Any guesses what it is supposed to be?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
But that's okay. I'm used to it.
For me, it's become a necessary evil before I take the medicine that my
Reproductive Endocrinologist is determined to make me love.
About every 45 days ...when this whammy comes along...I'm faced with a few decisions:
And this is how the post-whammy scenario plays out:
I go to the mirror, look myself square in the face and say to myself, "self- someday doesn't necessarily mean today. So be a big girl, wipe that tear away and turn your frown upside down to smile that frown away. Don't give up hope little poppet. God isn't finished with you yet..."
And frankly, I'm not finished with Him yet either.
Never have been - never will be. Baby or no baby...I have a lot to be grateful for in my life.
The grass is only greener on the other side of the fence if you let it be.
Even without fertilizer...
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
We were talking about how I am going to Idaho for my dad's upcoming surgery and he was telling me that he didn't think I should use my FMLA because...well you know....I might need it. Someday.
I looked at him with a perplexed look on my face.
And as a matter of explanation he made a little pregnancy sign with his hand - motioning a big stomach.
Wow. I realized that we haven't spoken (or gestured) in a positive way like that for a long-long time. Not if- but when. We get so afraid of thinking good thoughts because we don't want to set ourselves up for more failure and disappointment...that we use negativity as a self protection.
Today, he changed that with a simple hand motion.
And it made my heart go pitter-patter all over again.
Not if. But when.
(Come on bit money. No whammies - no whammies!)
Monday, August 9, 2010
Here's a little tidbit about mio.
My name is ... pronounced j ah l ai (soft A followed by a hard A sound). I love having a unique name except when it comes to Google searches which is why I never spell it out. I'm happily married to Mr. Thompson (and a closet Pride and Prejudice fan), thus the Mr. Thompson and me.
He's my Mr. Darcy.
When people ask if we have children (and they a lot in Utah!)...I always stumble on the answer. Short of it - no, but we're working on it (oh boy have we been working on it!). Long of it - is written on a little headstone in the local cemetery. "The child we had, but never had, and yet will have forever".
We live in Utah which is where I fled to a few years after 9/11. I came with disaster burn-out on a quest for rest and relaxation thinking that I could snow ski from October until June (which I did the first year). Although I miss NYC and East Coast living...I stayed to be closer to friends and family because my relationships are the most important thing in my life. 9/11 taught me that. As a bonus, I met and married Mr. Thompson here (well...not really here. We got married in Hawaii actually...but this is where we met so that counts for something, right?). He's originally from Texas and we'll push on as soon as we can sell our house, which probably won't be anytime soon with housing prices... so I'll go ahead and get my skis waxed and ready for another year of the greatest snow on earth.
What is my blog about? It started to be about infertility and infant loss...and turned into something else. What exactly that "something else" is, I can't really say. Sometimes it's about the crazy experiences of disaster relief work and non-profit management. Sometimes it's about the humor of an infertility clinic. Sometimes it's about being a professional woman who chose not getting married until her 30s and can not cook worth a darn - (gasp, shock, awe!) not norms in my family! Sometimes it's about the cycle of grief. Sometimes it's about finding my way as a semi-new Step Mom (a word I hate by the way!). Sometimes it's a bit political because, well....I'm a bit political. Sometimes it's more about chocolate and less about veggies. Sometimes it's about how much I love my husband despite the fact that I occasionally put a pillow over his head at night. Sometimes it's about the things that humor me, bug me, make me laugh and make me cry. Sometimes it's about a beloved little brother that just went off to be a Marine. Sometimes it's about the quirky little nuances of every day living. Always, it's about my journey to "Viva la Vida!" (live life).
Luckily, that's a journey I get to take with you.
(oh yeah - and I love comments and followers... so grab some chocolate and please indulge.)
Friday, August 6, 2010
The year: 2005
The location: Hate to say it...but it was the South. Louisiana to be more exact.
The situation: aftermath of Hurricane Katrina
My state of mind: extremely tired...dirty...and hungry for something other than an MRE
After about three weeks of being stuck in Hell (New Orleans - and I mean that literally not figuratively since I was deployed there before the hurricane hit)...another relief worker and I hitched a ride with a cop north (towards Baton Rouge) in search of a shower.
There we were - two women and a cop- who were tired of wading in dirty water by day while sleeping with a bunch of other people in jail cells at night. At the first chance we could get we went in search of water beyond the gallon jug we would occasionally steal for a sponge bath. Water was at a premium so you can bet when the roads opened up and we had some "free" time we were headed north to drill wells if we had to.
So there we are...finally breaking out of the war. The cop thought it would be a good idea to try the truck stop towards Baton Rouge- he heard they might have power. They didn't...but as we kindly inquired about showers...a couple of decent looking guys overheard. (by decent I mean they looked clean). They showed us some all American appreciation and offered to let us come to their house because as luck would have it...they had power AND water!
We quickly accepted the invitation and looked toward the cop for safety. He was just as desperate as we were.
So off we went.
Into the back country of Louisiana. The bayou to be exact. Strangely, this didn't seem odd. We were desperate - so it felt perfectly normal to take two strangers up on their offer for a free (warm) shower. Trust me - we had already lived through hell so showering in a strange house wasn't even on the "this should be weird and could be unsafe" radar.
We followed them off the beaten path but finally arrived at our location.
First clue we missed: The swastika tattoo.
Second clue we missed: The confederate flag hanging in the window.
First clue they missed: My friend Pam's name badge which had her Spanish last name clearly printed on it.
So there we were...and there they were....and in basic getting-to-know-you conversation as we entered their house they inquired about the problems we were having in New Orleans. They had seen on TV that we were having problems with "those blacks". Our friend, the cop, chuckled and replied that in fact, yes....we'd been having problems with the blacks, the whites, the greens and the purples...and everyone else that didn't make it out of New Orleans during the evacuation.
At that point things turned serious because they didn't get his joke - only his affirmative reply. So....they offered the support of "The Klan". I believe the exact words spoken were "don't you worry - The Klan is alive and well in Louisiana. If you need our help all you have to do is ask."
Pretty bold in my opinion, considering that they were talking to a clearly marked policeman (who happens to be best friends with another African American policeman) and the clearly marked Red Cross (who doesn't believe in such nonsense). But the discussion was had between both parties like it was no big deal.
Except that it was. I was shocked into silence, Pam was making small talk while her hand was covering her name badge...and our law enforcement chum was slowly backing us out of the house in polite conversation about white pride.
We left without our showers.
And there you have it....my first (and only) encounter with the Klu Klux Klan.
I guess I'm what Dr. Phil would call a "right fighter". Only it's not about being "right", per se. Rather, it's about being fair and always doing the right thing.
No. Matter. What.
Which is why I always had plans to get my law degree and have always tried to be a gracious and kind human being.
Anyway...I digress. If you read my post earlier this morning you'll see that it disappeared (sorry Karen - it was a great comment and I appreciate the advice). I took it off because I need to bite my tongue when it comes to Mr. Thompson's ex-mrs and the way she spreads hate and manipulates the system and her own child.
So that's what I'm doing today. All day.....
Biting my tongue.
But just for the record, I still think that divorced dads get a really bad rap. Mr. Thompson would be in jail if he just decided to take 12 hours of visitation instead of 4. Our license plate would be on every electronic freeway sign from here until Las Vegas if he didn't care if he was an hour late for drop off time (without communication). He would be without a child if he was more concerned with getting back at his ex-spouse through the child... instead of doing what is needed for a healthy and happy child.
Which I obviously have a hard time with because Lil' A doesn't get a say in this.
I hate stupid people and I hate stupidity. The only thing worse in my opinion, is mean people and their meanness...which is something I have to deal with on a regular basis.
I'm think I'm going to add yoga to my list because going to my room to poke pins in a red haired doll is no longer an option.
(I guess I didn't do very well at biting my tongue, did I...?)
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
From the top.
..and when the pool was evacuated because it became a "pooh hole"...I was so glad that I wasn't the lifeguard who had to sweep it out with a net. And I quote the 16 year old who came over the PA system, "Please evacuate the shallow end of the pool. Please evaculat the shallow end of the pool! There are feces in the shallow end. I repeat - there are feces in the shallow end of the pool. Uhhhh...not good! That is not good."
I had a flashback to 1992 when I was at the other end of the net fishing out the "debris". That is the moment when being a lifeguard is not so cool.
Oh yes I did that too!
...and can proudly state that I conquered the hydro-tube...only the splash was a lot bigger (closer to a tidal wave) and my face wasn't one of joy. Rather, it was one of pain because my swimming suit become a thong and tried to choke me.
Yes... I even did that!
...and the only difference between me and the guy in white was that I was a little less graceful with my free fall. Just ask my 9 year old niece who was on the back of the two-person innertube with me.
As a result...my butt looks like this guy's back.
Not to mention that my $300 Prada glasses didn't make it down the waterfall with me. But we won't talk about that because it makes me mad.
But what's a pair of Prada glasses when a person foolishly decides to go down Niagara Falls in a barrel just for the sake of experiencing something new? With a butt that gets scraped on lava rocks like that...odds are not good that sunglasses will stay intact.
This is going to be a fabulous month!