group and the Sunday School teachers were throwing me another shower. I was really suprised and felt a little awkward about it. But... I went today and was just SO blessed.
Here I was, for the first time in my whole nine months really, surrounded by Mom's. Some were Mom's with grown children, and some had little ones not very old at all. Many of them were Navy wives or former Navy wives. I got to hear about births in Hawaii, and Japan, and... Nevada (pretty exotic, eh?). But all of their eyes sparkled when they talked about their kids and their birth experiences, and they all told me that when it was all said and done, the nine months and the 'fun' of labor would be worth it.
On top of that, people mentioned making meals for us, and helping in whatever capacity possible. One person, who I've mentioned here before (She's the one who talked about how wonderful being a mom is even though she thought pregnancy was awful sometimes), was sure to give me her number to use any time I needed.
Then I came home, and called a lady here whose husband has been dealing with a spot on his pancreas. I wanted to see if there was anything THEY needed. While there wasn't now, she promised to call if/when there was something we could, and expressed her want to be an 'auntie' to our little one. Hehehe...
Looks like I might have some help afterall! I imagine it will still feel awkward to ask for it... but at least I have some idea of where to go, and an inkling of who will be 'safe' to ask for help. That brings me some much needed peace of mind tonight.
And now... I shall go continue trying to muster up my nesting instinct. The house has turned into chaos this weekend, and there's a baby to get ready for!
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Happy Walking Pneumonia Day To Me!!!
Today was my 36/37 week appointment. All went well. Baby girl is measuring just right (she's a little bag 'o' sugar), her heart rate was good (143), and she is still head down and getting ready to come out and meet us!
But the little girl wasn't the only concern today. I still can't hear. I'm still coughing. I'm STILL SICK! So... I told the doctor. He looked in my ears, and gave me this perplexed look. Then he looked again... More perplexed look. Finally I just said, "WHAT?!"
"Well..." he says, "It looks like you have an infection." (OH REALLY?! I could have told you that a couple of months ago!)
"Hmmm..." I say.
"Your eardrum is yellow and has yellowish fluid behind it... It looks like Mycoplasmae."
"Come again?"
"I think you have walking pneumonia!"
"Oh Really?!"
"Yes... I think I better give you an antibiotic." (YOU THINK?!)
--My feet are hanging off the exam table and I'm dangling them like a happy little girl--
"You mean you're actually going to TREAT me?" (oops, did that slip out?)
Yes indeed folks... After over three months of almost constant crud, I finally have a diagnosis, and I finally got some anti-biotics. It's a red-letter day, I'd say! It felt so much better walking out of the doctor and not feeling like I was thought of as a crazy, whiny patient. It was even better to walk out knowing that now we're actually going to TREAT this crap. WOOHOO!!!
So... Happy Walking Pneumonia day to me! Have you ever seen somebody so happy to find out they have Walking Pneumonia???
Can I add too--that given that I've been fighting this crud for 3 months now... and that I have been dealing with about a million other things including the changes of pregnancy, that I am just pretty darned proud of myself for all I've done... even if I have had some less-than-productive days. Gonna take a lot more than Walking Pneumonia to slow me down!
But the little girl wasn't the only concern today. I still can't hear. I'm still coughing. I'm STILL SICK! So... I told the doctor. He looked in my ears, and gave me this perplexed look. Then he looked again... More perplexed look. Finally I just said, "WHAT?!"
"Well..." he says, "It looks like you have an infection." (OH REALLY?! I could have told you that a couple of months ago!)
"Hmmm..." I say.
"Your eardrum is yellow and has yellowish fluid behind it... It looks like Mycoplasmae."
"Come again?"
"I think you have walking pneumonia!"
"Oh Really?!"
"Yes... I think I better give you an antibiotic." (YOU THINK?!)
--My feet are hanging off the exam table and I'm dangling them like a happy little girl--
"You mean you're actually going to TREAT me?" (oops, did that slip out?)
Yes indeed folks... After over three months of almost constant crud, I finally have a diagnosis, and I finally got some anti-biotics. It's a red-letter day, I'd say! It felt so much better walking out of the doctor and not feeling like I was thought of as a crazy, whiny patient. It was even better to walk out knowing that now we're actually going to TREAT this crap. WOOHOO!!!
So... Happy Walking Pneumonia day to me! Have you ever seen somebody so happy to find out they have Walking Pneumonia???
Can I add too--that given that I've been fighting this crud for 3 months now... and that I have been dealing with about a million other things including the changes of pregnancy, that I am just pretty darned proud of myself for all I've done... even if I have had some less-than-productive days. Gonna take a lot more than Walking Pneumonia to slow me down!
Chester's Prayer Rug
Have you ever gotten that really scammy mailing with a folded up prayer rug inside of it? You know... the one with Jesus's face on it, and if you look at it, Jesus's eyes start out closed... and if you keep looking they 'slowly open.' Well, we got it yesterday. You're supposed to kneel on the prayer rug and pray, and then put it in a certain place in your Bible or under your bed at night, and send it, your prayer request, and a "seed gift" to receive whatever it is that you wanted to pray for.
Well, Little Chester has a hitch in his get-a-long... and he wants some healing. So these are some pictures of him using the prayer rug... Except... oops! We forgot to send it in today. Hopefully God will still heal Chester of the hitch in his get-a-long.
Well, Little Chester has a hitch in his get-a-long... and he wants some healing. So these are some pictures of him using the prayer rug... Except... oops! We forgot to send it in today. Hopefully God will still heal Chester of the hitch in his get-a-long.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Chaplain Ammendment--An experience of Two
Let me make an ammendment to my last post...
I am still in awe of Military Chaplains. In fact, Andy and I sat down with a former chaplain yesterday who is still amazingly cool with connections, full of compassion, and who possesses wisdom of how to work the system (He's our pastor. We're so lucky!). Chaplains like Pastor David are awe-worthy indeed.
However, and this is a big however, any chaplain who would possibly try to solve a situation of wanting a daddy to have more time with his newborn daughter before he has to go play on boats by suggesting that a Medically UNneccessary INDUCTION be performed has another THINK COMING!!!! No Thanks... I'd prefer NOT to interfere with the natural processes of my body (that God has designed specifically for the process of childbirth) just to fit the Navy's schedule. And oh by the way--before he thinks of seriously recommending that to ANYONE he should really do his homework. Don't tell ME that medically unnecessary inductions don't lead to higher rates of Caesarian Sections. Don't tell ME that it's all a very "Natural process." I am the MOMMY in question here and I've done my HOMEWORK. (Yes... this is a different Chaplain than the one I mentioned in the first paragraph)
Yes... Even Chaplains are susceptible to cranial-rectal inversion. It's sad... but it's true! Those who persevere and escape this unfortunate condition however, are still really, really cool.
I am still in awe of Military Chaplains. In fact, Andy and I sat down with a former chaplain yesterday who is still amazingly cool with connections, full of compassion, and who possesses wisdom of how to work the system (He's our pastor. We're so lucky!). Chaplains like Pastor David are awe-worthy indeed.
However, and this is a big however, any chaplain who would possibly try to solve a situation of wanting a daddy to have more time with his newborn daughter before he has to go play on boats by suggesting that a Medically UNneccessary INDUCTION be performed has another THINK COMING!!!! No Thanks... I'd prefer NOT to interfere with the natural processes of my body (that God has designed specifically for the process of childbirth) just to fit the Navy's schedule. And oh by the way--before he thinks of seriously recommending that to ANYONE he should really do his homework. Don't tell ME that medically unnecessary inductions don't lead to higher rates of Caesarian Sections. Don't tell ME that it's all a very "Natural process." I am the MOMMY in question here and I've done my HOMEWORK. (Yes... this is a different Chaplain than the one I mentioned in the first paragraph)
Yes... Even Chaplains are susceptible to cranial-rectal inversion. It's sad... but it's true! Those who persevere and escape this unfortunate condition however, are still really, really cool.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Four Chaplains Day
I just read that today is a day to honor four amazing men. Four Chaplains in World War II saved hundreds, and then consoled hundreds more when their ship went down in icy, arctic water. They were truly selfless and truly ecumenical.
Read and check out the full story: http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?r105:S27JA8-1141:
P.S. Military Chaplains are truly amazing people and I'm in awe of them in general.
Read and check out the full story: http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?r105:S27JA8-1141:
P.S. Military Chaplains are truly amazing people and I'm in awe of them in general.
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