http://www.discovery.com/tv-shows/shark-week/
Monday, July 6, 2015
Happy Shark Week!
There's something about Shark Week that makes me squee with delight. I find these creatures both fascinating and terrifying. I love watching and learning about them but certainly would prefer not to meet one in real life. In fact, I've seen enough Shark Week to scar me for life. Just like the movie "It" turned me off clowns for life, I'm pretty sure I'll never feel the need to go for a leisurely swim in shark infested waters [i.e. the Ocean...] ....like ever...I swim like a rock anyways...
Embracing 30
My family likes to tease me about my impending thirtieth birthday, and I of course pretend to be horrified. In truth, I'm looking forward to my thirties. I've met all my personal goals for my twenties and I'm feeling pretty good about it. So now I'm thinking I need to set some goals for the next decade.
Here's what I've got so far:
1. To be healthier and fitter than I was during [most] of my twenties. Weight has always been a struggle of mine but I want to be healthy. I want to set a good example for my kids and I want to be around for them as long as possible.
2. To complete our little family with one more baby.
3. To be completely debt free by 40 [except maybe the mortgage, but definitely take big steps toward paying it off ASAP.]
4. A family trip to Disneyland! Probably during my later thirties so that kids are old enough to have some fun and remember the trip.
5. To continue to train and take as many firearms courses as possible. Maybe even [when kids aren't so little] participate in USPSA courses and shooting Tyro. To learn other methods of self protection, and maybe even take steps toward being able to teach such classes/train other women.
6. Have more fun adventures in general! Kayak! Hike! Camp! See new things!
That's all I have for now, but it feels like a great start!
Here's what I've got so far:
1. To be healthier and fitter than I was during [most] of my twenties. Weight has always been a struggle of mine but I want to be healthy. I want to set a good example for my kids and I want to be around for them as long as possible.
2. To complete our little family with one more baby.
3. To be completely debt free by 40 [except maybe the mortgage, but definitely take big steps toward paying it off ASAP.]
4. A family trip to Disneyland! Probably during my later thirties so that kids are old enough to have some fun and remember the trip.
5. To continue to train and take as many firearms courses as possible. Maybe even [when kids aren't so little] participate in USPSA courses and shooting Tyro. To learn other methods of self protection, and maybe even take steps toward being able to teach such classes/train other women.
6. Have more fun adventures in general! Kayak! Hike! Camp! See new things!
That's all I have for now, but it feels like a great start!
Sunday, April 5, 2015
The Loss of a Baby
It's been nearly a year since my sister lost her full term baby girl. She went in for a check up with her O.B. on her "due date" and everything was fine. Baby was moving, had a strong heartbeat, everyone was happy. This was on a Wednesday. On Friday evening her water broke and she started having contractions. She called her O.B. and he told her she could either come in or wait for things to progress. Saturday morning she decided it was time to go in, although her labor wasn't seeming to progress much. They started the process of getting her all set up and hooked up to the machines when the quickly discovered that the baby had no heartbeat.
I'd like to say that I can't imagine what she must have thought or felt in these moments, but at the time I had a beautiful, healthy, eight month old infant. The memory of being in the hospital, the anticipation and anxiety, the memory of giving birth and all it entailed was still very fresh in my mind. I've never had to go through what she did, but I was able to imagine it quite well. It is, after all, all pregnant mothers' deepest fear. It's almost primal and it begins early.
In no way am I trying to compare my grief with hers. My point in writing this is that there was grief and sadness and pain for all of us. People who never met her were praying for her and wept for her. When things like this happen the story spreads and it touches more people than you could ever know. The first time I saw her after it happened I broke down telling her how upset everyone's been and she seemed almost surprised. She told me she never really thought about how it would effect everyone else. And why would she? She'd just lost HER BABY. I can't think of anything more life shattering.
My little boy got a lot of extra loves and snuggles that weekend. I held him and cried. My brother tracked us down to do the same. All I could think about was all the things my sister would miss out on with this baby. The milestones. No matter how many babies she goes on to have it will always be there. What would she have looked like? What would her cry or laugh sounded like? What would her interests have been? What would she have done with her life?
I sort of quietly avoided my sister for a bit following all of this. I didn't know if seeing my son would help or upset her more. Thankfully she knows me well enough that she made a point to tell me NOT to do this. She wanted to see him. She wasn't sure either how it would make her feel but she didn't want to miss out. In the beginning sometimes she would be holding him or visiting and would have to just leave. Mostly though, I think seeing him and playing with him helps her somehow. Even her reclusive boyfriend makes a real effort to play with him a bit every time they see him.
There was an autopsy but maddeningly enough they were unable to determine a cause of death, which is not uncommon in stillbirths. It's hard not to get sucked down the rabbit hole of "what if's." It accomplishes nothing so why go there?
We all tried to be there for my sister in our own clumsy, loving ways. But truly, what helps? Saying "I'm sorry" isn't nearly profound enough. "Being there" only goes so far. I think what does help is remembering her. She deserves to be remembered. Her name was Aurora. She had caramel brown hair, chubby cheeks and my sisters lips. My sister's step-father had the presence of mind to take some nice pictures. It may sound gruesome or morbid, but it's not. It's nice for them to be able to see her tiny face now and then. Just as it was nice for them to be able to hold her for a while before she was taken away. There is actually a charity called "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" that has volunteer photographers do this (except for Sundays apparently.)
They're planning on trying again soon for another baby. I'd be terrified. I AM terrified. I admire her for that kind of bravery.
I'd like to say that I can't imagine what she must have thought or felt in these moments, but at the time I had a beautiful, healthy, eight month old infant. The memory of being in the hospital, the anticipation and anxiety, the memory of giving birth and all it entailed was still very fresh in my mind. I've never had to go through what she did, but I was able to imagine it quite well. It is, after all, all pregnant mothers' deepest fear. It's almost primal and it begins early.
In no way am I trying to compare my grief with hers. My point in writing this is that there was grief and sadness and pain for all of us. People who never met her were praying for her and wept for her. When things like this happen the story spreads and it touches more people than you could ever know. The first time I saw her after it happened I broke down telling her how upset everyone's been and she seemed almost surprised. She told me she never really thought about how it would effect everyone else. And why would she? She'd just lost HER BABY. I can't think of anything more life shattering.
My little boy got a lot of extra loves and snuggles that weekend. I held him and cried. My brother tracked us down to do the same. All I could think about was all the things my sister would miss out on with this baby. The milestones. No matter how many babies she goes on to have it will always be there. What would she have looked like? What would her cry or laugh sounded like? What would her interests have been? What would she have done with her life?
I sort of quietly avoided my sister for a bit following all of this. I didn't know if seeing my son would help or upset her more. Thankfully she knows me well enough that she made a point to tell me NOT to do this. She wanted to see him. She wasn't sure either how it would make her feel but she didn't want to miss out. In the beginning sometimes she would be holding him or visiting and would have to just leave. Mostly though, I think seeing him and playing with him helps her somehow. Even her reclusive boyfriend makes a real effort to play with him a bit every time they see him.
There was an autopsy but maddeningly enough they were unable to determine a cause of death, which is not uncommon in stillbirths. It's hard not to get sucked down the rabbit hole of "what if's." It accomplishes nothing so why go there?
We all tried to be there for my sister in our own clumsy, loving ways. But truly, what helps? Saying "I'm sorry" isn't nearly profound enough. "Being there" only goes so far. I think what does help is remembering her. She deserves to be remembered. Her name was Aurora. She had caramel brown hair, chubby cheeks and my sisters lips. My sister's step-father had the presence of mind to take some nice pictures. It may sound gruesome or morbid, but it's not. It's nice for them to be able to see her tiny face now and then. Just as it was nice for them to be able to hold her for a while before she was taken away. There is actually a charity called "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" that has volunteer photographers do this (except for Sundays apparently.)
They're planning on trying again soon for another baby. I'd be terrified. I AM terrified. I admire her for that kind of bravery.
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