Thursday, December 15, 2011

There has been a lot of talk lately

My biggest number one fear is being the only one who remembers my DD. It will be 6 years, come this spring. I went in on March 30th for my induction, and she was born at 12:18 (which is military time is 018, and had been my husband's jet number in the Air Force) on April 1st. No one thought it would take almost a full 3 days to deliver, it was like my body didn't want to let her go. To this day I feel like it is my fault some how, why couldn't I make her healthy? Why couldn't I protect her? When I felt the pressure to push, I remember with startling clarity, crying that if I could just keep her inside, she would be ok, that some how I could fix her. Please, please don't be born at 21 weeks, I can make you healthy if you just stay put. Please don't be born yet. Please my baby, please God let her be ok. Then they offered to let me hold her. My first thought, and please forgive me, was "I don't want to think my baby is ugly. What kind of mother would I be? Already I couldn't save her, and now I think she is ugly." At the last minute I changed my mind and I held her. She was perfect. They had her wrapped just so her face was visible. My Sara, I am so sorry, you are beautiful.

I still cry for her, especially around her birthday, and this time of year. This year it is worse because of what poor Michelle Duggar is going through. She lost her daughter Jubilee Shalom. And the rabid dogs are attacking them. They are getting judged for the name of the baby, for how they chose to memorialize her, for this being their 21st child. That some how they deserve this for having so many. It makes me sick that people are saying these things. How dare you people? Some of you are mothers, and I use that term LOOSELY. You veil your insults, you say things like "I am not judging but..."

Yes they have put their lives into the public eye, and public figures are judged. But is there nothing that is off limits? Shame on you who judge.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

March Madness

I hate this time of year.

Not because of the basketball, which I used to love. But because of the memories I have associated with the end of March. George Mason was playing Wichita State the Friday night before we found out there was a problem. George Mason was playing UConn the day after we found out something wasn't right. George Mason lost to Florida, the day we said goodbye.

I can't hear them talk about the brackets without a lump coming to my throat. I hate that this time of year has been ruined for me. It should be fun and light-hearted I can't help it.

It has been five years. FIVE years. For the most part it is an old pain, but this time of year the pain becomes raw, almost new again.

I can't remember where I read it, but the pain of losing a child is like a cut. Eventually a scab heals over the cut, but then something happens and the cut re-opens and bleeds like it is a fresh wound. Even if the cut heals you are left with a scar, even if it doesn't hurt, you will never forget that pain.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Are You There God? It's me Rosalie

I have been a believer most of my life. A questioner, but always a believer.

Recently though, I have had the strong desire to find God. I don't want organized religion. Those scare me. Actually they don't, I just have a problem with most of them. I wish I could find a church, I really do. I have no trouble repenting most of my sins, most of the sins I have committed I am sorry for. However my biggest sin, I do not regret, and would do again if presented the same outcomes.

I went to the bookstore today to try and find a book that might help me answer some of my questions. But I don't even know where to start. I want God in my life, I think it might fill a void. I don't think God can fix all my problems, but it may help fill a void that is there.

I don't expect any quick fixes, but something.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Days Gone By

When I was younger my family and I watched a ton of nature shows. It was something we did, usually on Sunday nights.

Right now Banana is sitting on the arm of the recliner eating a cracker narrating a show (in her own words) about brown bears. Evidently big bears hate little bears. She also wants to know where Zaboo is. (The show is being narrated by the Kratt brothers, from Zaboomafoo).

TQ1 is drinking a glass of wine, Big Man is laying on the couch and Little Man is sitting on the floor coloring.

I don't think family time gets much better than this.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


This is a picture of the lifeguard shack at my beach. I call it my beach because I have a deep rooted connection to it.

Have you ever had a place where you could go and you REALLY feel like you are coming home? That you get "power" from? Whenever I think about my beach and it's town I get a very relaxed and settled feeling. If I go away for too long I get antsy. I need this town and it's beach.

It is a four hour drive. Once we hit the Bay Bridge I feel myself getting lighter and happier. As we drive through Cambridge I feel even better. By the time we hit Salisbury I am practically crawling out of my skin. Upon arriving at the intersection that is T's Corner I am vibrating. As we drive through Wallops Island I can feel the weight lifting. As we drive over the causeway I can see it. My town, I can breathe.

I come to this town when I need lifting. The Friday after Sara passed away, we met my parents at my dad's work and made the 4 hour drive. We spent a slightly rainy Saturday just being. It was my husband's first time there. It was a little bittersweet. But despite the pain I was in I felt BETTER.

Instead of taking a 5 hour trip home after my friend's wedding, I opted for the 7 hour trip to go to my beach.

I left at the very beginning of October, and I am getting twitchy. I need to go back. I am counting down the days until we go back. We are debating about either leaving Friday October 1st after my husband gets off work, or BRIGHT and early (5 am) Saturday October 2nd. Realistically it would take us less time if we leave on Saturday. No rush hour traffic. We could be there in 3.5 hours. If we leave Friday night it very likely could take 6 hours.

Choices, choices....

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Random Thoughts

Tomorrow is Father's Day.

Our family's first Father's Day as a difficult one. I was still mourning the loss of one child, and newly pregnant with the next.

There is a sub-board on the bulletin board I post on devoted to girls with Turner's Syndrome. I look at those pretty girls and I can't help but be sad. Why did our little girl have to have ALL the fatal complications associated with Turner's? Did she deserve the chance to live and have a happy life? I know I say "If we hadn't lost Sara I wouldn't have Mariana". Well while this coping method works for the most part, it doesn't make moments like now any easier. I want to know why my baby had to be sick, why did she have to get taken away. But I know I will never know the answer to this question.

Part of this is the guilt over inducing early. But in the long run I know it was the right choice. That doesn't mean I don't struggle with it.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

The Great Bird Adventure

Well yesterday morning started out as any other. I made the kids breakfast, and was drinking my coffee when I hear a "scritch scritch". It sounded like the noise my cat used to make when she would scratch her claws down the wall. We don't have a cat anymore.

My first thought is, "Ok my neighbors cat is scratching on the wall." Our apartment has WEIRD acoustics, you can hear the kid next door playing with a door stopper, but not hear their music. So I get up to investigate. It is not coming from that neighbor, so I go into our laundry room figuring it is the other neighbor's cat. I hear it again. This time it is very obviously in the wall behind the dryer. The wall we share with no other apartment.

My immediate reaction is OMG A RAT IS BEHIND MY DRYER. Why I jumped to rat, I can't tell you BUT with my luck that is what it would have been. So I round the kids up and stick them in their bedroom, if I am going to battle a rat, I don't want help.

Then it occurs to me I live in an apartment. I PAY for the pest removal. I call the office and the conversation goes like this.

"This is Tara, how can I help you?"
"A rat are you sure? Did you see it?"
"Well something is making ratty noises..."
"Is it behind your dryer?"
"Wow yeah how did you know?" This woman is clearly psychic.
"It is a bird."
"What? A bird that is IN MY DRYER?!" I am not yelling at her, but the panic is evident in my voice.
"Yeah for some reason they don't put vent guards on the first floor units. It happens a lot. We'll send someone out."
"Awesome thanks."

This was about 930 yesterday morning. I deal with the tweet tweet scratch scratch, until 100, when I call to ask if someone is really coming out. They assure me that yes someone will be there.

By 600 pm I have given up hope. But they are quiet so I can deal with it. Big Man gets home, he looks behind the dryer and sees nothing.

At 830 or so they start chirping again. Then I being to wonder if they built a nest. Oh poor mama bird is going to lose her nest, and OMG what if there are eggs in there. I start to feel really bad about evicting them.


Our apartment is not huge, but it is big enough, but I am a painfully light sleeper. So I am UP. All sympathy I had last night is GONE.

I go into the living room and watch Bones. I am in the 3rd Season which is one of my favorites.


OK seriously enough is enough. I go into the laundry room figuring I'll turn on the dryer for a minute and that will shut them up. Then I see movement in the silver snake looking thing behind the dryer.

AH HA! I go wake Big Man by shaking him and saying "THE BIRD IS IN THE HOUSE THE BIRD IS IN THE HOUSE" I am yelling this time. He jumps up and looks like I told him the house was on fire. He thinks he has over slept because I am wide awake and Banana is awake too.

I reassure him that he actually doesn't have to be up for another 20 minutes so he can remove the bird.

He moves the dryer and unhooks one end of the silver snake, I hold a towel over it. He unhooks the other end and the bird tumbles out. He throws the towel on it and I am yelling at him "BE CAREFUL! DON'T HURT THE LITTLE BIRD." He gives me a look as he picks it up and I go to open the door for him. He gently sets the bird down and it doesn't move. I am sad because I think we have killed it.

As I am outside saying a little prayer for my early morning companion, my daughter shuts the door. I hear THROUGH the closed door "OH FUDGE" Of course it is the 4 letter version.

I come back inside in time to see a black missile headed straight for our window. I throw open the back door and it flies away.

My heart is in my throat. I DO NOT LIKE BIRDS.

I go into the laundry room where Big Man is as white as a sheet reassembling our dryer. I ask him if he can please put the little bird out of it's misery in case it is not dead, and if he can remove the body. I don't my kids knowing the circle of life just yet. (We have lots of stray cats in this neighborhood).

When we go back outside to find the bird, it is gone. We think it was just stunned, because there were no tell tale feathers.

So here I sit 24 hours later waiting for the maintenance men to come snake our vent to make sure there are no other surprises.