Mrs. Hall

Good, even better

2012-01-18T12:48:00.003-06:00

Good is eating cottage cheese right from the container with a smaller spoon. It's daintier that way.

Even better is waking up from a wacky dream. A dream where I am puddling along atop a tractor. Much to my suprise, I start to sink into the seat. Now, I am the tractor driving mostly straight, In too short of a time, I wake absolutely roasting hot. Swept downstairs all sweaty seeking oasis. In the end, I'm in the kitchen, gently chugging chilly milk right from the jug.

Ahhh!

Tasty!

Irony . . . oh sweet I RON KNEE

2012-01-14T22:41:00.004-06:00

I was annoyed at the kids because they wouldn't hurry up for 6.00 pm church on Saturday night because they normally don't go to church on Saturday night. I was all, get yer shoes on, get your shoes on and on and on AND OH MY GAW!!! Why do I have to repeat myself sixteen million times to get them to do the most simplest things?

This is a daily, no multiple daily event. The repeating. Kids just don't have a sense of urgency. They feel NO need to stop the potty jokes and giggles long enough to get ready. So, I repeat. GAH. Sometimes I really wonder what people without kids do with all their brain power. With their free time and extra income. I bet they travel to Europe. Paris even. I'm a little jealous. I wanna European vacation.

So I start to get huffy and stuff. They get their shoes on but they won't zip their coats. GAH. But, it get done because we can't go to church on Sunday this week. Because I have a special yoga class on Sunday. A workshop even. It's called:

"Yoga for Fertility Workshop"

Guess my European vacation will have to be a virtual one for a while :P

OH irony. OH SWEET I RON KNEE!!

the importance of projects

2012-01-12T14:20:00.003-06:00

I am, by default and design, a lazy individual. I need projects. And side projects. Otherwise I grind to a frickin' halt.

This is what I'm thinking about today. This being a snowy day when patients are not showing up and I have no back up projects. I didn't bring my book or needle point. And this blog is falling off too.

I blame the latter on God. Now that my faith is growing stronger, all this stuff I use to write about isn't there to write about. I don't really struggle with internal demons, anxieties or social mores. I blog about my kids but I also facebook about them. So a lot of content is shifted to there.

OK

SO

Then, my mind has nothing to focus on. Nothing to obsess over. I mean, sure, I could look up how soon I can test for pregnancy again but that's no fun. I've made the unilateral decision to place that in God's hands. Not the pregnancy test, but the pregnancy. I don't have to test anything. My body will let me know if I'm pregnant.

Then, I start thinking about the foster care classes. That will be every Tuesday x 10 weeks starting in a few weeks but even those are just part of a process. A process that takes 3-4 months which is nothing to talk about. I mean, again, this is in God's hands. We are letting it all happen. We welcome the gifts He is about to give us.

Then, well, that's about it.

If I come up with anything new or get knocked up I'll let you know.

Meanwhile, maybe I'll slide into random thoughts. Those are good. Maybe I'll try of series like that :)

I onced shoved Mr. Hall in an art museum

2012-01-07T07:00:00.001-06:00

Mr. Hall will be going to the same museum tomorrow. Let's hope there is less violence.

When we were dating, I shoved Mr. Hall in an art museum.

It was the post modern wing.

Mr. Hall has absolutely no patience for post-modern art.

It riles him. He feels this type of art is a scam. A waste. That it means nothing. Well, it means the buyer is a fool.

He said this as we walked through the post modern wing. Walking through the art installations.

I did my best to educate him on the theories and concepts behind post modern art. How the artists challenge themselves to reinvent what art through different mediums, different arrangements of objects. This way, art can be found anywhere and everywhere. They challenge all of us to define what art is. Or what it can be made of. I say this like a tourguide. All chipper, smiley and earnest.

That's just crap he says.

This goes on for some half an hour.

I try explaining it again. We both view a large painted canvas. It is solid yellow with the word commerce in green block letters.

Ya know what that says, he says to me, that says SUCKER!

I begin to bite my tongue. After all, I am not a fan of post modern art. In fact, I believe that it's better as a concept than a reality. I believe that post modern art fails to make the artist work at developing their ideas and honing their craft. It fails to challenge their creativity. It fails as art too. It is not art.

Yet, I am upset that Mr. Hall is not listening to me. Not even considering other ideas beyond his own. Even though I don't agree with post modern art, I appreciate that someone went to the trouble of giving it a go.

The final straw was two large squares of sheet metal, suspended from the ceiling, painted solid red. They are hung askew, tilted to the right.

He sees this and smoke comes out of his ears. THIS IS CRAP!! THAT IS JUST SHEET METAL HANGING FROM THE CEILING!!

I see the humor in his frothiness. I try to playfully push him, in a cute girlfriend kind of way.

I end up hauling off and shoving him. I really shoved him hard and from behind, with both hands even. I knock him off balance.

I was caught off guard by this. Such violence is not me. But I like it. I am very pissed off at this point. I mean, can't he just expand his mind a little? I'm all steamed.

So I attempt to shove him again. Only this time, he grabs my wrists.

My husband has an excellent kinesthetic use of his own power. He was deft with his defense.

We both stopped. Realized how ridiculous this was. Laughed a little. It was odd. And never repeated.

But even now, some eight years later, I am still perturbed. He had such ire over post modern art. Still does. And really, I agree with him.

I'm still mad though. Not sure why. But, either way, post modern art is pretty much crap.

I leave you, as I began, with a contrast between Norman Rockwell and Jackson Pollock.

Guess which I am a fan of.

The Connoisseur by Norman Rockwell circa 1962

Have a good weekend.

And try not to get into any art related fights. Unless it's body painting, then, by all means-have a go ;)

Family love, day three and three quarters

2012-01-04T15:35:00.005-06:00

I had a statue of an Indian woman in my house for years and year. Indian as in Hindu/Buddha type woman. It was a leftover from my love affair with Buddhism. This love affiar is now a sweet remembrance and not a present part of my life. Don't get me wrong, I love a chubby Budda as much as the next one. Asian philosophy is a kind and wonderful way to think about life. But, it's not my religion.

I fall under the category of garden variety Christian. I co-lead a women's bible study group. Within that group are women that run more fundamental than I. Fundamental meaning they don't watch R rated movies, drink alcohol or read books like Lord of the Rings. They're kind of like nuns. Only they're married with kids, just like me.

These women I study with, they've been with me through my miscarriages. There has been some movement about this in terms of healing. Mr. Hall and I have started to talk about miscarriages like it really happened. We lost real babies. Complete with names.

SO, here we go.

The first baby we lost lived six weeks in my belly. I didn't really have a name picked out, but we've named him John.

The second baby we lost may or may not have been real. I only had a pregnancy test and my left over HCG (that's the hormone that makes the pregnancy test turn positive) may have been left over from John.

The third baby was already named. I called her Chloe. She made me super sick during the 16 weeks I had her in my belly. Even when her soul went to heaven (at 11 weeks) my body was still trying to take care of hers. My placenta was still pumping out hormones and nutrients. I feel enormously happy about this. Even after she was physically taken from my womb, my body started producing milk to feed her. I am happy about this too.

And we still love them. John and Chloe. They are as real to us as Pancake and Mac. And we have our faith. I lean on this and wow is that healing! Some days the pain of all this knocks me down and consumes me. Some days I feel such joy that I had them even if it was a few weeks. On those days I really feel I'll see them again. God didn't take them from me, I'll see them in heaven. I can feel this on days I let God in to heal me.

Which brings us to now. Mr. Hall and I are without barriers to pregnancy. No more birth control. We've surrendered our will to God and are letting Him work through this, through us. And naturally I turn to my Christian sisters. Even the fundamentalist ones because they love me and support me in awesome ways.

One thing they did say was to rid my house of false idols. Which sounds silly. But, we already love the baby that will come next. And it's best to care for her every way possible.

So, I gave away my Indian woman sculpture in the name of family love :)

Seven Days of Family Love, day two-ish

2011-12-31T10:29:00.005-06:00

I've had an entire week, here at the House of Hall. Complete with my son, daughter and husband. We've kept our schedule light and breezy. Plenty of time for my kids to spend hours in their own little playworld. They create entire scenarios with their dragons, reptiles and assorted lego figurines. For hours and hours they'll play. Their dynamic works quite well, my daughter is a leader and my son follows. They love each other so much.

This summer they were in two weddings. Each time a flower girl and a ring bearer. It was awesome. Especially during the receptions. My son is a chick magnet and worked the room. Pulling reluctant party goers from their tables. Dancing up a storm with lots of middle aged ladies. When the song was over he'd tell them, "I'll call you!" (No really, he did. Daddy told him to say that! :)

My daughter danced too. Swaying in her pretty dress, all silly with family love. I held her and we swayed together. My kids danced together too. It was wonderful, each of those weddings.

Given that, imagine my surprise to hear them playing a game called 'divorce' during one of their marathon playing sessions. In their pretend world, two of their plushy dragons had had a fight. My son was beside himself about it all. He didn't like that game one bit!

I went upstairs to check on things. See if I could help the dragons get back together. However, by the time I got up there, the dragons had reconciled. "They're back together Mommy," my daughter explained, "The fight is over." My son was much relieved by this. He wiped his tears and hugged his sister.

"I don't wanna be divorced.", he said. "I always wanna be married to Pancake!"

Which means during those weddings, he thought he was getting married too. :)

Seven days of family love, day one

2011-12-26T20:22:00.004-06:00

Pancake and her Daddy were making Lego castles today. Her little brother was down for a nap. I was about to go up for a nap when the phone rang. It was an automated message informing us that one of the school teachers had passed away. We didn't recognize his name because he wasn't Pancake's teacher. I asked her if she knew what had happened. "He got sick, in his brain.", she said.

Then her Daddy asked her, "So, what are your feelings on the matter?" I loved the way he asked it. He was asking her opinion on the matter, the pros and the cons. Maybe brainstorm ideas on how to handle the sad of the situation. It was loving, thorough and efficient. Which explains a lot of Mr. Hall.

Then we asked Pancake about the teacher. Again, she didn't really know him. She described him though, she said, "He had blond hair and he was big. Not as big as you Daddy, but close."

Daddies are huge. So is their love :)

My thoughts on Newt Gingrich

2011-12-20T12:50:00.007-06:00

You'll have to excuse this very watered down version of what could have been a very well researched and informative post.

I know of Newt Gingrich, by various news outlets. I had watched an A&E's biography on Newt, way back in the day. He became speaker of the house because of the power attached to that position. And in fact, that made sense. We live in a country ruled not by a dictator, but by a majority.

Next, I remember him resigning. Can't remember about what, but he's kind of a jerk so he probably deserved it.

Then, I remember reading a 7 page article from his former wife in Esquire magazine. See now, this is why I'm not a good political debater. I don't care about politics, I care about the stories of people. I love autobiographies, memoirs, blogs . . .

I remember his x-wife talking of how he would call her 6-7 times a day. How magnetic he was. How he spoke of high ideals and lofty goals. How he was largely missing such things in his personal life. I think he served his x-wife with divorce papers while she was in the hospital. While she was getting treatment for cancer no less. YEP. He's kind of missing some moral fiber. He's all clogged with gluttony and greed. Seems he's using high minded talk and using the buzz words of Christianity to fulfill those needs.

This doesn't really bother me though. What bothers me is that he is the face of white Christian man in power. And while I'm not one to judge (SHUT UP I AM NOT!) I really feel he needs to focus more on getting right with God then seeking office. Plus, he's saying some boneheaded things lately. This is where people get there ideas about Christians.

Look. We Christians are not a perfect people. I am perfectly capable of doing bad, selfish, mean and ugly things to my fellow man. I'm not proud of this, but I need to fess up and ask forgiveness now and again. I really, really, really try to base my actions, to root them if you will, in the ground of God. To do things in His glory.

Which is what my husband and I prayed about last night. We prayed about stopping the birth control. We prayed about our blessings as man and wife, of our children, of all that we have. We prayed that we would be blessed with another baby so we can raise them in His name, according to His word. We prayed that we would be doing all of this in His name.

It was a really good prayer. We've stopped all birth control and are giving it up to God.

THAT BEING SAID.

Wait, let me back up and completely change the subject first.

After we lost the last baby I disconnected myself from all the websites I use to go to. I stopped my account at babycenter dot com, etc. AND as I said in my last post. I won't be going to them anymore. God doesn't want me to be all hunched over, scouring websites for information. Spending hours in doctor's offices. God wants me to be happy.

Then, THAT BEING SAID.

Today, I went to the mail box and what did I spy with my little eye? A free sample of baby formula. Just like the one pictured above. Again, random free samples of baby stuff stopped when I disconnected myself from all those websites.

So why now? Why a bucket of powdered hope?

Because God loves me. He loves us! He loves all of us.

I realize breast is best but!!!

I totally believe it's a sign!

:)

WOOT!

getting my hopes up

2011-12-15T14:45:00.005-06:00

I've been neglecting yon blog as of late. I just don't have much to say. My real life has picked up, which is nice.

The foster parent journey continues on. Met with the social worker and she had me explain myself for about 45 minutes. Kinda like a free therapy session really. It's been a while that someone new wanted to know every last detail about me. Of course, she's interested in me as future foster mom for the foster kids in her charge. But still, it's nice to be asked.

Then . . .

We got the bill from our recent adventures in birth control. Thank GOODNESS AND GOD ABOVE we have insurance. Seriously, the entire bill was about a 1000 dollars and we paided about 20% of that. That's right. Co-pay of about 2 hundo!

Holy CHIT!

THEN . . .

There are talks. Husband and wifely talks. Of craziness . . of the last six months post miscarriage. Of body, mind, soul and God. Of what if we . . . . wait . .

what if we . . .

try again?

What if we let go of the birth control? What if we don't try to prevent a pregnancy.

This (of course) unleashes yards and yards of crazy inside. It was good crazy though. Healing crazy. Soothing tears and hugs and what if's that make me us happy.

So we discussed all of this for long amounts of time. Months go by. We revisit. We think and pray and think and pray and hold each other. And wow. It's crazy and calm now.

SO . . . .

even before the check clears from our co-pay, we'll be trying again. Which wow, really? Now we have to tell the social worker we still want to sign up for a foster care liscense but- we can only do respite care for other parents for now. I feel really bad about this part. I didn't realize what I was feeling as I felt it and I didn't realize my husband was still feeling his feelings and OH MY GOODNESS.

Then the craziness starts in a whole different way. I've been through five pregnancies, two live births and three miscarriages. Yet, during the last lady part exam, I was told I was healthy and awesome. Well, not awesome per se, but healthy at least.

Then----well, NOW actually--my task is to figure out how to negiogiate this. How do I get pregnant again? I realize how, but how do i deal with my crazy? I can say that I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE ANOTHER OB GYN AGAIN FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. I DON'T WANT ANY STUPID TESTS OR PEOPLE TOUCHING MY JUNK. I DON'T WANT TO BE TOLD I HAVE TO TAKE EXTRA STUFF TO KEEP MY PREGNANCY HEALTHY AND I'M NOT GOING TO STOP DOING YOGA.

Of the list above, I think I can avoid OB GYN care until maybe the 20th week. Then I don't have to see them until the birth. And nobody has to touch my stuff. I can say no.

Mr. Hall and I will be employing a doula (kinda like a midwife) because I want my care to be from someone who doesn't triple book me into a 10 minute time slot.

And last but not least, I'll turn towards God during all of this.

Because God wants me to be happy, happy with my bible studies, happy with my church family, happy in His word. Happy with my children and blessings and happy happy happy. God designed women to be fruitful and let His blessings grow. I can get pregnant, grow a beautiful baby and birth them. He has given me two before. Miracles can happen, they've happened to us! This is how I'm dealing with. I'm choosing to be happy!

He doesn't want me to be in some doctor's office, chewing my nails and looking baleful. So, I won't!!

So, let's raise a glass shall we?

Here's to getting my hopes up!

Someday, this will be normal

2011-12-07T15:02:00.003-06:00

That's a nice photo isn't it? It's Sgt. Hall and the wee Mac. He's now retired from the Air National Guard. He is home all the time now, which is a new normal. Which means I'm free to never again schedule our lives around guard drill weekends, two week guard excursions or tours in Iraq. It's a nice, new normal. Awesome even.

Also, health wise, things are getting back to normal. I've been stalling in fits and starts with my new healthiness. Losing and gaining the same 10 lbs over and over again. I made an appt with a dietitian and realized that I need to be more responsible. I'm logging my food at sparkpeople.com (it's free) and getting back to reality.

The reality is, is that I have no idea how to eat healthy. It's like building this whole new skill set. I'm learning that my entire diet cannot be centered around lean cuisine meals and diet coke. Learning that I don't have to do things I use to-- but how I use to do things was so normal. And this is how I came to be 172 lbs. I'm now down to 168. I say this on purpose. I don't like saying it , but saying it is one of the ways I can keep accountable.

Oddly enough, the more I keep track of my food, the less I think about it.

It's still kind of weird, not eating my former staples. It's odd not craving sweets or rummaging through the fridge for a late night snack. Also, I don't eat out anymore. That is just sad! Well not sad, just not worth it. There are no restaurants that serve quality choices on the healthy side of the menu. It's all fake sugar and low fat blandness. Nobody can do a decent salad around here without it being bullshit iceberg lettuce and a single sad tomato.

Then there are the social gatherings. I eat a balanced yummy dinner before the pizza parties and potato bar bonanzas. My absolute adoration for diet coke has now faded into a nostalgic murmur. I really like drinking water. I focus on chatting with the others during these gatherings. It makes them more fun really. In fact, I'm having more fun overall. :)

Which is fine.

I give up. I'll eat the earthy bounty before me so that I may enjoy the taste of life. I'll exercise not to get in shape but to thrive in my life. And soon, these habits won't be so strange. Someday, this will be normal. :)

Stuff I don't feel guilty about

2011-11-30T14:48:00.005-06:00

RW did a post about things he doesn't feel guilty about. I don't feel guilty about stealing his idea.

1. Not liking Henry Rollins (who is pictured above)

I was once a fan of his spoken work, quick wit and funny stories. Nowadays, I find him grating. I can't take all the f-bombs and assorted swears. I just can't take it. Plus, I believe there is a time to be a punk ass then there is a time to grow up. To revel in the complexity and beauty of life. And stop saying the f word. He is older than me, he needs to grow up. Until then Mr. Rollins, we'll always have 'Get in the van'.

2. Buying those stupid products from PAMPERED CHEF, AVON, MARY KAY, MICHE BAGS, SCENTY OR ANY OTHER CRAP from my friends who are 'selling it'.

I am a girl. I have friends that are also females. Females think that if they sell things like pampered chef or avon, they will make money. IT DOESN'T WORK LADIES. These types of sales are pyramid schemes. You need to rope people in to be your sales staff and take a cut from their sales to even break even. So no, I won't be supporting that kind of scam. Plus the prices on that stuff is overpriced. I realize they are trying to generate a second income for themselves but just ask for money instead. Be honest with me and maybe I'll help.

And stop inviting me to your 'parties' with these products. A real party is a gathering of friends with wine, cheese and giggles. Where you don't try to sell me anything. :(

3. Saying no to stuff like PTA

I like my life on the lazy side. I will only give so much to extracurricalar activities. I really, really like my family. I like lounging and relaxing with them. I like not having my kids in three sports each. Sure, I co-lead some church groups, work almost full time and work out. But, beyond that, I need time to decompress and have quality, monkey love with the Mister. So no, I'm not volunteering for anything more.

4. My religion

Like any group of people, Christians conjure up a lot of images, thoughts and stereotypes in peoples' heads. These are influenced by the images in the media mostly. The media has a job to emotionally provoke the viewer by showing them images of hate, fear and intolerence. If the media can scare you, or make you mad . . . . you'll watch longer. And thus buy more products. . . It's a fact jack!

So, when people think about Christians, sometimes they think not so nice things. But here, in this cyberspace, let me be a shining example of God's love towards all my brothers and sisters. Let me show what God has done in my life, how rich and awesome His power is.

So there ya go.

Stuff I don't feel guilty about!

What don't YOU feel guilty about?

A wink, nod and a dream

2011-11-28T08:31:00.007-06:00

Mr. Hall and I filled out the 30 or so pages of foster parent paperwork. It was fun actually. We just took a deep breath and filled it out. There were all manner of personal questions, like how was my relationship with my mom. Are you willing to work the birth parents in the reunification process? How is your marriage? Are there any family members who would object to a child of a different race? It's a lot of questions that are hard to answer in two or three sentences.

We try to be as truthful as possible. Like with the last question. I say, "I use to have a racist uncle, but he's passed on now."

Anywho . . .

Went to the doctor to be medically cleared. She thankfully eschewed the lady part exam, for which I'm eternally greatful. I'm tired of people looking at my lady parts. I've had way too much doctor related activity with my junk on account of the miscarriages. I say no more! I want to be back to normal with doctors. I don't want to see them anymore 'cept once a friggin year. Or never again in my life would be good too.

I was pronounced normal. . .

YAY!

Anywho . . .

In addition to the paperwork, interviews and mandatory classes; we've been emotionally preparing ourselves for this foster parent journey. As much as we can anyway.

Which brings me to Thanksgiving. I was holding my new baby nephew and getting annoyed at his Mom because she was all up in my grill. "Hold the baby like this," she says, "Hold the bottle like that! Careful for his head!" GAH!!! I've held babies before ya know!! (I used my inside voice to say this.) I started to get pissy-- but then I remembered. I was the exact same way with my daughter. Nervous, hovering and needing her in my arms at all times. :)

Then, after we got home, I felt a balloon inflate, right in my chest. It hardened to a plastic gallon of milk. It hung there, suspended by an axle and cable system from my ribs. I was just so sad, it hurt to breathe. When I breathed, I started to cry.

I am about three weeks from my now useless due date. I had decorated December 18th on my calendar with a red heart and stickers. I should be round and plump. Whining about how I can't breathe or eat because baby is taking up space.

But I'm not.

Instead, I'm learning how to live with this sadness when it wells up. A good eighty five percent of the time, it's not here. I know it will never go away though. I believe it will ebb and flow for the rest of my life. It consumes me sometimes. That's rare, the consumption. So, I'm learning to feel joy and sadness all at the same time.

I pray with Mr. Hall and try not to swim in the sadness when it comes. I purposefully tell God I am surrendering to His will about all of this.

Becoming a foster parent is a process of letting go. I am scheduling our lives around the paperwork, examinations and classes. We are not in charge of any of this. It's becoming more fun though. The more I let go, the more giggles I produce. ;)

I can say this. We are starting to work with a social worker. OH MY GAH.. I love our social worker. She lets me ask all sorts of questions and has a very pragmatic and kind way about her. Social workers are the best!

And that may be the key to this. Reaching out and leaning on people as much as I can. Which is why I'm writing this. I need to tell the stories about my life. Especially the parts that mean everything to me.

thank you for reading :)

Digging deep and napping hard

2011-11-15T14:18:00.005-06:00

Like most moms, I use to stare at my babies while they napped. I think it's normal, this behavior. New moms tend to be nervous and want to make sure everything is ok, especially when their babies sleep. Hence the staring.

Of course, it didn't occur to me to NAP while my baby daughter napped. I wanted to be awake-just in case she needed me. After my son was born, I learned that I can be in a deep, coma like sleep and still rise up like the dickens at the sound of his cough. I learned napping is ok. It even helps me be less yelly with the kids! It was then my love of naps began in earnest.

Nowadays, both kids are big enough that they don't need naps. My daughter Pancake is nine, my son Mac is four. Sometimes we force the issue with Mac. He can be a crank and spank without proper rest. Sometimes, Mommy needs a nap, so Mac gets one as a bonus.

hee hee hee

Then.

Sometimes, Mac will ask to snuggle and nap with me. Sadly, it almost never works. He just squiggles and whispers to me while I try to sleep. This is the cause 99% of the time.

But sometimes, it works.

It happened yesterday. Mac just passed out in my arms! I was so excited!! Then I started to get twitchy. My legs twitched, my back itched and I felt like I had glass in my veins. I new I had to do something to fix it and fast. Otherwise, I would miss it! Or wake him. Then my chance would be gone.

So I hunkered down and dug deep. I forced myself to breathe deep and relax. Then I slept all intertwined with my little boy. We napped hard.

When I woke up- I just about died from all the nuggle awesomeness!!

One of the best naps EVAH!!

Lots and Lots

2011-11-13T21:31:00.004-06:00

Lots and lots of things have been happening in my life. All of which have made me aware of this: I can't do this alone. For instance, I can't fill out the foster parent application alone. I have bad handwriting and can't spell worth a fudge. However, Mr. Hall can fill it out. His handwriting is aces!

I can't study God's word alone. It's easy to draw your own conclusions when reading the bible. So I read it with groups. That way, not only am I held responsible for actually reading the reading, but I hear what others have to say. How the passage affected them. It's a win win really.

I can't parent alone. Not only is Mr. Hall fully invested and involved with his children, he acts a sort of "Mrs. Hall Whisperer" when I am going off the deep end. Which happens more often than I would like. I am prone to being fearful, overwhelmed and befuddled. Not to mention short sighted. Mr. Hall has the long view, he guides me to better places as a Mom.

I also gather with other Moms. We moms are not meant to mother alone. And while Mr. Hall can guide our family, he can't guide all my mom-ness. If you gather a group of mothers together, with the intent to grow in God's word, it's pretty powerful. I highly recommend it.

I can say this. My emerging faith is like a big experiment for me. I feel like a scientist, testing what will happen if I purposefully reach out and grow my faith with others. In these groups, I feel my faith grow in leaps and bounds. It's pretty amazing.

Then, this morning, the Tribe Called Hall all gathered in the four year old room at church. The four year old room is Mac's room. Mr. Hall and I volunteer to help teach the four year olds once a month. Pancake forgoes the eight year old room to be with her family. SO, we all gathered together. Churching in the same room.

I saw my daughter gather 'round the littler four year olds, hugging and cuddling them. She colored with them. All the while praising and cheering them on. "You are coloring so GOOD!!", she'd say :). She even pushed out of her shell, dancing and singing "Jesus is my superhero!" with them. She loved on them something wonderful. :)

I saw Mac stand next to his Daddy while he taught the bible verse to the kids. Mac was Daddy's assistant. Which means he was being bossy and getting in the way :) I sat near the back, helping the shy kids speak up and use their voice. Also, my lap was free for kids who missed their Mommies. My arms were good for hugs too. :)

So there we were, talking about God and Jesus and the Bible to little four year olds. We are not trained to do these things. We just raised our hands and volunteered to do it. And they let us.

It felt wonderful. It felt whole and home. It was awesome. :)

SO, what was the verse you ask?

"Be kind and loving to each other"

It's as simple as that!!

An email to a friend

2011-11-08T17:51:00.003-06:00

"Hey guys!!

The social worker came and went--we've been deemed an appropriate family for the special needs adoption program of this state. Yay!! What that means is that we can start the application process to adopt a child from the foster care system. OR We can start the paperwork to become foster parents. OR we can not do any paperwork and go back to trying again. OR we can do nothing, lounging our lives away in the level of bliss to which we've become accustomed.

My head hurts!!!

So much to think about, consider and mull over."

yep. mmhhmmm. that about sums up my day.

how was yours?

:)

A Very Harold & Kumar Christmas Movie (review)

2011-11-05T12:20:00.003-05:00

Unexpectantly, Mr. Hall and I had a night to burn by ourselves. No kids. Just us.

So, we took advantage of it by going to a movie and getting a bite to eat. Naturally, we choose A Very Harold & Kumar Christmas Movie. I haven't seen the first two installments of Harold & Kumar, but I had faith this movie would get the job done.

And it did. While we watched two hours of marijuana jokes, penis jokes, beer pong, pretty ladies in lingerie, more penis jokes and naked nuns showering together- I dare say I was very entertained.

Plus, Harold gives a big speech about how does things to make his wife happy, even things he doesn't want to do. Because he loves his wife.

Which is so touching.

Then, Neil Patrick Harris appears and does what he does. I love me some NPH. sigh. I need some gays. Then, more marijauna jokes. And penis jokes. Which gets funnier each and every time.

Then, we went to the melting pot and had a dinner of cheese, wine and chocolate. Which I must say, AWESOME!!!!!

The best part? The entire time I didn't think about the social worker whose coming to our house next Tuesday. She'll be interviewing us for the foster-to-adopt program. AKA adopting from the foster care system. It'll be a meet and greet mostly. But, it's a meet and greet I'm nervous, scared and thrilled about. All at the same time.

SO-at this point. It's best to steep myself in movies like Harold and Kumar. And now that we've watched this--it's time for me to finally watch Up in smoke!

:)

funny family photos

2011-11-02T23:01:00.004-05:00

The one in the middle is my mom.

just like every other person on the planet, or rather, every other WOMAN on the planet, i have issues with my mom.

until I gave up life to Jesus anyway.

After I was dipped, I prayed. I prayed to heal stuff from my childhood. Like my relationship with my mom.

AND NOW even though we fundamentally disagree on pretty much everything, we don't fight anymore.

Which I've tried to do before, I've tried not to fight. Tried to use all my mental health provider skills on me and/or my mom and we would still fight. I'd yell at her and be bossy.

I'm not proud of these things, but they are what they are. I was borne of a selfish mom, and i grew into a selfish girl.

BUT

then. as I said.

I gave up my life to Jesus.

Nowadays, when she struggles, and gets bossy---- she can't help but call herself out in front of me. She'll know when she is selfish and she'll feel bad about it. She'll verbalize that she is being a meany bossy pants, and feel bad about it.

She tells me these things because she knows I am changing. Jesus is by my side every day, changing my life in every way. Prayer is changing everything. This faith I have is blossoming and I am becoming more than could have by myself.

SO.

When she realizes she's being mean, petty and selfish. Instead of yelling at her, or belittling her (these things I am not proud of btw), I launch myself at her. Hug her. Love her.

Because God loves her and so do I.

amen to that :)

Miss Jamaica is NOT Amish

2011-10-27T11:07:00.005-05:00

Mr. Hall & I on our honeymoon. Snubing . . . :)

Had a dream I was in Jamaica last night. I was a waitress in a cafe, totally feeling the warm and love. I've never been to Jamaica, but it sounds fantastic. :)

Anyway, today I'm heading a Christian retreat for a few days. Driving to a church about two hours away. I'm not sure what to expect but I suppose it'll be like going to church for three days. They've asked we not have our cell phones on us. And no computer access either. This is the scary part for me. But, I've made my peace with it. It makes sense. Texting and facebooking while one is at a retreat might be counter productive. :)

THAT BEING SAID.

We are to sleep in a common room. They said they have cots. I said, "Can I bring my queen size blow up mattress?" Because I'm Christian, NOT AMISH.

SO, wish me luck!

Ezekiel's hobby

2011-10-24T12:47:00.005-05:00

Now that my peace has come, what am I to do with such empty space?

Get a hobby I suppose.

And that may be the key to everything.

I am busy minded woman who is lazy by nature. As such, my head does a lot of living. If I am bored, frightened, scared or left to my own devices- my busyness becomes amplified. Which is no good.

A hobby will help. More hobbies help even more. I'll yoga, use sparkpeople to keep track my diet, start cardio work and be healthy that way. I'll co-lead two bible study groups, play Mah Jong and angry birds. I'll hang out with the kids, do more chores around the house. I'll engage in my own life even more.

That way, when the thoughts kick up, about what to do about a next child, I can let them fade into the ether while I focus on my hobbies.

I do have visions though. I see everything working out ok. I see myself having a full, healthy pregnancy and me not being scared at all. I see myself embracing pregnancy with full, clear eyes. I see happiness and joy. I feel happiness and joy. I see doctor appointments as accessories not necessities. I see a new baby coming and nursing like a champ. I see us holding the baby and feeling such love. I see this all in context of yoga, keeping track of my foods, cardio, leading bible study groups and hanging out with my kids. Which is wonderful. I see it all. I see myself doing it all in God's name.

So wonderful feeling this of peace.

:)

Hushing the Holler

2011-10-22T16:02:00.006-05:00

Behold! My blue yoga mat, red yoga towel (to catch the sweat drippings and help me NOT slip off my mat), and black sweater in our sun room. Pancake's yoga mat is the pink one. The flowery thing is my purse, co-sewed my daughter and I.

When I woke up this morning a small voice spoke in my head.

It said, no, don't go to yoga at 7.30 am. Stay in the nice warm bed, you can go later. Or, said the voice, don't go at all, you can always use your treadmill.

That voice is bullshit. If I don't go, I don't do anything.

But, it got louder the closer it came for me to leave.

It started yelling, then hollering.

And for one brief moment I almost gave in.

But I didn't. I just got my yoga clothes on and left.

And ON this day, hushing the holler,

well,

It was huge!

Then I came home all sweaty an hour and half later. It felt wonderful.

GO ME!!

my roaming profile problem

2011-10-18T12:27:00.005-05:00

SO.

let's discuss my roaming profile. What is a roaming profile you ask? Well it has to do with my work computer. I'll use my own special, non technical language to explain, because hey, I'm a girl and math is hard.

I'm a Nurse Practitioner-Mental Health Outpatient Care. I work at two different clinics throughout the week. Thus, I need to log onto two different computers. Once I log in, I get access to my clinic's computer charting system and a company outlook email. The health clinic I work for is a nation wide organization. When I log in, I log into my 'roaming profile'.

My profile is based out of a facility two hours away. I'm assuming there is a special computer there that keeps it warm at night when I'm gone. So when I log in, I log into a roaming profile. (Because it roams from the facility two hours away and meets me at the clinic I'm at.) All bright eyed and bushy tailed at 8 am.

BUT THERE'S A PROBLEM.

MY STUPID ROAMING PROFILE DOESN'T FRIGGIN WORK HALF THE GD TIME. I get all these error messages. Plus, iffn I do log in, sometimes stuff gets put on my profile WHICH MAKES IT GROW SO LARGE THAT IT SHUTS ME DOWN. Sometimes, out of nowhere, I'll get a message that says, "your roaming profile has exceeded the limit" Then my computer will crash. And I didn't do anything!! I didn't download anything. I have basically stopped blogging at work. Because ya know, my job has gotten so busy I can't blog at work.

which is sad.

BUT. then there's this problem.

The IT guys, that fix this kind of thing, I can't get at them. They're at the facility two hours away. We can't contact them directly. We can't call them, we have to call a national hotline and maybe two weeks later we'll here something back. AND they can't access my profile remotely. So I'm kind of f*cked.

Yes, I realize I can swear-- but I don't think it's appropriate.

I'm f*cked because iffn I can't get at the computer charting system I CAN'T GET AT MY PATIENT'S CHARTS. So they come to me and I have no idea what I am prescribing for them. I have no idea what we did last time and I feel like an idiot. I need the chart BECAUSE I HAVE ABOUT 300 PATIENTS NOW. I can't keep everybody straight.

ug.

then, sometimes, I'm able to get into the charts but not my work email. Part of the problem is that there are 45 Holly Hall(s) that work at my organization. I'm not kidding either. So when they reset stuff, they sometimes reset stuff for Holly Hall of Texas. Which is fine, but I'm not a janitor at the Wichita Falls location.

So no work email. Which is ok really. There are too many ways to get ahold of me. Email is a big time suck of suckage. And if one more person forwards me an email that those stupid fluffy bunnys and GIF smiley faces and has those stupid paragraphs at the end--where it says send it to five more women or your arm will fall off . . . so help me . . . So, yeah, I don't miss it.

AND I'M DONE COMPLAINING.

HAVE A NICE DAY!

I washed people's feet all day, then this happened

2011-10-12T20:58:00.006-05:00

(this post is a long one, but if you stay to the end, it will be worth it :)

I recently took part in an event sponsored by "Samaritan's Feet". This organization hands out socks and shoes for free. All you have to do is show up to the tent.

In the tent there were ~ 150 volunteers. We all had different jobs--foot washers, runners, ushers, greeters etc. I volunteered for 'foot washer'. My choice surprised me. I'm not a fan of feet. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized-

I'VE BEEN DOING FOOT CARE ALL MY NURSING CAREER. Of course I should be a foot washer.

People sat down in front of me and I'd say, "Welcome, my name is Holly. Thank you for coming. Today we hope to provide you with a new pair of socks and shoes." Then Mr. Hall would ask what size shoe they needed and would run to get it. (He was my runner :) Then I'd say, "While we're waiting, can I wash your feet?"

Why wash the feet? Because Jesus did this.

This was my day on a Saturday. Greeting people and offer to wash their feet while we were waiting for their shoes. Some people didn't want their feet washed, some didn't want the shoes we brought, some didn't have any idea what we were doing. What we were doing- was spreading the love of God.

It's important to note, they didn't have to have their feet washed. They didn't have to do anything to get the shoes. Except show up to the tent :)

While I was washing or just waiting, I'd ask them if they went to church. I'd ask them what brought them to the Samaritan's Tent. I'd get a variety of responses. Some would be upset, some would be confrontational. Some would embrace the experience and share their journey with me. Some would tell me about their baptism. Before everyone left, I would ask if I could pray for them. And if they said yes, I'd give it my best shot, take their hands in mine and pray my heart out.

It was a day of awesomeness, this day of washing feet. It was very natural and easy going too. I like volunteering. Especially with Mr. Hall.

Then.

This happened.

The next day, in church, at the very end, I was drifting off in my thoughts. The service had gone long, something like 2 hours long. The pastor of my church can get quite worked up. :) Then, I felt something like a shift. Like an opening inside and I thought to myself, "I'm done." It was just like that: "I'm done.", painted in gentle, yet unmistakable letters in my brain.

It took me a moment. I had to figure out what I was done with.

I figured it out. I flashed to an image that's been haunting me. I see myself, laying there, on the exam table, getting the ultrasound and not seeing my baby's heart beat. Then being told her heart wasn't beating. This is how I learned of both my miscarriages, through ultrasounds.

But, I was done. And this image, it was different. It was like I was in the room with my former self. Like I was standing next to me. I could embrace myself. I could comfort myself as I spasmed and choked on my tears. And that scene, it no longer haunts me. Because I'm done. I'm done hurting about it. I'm done. I'm not the same woman laying there on the table. I am healed.

And I figured out even more.

I've been cranking my thoughts like a spinning top, cranking on it so hard. My thoughts have become torturous, thoughts of "Should we try to get pregnant again?" or "Should take the IUD out?" or "We need to stop trying/wait no. . . " These thoughts, they would scare me and drive me nuts. BUT I AM DONE. I took my hand off the crank. I am done. I am not bound up in want and fear anymore. I'm done. Just done. I am healed.

So we drive home, and I feel calm, peace and happiness. I feel 500 pounds lighter. I praise Jesus for this. It is amazing the relief I feel.

Then, I put the kids down for the nap. I curled up to Mr. Hall and told him all of this. And I said, whatever you need, how ever you need it, I am here for you. And we hugged and wept.

reasons I need to yoga number 7879

2011-10-10T08:02:00.006-05:00

Day 10 of the 21 day challenge yo. (where I go to hot yoga every day for 21 days).

There are about 6 different teachers at my yoga studio. Some of crisp and fluent. Some are more stoner. Feel the energy dude. Which irks me, the stoner teachers don't run the class fast enough. Which made me realize something. I DIDN'T THINK THE YOGA CLASS WAS MOVING FAST ENOUGH. Then I thought, wow, I'm a special kinda crazy. So yeah, need more yoga. :)

I can say that yoga is gluing me back together. Walking with my shoulders back and everything.

moving the body is awakening the real Mrs. Hall.

down 15 lbs too.

BABE STATUS...

here I come.

Obsessions are the best

2011-10-05T15:09:00.007-05:00

Thank you all for the comments on yesterday's post. Little Mac is getting good reports these days. All sorts of listening. :)

I have to remember when teachers approach me about my child's behavior, I can gently take the reins. I can model calmness and appreciation. I can talk them through what I know of my child and how to help bring out the best in him. If I stick with my strengths-compassion, empathy, warmth and a healthy sense of humor, I can set the tone. Then, we can collaborate.

SEE THAT RIGHT THERE??!!!

That kind of thinking happens when I yoga a lot.

Yoga is kind of a bait and switch. I started practicing yoga, lo these nine years ago, as a way to help lose weight. Turns out, it grabbed me in all sorts of unexpected ways. It teaches me to slow, to lean in and divide up the bits that hurt and the bits that give joy. It calms my ADD-addled brain. It allows the hands of God to reach in and sooth my sore spots.

It also gives me a focus right now. Because my brain is a busy brain that thrives in obsessions. Right now, this 21 day yoga challenge is my obsession. But, the more I go, the less obsessed I become.

Like with this pose, called the extended side angle with a bind. The bind part is the arms.

TODAY, I ALMOST BINDED. MY FINGERS TOUCHED!!!

And i've never felt more unbound!
:)

En route to babe status, tenderly

2011-10-04T06:55:00.005-05:00

Picked up my son from preschool yesterday. He was all snotty nose and face down. I could tell it was a bad day. Which one has when one is four. Then his teacher came out and talked about what happened. He wouldn't line up, gave her lip and was disrepectful.

First off, I don't really deal well with teachers telling me bad things about my kids. I go into this shame-embarrassed-then hyperdefensive spiral. It's a spiral where I feel embarrased and ashamed then get really mad because he's my SON. And how dare she talk smack about him??

He's four, he is learning how to listen. She's with him for only 3 hours a day, he's a good boy, he just needs TIME. JUST LIKE AT SWIM CLASS, JUST LIKE AT GYMNASTICS!!! HE IS A GOOD KID!!!! HE HAS A BIG GIGANTIC HEART AND CARES A LOT!! AND HE'S SO SMART!!! HE JUST HAS PROBLEMS FOLLOWING RULES!! (just like his momma ;)

And she's talking to me, and I'm feeling my way through the spiral and I realize I'm getting way too worked up. I realize I'm about to cry, just like Mac. Then I cut her off and say, slowly, "Well, it's a work in progress." And she nods, we exchange polite smiles/shoulder shrugs and I leave because I don't want to listen to her anymore.

This is why Mr. Hall deals with the teachers.

So, I think about this. I realize that I had yoga class right before I picked him up. My yoga practice is coming back to life. Not only am I feeling my emotions again, I'm feeling all sorts of muscles and moving around like I own my body. I'm kind of exploding on the inside.

Which is great, cause that means I'm en route to babe status. Lost about 13 lbs so far. Size 10 jeans here I come.

Except I've signed up for a challenge. I've signed up for 21 straight days of yoga. Which should help shrink my chubby quite nicely. I'm scared though. There is an emotional aspect that comes roaring to life when I yoga regularly.

Not sure what will happen when I do yoga 21 days straight.

wish me luck!

Not overthinking the crow

2011-10-01T17:49:00.003-05:00

Haven't had much to say lately. So, let's talk about crow.

That up there, my good people, is the crow pose. I've been practicing yoga at a new studio. I hadn't been at my old yoga studio in a year. I've been avoiding it because they knew me when I was pregnant. I thought a lapse in classes would cause them to forget me.

So I called and asked if I had anymore classes on my account. They not only remembered me, but they asked about Mr. Hall. I don't know why I think people don't remember me. People always tell me that I don't have to reintroduce my self. Maybe I like to hope I'm anonymous.

I think most bloggers are introverts. This is why we have a blog. Yet, I am actively challenging this. Each and every day I am breaking the wall between me and the others. THE OTHERS I SAY!!!

ANYWHOODLE

I went to my old yoga studio and there was a new teacher.. She was kinda loud. And funny. Then, she looked right at me and said, "HOLLY, WHY DON'T YOU TRY THE CROW POSE." She didn't really shout it or ask it. She just sorta told me, in no uncertain, yet very friendly terms, that I would be doing the crow pose. Which I've tried for years but can't seem to do.

But I did it.

The key is not thinking, not analyzing, just going for it.

And while I only held the pose for 2 seconds, I did it.

BOOYAH!!

Such drama, such histrionics

2011-09-23T08:59:00.003-05:00

When babies learn to poop they often go display super twisted facial expressions and sound all manner of grunty noises. They are learning how to balance the urges and minimize the effort. Once they have mastered the task, the dramatics are lessened.

The same process can be said of learning to deal with owly feelings in the am, espcially for children Mac's size. (LOOK HOW CUTE MAC IS!! ALL VISITING MOMMY AT WORK!! WITH HIS WEE VELCRO SHOES!!). Mac is not a fan of waking up. Well, he likes waking up, but he DISLIKES changing out of his pull ups and putting on underwear. Sadly, until he does this, his acess to the morning oatmeal is blocked.

We are strict parents. Oh yes, it's true.

Thus, the morning requirement of changing one's drawers is met with much protest. Copious displays of dislike! There is falling to the ground, wailing and whining. All while he clutches his wee poo-bear blankie and big bubble tears fall asunder. Such drama, such histrionics.

It gets old.

My usual approach is to get bossy and threaten the time out. It's not a productive strategy. It just makes him dig in deeper.

SO this morning I joined in. I yelped, "I CAN'T FIND MY SOCKS!!" and "MY HAIR IS STICKING UP!" Then, I dropped to floor and starting wailing. Pancake joined in, "MY SWEATER IS ITCHY!!" and "MY BACKPACK'S SO HEAVY!!" Then she dropped right next to me.

And we wailed, and rolled and laughed and wailed some more. And Mac took notice. He stopped for a few minutes.

And it didn't really stop his whining, but it made the morning fun for us :)

hee hee hee

hand-foot-mouth

2011-09-21T10:43:00.004-05:00

That up there, is my daughter's snake. It's a corn snake. She loves Sunset with all of her big, big heart. She named him Sunset because the clouds at sunset are pink. That's my hand though.

But, this post is not about Sunset.

It's about this one time, about 10 years ago, I was driving to the doctor's office because my hands were itching something fierce. I was a wee CNA (nurse's assistant) at the time. I worked at a nursing home, helping the elderly.

SO-I'm driving to the doctor's office, literally rubbing my hands on the steering wheel as I drove. My arms and neck itched too. I was living in this old house, renting the top floor while I went to nursing school. There was NO air conditioning in the house. It was summer, so the temps were in the 90's most days. Sticky hot.

Mr. Hall would visit on weekends. We slept on this old, scratchy, pull out couch. We'd wake up in a hamster pile in the sunken center. Cupfuls of sweat would pool under his Adam's apple. It was miserable.

I think about this and I think, wow, Mr. Hall really loved me. He drove two hours to see me on those weekends. All to sleep in a horrible, scratchy, broken, pull out couch. :)

So of course I would have a heat rash from the couch.

Turns out, it was hand-foot-mouth disease. Google it if you want. Go ahead, I'll wait.

GROSS RIGHT???!!!

Totally contagious too. Which is why I got it working at nursing home. I also picked up scabies from there too. Working at hospitals and nursing homes is dangerous business. Lots of closeness, lots of shared, lots of hosts for viruses and such to thrive.

I was thinking about this today, as I am running a fever and have a sore throat. The kids are back in school. Which is why we've been sick the last week. Kids are vectors.

YET

The thing is, Mr. Hall never once caught anything I ever caught. He never gets sick from anything we ever have. Or. . . maybe he doesn't complain about it :)

Come come, oh light

2011-09-12T14:27:00.000-05:00

This blog was started to show this little life of mine. To tell my story and let it all come to the light. While my story is not extraordinary, I find wonder in it. I find curious joy too. Even in the saddest of sad parts.

My innate sense of wonder and curiosity brings me adventure. I am a seeker. This leads to mini obsessions, things that become my whole world until I am done. Then they become something I did once.

There are many paths I've traveled and some have brought me great gifts. Like the music of Johnny Cash, the taste of spicy hummus and the sweet loving of Mr. Hall. These things I sought. They were not brought to me.

The life I lead now is beyond my wildest dreams. There are so many blessings my arms are sore from the carrying. The most blessed gifts of all are my children. And OH! What children I have. They are loving, kind, gracious and will do amazing things.

All of this swirls in my head as we get closer to the foster care system. When Mr. Hall and I were dating we decided to have a few kids, then adopt. We've had two kids and now perhaps, it's time. Time to adopt I think. We don't want to adopt babies, we want to adopt from the foster care system.

This sounds very noble typed out. It sounds reasonable and kind. It sounds merciful. However, there is abstract loftiness and then there is hard and heavy reality. The reality is sinking in these days, as we get closer to making this decision.

My fears are many. I fear that this will be another obsession, something I bring into my life for the wrong reasons. I fear that I cannot be prepared for this. I fear I don't even no where to start. I fear for my kids, that I'll bring something into their lives that is not good. I fear I am not healed enough.

My fears are not unfounded.

As I read about these children from the foster care system, I am learning to differentiate between diagnoses and behaviors. This is what I do, divide and conquer in my head. I do this because these foster care kids are hurting. They came into the foster care system because of great pain and sadness. For children, pain is expressed through behaviors. They haven't the words to say I'm hurting. Sometimes, they don't have the ability to accept love that can heal them. It's overwhelming, reading all of this.

Yet here I am, still reading. Reading foster parent blogs and articles on psychological issues common with foster kids. I read narratives from foster kids. I learn the story from a personal and clinical perspective. Some of it is so sad, I cry out loud.

Yet here I am, still reading. I do the reading because I have stomach for it. I can withstand reading through all of it. Mr. Hall is strong, but I am stronger in this way. This is how we can reach out towards this.

At my roots, I am a kind hearted Mom. I am hard wired for mercy. I am woman of faith. At my roots, I feel a pull towards these children. I've determined it's their needs pulling me, not mine. I'm not trying to replace the babies I've lost in pregnancy. I can say this with full confidence.

Yet, I am still scared. I am scared because once I begin this, I won't be able to stop.

I can say this will not be done alone, I will do this with my husband and my children. I won't be adopting alone, our family will be adopting.

This will take a gigantic amount of prayer and faith.

And so I bow my head.

Things I want to learn to do (or not)

2011-09-08T20:26:00.007-05:00

Things I want to learn to do

in no certain order:

Sculpt wood

Kayak

Push ups

Hand glide

Blow Fire

SO-

Which one should I learn first?

and more importantly-

WHOSE WITH ME??!!

messing with my fertility

2011-09-06T17:21:00.009-05:00

Warning: this post is a bit graphic, but power through and it'll be worth it.

So, last week came the time for me to FINALLY schedule the appt. The appt to stop my fertility-aka-have a mirena iud placed.

In the last two days, I've been kind of a mess. First off, I don't like going back to that place-the hospital where I learned of my miscarriages and where my d & c's were performed. I don't like dealing with my high powered OB GYN, I don't like her. It's not her specifically, it's that she never once gave me a hug during what was probably the most horrible times in my life. Not that I want a hug, in fact, I don't want anything to do with it at all. All of it, the hospital and the ob-gyn, it triggers large buckets of sadness and my heart to ache.

This doesn't change the fact that Mr. Hall and I are still fertile. But, we don't want to make any decisions right now-about having babies I mean. I gently suggested we just throw caution to the wind, not actively prevent any pregnancy. And he said no, that would be making a decision. We need to heal, he said.

SO

En route to the appt I was losing my shit. I was honestly second guessing everything. I was thinking-maybe just go on the pill for a few months-or-the depo shot, that's an option. Then I started to get really pissed off. Then I almost turned around. I don't want any of this. I still want to be pregnant. I was due December 18th! I still should be pregnant!

BUT I'm not.

This was horrible, thinking and feeling all of this. Especially the last part, where I realize I still want to be pregnant but I'm not. It's a horrible snap back to how I felt two months ago. I'm two months on the other side of losing the last baby now. It's still raw and tender.

Mr. Hall is right about the need to heal some more.

In the clinic, I was crying on the inside when the nurse called my name. I made polite small talk. Told them 14 times I hadn't had sex since my menses started. They asked 14 times and had me take a pregnancy test. Which was negative.

sigh.

What it comes down to is this, I AM NOT DONE ADDING CHILDREN TO THIS FAMILY. I AM NOT DONE AT ALL.

But.

Getting pregnant is not something I want right now. I don't want the scared, the sad, the frightened. I don't want the waiting, the positive pregnancy test, the throwing up and out of commission for two months. I don't want to go through another miscarriage. And even if I could possibly guarantee a problem free pregnancy with a bouncing healthy baby at the end. . . .

It's just not something we're capable of right now. I don't think we'll try to knock me up again.

SO

I layed back,and in the IUD went.

Then a funny thing happened. I felt better. I remember the OB GYN telling me it went well, no problems down there. She told me to make an appt in a month so she can check things.

To which I thought:

NOT A FUCKING CHANCE! I'M NEVER GOING TO SEE THIS CHICK AGAIN!!! OLLY OLLY OXEN FREE!!!

Mr. Hall can, ehem, 'check things' just fine.

Then, in the elevator, heading back to my car, I started giggling. I felt this rush of happiness come over me. I started dancing a wee jig. In the elevator. I felt free.

Then, on the way home, I felt even better. I got excited about going shopping for smaller clothes, I'm down 13 lbs now. Look below-only one chin!! I got excited about roller blading with my kids. I got excited about having more of my body back now that I have the wee IUD.

I'm so very thankful for what has been given to me, fertility wise. I'm so blessed to have all that I have.

And now, we'll give it a few more months and then pursue the other avenues of growing our family. :)

It's never as good as you think it's going to be

2011-09-02T10:57:00.003-05:00

1. The cupcake.

Been feeling really well lately, eating right and exercising does wonders for everything. So, then, I spotted a cupcake. All little with frosting and sprinkles. I went for it. I went for it because if you eat healthy, you can eat these things once in a great while.

Turns out, it just about tore my stomach apart. STUPID STUPID STUPID factory made, bleached flour, artificial colored cupcake. NOT MADE WITH LOVE. My stomach hurt for almost two days. BAAHH!!

Stupid cupcake.

2. My husband left his email open.

It's not uncommon for my husband to leave his email open. And I have access to his texts. This should be fun, peeking into my husband's stuff. IT'S NOT. Men email like this-

(friend email)

"meet at sports bar at eight?"

"see you there"

OR

(work email)

"cathy client says her computer is running slow-maybe it's the server"

"will check server when I get there. should be there around 9"

OR

(family email)

(from his sister) "mom has . . . . FIVE PARAGRAPHS . . . and what do you think we should do?"

"will give her a call, maybe 6 tonight. shouldn't be too bad really."

I mean SERIOUSLY? That's all he writes?? Why do men have such derth of conversation? Why do I feel compelled to sneak through his email? Well, not really sneak, I mean, he is sitting right next to me as I go through them. And I've complained about this, that he doesn't write enough.

Well, then he writes to me. It tends to be a bit longer and more focused. Those emails are not for public perusal though :)

hee hee hee

They took my stapler. . . my swingline stapler

2011-09-01T20:29:00.005-05:00

When I was rising up the ranks from nurse to nurse practitioner I had a mentor. He said, "Holly, you need to embrace the mantle of your authority."

He basically told me to be a badass, embrace the power of being in charge.

Then, I did, with those flu shots. It was a total accident but dang. GANSTA!

NOW

I am going to do it again. I've dealt with too much this week. And yes, some of it is my fault. But, it's also my responsibility to do something about it. I'm drawing some lines in the sand.

They took my stapler one too many times. They moved my office too.

So yeah, try to move me ONE MORE TIME. Go ahead, try and move me to the basement.

I need to knock off the mushrooms

2011-08-29T21:44:00.003-05:00

So-in my women's bible study group, there are those that share with open and honesty, spill their guts and everything. Then there are those that sit quietly and share only when prompted. I'm kind of co-leading things lately. So I prompt those that are quiet, sometimes with a cattle prod.

I kid, I kid.

I am a natural sharer. SHOCKING. I KNOW.

I don't have a problem spilling my guts in groups. I don't particularly feel that my pain or joy is all that different than others. So really, why not share the guts and the glory?

Then, sometimes, we meet in smaller groups, just me and these ladies from my church. AND THAT'S WHEN I START TO CLAM UP. When things get one on one, I get nervous and stop sharing. I've never really had this problem before. I've always just gone for it in one form or another.

Ya see, I can be very social and talkative and charming. I can work it. But I don't these days. Sure, there is a layer of sad lately, what with the miscarriage. But there is something else.

I'm learning how to be real and giving and seeking in a very real way with these new people in my life. And I think I'm being a little judgey. I think that perhaps I don't always fit in with people around here. I'm in a unique demographic, Christian, Zombie fan, Nurse, Mother of Two, Whiskey drinker. Yet I seek. I seek peeps to call my homegirls. I am trying to make friends. Not just BFF FOREVAH ALL!! But genuine friends.

Friends you can just call up and chat about your week. Friends that return emails because they check their email more than once a week. Friends that say yes to things. Friends that you can meet at the park and watch our kids play. Friends that are open to stuff like rollerblading and feta cheese and foreign movies. Friends that make time for you and you make time for them because the love is growing.

wait . . . that's a lot to ask for people around here.

And friends are made based on stuff you have in common. And I don't want to be all judgey but maybe that's the problem, maybe I'm not common. I think (and I really think) part of the issue is educational level. Not so much that I have a higher education then most here, in this blue collar town, it's that I'm a seeker. I love experiencing all the awesomeness of this world, beit food, sports, family love, travel, rollerblading, feta cheese and foreign movies. My world extends way beyond the packers. and now I'm sad again because I look around and well . . . this is a common area.

But, I can be common, oooOOOoooo I can blend, but not for long. Watch long enough and my peacock feathers will come fanning out.

So, what am I to do with my uniqueness when most don't share my love of all of the above?

AND WHY DO WOMEN HAVE THESE TYPES OF THOUGHTS ABOUT BASIC STUFF LIKE MAKING FRIENDS?

I guess I can just put myself out there. Just put myself out there and let it all happen. Let things naturally grow over time, like mushrooms. Maybe I've just put too much emphasis on finding the right person first and then letting friendship grow. Maybe I can just hush and let it all just happen.

Here's hoping.

You make the call: Victory for me er no?

2011-08-26T18:28:00.004-05:00

Welcome back to you make the call- Where I pose a moral question and you answer it.

This one involves my work. I am a mental health nurse practitioner. I work side by side with psychiatrists and do my best to help the crazy people. It's a good gig. I do love it so.

That being said, I was recently asked to start giving flu shots. Giving shots is what NURSES do. However, I'm more than a nurse, I'm a nurse practitioner. Which means I have a master's degree and a ton of special licenses to prescribe medication. Just like the doctors.

Which got me thinking. Flu shots are normally given by PRIMARY CARE nurses. I don't work in the primary care, I don't treat sinus infections, rashes or bronchitis. I treat depression, anxiety and schizophrenia. I certainly don't treat the flu. Why am I handing out flu shots?

I say this to my boss AFTER I'VE AGREED TO ADMINISTER SHOTS TO MY PATIENTS. I am the kind of nurse that says yes when people ask me to do stuff. I've got to stop that.

Then, I approach the doctors, the mental health doctors. And I ask, "Do you need to start giving shots too? " And they say, "Oh, HELL NO, we're doctors, not nurses!" (ok they didn't say that exactly, but they did say no, they wouldn't be giving shots.)

Here is two (of the three) psychiatrists I work with:

Again, neither one of them are willing to give shots. They say no, they're doctors.

That kind of pissed me off. There is another mental health doctor though, not pictured above, he was willing to pitch in and give the shots. Guess who is my favorite doctor to work along side?

So I say this to my boss. I say, "Why am I required to interrupt my patient care to give these shots? Why am I required to give these shots when the psychiatrists aren't? Also, the primary care nurse practitioners don't give shots, so why am I doing this?" He kind of blinked and then we changed the subject.

Two weeks later . . .my boss says . . . "I talked it over with my boss and we agree, it's not fair to make you to give the shots when we aren't making everyone [I.E. THE PSYCHIATRISTS] to give the shots."

I was kind of shocked. I mean, I was kind of kidding when I kicked up a fuss. I mean, I was willing to give the shots but I did feel kind of slighted. But I didn't really care because there are much bigger things to care about.

So I accidentally won one for equality- but I'm not sure I was suppose to. I mean, this may compromise, in a small way, patient care. A lot of patients never see their primary care providers. They see us though. So that could mean no flu shot for them.

Then again, flu shots are available everywhere, even walgreens. Our patients are adults who drive and speak English. They have the resources to get their own flu shot.

ug.

so! you make the call, victory for me er no?

rollerblading OH YON ROLLERBLADING

2011-08-20T19:47:00.005-05:00

Yeah, see now, if I wasn't a working Mom, I'd bust out posts every day. But here I am, posting on a Saturday night, when noone reads them. Also, with my exhausted Mommy brain, I can't really write coherently. Yet, this does not stop me.

So-let's begin, shall we?

Started rollerblading again. Went out with the kids. They follow me like ducklings. Mac was on his tricycle yelling, "THIS IS AWESOME!!" We starting singing our favorite song. Then, we were shouting. And laughing. And shouting. Which is triple awesome. I've never had a work out that made me laugh or giggle or shout. :)

This is our favorite song to sing:

When I took my skates off, I looked at my toes. They're battered and chipping toenail paint and I was happy. Because I've lost ELEVEN POUNDS. I'm waking up and feeling more, especially happy more. I am starting to feel tough and normal. Which is nice to feel.

AND on that note. We are signed up for a "Adoption from the foster care system meeting" [note: not the real title of the meeting]. It happens next month.

Let me back up:

Before we were married, Mr. Hall and I decided that we would have have our own children, then adopt when we were done. We've been married 10 awesome years. We're most likely done having children. This advances the plan to adopt. We still have time though, time to change our minds.

Plus, we're still healing from the miscarriages. I think I'm done but then, during yoga, I feel this pool of sadness. Not in every yoga class, just some. After class I drive two blocks away and let the water out through my eyes. Not after every class, just some.

So, we'll start with a meeting. The "Adopt from the foster care system meeting". Which is two hours long- in the middle of a Thursday.

I told Mr. Hall -I'll take a vacation day to attend. Then, Mr. Hall said, "Or. I could just go alone." Which made my heart do a thousand leaps.

When we need him, he's there whenever, where ever, or however it's needed.

His love is a constant felt hum that gets all super sonic explodey when called for.

He's the best husband and father ever.

wait, maybe it does matter after all

2011-08-17T12:50:00.000-05:00

In my last post,

I fear I gave nursing a bad name. Let me try to correct that.

I have a number of homeless patients who live at the shelter. They take the bus to the clinic. The bus arrives before the clinic opens. As a result, they wait at the bus stop when I pull up. I wave, get out of my car and go around to the back entrance. Someone opens the front door and they file down to the waiting room. Then, we begin.

For the most part, it goes pretty well. On Tuesday, I had to help a guy out though. He struggles with getting to AA meetings. The struggle is inherent to recovery. When a person is addicted, their ability to handle stress is lowered. And that's just normal stress. When they sober up; then take a look at the damage done to their health, finances and family life, it can be overwhelming. Plus, they might have something underneath, like crippling depression or anxiety. Without alcohol, these problems come to the surface.

I empathize with these folks. Living life sober and rebuilding that life is very, very, very, very hard. This is why helping them is awesome. Sobriety is not maintained without some sort of help. And that's what I do, help.

So, I went to AA.org, found meetings for within biking distance from the homeless shelter. Then, I put my google maps skills to good use. I did this for a man whose been in an alcoholic hole for the last 25 years. He had no idea how to even turn a computer on, let alone do those basic things. It was a simple act of kindness.

And for this, I am so very, very, very, very, very thankful. I am thankful that I have this job, being a nurse. I am thankful I have been given a kind and loving heart. I am thankful I can do simple things to help those in need. I am blessed that I can put my skills to good use. I feel privileged to give witness for all of this.

Because that patient has been sober six months. I get to help him with this. And all of this is awesome beyond belief.

Nurse, Wife and Mother

2011-08-14T17:32:00.008-05:00

The subtitle of this blog use to be "Nurse, Wife and Mother". :)

My job requires a strong stomach. My stock and trade is mental health. Which is ironic given that the only time people see me, is when THEY DON'T HAVE mental health. I am a psychiatric nurse practitioner. Nurse for short.

For the most part, none of it phases me. People pour out their misery and I kind of get excited. Between their snot bubble cries and spasms of untold pain, I know it's only the beginning. There, in my office, is where the healing can start.

Unless it doesn't.

Like my patient Jim. Dude is super homeless. We can help with homeless. We have an entire program to help him get un homeless. Only it's not working for him. He's a hard core alcoholic. Which is nothing new in my business. And it's not stopping him from getting help from the program. He's stopping him. He's shown up at the shelters drunk and pissing on himself. Which is fine, shelters will let you sleep it off once or twice. Except he starts to threaten staff.

AND THAT'S WHEN THEY KICK HIM OUT. Not out of the program, but out of the homeless shelters. Both of them.

We can still help him. We have residential rehab for alcoholics. Seems perfect, solves both the alcohol and homeless problem. He won't go though.

Then, and only then, he becomes a BIG PROBLEM for me. He keeps coming to my clinic. Especially in winter. We have a warm building you see. Except I won't prescribe medication for him because he's drunk all the time. Then, after we leave, we find him passed out drunk in the snow banks. We call the police. Then he shows up the next day, still drunk. We escort him out of the clinic and the cycle starts over.

So you see, this is a problem for me. I am hard wired for mercy. I am hard wired to work my ass off to help him. But I can't. So it weighs on me. He keeps showing up and it triggers my mercy and my giving. Only it ends with me getting really pissed off. Because I can't help him.

And all of this is swirling through my brain as I come home. I lay on the couch with Mr. Hall. He's had a long day with the kids and he needs me. But my head is swirling. My body is stiff, unyielding to the spoon. Mr. Hall opens his eyes and stares at me angrily. "The kids are watching Harry Potter and being quiet right now. Whatever you're thinking about, knock it off and kiss me."

And with a deep breath I let it go, I stop. I become pliable and smoochy. And in the end, the part the really matters is the wife and mother.

Bloggers blog about food and booze in awesome new blog

2011-08-11T23:24:00.003-05:00

Earl, the brother I never had, has invited a bunch of us to participate in a food blog called Simmer, Sip and Share. So far, it's pretty awesome.

Go there, learn tips about Jim Beam Rye.

Put us in your reader. You'll thank me in the morning. :)

Weirdest game of Euchre ever

2011-08-09T14:28:00.004-05:00

So. had the brother and his wife over for a swim and some cards. Turns out, he lives like 10 minutes from my house. Who knew? Now, we moved to this house about 3 years ago. But, he never comes over or visits.

Yeah, he's kind of a douche.

Then my Mom gets all up in my grill. She's determined for us to be more of a family. I tell her, I invite him over but he never seems to show. Then, out of nowhere they did last night.

I can say I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IN COMMON WITH MY BROTHER. Even normal stuff you have in common with complete strangers. Like an affection for angry birds or Harry Potter or hiking at local nature center. We just have nothing in common. We did like the X-Files once. So there was that.

He's a big sports nut. Like HYPER OBSESSED WITH STATS AND CAN NAME OFF STARTING LINE UPS type sports nut. I am aware of sports. I can try to be part of the game. He's also hyper competitive. Gets all into go-fish with my daughter Pancake. Enough so that they're playing for hours until he wins. Seriously. She's eight.

Yeah, he's kind of a douche.

SO. Playing Euchre. He gets all mouthy and starts trash talking. His wife perks up and swears a little. Meanwhile, Mr. Hall and I are all leisure like. Taking our time. Enjoying the quiet. Sipping booze. This annoys both brother and sister in law. I saw them exchange looks to this effect. This made me slow down even further.

NENER NENER NEEENER

I don't care.

So. Guess we'll give it a few weeks and then invite them over again. Make weird small talk, have a swim. No cards though.

sore for a reason

2011-08-09T09:09:00.003-05:00

not much to report these days. it's odd. i'm a person who talks a lot. yet here i am, not talking much at all.

i believe it's a matter of 'a little less talk, a lot more action.' working out more i mean.

since i've started working out more, taking care more, i can't move as much. i'm sore all over. i'm limping and having a hard time raising my arms. so sore. my sleep has launched into this super, deep sleep. which makes sense. my sleep has been crap since the miscarriage and now that I'm healing, my body is double deep sleeping to catch up.

i'm working with a trainer. well, he's free now, but soon i'll have to start paying him. which is weird. dude is six foot five and muscles all bulgy. i don't wine when he helps me work out. i just do the things he asks. i don't really say anything to him. he says muscles are important because they support your bones and joints.

i say sure. but i know things are changing inside. the tearing down and building up of muscles heals my hurt.

so. very sore. still soo sleepy. but all for a reason. all for the greater good.

yawn.

:)

I will laugh and drink, then, I will laugh and drink some more

2011-08-04T17:02:00.003-05:00

another wedding this weekend. there will be booze and laughing. and busting the chicken dance groove on yon dance floor. with family that i love ooooo i love.

and there will be more long island ice teas for mr. hall so he can grove along with me.

yep. gonna be an awesome weekend.

see ya later ya'll!!

Sweet Cherry Bottoms

2011-08-03T12:27:00.004-05:00

This is a photo of normal bone marrow.

A few days ago I got a call. It was about 2.30 in the afternoon. It was my high powered OB-GYN. She drew about 20 different tests to investigate reasons for my 3rd miscarriage. These tests were largely of the hormonal, cardiac and coagulation kind. Nothing genetic, but exterior. Stuff that can be fixed or worked around if found abnormal. Expect it wasn't. It all came back well within the normal limits.

Which caused a series of irrational and rational thoughts. But, first, I had to get back to work and see three more patients.

Then, on the drive home, my head exploded.

1. Irrational thoughts

What the HELL???
WHAT THE FUCK???
What do you mean nothing is wrong? My baby died for nothing? There must be something there, something we can point to. I mean, I had prepared for something being amiss. I mean, not totally wrong, but just enough wrong to cause problems with carrying a child to term. I DID NOT PREPARE FOR NORMAL. And I'm mad. REALLY REALLY MAD ABOUT IT. I realize we may never find out why we lost this baby but really, NORMAL???

(the thoughts spiraled like this for a while)

Then, things got weirder in my head.

Since I had prepared from something, perhaps just something small being wrong, I had prepared to turn down any intervention she would suggest to fix this something. To help us conceive and carry again I mean. Not that we are going to try again. I just thought we could take a looksie inside. Yah know, to poke around.

Then, I started thinking about the other layer of testing. Genetic testing. What if I have something inside that I've passed to my kids? She, the ob-gyn, doubts this. I have two healthy kids. I am currently still mulling over this layer of testing. It's expensive and most likely, will come up normal too. If so, what then?

2. Rational thinking

Then I remembered what my OB-GYN said about what we need to do 'if we want to try again'. Which made my head explode again.

I thought, NO. WE HAD DECIDED TO NOT TRY AGAIN. WE DECIDED WE CAN'T GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN. But right after I scream this in my head-the whispers start. Unstoppable whispers of 'what if.' We if we did? Then I remembered I've given away all my maternity clothes and baby clothes and baby swings and . . .

Then I remember. I didn't give away all of it. I kept my favorite baby clothes and put them in my dresser. The crib and the baby swing were given to my brother. I can replace baby clothes in a snap. Which means when I gave away all that stuff, I didn't really give away anything.

And at this point I'm breathless, standing in front of my husband, exploding all over him. I'm huffing and puffing. My voice is loud and shaky, arms all akimbo. And he's smiling. SMILING!!! He's telling me he's already thought about this. Weeks ago. He was able to logically think this through while I was swimming in raw emotion. Then he said we never decided 'not to try again.'

We had merely decided to wait six months before we decide anything. And I search my mind. I find this to be true.

I was shocked at this. I am shocked that this entire time my husband has been keeping track of me and logically thinking through things. I am shocked because he knew what I was saying before I said it. Just gobsmacked.

Then I stopped exploding. We stood there, holding each other. Gently rocking back and forth. He's soothing me and I him. I'm so amazed by him, so blessed this is my husband.

And it's true. We need to wait to let all the crazy chaos inside settle. To let our hearts and spirits heal. We are in no shape to do any sort of anything right now, let alone make decisions.

So for now, I'll focus on my health. Go to yoga, continue on weight watchers. Maybe look into a personal trainer. I'll focus on the kids, loving my husband, going to church and feeling God's hands continue to heal me.

And it's good. :)

And that's when I snapped

2011-08-02T12:07:00.006-05:00

I am enjoying the hot yoga.

Last night it was a class of two. Me and a guy in his fifties. He was chattery. Made small AND long talk with the teacher. He had a running commentary on his performance. Dude wouldn't shut up. Then, when the teacher had us repeat a pose three times and said, "Third times a charm." He replied, "Expect in marriage, my third wife was a bitch!"

AND THAT'S WHEN I SNAPPED.

Well, not at that exact moment. But it was coming.

To talk during yoga is to short change the poses. The poses are the key. You physically move yourself into different positions, moving unspoken things inside you. It requires deep, deep breathing. Inhaling through the nose, exhaling like you are fogging up a mirror. The breathing is like the engine pushing the train.

These poses, these are when the hands of God reach out and heal me. He cups my sad, sad energies in his hands. Lifting them from me and taking them away.

But.

None of that can happen if I have to block out Dude's yammering.

So.

When he turned to me and started chatting, I made pleasant small talk. Again, it was a small class and the teacher was new. They had both made attempts to get to know me. I can also do some poses very easily. Like this one called "supta vajrasana or fixed firm" . They were intrigued.

I told them I've been practicing yoga for nine years. Then I told them I've been on a five month break. They asked why. And I told them. I was pregnant but I lost the baby. So now I am back at yoga. They were sad about it.

On a side note, that was completely weird for me, telling them this. But I'm no good at lying or making up stories. So out the truth came.

Then.

Dude kept talking to me. I turned my head towards him. As I tried to shoot lasers out of my eyes, I said, "I like to focus on my breathing during yoga." And made a thumbs up sign.

He then backed off. And for the rest of the class I breathed, sweated, posed and healed some more.

How I can tell I'm getting better

2011-07-30T10:16:00.003-05:00

I'm yawning. I first yawned a few days ago in yoga. I mean, i've been so tired, but no yawns. Yawning requires relaxing. I've not been relaxed lately. So, it's nice yawning again.
I'm dreaming crazy dreams. I'm a crazy dreamer. I've posted about it on the 'dream exchange' before. In the last few nights, I've finally started dreaming again. It's fantastic.
I am down 8 lbs and my double chin is started to recede. I am transitioning from size 16 to size 14. I have size four pantalones. They'll have to wait 'til winter though. This will take a while :) Yay weight watchers!
My eyes don't feel like they're going to bleed. I feel rested this morning. Really, really rested.
Mr. Hall and I are talking more about losing the pregnancy. We're bringing it up and sharing our emotions. I weep- but not spasming, choking sobs. Just crying and being sad.

Things I need to work on:

Caring for Mr. Hall. He has the sads too. But not like me. He carries it differently. I need to massage and give lots of non verbal love. Scalp massages are especially important. I need to take care of me and stand tall. According to the bible, Eve was created to sustain Adam. I must remember this. I sustain him.
Stop obsessing. Slow down. Be present here and now.
Continue my yoga practice and start to make pleasant small talk. My yoga studio was new to me when I started back up. It seems there is a good group there. I am a newbie and people are making overtures to me. I can't hide. I need to make nice and be open. Smile. Talk. And work those poses like a red redheaded step child.
Ask God for help with all of this. Healing is a possibly. Getting through this, to the other side, is possible. But not alone. So I pray. And pray, and pray. And through Him, anything is possible.

DOWNWARD DOG BIATCHES

2011-07-27T18:44:00.006-05:00

Went back to yoga tonight.

The last time I saw my yoga teacher,

I'd just turned positive on the pregnancy test.

So, she knew when I walked in.

She did the tilted head,

hand on the heart

OH, i'm so sorry thing.

Which again, is ok.

And I felt a little bit ok on the mat.

But it was tough because

JEBUS I AM CHUBBY

The poses don't go so well when you are

'bigger'.

my friggin yoga stretchy pants

were vedy vedy tight.

eeek.

THAT BEING SAID.

I KICKED OPEN THE MAT.

GOT BACK TO MY PRACTICE OF SOME 9 YEARS.

I DID IT.

I BREATHED.

I LAUNCHED

SIX LBS OF SWEAT CAME OUT OF ME.

I FELT SLIPPERY

I BENDED

STRETCHED

and i felt my sore spots.

It was like my back and belly were made of hammered down soil.

i've forgotten how to move them.

i 'm relearning though

BUT I DID IT.

I got back to my mat.

to my beloved hot yoga.

because i am

because i can

because i know this heals me.

It calms the hyper in my head.

It heals the sad in my heart.

I feel the hands of God on my mat.

And for this, i am so thankful.

And it may not feel that way now

but in a few more classes

it'll feel awesome.

To the doctor that frequents strip clubs

2011-07-23T11:51:00.012-05:00

I've never been one to sit still and let life happen. I have unending ambition.

So what am I to do now, now that I'm done trying for more babies?

The first part is getting comfortable with saying it all out loud. I have lost the baby. This affects people. Most people at work know now. Lots of women come up to me, tilt their head, put their hand on their heart and reach out to touch my shoulder. They say, "I'm so sorry for your loss." or "I heard you lost your baby, I'm so sorry."

Then there are the women that say, "Now your baby is in heaven." Which really, that's a sucker punch to me.

When they say that, I have visions of my babies in heaven. Like some alternative plane of reality or something. Then I start to think I can reach out and hold my lost babies, if I just cross over to that plane. Then I stop. Because my babies are dead. As in not living. For me to reach them I would have to be dead too. THAT'S when I stop thinking like this. It catches me completely off guard.

I don't fault anyone though. I can't imagine how tough it is to be near me, knowing and then having to say something. Part of my hurt smudged off on them. I want to say things that ease their pain. So I say I'm getting better. I try to model the 'healing with dignity' stance. And really, I don't take offense to any of it.

Some have been pushy with asking what happened. I don't want to tell them so I don't. They can shove off.

But, I told the whole story to the doctor who frequents strips clubs. This man is sometimes special to me. I've written about him here. Basically, he's my mentor. However, he's not that appropriate of a man to keep company with. I still like him though.

He didn't tilt his head or try to touch my shoulder. He just said, "Hey, how are you?" Then he listened. He didn't flinch or look sad while I talked. The entire story came a tumbling out.

Then, I said, "If I'm not adding babies to the family, what the hell am I suppose to be doing?"

Which is what I am facing these days. It's a whole new layer of suckage. There are no goals right now. So, I am still. Pain is seeping in all over my body. I have this cantaloupe in my chest, just in there. It's pain and loss and it's making me cry.

I could come up with ambitions, like running a marathon or climbing some mountain. I mean, I have physical goals. Back on the weight watchers. Lost 7 lbs so far. Down to size 14 pants.

I don't want to have these kind of goals. These goals can suck it. The more I tend to my health, the more I admit I had a miscarriage. It's taking care of my pain. It's hard and it sucks and I no want.

So I'm telling this to the doctor who frequents strip clubs. And I say, "My ambition level hasn't changed but I'm not sure what to do with it. What am I to do now?"

"Holly," he said with at twinkle in his eye, "You can do anything."

And with that, I knew I had told the right person. And OH!, I felt so much better. :)

Magical hanging fruit

2011-07-23T08:43:00.003-05:00

This will, I suppose, be a hard day. thoughts are repeating and my heart is breaking. But I'm still needed as a mom and wife. I'm still have the next three days off and I want to function as such. It's a fight of the baby loss sad. I don't want to embrace the sad today. Today I want to be happy. Enjoying my crazy kids and all the magical hanging fruit around us.

So that's the question, can I direct what rises within me?

Here's hoping.

Losing it (a book review)

2011-07-20T09:45:00.006-05:00

I am a big fan of memoirs and autobiographies. I like listening to people's stories. No surprise there, consider I work in mental health. I listen to people's stories all day.

That being said, I am also cheap and am resigned to read whatever I can find at goodwill. This is how I came upon "Losing it" , as noted above.

Overall, it is an easy book. Ms. Bertinelli is not overwhelmingly smart or all that deep. She seems a good gal who likes to share her thoughts. The first part of the book is devoted to how distorted her self concept was. At 100 lbs she thought she was fat. Blah blah. Most women have no idea how beautiful they are. This goes on for a few chapters.

I mostly skimmed through that.

I did thoroughly read the Eddie Van Halen parts. As suspected, Mr. Van Halen was a prodigy. There is no way someone can play like that without special gifts. He thrived in his inner world fueled by alcohol and that thing that can drive geniuses from reality. It's an interesting phenomenon among prodigies called 'the creative rage'. There is so much fuel to create that it drives them constantly.

His drinking and cocaine addictions are documented. It's typical of addict stuff. It's different with rock stars though. Most addicts eventually run into consequences of their addiction. The law, running out of money, overdose and/or near death. The destruction of family relationships. None of this really happened to Mr. Van Halen. Rock stars have endless money and people who enable to no end. His wife was one of them. This goes on for 20 years of their marriage and a good 100 pages of the book.

It kind of fascinates me, how Ms. Bertinelli just stood there. Standing by her alcoholic husband while she did movies of the week, absorbed herself into motherhood. It's like she was sleepwalking.

Which is how she gained some hefty poundage and then Jenny Craig called. The last 10 pages document her journey with that. Like the rest of the book, it's breezy.

SO the reason I picked this book up was that I am now back on the weight watchers. Down 5 pounds so far. I am 176 at this point. Like everything else, it's bizarre.

But, I've been through this before, the weight watchers. Only this time it's going to be easier. I don't have so much to fight in my head. I welcome the weight watchers, it's me taking care of me.

It's a process of reclaiming my body. All the chub is a blanket. One that I need to slowly dissolve to start to reveal myself. Then, in a few months, I'll start to be hot again. I'll be standing taller and wearing stuff that shows me off versus 'hides the trouble spots'.

I'll get there. And document the whole shebang here too.

but first, i give you one of favorite songs and one that I feel fully demonstrates the genius of Eddie

Hot for Teacher

I'm shutting the door for a reason

2011-07-18T23:34:00.005-05:00

So.

Much as I feared. Went back to work and . . .

NOONE READ THE FLIPPIN EMAIL.

The email that announced my miscarriage. So I spent the day traumatizing people with the news as they looked horror stricken and then tried to lean in for hugs or something.

Spent the day hiding. With my office door shut. I'd open it for patients of course. But I didn't want coworkers to stop by. Some ignored the shut door and knocked anyway. I gave minimal eye contact and said cliche things.

Then, Mr. Hall and I talked when I got home. confirming our plans to not get pregnant again. Then we talked about adopting. Foster to adopt. He wants to wait. Which I understand. I'm not anywhere near ready to start researching yet.

Except I have. I've been reading books on the subject for years. Even back when I was fully fertile and exploding with babies. He said we have to wait six months. It's true. I'm nowhere near the healing.

Then he said, "ya know" "we'll eventually have to stop somehow." Meaning we just can't be adding children forever. Which really sucker punched me.

What the hell else am I suppose to be doing if I'm not adding children to The Tribe Called Hall?

Develop more flavors?

Alright, off to dinner with some women from my church.

ttfn

Remainders

2011-07-17T12:42:00.004-05:00

Fun was had by all yesterday. There was drinking and card throwing and pool swimming and fun. I think I was drunk for like 5 hours straight. That was awesome.

Today, I did more cleaning. I am finding the weirdest remnants. This great purge of baby stuff is endless. Each time I turn around I find a new pile. The kids have permeated our lives. I'm probably be finding baby stuff for years.

Kids have permeated my brain too. I still find myself analyzing names I hear. Trying to figure out if it's a good fit for the baby. Then I remember. gah. Stupid remainders in my brain.

Found a tape in a mess of old cd's in the garage. It was Fugazi. Made for me by an ex boyfriend. I can say cassette tapes do NOT hold up well. The quality was absolute crap. It was all warpy and wonderful.

Memories of being stupid and young and naked and so passionate come bubbling up when I listen to this. I was ~20 at the time. I can say that I've had great life so far. It's still a great life. I just have to wait out this sadness.

And now I give you the waiting room . . .

Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

2011-07-15T22:58:00.004-05:00

I have given away about a dozen bags of maternity, baby and kids clothes (check). Breast pump is up on craigslist. (check)

Tomorrow, I'll be giving my brother the crib, high chair and baby sling. I'm not sure where the stroller is, but he'll get that too. (check and check)

There are things I'm not giving away. Like the last two pairs of maternity pants that arose from the dryer today. One pair is from Monday, when I found out the baby died. The other is from Tuesday, when I had the D & C, and my pregnancy was officially terminated. There is no way I'm giving that kind of mojo to goodwill.

Right now, they're in the kitchen. In the garbage bin. But, I don't think that's far enough away from me. I want to go get them and put them in the trash bin out in the garage. Yet, not far enough. I want to put them in my car, drive 4 hours away. Then, I'll put them in some dumpster outside a hotel or something. Yet, not far enough. So, I'll drive even further, out on some beach somewhere. Then, I'll set the entire car on fire, so the pants can just burn to ashes.

Yeah, it's not a healthy place in my head right now.

I realize it's not the pants. It's the pain that those pants represent. And even if I drive to mars and blow the planet, the car and the pants to smitherens, I'll still be here. Sitting with my pain. Which crushes me so hard sometimes I can't breathe. I just sob these retched sobs. This tight ballon of jello just lays there, in my chest. Coagulating.

So what do I do with this? I keep going.

Talked to a good friend tonight. Confirmed the plans for a get together tomorrow. I had to tell her the news. I don't know how to tell people who love me, who loved that I was pregnant, who love my kids . . I don't know how to tell people about the miscarriage without traumatizing them.

And I lie.

I say I am getting better. I say today is a better day then Monday. I say I have good days and bad days but today is a good day. And while that may be true, it's not true yet. It seems I have no choice but to fight for every laugh, every smile, and every joy I feel when my kids are near.

And fight I will. I believe this unbelievable pain will be here for quite some time. But that's not going to stop me. I will continue to have love and happiness seeping in my every pore.

Pants be damned, I will rise again.

to do list, something funny

2011-07-14T02:06:00.004-05:00

When I describe my blog, I say, "It's like an online diary or journal". And right now, this would apply:

ok, brought three bags of maternity clothes to goodwill. (check)

tomorrow, i assume i will pack up at least a dozen bags with baby clothes. (check)

Why so many clothes? Cause I shop the thrift stores and garage sales. I get the steals and deals.

Wrote my work colleagues (check) and said this:

"Hey Gang-

You may not have heard yet, but I lost the pregnancy this week. All told, I was pregnant 17 weeks.

Needless to say it's been a rough week. Things are getting better with rest and I am very blessed to have a supportive family. We are doing a lot of praying which is helping immensely.

Well, take care everyone and see you next week."

Hopefully people will read this. People at my work DON'T read their email often. I know I'm going to walk in there and someone will call out 'mamacita' and ask about the pregnancy and I'll have to drop the bomb on them. Which will be their fault really. They should have read the email.

But they didn't. So we'll sort of look at each other and they won't know what to say. Then, I'll have to ease the tension. Which I can do. But I hope with the email people won't say much to me. They'll just avoid me because it's awkward. Which is great really, win win.

I am not sure things are getting better. But I'm appearing in public better. Grieving like a ninja. Coming to grips with regular conversations again. Even made a joke at the park with another mommie today.

SO next on the list is to find a way to calm my crap at night. Otherwise there will be a lot more posts like this. At two am- cause I can't sleep.

Ok, let's turn our attention to something funny. Like this..

Field of Dreams 2: NFL Lockout with Taylor Lautner from Taylor Lautner

Alright, I'm going back to bed. It's 2.22, Wish me luck.

yesterday

2011-07-13T09:15:00.003-05:00

my favorite dress:

I know that to get through this, my third miscarriage, I need to turn towards it, not away. This is why I write this. Right here.

The more I write, the more I explore, the better this will get. If I stuff it down it decays. Then it rises up all Zombie like. Which is gross and not helpful.

Yesterday, I went to the hospital and things went better. The images are cleaner and don't haunt me as much. I knew what to expect with this d & c. The nurses were chipper and helpful. There were some tears but nothing like the howl fest of Monday. I am breathing again. I even dropped my daughter off at vacation bible school.

I told her yesterday. I told her that I went to the doctor and found out the baby didn't make it. We cried together. Then she said, "I'm never gonna get a bunk bed!"She was going to get a bunk bed to share with her brother so the baby could have a room all to him/herself. When she said this, she made me laugh. Kids are very self focused. :) She'll be fine. :)

Anyway, today, I am incredibly sore and crampy today. It's a good sore though. Makes sense kind of sore. Which is awesome. Things making sense is awesome.

I restarted weight watchers. I will restart vinyasa (hot) yoga next week. I am making an effort today to reach out to friends. Making plans for a bbq/pool get together. A small one anyway.

Life moves on. I am going to give away all my maternity, baby and toddler clothes soon. We have like 6 storage totes full of the stuff. I will pack them up and give them to goodwill. Mr. Hall says I need to wait though. At least a week. I'll just have to trust him on that.

I like having projects though. Lists of stuff to do to keep my busy. Down time is a killer. Thoughts well up, images flash in my mind. gah. I understand the delay though. I know I'm not thinking right right now. I can't trust everything I think or feel.

I am doing a lot of praying. Which is a struggle. I live in a lot of denial so I have to remember to reach above because I don't always feel the pain underneath. When I reach above the pain lessens and I feel better. It's amazing.

I can say this. When I woke up in recovery, from the surgery, I felt kind of righteous. I thought, we're not done yet, we're not done growing our family. When things are better, when more mourning has commenced, when I feel some semblance of getting to the other side, that is when we start looking at our other options.

Because we're not done yet. Mr. Hall agrees:

"Our family is awesome and there's not enough of us!"

The Last Great Elephant

2011-07-11T19:17:00.004-05:00

When I started this blog I noticed a trend of turning things around midpost. I would start out troubled then work my way up. Surfacing on the better side.

I started blogging about my fifth pregnancy and labeled it "elephants are pregnant for over a year". Sadly, that pregnancy, at 17 weeks, is now lost.

So how can I turn this post into a positive? Well, let me give it my best shot.

Went into the ob today. She tried listening to the heart beat with a doppler. She couldn't find it. She checked me, all good. Then she said, let's try an ultrasound to check things out.

This was a routine appt that Mr. Hall didn't come to. So I waited in the waiting room for about an hour then they called me back. I read People magazine and texted stuff to him. He texted back his love. I texted as I was going in, "It's my turn now". He wrote back "luzzu".

In the ultrasound room I lowered my maternity pants and she smeared the jelly. I saw my baby up there, being very still. She scanned this way and that way. I stared very hard, but there was no heart beating. Finally, without me asking, she said, "I don't see a heart beat." And I lost my shit.

Spasmodic, raking waves of sobbing came over me. My entire body just shook and sputtered as tear poured from my eyes. She said she was so sorry. I couldn't talk back. Then she calmly asked me to hold still, "Just ten more seconds". I was mashing a tissue into my eyes. I couldn't look.

She called the doctor in and said some things. Like the baby is measuring 13 weeks. "It should be 17 weeks", the doctor volleyed back. So the baby stopped growing a month ago. Right after my first check up.

They were done scanning me. I collected myself enough to begin to wipe the jelly and sit up. I asked my options. I asked why I had still been so sick. I mean, my morning sickness just ended a week ago. "Your placenta is still functioning", she said.

I then followed the doctor into the next room, trying not to cry in the hallway. She said, "I'll have my nurse schedule the d and c and give you a moment to make a phone call." I sat down and she shut the door. I started to howl and twist.

I held my phone, not calling anyone. Then I called Mr. Hall.

whew.

I've had a few hours to process all of this. I can say the pain is still so raw and it seizes me. Tomorrow I go and have everything taking care of. Tomorrow is the last day of my pregnancy.

I can everyone is being so nice. The doctors and nurses all want to hug me and rub my back. My family is calling and texting in drooves. I don't really answer anyone right now. I can't quite talk yet.

I can say this is my third miscarriage. I can say that I've been through this enough to know my shit will not be straight for quite some time. I can say this is the last time at bat for us. We won't be trying again. This pregnancy was the last great elephant. That's not to say we won't be growing our family, just not through pregnancy anymore.

Which leads me to this.

This is Mac and Pancake, ring bearer and flower girl at my brother's wedding. Our son and daughter.

They are more than I could have ever dreamed of.

They are where I begin to turn this around.

True Blood Smells like Dinner

2011-07-05T09:58:00.006-05:00

Eric Northman in a light blue, Norwegian oceanic sweater:

I've not always enjoyed the Eric Northman. I found him to be a douchebag at first. Then he started growing more. More venerable, more Godrick backstory and less long hair. He got a hold of Sookie all sneaky like. He is not a dumbass like Bill.

Nowadays, I enjoy the Eric on several different levels. It's a subtle power this character has. (see above).

I also enjoy his protege, Pam. Girlfriend is one of my favorites.

That being said, WHAT THE HELL with Sunday's episode? The writers blew up it all up. Everything that I know and love about the Eric Northman, it's gone. He is now walking around half naked and not remembering what a badass he is. This is no good!!!

I think what upsets me the most is the power imbalance. I mean, how can the immortal vampires, that go zoomy zoomy and fly, how can they be brought down by a bunch of Wiccans chanting nonsense??

I've been near and dear and tried my hand at Wiccanism. It's a harmless religion for the most part. All Goddess earth worshipping. Build an alter and say a spell. Chubby midwestern women in Renaissance fair clothing. We had meetings. Some guy was there a few times. Wore all black and had a cane. Well, it was a cane until you pulled on the handle and out came a shiny sword.

I just didn't feel anything though. I never caught the Wiccan fever. And that's the difference with me. I mean, I can sit around and sing kumbya and feel good. And that's great. Rub the Buddha belly, yay! But on Sunday, when we gathered outside at church, we had a guest preacher.

He's a missionary. Originally from Ohio but a missionary now. Which takes a special kind of crazy to pack up your life, wife and kids and all, move to the mountains of Loas and risk getting arrested and put to death. But he's compelled. He said, "When I was 20, I was an alcoholic and hopeless. I wanted to just die. But that's when God found me, he delivered me and I let him. And now I am out there, sharing his love."

He was so wrapped up in the spirit that he was shouting, deep down preaching. And I was crying, all caught with him. Because I feel the spirit. I have God with me every day. Jesus has changed my life in so many ways, I am so unbelievably blessed. After I was baptized, I was truly reborn, I am free. . . I can't even begin to explain it all. I love my church and what happens there. It's just oh . . . I can't explain it all. .. sniff sniff . . . .

ANYWAY BACK TO TRUE BLOOD

So, in the show, the Wiccan circle chanting is useless until Layfette joins in. He is the key to it all. He is the conduit. Which is creepy. I loves me some Layfette. I don't want him to be weird and then have to be put down. Not a fan of his boyfriend's hair cut either. Hmm we shall see.

So I guess it's ok. I mean, these characters are strong and can become parody of themselves. And it's important to just completely wipe the slate clean once in a while. Mix things up.

That being said. I'm also not a fan of what is happening with Jason Stackhouse.

BAD WEREPANTHERS!! GET OFF HIM!! SHO-SHO!!

OK, DISCUSS!!

fire

2011-07-02T09:24:00.000-05:00

When it gets cold around here, it gets effin cold. So cold that we layer in sweaters and heavy coats. Prewarm our cars and try not to breathe when we get in them. If it's cold, winter cold, our breath coats the inside of windshield.

But none of that matters now. It's summer now. When I blink my eyelids are sticking together because it's so dang hot.

I love being on fire. I love summer. My morning sickness has broke loose and fell off about a week ago. Everything is blooming and bursting with summer life.

:)

The pool boy removes the swimmy

2011-06-29T10:54:00.007-05:00

Mr. Hall, pool boy in residence, doing his morning maintenance.

When the wee Mac was one years old, I had a thing about his nuk. I didn't want his nuk to be taken away. Mac was calmer with the nuk. More pliable and cuddly. My son is, as they say, all boy. He is constant motion, imagination and spitfire. Good stuff.

Mr. Hall, in no uncertain terms, took the nuk away. I was upset by the whole deal. Mac, not so much.

Needless to say, this issue was once again raised when we let him loose in the pool.

Behold, the four year old Mac, all little boy goodness, with his swimmy!

Sigh. I am a fan of the swimmy. A BIG RABID FAN. Mr. Hall felt it was time to take the swimmy away. Let the boy learn how to really swim he says. He's never going to learn with that thing on he says. And he took the swimmy away. Just like that.

It was really scary for me, letting Mac swim without it. But he can. And OOOOH CAN HE!! He is thriving without the swimmy. He is diving down, with his wee swim goggles, fetching the swim sticks. Now Mac doesn't want to wear his swimmy anymore.

AND there ya go. My son is growing up too dang fast. sniff sniff . . .

What is the difference between a Mom and a Dad?

2011-06-28T06:03:00.003-05:00

Make no mistake, my daughter is smart, loving and full of goodness. But she lied the other day. I told her twice to clean her room, she assured me she had. I looked her in the eye and headed up stairs. To Check.

She didn't flinch.

THE ROOM WAS NOT CLEAN.

At this point I kind of exploded in that finger waving mom way. She started to cry. I told her I was upset not only because she didn't do what I told her to do but that she lied. Didn't she think I was going to find out? I felt bad because she was crying but dang Pancake. Really?

Then it was time for bed. Still sniffly, she didn't want to hug, say prayers or nothing. So I probe. Turns out she doesn't like me telling her what to do all the time. This is upsetting. I try my best not to laugh, because it really is bothering her. Then I tell her that Mommie is told what to do every day. I'm told when to show up to work, what to wear. I'm told where to park, when to eat lunch. Being told what to do is part of life. Best to get use to it.

She's still sniffly and it's not helping this explanation. Exasperated, I call in her Daddy.

"YOU try explaining this to her!" And I leave the room and listen.

He says, "If you don't listen to us, you're going to get in trouble. Now goodnight." He flips off the light.

And she says, "Ok, night Daddy."

yep.

mmmhhmm.

that right there is the difference between mommy and daddy. :)

This is why Mr. Hall married me, right here

2011-06-27T11:19:00.004-05:00

The previous owners of our house planted some gnarly bushes. The root system looks a little like that, right up there. Topside, the bushes are just as knotted and bound together. The bushes grow low too. Perfect housing for mold and mice. The mice, in turn, dig up the rest of the yard. Not in a nice way either.

Needless to say, even before we put an offer on the house, Mr. Hall has been eyeing them. Silently warning them of their demise.

It's not an easy job. It requires chainsaws, hoes and some metal spear thing. It doesn't help that the roots and the bushes are embedded in loose rocks. The golf ball size rocks act as mulch I guess.

So I'm watching Mr. Hall, my beloved hubby, reclaiming our yard. He works efficiently, digging and chainsawing. He spears and pushes. Never swearing, never huffing. Just digging them up. I offer to help.

We look at each other. There is NO WAY that's a good idea. We laugh a little.

So I offer this: That guy is Jud Crandall. From Pet Cemetary. I say random quotes from him while Mr. Hall digs the unholy bush asunder:

"That there is the old Indian burial ground. The Indians used that till the land went sour."

And . . . "We best not be burying our cat there, sometimes. . . DEAD IS BETTER!"

And on and on I go. Which makes him smile.

And THAT's why he's married to me, right there!! :)

Turning my world around

2011-06-26T07:51:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, I wiped my son's arms, legs and cheeks with a wet wipe. Then, I carefully applied four band aids over the mosquito bites he had scratched open. It was just wonderful being able to tend to him.

I am feeling better these days. I feel the first trimester giving way to normal now. I can be more present in my own life, get up from the couch and go for walks. My belly is poking out now, I'm starting to show a little.

I am unbelievably besotted by all of this. So thankful, so thankful.

I am fifteen weeks now, the wee bebe is the size of a navel orange. The top of my womb is 3 to 4 inches below my belly button.

I'm so unbelievably happy, we are so blessed.

:)

Let's all hold hands and pretends this is real

2011-06-23T18:51:00.003-05:00

So. I go through food jags with this pregnancy. Stuff I know I can eat that won't make me more morning sickness. For a while it was a bean burrito, a chicken quesidilla with two sides of guacamole at taco bell. Every day. Sometimes twice a day.

Currently it's two # 6 vegetarian subs with no sprouts and extra avocado sauce from jimmy johns subs. I eat one at noon and one at 3-4 pm.

It's getting different though.

Something is changing AND OH MY GOODNESS I HOPE THIS IS THE SECOND TRIMESTER FINALLY KICKING IN. I don't have to get up at 5.30 anymore. Seriously, 5.30 am every day for the last month or so. And I don't have to pee every half hour. My super sonic sense of smell has calmed the heck down.

And. . . sniff sniff. . . . I don't have to use a combo of stool softeners and miralax every day. Because my stuff stopped working, just STOPPED WORKING around week 5. Sorry. I know, I know. TMI.

I can't help it. I'm just giggly today.

I hope this is me turning a corner. I hope! I know my cheeks feel better. I'm not holding my head in my hands so much. My face is moving and I'm talking. Smiling and giggling even.

OH MY GOODNESS!! What is this, is this for reals?? Is this energy?? Oh here's hoping.

MEANWHILE in related news. SQUEE!!!!!! SQUEE!!!!!!! (don't judge me) SQUEE!!!!!! SQUEE!!!!!!!

This is why I'm married, right here

2011-06-22T19:00:00.000-05:00

was morning sickness sick on monday morning. took off of work in the am, decided to go in on the pm.

basically spent the morning on the couch, with mah bucket.

Around 11.00 Mr. Hall finishes a foot rub and says, all serious and annoyed, "OK . . you need to get ready and leave. For work. I can't get anything done with you here. It's frustrating!"

And it's true.

He spent the morning fetching me things, adjusting my pillows, loving me. And that man has projects. Ripping up bushes and mowing lawn projects. And nothing gets done when I'm home and sicky.

Cause he's tending to me.

AND THAT IS WHY I MARRIED MR. HALL

right there!

Hey NURSE! Stories from my time at the county jail

2011-06-21T09:06:00.008-05:00

This will, most likely, be my last post about my time at the county jail. Which is why I've resisted writing it for so long. After this, there isn't much more to say about the subject.

Don't worry though, I'll still write posts about my crazy adventures as a nurse.

When I tell people I was a jail nurse, they ask if I was ever scared of the inmates. I tell them no, the inmates were easy. First of all, it was county lock up. They were locked up for drunk driving, marijuana charges, failure to pail child support or just being a disorderly conduct regular. It was not prison. Most people were doing a year or less. Mostly for being a dumbass.

Also, the inmates want things from you. So they are charming and nice.

The problem with working in the county jail was the guards. Let me state that I would never, ever, ever want to be a guard. It's all watching the inmates, wearing horrible polyester uniforms and being underpaid. It's shift work and boring.

It's also a highly masculine group. All crew cuts, dick jokes and guns on the hips. Even the women were masculine, mostly butch lesbians. The guards didn't like the nursing staff. We were viewed as interlopers. Tending to the inmates with bleeding hearts.

For me, it was an uneasy relationship at first. As a nurse, I carried a disdainful moniker. However, I am a lovely and chipper individual. It's hard not to like me. Also, I don't bristle at dick jokes.

What made the biggest difference was that I never tried to be part of their boy's club. I never tried to be tough, hard or mean. In fact, I was kind and caring. These are areas I excel at. I also kept my head down and worked without complaint. This eventually broke down a number of barriers. A number of the guards softened and would seek out my opinion. Perhaps there was even respect.

Well, perhaps not.

Part of my job was to triage emergencies. On certain shifts, I was a lone nurse with no back up. If an inmate had a problem I couldn't handle, I would have them sent out to an ER. The guards didn't like this. To send an inmate out means a lot of work for them. They couldn't block my decision, but they sure as hell could try.

Such was the case with a pregnant inmate who reported spotting in her seventh month. This was not something I was qualified to treat. I wanted her out and in the hands of an ER. A lead guard, a man in his fifties, visited my office. I liked this guard. He and I would talk about turkey hunting. Which is more difficult than it sounds apparently.

We stood in my office, facing each other. He was trying to explain how it wasn't possible to send her out. I was tired, about 8 months pregnant with my son. I was very aware of how I appeared to him. Some chick nurse, pandering to an inmate, bleeding heart blah blah. He did his best to intimidate me. He was a good foot taller, much beefier and lest we forget, black gun on the hip.

But here's the thing, he couldn't stop me. Guards could not overrule me. I knew this. So I let the guard go on about how this inmate was lying and had lied to every nurse. How she was playing me for a fool. How I was forcing him to waste his guards' time. His anger flushed through me and I had to sit down.

But I didn't care. I didn't care if she was lying. I didn't care if she was faking. I didn't care about any of it. She was my patient and I had made the call. It wasn't about her, or me. I am a nurse, I get things done for those in need. The guard wasn't going to stop me. I was plowing through his wall of no and he knew it.

After this incident, things soured considerably. It just wasn't fun anymore. I think the concrete walls were getting to me. But, this was one of the last jobs I had as a nurse. I was climbing my way towards nurse practitioner. I was kind of done with it anyway. I left the job about a month later.

I eventually found out the inmate was lying. She would use the ER trips to smoke dope. Against my better judgement I felt insulted by this. I had been used. My powers of good were used for evil.

I eventually saw that guard again. At a grocery store no less. He yelled out "Hey NURSE!" Which is how I was usually addressed at the jail. We said polite hellos. He bought a box of coronas and one lime on top. Then he walked to his car.

I CAN SAY THIS.

There is not one person undeserving of care, no matter the lying, cheating, stealing, killing or the ugly. It can be challenging for me. But, I try to remember I am hard wired for mercy, kindness and caring. These are my gifts and no better place to use them then as a nurse.

Mrs. Hall, not just for gays anymore

2011-06-21T06:43:00.002-05:00

I've not posted in a week? WHOAH!

well, here's to Neil Patrick Harris and his awesome Tony opening :)

Mr. Hall says, "Stop telling that story"

2011-06-15T19:53:00.003-05:00

We all have anecdotes from our life. Stuff that we look back on and laugh.

Sometimes, my anecdotes have fringes of self imposed danger. Not little danger though, BIG danger I didn't see at the time.

These are the stories I bring up and Mr. Hall asks me to stop telling.

Por ejemplo(s):

When I was 19 I lived in a studio apartment with a guy. I lived in the walk in closet, slept on an army cot (from the army surplus store). He was an artist. We didn't date OH MY GOODNESS THANK GOD WE DIDN'T DATE.

Anywho, he liked to use pigs' heads as part of his "art". He would buy them at the butcher's. I CANNOT EMPHASIS THE QUOTES ENOUGH. If you and I were talking, in person, I'd be rolling my eyes and using air quotes. """"""""his art"""""""""" Thus, it was not unusual to open my fridge and see a pig's head. He also like to sew army patches into the skin.

So I am remembering this story. And telling it to Mr. Hall, who was no where near me at the time. Then I start to launch into a tirade that he ate my chocolate chip mint ice cream because I turned vegan for a week. I was pissed. Still am.

And Mr. Hall starts making weird noises so I stop.

When I was 16 my Dad bought me a small, second hand motorcycle. To drive a motorcycle one needs a general awareness of how to work a reverse stick shift, a sense of safety and WHAT THE HELL??? I WAS A FLIGHTY UNSAFE 16 YEAR OLD GIRL!! Needless to say I crashed the cycle in the first week. No harm though, I just locked the breaks and slid. Ripping open my knees and cracking my helmet into three sections.

This story pushes him over the edge.

He squirms and makes noises and looks like he is in pain. And I remind him it was ok. I mean, I'm telling the story right?

And he says, "No, you have to stop. You tell these stories and it's just not right. You need someone looking after you because you are so free and full of adventure. And you tell these stories and it scares the hell out of me. It's like you're fading right before my eyes. Like the people in the back to the future photo."

AND WITH THAT. . . .

I stop telling that story.

Any suggestions for a new car?

2011-06-14T08:59:00.004-05:00

I realize there are a lot bigger things going on in this world then my car troubles. But please, bear with me.

Today, after months and months of dealing with it, I called a mechanic and told him the following:

"When I'm driving the car and I hit the 20-25 mph mark i feel a kick, like the car is being kicked from behind. It's like the car jumps. (he asked some questions and I clarified-) it only happens in the lower speed numbers and not in the higher speed numbers, for ex-it doesn't happen when I am driving 55-65. It doesn't happen when I am turning.

It's very annoying because my head hits the head rest when it kicks. (I didn't tell him the part about my morning sickness and how I really don't want to be jostled when driving like this because it only fuels my pukiness. He didn't need to know).

Also, there is a bumper issue which my husband does not want addressed. (I said this a few times)"

So, I bought my jetta when graduated as a nurse. I've had the car longer then I've been Mrs. Hall. I love that car. It has HEATED LEATHER SEATS.

It also has a low wheel base and big stupid rims. Which means it sucks for winter. I've gotten stuck and slippy slidey all over the place. This is no good. Winter is like 6 months in this state.

I've also blown the tires like 4 times. Just driving. When you have big rims, WHICH ARE FACTORY ISSUED, the tires are touchy. Again, with winter being a large part of this state, the roads, they being made of cement, freeze and form cracks and potholes. I am careful but the jetta tires are not up to such torment.

Then there is this little baby in mah belly. Which is still making me pukey and I love her so but really, enough already, I'm 13 weeks. enough. I love you little Maggie pie but please. Mr. Hall would like to thank you for the c cups but I DIGRESS.

Back to the jetta.

Another feature of the jetta it the ITSY BITSY SMALL BACK SEAT. Three carseats will not fit.

All of which produces a sad for me. We will be looking to get it fixed then sending it on it's way most likely.

I love that car. It was my first grown up car. I had a POS datsun before that car. When I bought the Jetta I said would drive it until the floor fell out.

Looks like it is.

So. Any suggestions for a new car?

AND NO. WE WON'T BE GETTING A MINI VAN. I AM TOO COOL FOR THAT.

When I turned off the car, Pancake was crying

2011-06-12T16:51:00.006-05:00

We've been going to our current church for about a year. Most every Sunday. Pancake has her own special kid service. The kidz crew puts on a skit and song. Lessons are learned, songs are sung and fun is had.

But make no mistake. Pancake is effected by all of this. She doesn't talk much about it. Which frustrates me. I want to be there for her, listening to her questions, letting her know it's all right. But she's just quiet about it.

So. I do what I can to coach her through this. I play the Christian station and sing along. Letting her know what I'm feeling. We look through the Bible and talk about the stories. I tell her when I'm scared I pray. Then I show her how.

Such was the case last night. We were listening to the Christian station and wowsers there was some whoopers. I got all weepy and stirred up. Which happens in church too. Sometimes I feel the spirit well up in me and I can't sing for the tears flooding my eyes.

Then I turn off the car. And I hear her crying too.

I say, "Pancake, are you ok?" And she says, "Yes Momma, that's just a really powerful song." Then I gathered her out of back seat and showed her I was just as moved. Then we hugged for a while.

****************************************

Last year, she saw me baptized. She had no idea what was going on. So in the next few nights, I think I'll have her watch this movie.

Then I'll tell her what it felt like.

:)

Splish-e-Splash

2011-06-09T12:31:00.004-05:00

How do I describe what happened last night?

It was hot, ~ 100 degrees. The kids jumped in the pool and I hesitated. I stood by the side of the pool and then temptation bit me. I jumped in the warm water.

Then, after a spell, the kids were done. Hungry. Off they went to eat sammiches. Mr. Hall appeared with snorkeling goggles and feety fins. Which, I can say now, is a complete game changer.

I mean, I like our pool, love it in fact, but having snorkeling goggles and feety fins . . . changed my world.

I must have spent two hours diving in the deep end. Popping up and taking deep breaths, all loud and gulpy. Then plunging down, trying to touch the drain. I opened my entire body, stretched out my arms and legs so wide. It felt amazing.

I didn't realize how hunched I've become, how much nausea grips my body. I didn't realize swimming would free me from all that. It felt divine as I stretched out, making myself into a big upside down L. I was so weightless. So graceful as I glided around. Gravity had no hold, I was so free.

And the more I swam, the freer I became.

Then I would dive down a bit, flip onto my back and stare up through a sheet of water. I would blow these bubbles and let them float to the surface. Big, globby air balloons of my own making.

Then my body would float to the top. I'd pop up again, all giggly. Mr. Hall was on the side, watching my delight. I made him promise we'd never be without a pool.

Then more gulps and down I went again. :)

random thoughts and four months

2011-06-08T15:23:00.002-05:00

I vant to write a post but don't really have much to say.

I can say I saw "Ed Wood" the movie. That was charming. A bit long in the tooth but charming nonetheless.

I can say that Lady Gaga irritates me. I just don't feel all her whickety wackity get ups are organic. She is not explaining who she is with the meat dress, she is hiding in plain site. Which means she's really not fessing up to anyone about anything about her. Which is no good. Come on Lady Gaga, show us who you really are.

I know this for sure, NECK TATTOOS DO NOT LOOK GOOD ON THE OTHER SIDE OF 50. I know because I work with a lot of veterans. A lot of tattoos pass through my office. again. don't get kneck tattoos.

Still tired and a little pukey. But if you want to more know more about that then read the last 5 or 10 posts.

Which brings me to this.

I am four months pregnant.

My belly is starting to stick out.

And I was in teh lunch room the other day and someone was asking about it and I started to ball. Because I'm so happy.

So very very very very happy.

OK that's all I's got fer today.

You make the call

2011-06-07T21:07:00.002-05:00

Welcome back to YOU make the call!

I had to duct tape my bumper so it wouldn't sag as a I drove home. AND NO, THAT'S NOT MY CAR UP THERE. I have a jetta.

Anywhoodle.

This is where you all come in. Let's examine what happened to cause such duct tape usage and decide if any of it is my fault.

First, in a bizarre twist, I damaged my front bumper by backing up. The concrete stop (at the end of the parking spot) was held down by two rebars (one through either end). As I was backing up, I heard a crunch and then Styrofoam came a popping up. One of the rebars had risen up while I was parked, it was half way out of the ground.

This is what dislodged my bumper, it pulled my right front bumper out from underneath as I backed up.

SO!! my question is this-could the rebar have been that far out of the ground when I parked? Could the 100 degree heat have pushed it up while I was parked? How much blame do I need to take here?

Leave your decision in the comments.

Be kind people, this is the second parking lot incident I have had, damaging my car but JUST DRIVING IT.

:)

yeah, i'm a little bit evil

2011-06-04T11:23:00.003-05:00

It's been a long stupid ass winter yo. And spring kept throwing 50 degree rainy cold days our way. But now, summer has officially broke open. Which is awesome. Cause we bought a house with a pool.

And ya know THE BEST PART ABOUT HAVING A POOL IN YOUR BACKYARD. THAT CAME WITH THE HOUSE?

When the kids drive you nuts you throw them in the pool. Instant harmony.

When you are hot and sweaty and yelling at the kids too much, you go down the slide and get in the pool. Instant harmony.

And the best part of the pool? It's that you dont' have to suck it in or shave all that well because it's just you, the Mr. and the kids. Sure, you could invite neighbors but then you would have to make small talk. And that would require wanting to share. I not want to share.

Instead, I sort of just um revel in it. Kind of feel superior and laugh. Because the neighbors, all they have is a blow up plastic pool in their driveway. Which is filled with hose water. All cold.

But dude, look we got up there. MWWAHH HAA HAA!@!@!

yeah, i'm a little bit evil.

ok , back in the pool guys!

And make mommy a margarita!

Then I (didn't) make my mom cry

2011-06-03T12:49:00.004-05:00

So, went to buy Pancake's flower girl dress last Sunday. It went well. It was me, the little girl and my Mom. Pancake will be a flower girl for two weddings this summer, my sister in law's and my brother's wedding.

My brother's wedding being a SHOT GUN WEDDING!!

Then, as my Mom is dropping us off at home, she cops an attitude. I've offended her, I just know it. Only I don't know why because she's all passive aggressive and gets in a snit and doesn't tell me what the hell I did. I tried calling her twice after that. She said, through what I can only imagine was gritted teeth, "I'M FINE. NOTHING IS WRONG!"

HUH! WOMEN!

Yesterday, she was over and it all came out. Apparently I was acting like my sister in law's wedding is more important than my brother's wedding. Because I let my sister in law help pick out the flower girl dress. (I was texting photos of the dress while Pancake was trying it on). I didn't text my brother's fiancee because well, my sister in law gets first choice. She asked Pancake first.

This upset my Mom. Only SHE DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING BUT INSTEAD WORKED HERSELF INTO A TIZZY. So I never knew she was upset until she drove away all pissy when she dropped us off.

And truth be told, I am more excited about my sister in law's wedding! My baby sister in law found a good man that loves her and they're getting married. He's an awesome guy this guy. He really loves her. He can withstand all manner of alpha females that is my husband's side of the family. They try to mow him down and it doesn't work. He's artful about it though. Not loud or dominating. Just tricky and subtle.

Just like Mr. Hall, the man knows how to handle the alpha female energies. It's really neat to watch!

And I'm technically closer to my baby sister in law then my brother. My brother is a bit of a dumbass and kind of selfish. Which is why he's been dating his girlfriend for 10 years and it took a surprise pregnancy to make him pony up a ring.

So yeah, I'm more excited about my sister in law's wedding.

So I'm thinking all of this in my head while my mom is going on and on about how I made her so mad. How she built this interior fury at me, on the ride home from the bridal shop. And I'm telling her to knock it off. If she's mad at me I need to know- so I can address it. She needs to let me know so she doesn't get her feelings hurt so bad.

And she says, "No Holly, I need to do it how I do it. I get mad, blow up and need a few days to calm down. That's my way."

(I kid you not THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT SHE SAID.)

So then I say, "I'm sorry Mom, I am more excited about my brother's wedding then my sister in laws. I promise!"

HURUMPH!

And she smiled and we hugged.

Because sometimes a little lie helps a whole lot!

My boy

2011-06-01T12:43:00.003-05:00

I wish dinosaur train was an hour. That way, Mac would cuddle for an hour. He's a good snuggler when he wants to be.

It's a special Mommy and Mac day and oh, how fun!

He tells me jokes like, "what did the banana say to the teeth? don't bite me!!" (then he takes a big bite out of his banana.}

Then.

THEN.

At the park I see him, playing with the other boys. He's not as aggressive and pushy. He takes being knocked down well and doesn't snot up. He's in there, playing hard. Getting all sweaty and summer leg bruises.

Then.

THEN.

He is climbing up the stairs to the slide. A tiny little girl in a pink puffy dress toddles behind him. He reaches out his hand and helps her up. "I'll help you cause I'm bigger." he says.

MY HEART EXPLODED WHEN HE SAID THIS!!!

He's such a good kid. so proud. He'll make such an excellent big brother :)

ok, off to nap.

More adventures await us after we rest! :)

none of this makes much sense

2011-05-31T13:33:00.003-05:00

went and got kids the summer clothes. none of it makes sense, the sizes we were buying. since when doesn't the wee Mac wear 5T? The t is for toddler and I guess he's not a toddler anymore. He's four and half so I guess it's time for bigger sizes. Still, it doesn't make sense buying him such big boy clothes.

The store was a trippy experience. I'm back on the zofran because my nausea has risen up and reclaimed me. It takes a long time to process things and do things and make sense of things. Most of the time I just try to let Mr. Hall do things for me because I end up spilling and walking into walls.

It's true.

I have low blood pressure at baseline. Something like 90/60. With pregnancy I'm dipping even lower-82/58. I'm bumping into walls and stuttering. I'm a bit of menace at this point.

Also, there is this round ligament pain I'm having. There are ligaments that are attached from the hip to the womb. They are two inches normally, but grow to 12 as the pregnancy progresses.

Tendons aren't stretchy by nature.

So I have dull aches and sharp snaps of pain. Right by the hip bone. ow ow ow owow ow. Sometimes when I sneeze, sometimes when I get up from sitting. Sometimes when I sitting there. Just sitting there.

And people gather round and pity me. Some have offered to pray for me. I don't want them to though. This is baby Maggie inside me. That's what we've started calling her.

And I have all the love in the world for this little girl. I'll gladly take on all the puking, the tireds and struggles with words. I am her momma and i have all the love in the world for her. :)

peace out all :)

Freedom

2011-05-30T07:49:00.001-05:00

Feeling so good this morning. I hope and hope and hope and hope and hope this kind of freedom lasts. I am eating and awake. enjoy the tastes and textures of food. At any moment though, the nausea could sneak back up. It seems there is still lingering shadow.

But for now, I'm ok. Like awesome ok.

Posted this on facebook:

"felt good enough to go for a walk with pancake, we saw blooming trees, tulips and all sorts of spring! And lots of squirrels. Then we start to say, "Daddie . . . I want a squirrel! A trained squirrel!" Just like Veruca Salt. And we laughed and laughed! good times! heee hee . . "

Seriously, when did spring pop up? Did you know everything is blooming? Wowzers!

Ok, let me gather my things and get ready to go to the parade. It is memorial day after all.

And while I comb my hair and put ON MAKE UP FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A MONTH- I will be rock out to this.

OLD MAN ON THE BACK PORCH. WOOOHOOO!!!

Bizarre

2011-05-27T06:46:00.002-05:00

The nausea of my pregnancy is starting to fade. WHICH IS AWESOME! It's like, my world is becoming 3 d again. Not just me, with my head in my hands, hunched over, looking at my un pedicured toes.

I'm starting to notice that all the plants in my yard have blossomed. And my husband is coming back into focus. It's nice to see him again.

Then. I woke up at 3.30 this morning feeling like something was gnawing at my belly. From the inside. It took me a few minutes to realize I was STARVING. Ravenous. Which is how I feel now, at friggin 6.30 in the morning.

And I'm still out of sorts about actually eating but I'm so hungry. I am retraining myself to eat. ooft. It's just all bizarre this pregnancy.

Did I mention how happy I am. How absolutely over the moon I am.

One thing I love now that I'm climbing out of my first trimester is the music. I am really grooving on some good tunes in the morning.

All the better to scarf that 2nd bowl of raisin bran to.

:)

have a hungry weekend all!

It's hot outside, let me go swimming in your eyes

2011-05-25T20:29:00.002-05:00

this song is making me reconsider my aversion to long haired men.

yes, it's that good!

Before I go any further, this needs to be addressed

2011-05-24T11:24:00.003-05:00

My high powered OB GYN asked me to get records of my daughter's birth. Which is fine. I have them scanned into my hard drive. It's a PDF document with 40 some pages. I realize she is only interested in the 2 page surgical report. But, I don't want to find it. I don't want to flip through the records. I don't want to look.

This is difficult for me. But here the hell goes. This needs to be addressed before I go any further.

Here is a shortened version of my daughter's birth.

Eight years ago I woke up at 4 am with my water breaking. I got all excited. We went to the hospital and was so excited. Nothing was happening though, no contractions, just me leaking. Then, the epidural guy came and said, "I'm going into surgery so if you need an epidural you can get one now." I hadn't had a contraction yet. They did start pitocin though. Pitocin is an IV medication that makes your uterus contract.

So. I went with the epidural that numbed everything below my bra line. And they told me contractions had started but I didn't know that. I didn't feel anything. Mr. Hall held my hand and we sort of sat there for about 6 hours. Then, things starting going wrong. The pitocin was making my uterus contract but the contractions weren't retracting. My uterus was clamping down on my daughter and making her heart beat go down.

Then, I remember having a nurse on one side and a doctor on the other. They were trying to turn me from side to side, trying to release the pressure on the baby. My daughter. They were kind of snippy to each other. Then the doctor said, "We're going to do an c-section". They hiked up the bedrails and began wheeling me away.

They separated me and my husband. He would later tell me how pissed off this made him. He was left there, in the room, watching me be wheeled away. He would talk about how he wanted to punch the doctor for taking me away like that. He was not allowed in the surgical room.

I remember being hoisted onto the operating table and strapped down all Jesus crucifix style, in a T, arms outstretched. The anesthesiologist reappeared. Someone asked my to sign something and I was shaking. I heard the heart beat though, my daughter's heart beat through the machine that goes bing. Her heart beat was climbing upwards. Then, I prayed. This is what I said.

I said,

"God, if you need to take me or my daughter, here we are."

And I felt a flush of calm and everything felt safe.

(hold on, crying here, give me a minute)

(ok, that's better. back to the story)

Then the anesthesiologist put the mask over my face and very calmly asked me to breathe. He was very comforting and I will always remember that. I was put under general or complete anesthesia. I woke up shaking and disorientated. I didn't know this at the time but shaking is an effect of the anesthesia.

I remember they tried to have me hold my daughter and I couldn't hold her, I was still so woozy from the epidural and general anesthesia. I couldn't see well. I don't remember seeing my daughter at that time. I remember being so wobbly.

This stuff I'm writing here. It's taken me years to process. It was only a year ago I got the hospital records. There are so many chunks of this I still can't wrap my head around. The records help though. They helped me understand why my throat was so sore. When I was placed under general anesthesia they intubated me. Which means they put a tube down my throat to inflate my lungs. This was a revelation to me, figuring this out.

The hardest part was waking up though. Really waking up. After waking up shaking, crying and unable to hold my daughter I went back to sleep. Then, I woke up in the middle of the night and asked Mr. Hall to help me to the bathroom. The room was dark and I was attached to an IV pole. He couldn't really lift me and my legs still weren't working right. We called a nurse to help and she scolded us a bit.

The next day, more confusion. I just didn't understand why I was so sore. I mean, I had had an epidural, so I never felt anything, so why was I so sore? It turns out that I was sore because I had been through labor. This was explained to me by a nurse. I was so messed up in my head. It didn't occur to me that I had been in labor.

The words c-section messed me up. I realized I had had a c-section but it didn't occur to me that that DIDN'T cancel out my labor. Again, I wasn't thinking right.

It was a confusing time those first days after the c-section. I remember they handed me my daughter a second time and I was gobsmacked. She was so blonde. This MADE NO SENSE. I am darker. NOT BLONDE. But I held her and tried to have her nurse. That sucked. She didn't nurse at friggin all.

So there I was, body and throat sore for reasons I didn't understand. With this blonde baby I didn't recognize. Struggling to surface from all of it. Not daring to call any of this trauma because they had saved my baby and how could I question any of it.

No matter how confused I was, I still had the Momma Bear instinct. I gripped her tightly. I dressed her and changed her diaper. I was a deer in headlights but I still cuddled her with all my might.

Mr. Hall had given her her first bath, her first bottle. He did this while I was still sleeping. He reassured me this was the right baby. I trusted him.

In the next few weeks things got better. I started to wake up more. Pancake was so small and just dissolved me. Then, there was this one morning feeding. It was 5.30 am, the morning light bathing the kitchen as I warmed up a bottle.

She was in my arms. I looked down at her and stuff went off inside me. And I said, "Hey sweetie. your name is Pancake, my name is Mommie. Mommie loves you."

I had come into my role. I was her Momma. I felt it.

And it was good.

So, now my task is to ask God for some help. I obviously need some help healing here. Because my daughter's birth was trauma. I don't want to carry this anymore. I will hold up my hands and let God take this from me. I will pray. I will pray. I will pray. I will let Him take all the fear and the blood and the guts because this is not mine any more. I'll let His love wash over me and heal everything inside.

And so it shall be.

Where Did You Sleep Last Night?

2011-05-23T08:00:00.000-05:00

Went to bed at like 8 oclock last night. So tired this morning. Slept too long but not enough. I am climbing my way out of the first trimester but I'm not all the way done yet.

Bizzarro dreams. My left hip hurts because I sleep on my left side, all spoon with the body pillow. Apparently I didn't roll, I just layed there on my left side. Mr. Hall came to bed and I murmured . . . "try not to touch me, I'm going to throw up." YEP. These is sexy times . . sexy times. . .

And I'm tired of sounding like a broken record here. So let's change the tune.

Swam in the inground pool yesterday. It came with the house we bought. OH MY GAWD YOU PEOPLE HAVE TO GET ONE OF THOSE. The water was cool and the pool liner was so smooth under my feet. The kids were going absolutely bananas, splashing around, giggling, hollering. I loved how the water came up to my waist, coating and pressing me with it's chill.

The liner is this wonderful shade of blue and everything was so blue. So soothing. And we have these trees, these huge trees that line our property. Hawks were milling about, surveying our backyard for lunch.

So yeah. crazy days these day. beautiful, swimming pool, sleepy days . . .

Surface. and Surfacing . . . . TEN

2011-05-22T08:18:00.005-05:00

Oh my good people. It has been a long month of pukey morning sickness. And for this I deserve something. Oh wait, I'm growing a baby. That's more than enough reward :)

I feel things are changing though. I'm starting to surface a little more. I still feel nauseous but I can eat more than two bites at a time now. I can stay awake more than 3 hours without a cat nap. I feel myself waking up. Which is kind of like waking up after after a disaster really. Only the apocalypse happened on my looks. My surface looks road construction, all tore up with a jackhammer. My hair is longer, but my roots are out of control. My nails and toenails are out sorts. I am pudgy and sore.

BUT. I'm here. Talking and walking. Standing upright a little more. My facial muscles are relaxing and I'm smiling. Coworkers say I look much less green these days. All of which is AWESOME.

I am ten weeks today. The baby has fingernails. Her arms and legs are moving. I can't feel her yet but soon . . soon. so yeah. Here's to surfacing. And ten weeks. Every week is a miracle.

So happy am I!

I realize this video was about the number 12 but sue me. There are no decent sesame street videos about number 10.

Making peace with my high powered OB GYN

2011-05-19T12:42:00.003-05:00

so. it appears to be official. we will not be going with the lovely midwife, but with my high powered, fast talking OB GYN. She's a marathon runner. Skinny. Short hair.

Not that it matters. I will have a doula or birth coach as I labor. Doctors are generally called as needed during the labor. And who ever is on call that weekend will be my doctor.

So now I have to see this OB GYN once a month and I'm trying not to get in a snit about it. I can say the saying is true, "doctors and nurses make the worst patients". this is true. we are the worst patients because we've seen backstage, we've seen the strings.

And this doctor, she is so fast and high powered. And asks probing personal questions like when I had sex last. How much dairy I'm eating. And I bristle because who is she to be asking me anything. And she's not gentle. She's good. And THURAH.

Ok. I'll just go once a month, hopefully she's won't have to touch my lady parts each time. Seriously, the woman gave me a breast exam that left me sore. She's good. And THURAH.

AND. The thing that gets me is that to see her, it's a ten dollar co pay. To see a midwife, the whole thing is out of pocket. 3000 dollars out of pocket. Which I would have negotiated down but still. Stupid insurance.

So instead, Mr. Hall and I are going on a cruise soon.

SO THERE'S THAT!!

:)

Not a symbiotic relationship

2011-05-18T10:22:00.003-05:00

THE STUPID FRICKING PHOTO WON'T LOAD SO JUST PRETEND THERE'S ONE. RIGHT HERE. USE YOUR IMAGINATION. PICTURE ANYTHING YOU WANT.

So, writing to keep sane here. The morning sickness is kind of overwhelming when there is a lull at work. If I'm busy I can just plow through. But, these down times are just killer.

So I write here. On the company dime.

And it's not so much the morning sickness as it is the zofran. Which is an anti-nausea medication I'm taking. Which reduces the morning sickness to a reasonable level. It helps me keep food down. But at the same time it makes me feel so floaty. Disconnected from my body and so tired.

Lord howdy being pregnant. whew. Mr. Hall says, "It's not a symbiotic relationship, being pregnant. It's like a parasite really." Then, like most men, proceeds to tell me all sorts of things I can do to feel better. To easy the constant feeling that I'm going to throw up. To ease my hooded eyes and sore boobins.

"Make sure you drink your gatorade. And try to go for a quick walk. And . . . "

AND THAT'S WHEN I KIND OF SNAP.

MIRACLE!!! IT'S A MIRACLE NOT A PARASITE. I'M SO TIRED,

I say.

Why do men need to rush in and fix things?

gah.

That being said, had a fabulous encounter with a co-worker. She hadn't seen mE in a few weeks and stopped in to say hi. She took one look at me and said, "OH! You're pregnant aren't you?" And I was kind of shocked that she knew but she did. "I recognize that pukey/exhausted look anytime!" Then we hugged a little and it felt good.

Which is another thing I need to work on. I'm so out of sorts I can't stand being touched that much. Mr. Hall, my poor husband. Can't even give me a back rub without me slapping his hand away. It's not sexy these days of yore. gah.

Alright, I gotta wrap this up. Gotta end this on a positive note, something funny. Something touching and warm.

We are thinking about the next baby after this one. This baby love we have, we just get so greedy about it. Our kids, the 8 and 4 year old, they are such wonderful little people. So smart, so adventurous. And loving. And best friends with each other.

We just get so greedy for all this family love. It's so awesome being a tribe.

PICTURE A TOUCHING PHOTO OF ME AND THE KIDS. THAT'S WHAT I WOULD PUT HERE BUT THE PHOTOS WON'T LOAD. :)

Lazy by design

2011-05-16T14:42:00.004-05:00

I don't want to jinx this but my life is pretty lazy right now. I think this is a combination of default and design. Sure I've accomplished things, mom, wife, mental health nurse practitioner, which required a master's degree . . . etc.

But for the most part. I'm lazy as all get out.

i had a dream last night that I was talking with a former friend. She was going to be surgeon but fell in love and decided that the surgeon's hours were not conducive to a normal life. She has a practice in California. She's a family doctor I think. She's also a marathon runner, a mom of one and one on the way. Makes most everything from scratch. I'm tired just listening to her.

Anyway, she was in my dream and I was telling her I'm never on call. I don't work nights or weekends and I have every other Tuesday off. My kids are spoiled silly with all this parent love they have. Even now that Daddy has a part time job, he still works from home. He continues to drop the kids off and pick them up from school.

Except we've taken Little Mac, my 4 year old, out of day care. Which is weird for me. Panic inducing even... "He has his little friends at school . . . he'll fall behind academically . . . they love him there . . . " I pleaded.

Mr. Hall said, "We pay X00 a month for this. He naps an hour and half during the day there. What are we paying for anyway? It makes more sense to keep him home for a while. We have a pool, he'll spend the summer swimming with his sister."

And I bucked about it but I can see his point. I think my biggest objection really, if I look deep down inside, is that I'm lazy. I like to lounge on my days off. Cross stitching, reading, yoga-ing, napping. I like my me time.

But. I am his Momma so I've made a plan. I can't really teach Mac much right now, with being all sicky these days, pregnant and all. But I can teach him to chill out more. To lounge in the sun a little more. Blow bubbles more. Then, we'll go to the park and he can run around and be crazy with other short people while I read a little in the shade. :)

Riding a moped through Paris

2011-05-15T00:28:00.002-05:00

When Mr. Hall and I starting dating, we would rent movies. Only we would talk through them. We talked a lot. tons andtonsandtonsoftalking.

Then. We went and saw films in the theater. He was the first man who brought me to a foreign film. I didn't have to explain or beg or bargain for this. He likes foreign films too. He was my first boyfriend who likes the foreign films.

"They have naked boobies in the French films", he would joke.

:)

So we saw Amelie. As we were buying tickets, we noticed the title spelled out phonically , like this: Amelie (Ah May Lee)

I've loved that movie ever since. Still do. Just like Mr. Hall

Luckily, our ending is nowhere is sight. :)

The crazy up inside . . . NINE

2011-05-14T12:40:00.003-05:00

That's the little baby up in mah belly. Amazing that they can take photographs of little babies in bellies.

She's nine weeks now. And my crazy keeps growing. I talk to her, tell her all about her family, about her big brother and big sister. How they are careful around her already. My daughter says things like, "Mommy's growing a baby, that's why she's on the couch all the time."

And the sickness continues but I'm managing better. This too shall pass.

More inside craziness is happening. There are bilateral tendons attached from each hip to the womb. They start out 2 inches and eventually stretch to 12 as the pregnancy progresses. As such, when I sneeze or twist the wrong way they smart something fierce. Mr. Hall says, "Things are blossoming". My pants don't quite fit anymore. Which is awesome. I love wearing dresses. :)

But mostly, I'm just crazy inside. I have all this love and squishiness over the wee one. I've let myself fall hook line and sinker. I've dived in head first loving this little one with all my might. All my crazy comes tumbling out as I show the ultrasound picture to anyone who will look.

I mean, look at her! With her wee butt, and head. And arm buds. But, she's nine weeks today.

Her arms have sprouted.

So proud, so proud!

And so crazy happy.

NINE!

i'm still here, i'm just sleeping

2011-05-11T23:35:00.000-05:00

oh my gawd. i saw the wee baby on ultrasound yesterday. full heart beat. little butt. little arm buds. I cried. She's so healthy. it's wonderful.

and so comforting. because i am so exhausted. slept 10 hours last night and could barely stay awake during work today. and still so nauseous. i am getting kind of snippy too. everyone wants something from me and I line them up. they can wait, i'll get to it. eventually.

so yeah. tired.

ok then. see you all when I can. I'm going back to sleep. :)

self perception and the female angry

2011-05-09T11:56:00.004-05:00

for those that are new, i'm a mental health provider. i work with people who have mental health problems.

Like being angry all the time.

I've written about men's anger before. Men are obvious when angry, the break stuff, punch walls, scream and throw things. Women are more internally angry. Their rage seethes, burning slowly. For the most part, it explodes in passive aggression and self hatred.

That being said, some women are outwardly angry and have no idea why they are being perceived as such a bitch. Self perception is a funny thing. Most people that show up at my office thinking they are good actors, hiding what's wrong. Like no one can tell. It's my job to read people. I see things a mile away.

Sometimes I don't even have to look. I hear it in the waiting room even before they come into my office.

Like the woman that saw me last week. Angry as a cat forced to take a bath. She was very loud and obtuse. She was hollering almost the entire time. My attempts at talking her down were met with spiky oppositions and snide remarks. Not a fun visit. It was short. I'm getting to old to baby the tantrums that some of my patients have.

And what was she mad about?

What the womens are always made about-the mens.

THE MENS! The mens that drink to much, fool around too much, lay around on the couch too much and generally provide nothing more than an extra child to the women they love. The extra child being the husbands of course.

And it's not that the men are abusive, they are just leeches.

And the woman goes on and on about this bastard. And I'm trying to listen but wow really? You didn't know he was an asshole before you married him? You didn't notice he's NEVER HAD A JOB? You didn't realize that his felony criminal record MIGHT BE A BARRIER TO A GOOD CREDIT RATING?

I swear, it makes no sense. These women, they are not RETARDS. They are often accomplished and smart. But they pull these losers into their lives. And they have the right to be angry. I would be angry. Who wants a lump of clay for a husband?

But here's the thing. All this blowhard bitchy anger serves a purpose. If they get mad, they don't have to do anything but get mad. They don't have to plan on getting out of the relationship. They don't have to evict the leech. They just have to yell and scream and oh poor me. There is a lot of seduction in that type of attention.

Which is why I kept the visit short. I was not going to give that type of attention. That and she was starting to turn the anger on me. Because I wasn't giving into her poor me routine. gah.

We all have a level of responsibility in this life.

So please, try not to date any losers.

OK?

Mommy wasn't careful

2011-05-08T07:33:00.004-05:00

Early morning photo of me and Mac

Was feeling faboosh yesterday morning. Complete absence of morning sickness and exhuastion. I also had a hankering for french toast. OoooOOooo french toast with it's bread dipped in eggy goodness, tossed on the griddle and browned just right. Then the butters and the syrups! And powdered sugars!! OOo la la! Oui! Oui!

I even had real coffee! It was awesome. I've been living on Gatorade, peppermints and pretzels for the last week. The french toast tasted so divine. OOo la la! Oui! Oui!

I felt so good in fact that I took us all for a walk in the woods. The trees, the sunshine, ooh! It was all such fun! We even saw a beaver. LA BEAVER LOVE! OOo la la! Oui! Oui!

Then. As we trekked back the nature center it started again. I felt the nausea creeping back into my joints and belly. My eyes became hooded and I left to lay down in the car. Which really, it's my fault. Mommy wasn't careful.

I've been praying for God to help with my worries and fears about this pregnancy. Not so long after, my entire body was commandeered by the sicky and tireds. Which is kind of awesome when you think about it. I mean, my entire body is being overtaken by something the size of a kidney bean. I am just a vessel at this point.

Which is kind of a metaphor for motherhood. These babies just march right in and take over the place. First your body, then your life.

Cheeky little monkeys!

Needless to say, I didn't hold onto the french toast for long. ( I would like to apologize to the bushes outside the nature center. Really, sorry guys). Then Mr. Hall drove us home and offered to take the kids adventuring (a.k.a picking up yard sticks) so I could recover and moan in peace. I love that man of mine.

Later in the afternoon, Pancake crawled into bed with me. She's been noticing I've been sick these last few days. She is starting to worry. So I tell her. "Mommy's pregnant." Which really, it's my fault. Mommy wasn't careful. (HEE HEE)

And her eyes got wide and she is careful absorbing that news. I tell her we are praying and hoping and placing all of this in God's hands because the baby has a long way to grow. Then we hug.

Then I tell her it's ok that I'm sick because I was very sick when I was pregnant with her. Then I give her a wee spank. Because man o man, it was exactly like this with Pancake's pregnancy. Not so much with Mac though.

Then she says, "Well, it must be a girl!"

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY EVERYONE!!

Finally, some family gossip

2011-05-05T06:04:00.005-05:00

i get a call from my brother Sunday. He said he's getting married in July. To the girl he's been living with for 10 years. The girl he charges rent.

And I'm excited for him. Bewildered though. I mean, what's the big rush? Two months? They've been together for 10 years. Huh, well, I guess it's just time.

then.

THEN.

My mom calls up practically screaming. NO wait, she is screaming-- with excitement. My brother and his NOW fiancee are expecting. "I'M GONNA BE A GRANDMA TWICE AGAIN THIS YEAR!!! YOU AND CARRIE ARE BOTH DUE AT THE SAME TIME!!" And I'm having hard time hearing my mom, and she's all worked up. Then she came over and repeated this like six times. She's so happy about this. I had to practically scrape her off the ceiling.

It's always bugged her that my brother never married Carrie. It's kind of bugged me to. My brother bugs me in general though. Dude lives 15 minutes away and never visits his niece and nephew.

Well, it is nice though. I'm going to be an Auntie! Nice! WOOT!

Then.

THEN.

My rude Dad asked the RUDE question of whether or not this new bambino was planned. And no, this little baby of my brother's was a happy, joyous unplanned happening. But you know what they say, "You make plans and God laughs."

So now I'm excited on several levels. First, I'm going to be an Auntie! Then, I'm going to use this opportunity to TRY to get closer to my brother. Well, get closer to Carrie. Then, I'm excited because my kids will have a cousin. AND THEN, I'm excited that Mr. Hall and I are no longer the only provider of grandchildren. That is exciting.

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST!

I'm excited because it's about time I had some family gossip to share.

A SHOTGUN WEDDING!!

(well not really but still)

SUCH SCANDAL!!!

:)

Alcohol infused whip cream-discuss

2011-05-04T07:02:00.003-05:00

so. started zofran for the nasuea. which I think is helping. I don't feel the bone crushing nausea so acutely. I can let the kids sit on my lap without flinching at their smell. I can still only tolerate a few bites of food at a time, but at least I can tolerate that. I'm going to try and go back to work today. Here's hoping I have an uneventful day.

speaking of better living through chemistry-have you seen alcohol infused whipped cream?

WHAT DO WE THINK?

Would you try it? Would you buy it @ 12.00 dollars a can? Do you think it would provide any tastiness to your cocktail?

Is it really necessary or a sign of the apocalypse?

Please discuss!

losing it in the best way possible

2011-05-02T15:26:00.003-05:00

My kids. How awesome is this photo eh?

Went to visit the birth suites today, at the local hospital. Mr. Hall is not entirely sold on the midwife home birth idea. He likes to explore all his options. It was a tough visit. I am pukey and sore. And so tired. yay first trimester stuff.

offt. I am so enveloped by all this pregnancy stuff. I can't even think right. So apologies for the lack of smart, quirky and fun posts.

I can say though that I kind of lost it during the tour. All those tiny diapers in the post-partum rooms. All this boobin soreness and feeling like I am gonna throw up. All this pregnancy stuff . . . All of this is so reassuring. My entire being is being taken over by the wee bambino.

Then I started thinking about Mac's birth. Which was so awesome. Seven hours of awesome. Epidural didn't work. He came au natural and nursed like a champ. It was so beautiful and magnificent. So I kind of started crying on the tour. Losing it in the best way possible.

Yeah, I'm kind of mess right now. It's awesome. It's like I'm swimming under the sea.

Good stuff :)

Driving on

2011-04-29T08:28:00.005-05:00

i was at subway the other day, getting irritated by a women's leopard print purse. it wasn't the fact that it was tacky and in poor taste, or the fact that it was fake leather, it was just really, really busy. all black and white and busy.

then it hit me.

the reason I was getting all pissy at her purse was morning sickness. there had been whispers of the nausea for a few days. But, I passed it off to eating pop tarts. Same with the boobin soreness.

but this purse, it was making me nauseous. Same thing when Mr. Hall swirled the kids' oatmeal in the morning. Then it was a purple sweater. And it was cute, these last few days. The little morning sickness whispers. It made me weepy a little. Because the baby is speaking to me.

Well, this morning she is roaring. I all but threw up in the parking lot at work today. Gah. Thankfully no coworkers were present.

I can say this. I've had morning sickness with each pregnancy and I am an old pro by now. I plan on sipping and eating bits of food and driving on. No trips to the ER to get IV fluid. I can do this, just like when I pregnant with Mac. I couldn't let his sister run around while I threw up, so I put her in the dry tub and locked the bathroom door.

Or I held her on my lap while I got the deed done.

This one time she felt pity for me. She rubbed my back and said, "oh Mommy, it'll be ok."

And indeed it will! The deafening dual siren of pukiness and exhaustion is my baby inside. Speaking to me.

Bring it on!!

i rocked the drums . . . when i played rock band 2

2011-04-27T20:13:00.003-05:00

So, I've learned that I really like rocking the drums while playing rock band 2. It's like whack a mole and aerobics combined.

I also learned that I don't give METALLICA ENOUGH CREDIT. Cause even on easy that stuff kicked my butt!! Now, every time I hear they're songs, I bow to the masters. It's crazy awesome.

And last but not least. I learned that I really like foo fighters. Well, I love all hard rock heavy metal drumming. You just bang away, trying to keep up.

Which is just the ways I like it.

And now, let's all listen to my favorite song to drum away at.

And the lyrics that make me blush every times I hear them:

"You've got to promise not to stop when I say when"

Is this the real life, is this just fantasy?

2011-04-27T07:22:00.001-05:00

Either way, I continue to have a deep and nourishing love of the Muppets. :)

What is that sound coming out of my mouth?

2011-04-25T17:46:00.002-05:00

So, met with a midwife on Friday. Then, on the way home we stopped at a car supply store to buy bulbs. "Your tail light is out babe" says Mr. Hall. And for some reason, that was the funniest thing I had ever heard. I mean, someone told me that my taillight was out like 4 weeks ago but I forgot to tell Mr. Hall because I've been so wrapped up in my crazy. Crazy over this wonderful pregnancy.

So I started laughing at how funny it was. And then I started cackling, then belly laughing, then tearing up it was so funny. Then I remembered, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's laughing and giggling.

And I can say this, I've been laughing pretty much all Easter weekend. I'm tickled at the littlest things. I've been so quick to smile and giggle. So yeah, looks like we'll be going with the midwife option. I never feel like laughing after leaving my ob-gyn's office.

:) Feels awesome, I must say. :)

Someday maybe today

2011-04-22T12:19:00.003-05:00

Someday, it'll be warm and springy. But today, it's a cold, damp day that chills me to the bone.

Someday, I'll travel around the world with Mr. Hall. Becoming touristas in the best possible way. But today, we'll be going two hours south, to my SIL's wee farm. It will still be chilly.

Someday, I'll think about dumping my high powered OB GYN doctor, who talks a mile an hour and makes me dizzy. Someday, I'll stop being scared and say no, no more poking and prodding to check if everything is ok. Someday I'll choose faith over fear.

Someday I'll choose a holistic healer to attend to my pregnancy. Then, instead of being scared, I'll start feeling natural and awesome. Then I'll start getting excited. My belly will grow round and big. Then, I'll start having home birthing fantasies running in my head. Someday, I'll meet with a midwife and be soothed, calmed and cared for.

Someday I'll choose faith over fear.

Today is that day. Wish me luck.

Take care ya'll and have a good Easter!!

the elephant in my room

2011-04-20T13:54:00.005-05:00

When I call my doctor's nurse I get edgy. I cannot get OFF THE PHONE FAST ENOUGH. Every time I've called her in the past year it's been about me not being able to get pregnant or losing a pregnancy. Only these days, it's about my pregnancy. It's about good things. It's about unbelievable things. But, I can't shake this huge elephant in the room. The unspoken uncertainty that if I keep talking about it, I'll lose this one.

When I told my doctor's nurse I had two positive pregnancy tests she said, "OH! Congratulations!" And it took a while for me to figure out what she meant. Then I realized, these positive pregnancy tests are not bizarre artifacts in my life, but a reason to celebrate. I'm five weeks pregnant this week.

Then there is the Easter family gathering this weekend. Many a sister in law, mother in law, and aunt in law will be in attendance. I don't know if they remember the last loss. I don't know if they remember me actually announcing I was pregnant last winter or that we lost the baby a few weeks later. I don't know if they see me as a woman who lost a baby. I didn't tell them about the second one. But they are busy, accomplished women. I hope they have some faded recollection of me saying something but what was it again? What happened to Holly's pregnancy last year?

And really, I don't want them to remember anything. When I tell them I don't want them to pretend there is nothing to worry about. I want them to be all blase and carry on with their lives like nothing special is happening. Just Holly, pregnant again. But, i don't think I'll tell this weekend. Not yet.

Because there is a ANOTHER HUGE ELEPHANT IN MY ROOM.

Oh God I hope. I hope with every cell in my body I hope. I hope I hope I hope I hope I hope . . . I hope this is for keeps. I hope this baby grows bigger and bigger inside me. I hope she is developing big and strong and then nine months will pass and she'll be here, in my arms. And as hard as I try I can't help but let this hope grow. I can't help but feel this hope creeping in all over me. I try to stuff it down because that way, if something happens, it won't hurt as much but there it is, another elephant in the room. The hope.

I can say this. I will have my first ultra sound Monday. I will be six weeks. They'll check for a heartbeat and I hope I hope I hope I hope I hope.

I asked Pancake to pray

2011-04-20T10:12:00.004-05:00

My daughter, the 8 year old Pancake, has been affected lately. The emotional impact of church is affecting her. She feels the spirit when she sings. One day she says, "I feel God in my heart when I sing.", she says. That was an awesome day.

When we drive home from church, when she is all fresh and a bit tender, I ask her about it. During those drives she is a ball of emotion. She'll cry easily, be joyful or befuddled. Sometimes she just get real quiet.

Such was the case last Sunday. I could sense something was wrong. Come to find out, it's something that's been wrong for a while. Pancake has a fear of the boogie man. "When I lay down I hear breathing and it's not me but you and Daddie don't believe me. Then I hear him talking and I think he's going to get me."

And it's true, she has this fear of the boogie man. We've tried comforting her in several different ways. We look under her bed, open her closet, pull back her curtains and show her nothing is there. We point out that we are literally 20 feet away in the next room. We put a sound machine in her room. Eventually, we just told her to suck it up. That was about 3 months ago. Apparently she just stopped telling us about her fears.

After her breakdown in the car, she bucked up a little. Later that night, I went to her room to prep her for bed. She told me she was scared and we ran through the routine of opening closets again. She was still scared. And crying. And afraid.

So I told her what I do when I'm really scared. "Sweetcheeks, I pray to help me not be scared." And I asked if I could pray for her and she said yes. So I prayed. It didn't help though, tears were still wet on her little cheeks.

I was exasperated. I looked her right in the eye and said, "Well, you pray then. You pray for God to help you and he will." She blinked a few times, nodded and snuggled with her blanket. "I'll try", she said.

With that I gave her a hug and flipped off the light.

And the next morning, while eating her oatmeal she said, "Mommy, it helped praying to Jesus. I wasn't so scared anymore." Then we high fived. That's right, high fived at the awesomeness of it all!!

And THAT'S all I got to say about that!

Number 14: I use to shoplift and steal, a lot

2011-04-17T20:20:00.004-05:00

Welcome back to "Getting to know Mrs. Hall" Numbers 1-13 are HERE

I started shoplifting when I was about 13. Just when malls starting sprouting up. I remember I stole these black jeans with white polka dots. I was good at stealing. So good in fact, that the sales girl was helping me try things on as I stole it.

I went on to pilfer eye liner and mascara. I didn't need to though. I didn't wear make up. I stole because it made me friends. I stole and gave stuff away.

I also would take things from the people I babysat for. Trinkets and whatnot. I wasn't intentionally trying to do anything against them. I just saw stuff I liked and took it. It never occurred to me that that was wrong. It never gave me cause to pause why I kept losing babysitting jobs. (I hang my head in shame typing this.)

Then, one Friday fish fry night, at the Knights of Columbus no less, I found myself face to face with a mirror just like this:

I was fascinated by the little round light bulbs. So, being a thief, I unscrewed one. With my finger prints dully burnt, I put in in my pocket. That's when I realized I HAD MYSELF A PROBLEM.

I had gone from shoplifter to klepto. Thus ended my five finger discount career.

Then. THEN. Last Thanksgiving.

We were at my Aunt in Laws house. The kitchen is huge and my Uncle in Law makes the best Thanksgiving eats ever! Only my AIL kind of ruins it. She hovers and bosses. Even though she is not cooking anything.

Well, the food is still fantastic. And I've learned how to tune her out.

Also, this Thanksgiving, Mr. Hall was late. Mac needed stitches after all. When he got to the house my AIL had everything wrapped up and put in the fridge. Which really? I mean, food on Thanksgiving is meant to be eaten, then you go lay on the couch with mulled wine, then you go back. You don't hurry your guests. You don't start wrapping food after one plate full.

Mr. Hall got a bunch of stuff out and heated it up. Which is awesome.

But my AIL kind of hovered. Hurrying us up. The men folk don't seem bothered by this. They all stretch out on the couch, watching football. Drinking old timey nogg.

I was kind of miffed about it though. I mean, we traveled two hours. They didn't start dinner till 5. We were out of there by 8. This is no good.

So. I stole a beloved catalog of my beloved AIL.

THIS CATALOG

Which is filled with high priced crazy gear. And is a catalog I love so much but never get because I would never buy anything from it! So I took hers!

mmwwwhhhhaa haa haa!!

Janes Addiction - Been Caught Stealing

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