Sunday School Rebel

the plan is that there is no plan

I had absolutely no intention of falling off the wagon for NaBloPoMo, but once again, life has taken a twisty curve and reminded me that I am not in control. 

All of a sudden, I remember last weekend, and I should have paid attention to the signs. My brother came home from his job - he works nights - and later told us, there was a car that went off the road, at the curve. This curve regularly collects cars and sometimes lives, it's true. It's happened my whole life. A foggy night and bright lights and everyone was okay, but still. A car off the road. I didn't even pause at the warning sign, blinking its metaphor loud and clear, until now. 

When I went to the doctor for my regular appointment a week ago Thursday, I was not expecting to be to told that I had several warning signs of pre-eclampsia. What? I said. Surely not. I felt FINE. Fine, I tell you! This was all probably just part of NAIT, we theorized, a funny coincidence. My body was strong! But they sent me home with a jug and instructions for collecting my urine, and downstairs for a biomed sonogram where I sat there with the tech and literally watched my child in utero breathe. 

My overwhelming emotion with the situation was impatience. Ain't nobody got time for this, indeed. And we went home for the weekend and had fun and I am so, so very glad we did, because by Monday they said bed rest and on Tuesday morning they said, we'll have the baby next Tuesday. 

It turns out that I forgot something. I forgot that I have tiny issues with control, and everything was not going according to plan. This has been hard. I have cried, of course, because nobody wants to have their baby 5 weeks early (even though he'll be one day shy of 36 weeks). I have cried because all I have wanted this entire crazy treated pregnancy is to swoop past the NICU with my second child, victorious, lucky, blessed. I will still give anything for that, but having to really face the possibility has been terribly hard. Over and over we have said to each other, "this year has been terrible but we are going to end it on a good note!" and now I feel that I have should have known that we couldn't expect everything to be fine. I have cried because this messed up all my neat plans, because I have less time with just Thomas than I expected, that I ruined Thanksgiving for my family with this body who is obviously, QUITE OBVIOUSLY, done with  being pregnant. I have always been healthy - as I like to say, ridiculously healthy. I barely get a cold. My immune system is strong and mighty, it doesn't fall apart on me. Except for when it does. 

Last Monday, every tree seemed to burst into flame. It was a ridiculous beauty. I couldn't believe how pretty they all were, and pointed out the most noticeable ones to Thomas as we drove to school. It is funny how much you can miss even the boring drive back and forth to school, and how important it is. Just the daily rhythm of life is the ordinary holy time, not kairos but chronos. When what little you do is lost to you, so that you can move slowly and carefully and sit still, with your mind whirring of everything you wanted to do and everything you must let go of - there is a lesson in that, and I am trying to learn it. Even though I don't want to, and asking for help and letting things go is as hard as they say. I am not as spiritually evolved as I want to believe, and I'm sure it's good for me to realize that. 

Now we're down to waiting just one more day. I am determined, as much as I can be, to hang on to Tuesday. My sweet mama will be here in the morning, we have cleared out our room to make room for a wee one, and prepared the nursery as best we can. Beaux has been his very-Beauxness and dealt with things in his quiet, strong way. Last night I read Thomas a story and laid in the bed with him (per his request) and of course, the tears flowed. He made his Pete the Cat kiss me. Everything will change, it will all be different, and I am scared. And that's okay. I try to remember that having my own brother was never something I resented, even though sometimes I was a horrible (mostly bossy, impatient) big sister, that having him is simply part of who my family IS and that is how Thomas will feel, too. That one day, when he can commiserate with his brother about how crazy his parents are and have someone to remember things with - that is the gift of a sibling. I can barely imagine loving anyone as deeply and wildly as I do Thomas, and I am hoping for my heart to be sideswiped with that love, once again. 

So, I will breathe. I will surrender. Here I go. 

 

pregnant lady problems

Today was full of pregnant lady problems. 

First of all, Moose had way too much fun on the farm  - he's always so exhausted after a weekend with three other dogs to wrestle with - and somehow ended up smelling more than a little...skunky. It was really fun to be stuck in a car with him for 2.5 hours. Bless his little dog heart, his feelings were so hurt because we didn't let him sleep on the bed with us for two nights...and I wouldn't let him sleep on the couch, either. He always sits on the couch with us! I was ready to take him to be professionally groomed, but the smell has started to fade and it's not bad at all. He is going to be one happy puppy when I take him and dump him in the bed with Beaux and I. I am sure I should try to break this habit for once and for all but I don't have the heart...as long as he doesn't stink too badly. I do so love that comforting weight of him against my legs. Is there anything more comforting than a dog curled against you? 

I had to drop off something at the doctor's office this morning, after I got Thomas to school, of course. I made sure to call ahead because I couldn't remember if I needed more blood work done, that sort of thing - I needed to make sure I ate before anything like that. But no, I talked to my nurse and that was not necessary. I still ended up sitting around for 25 minutes and was starting to feel death-ray glares emerging from my eyes. SERIOUSLY. I was hungry, I wanted to get this done and get on with my day. I know there are other people with appointments and they are very important, logically. I was descending into a hunger spiral. 

I let myself get too hungry, which means I get grumpy. And then I start thinking about a certain food and it's over - I really HAVE to have it. And what popped in my brain was waffles - fluffy, Belgian waffles. I tried to think of where I could get such waffles, and I thought - surely, Cracker Barrell has waffles! The obvious choice is Waffle House (or some finer dining establishment) but their waffles are usually flat and not fluffy. I needed fluffy. So, I drove 20 minutes to the nearest Cracker Barrel and...they do not have waffles. I don't know what I was thinking. I had to console myself with pancakes, which was really okay, because at THIS point, I was going to eat some chair legs and call it good. But still - pancakes are not waffles. They just are NOT. AND THEN. They had this delicious looking breakfast casserole on the menu, with a mouth-watering picture. I was ready to try it...until they said they were out. It was just not my day for the breakfast of my dreams. 

Also, turkey sausage? I don't even know why I try. 

The good thing about today is that Thomas got a much needed haircut. He's always on the shaggy side, but I swear - are they feeding him Miracle-Gro at school? His hair has grown FAST. Also, today he asked me in the car: "How does God make people?" Well then. I told him the bare facts of what we believe (we can talk about metaphor in a few years) but I also told him it was a mystery. Basically, that God was lonely and made us. Later on, we talked about baby Jesus in the manger and somehow, Jonah and the whale is involved, according to Thomas. I really don't know how, but it's all too funny for me. I think they are ramping up getting ready for the Christmas program at school and that's why it's on his mind. I can't wait to hear what he thinks or asks next, really. 

 

ordinary magic

Last year, we discovered the joy of hay bale jumping. I never did this as a kid. My grandpa would bale the hay, and then let us (my brother and I, and the dogs) jump on top of each a bale - there would be fields full of hay bales. He would come along with the tractor, spear the hay bale with US ON IT and then drive us to the hay barn. Over and over again. My dad has a little bit of a different strategy - he sells his hay, because we don't have have any animals on the farm besides dogs and cats. So he lines up rows of hay on the terrace rows, long lines of hay bales. And we have discovered that it's super fun to run and jump along the tops of the bales. It's definitely something we have to do when we come home and there's still hay to be enjoyed. 

This is what is left of the old treehouse (really, a platform) that my grandpa built for Christopher and I. I used to lay up in it with my Walkman and listen to - oh, so embarrassing - the Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves soundtrack. 

This boy can run and jump. 

You see why I am totally smitten with the child? 

You can find ordinary magic, along the way...

Home sweet home

We are home, with my family, for the weekend. My little brother will turn thirty in a few days, and our dear friends' daughter had her 4th birthday party in Hattiesburg today. I knew that I was desperate to come home, before Thanksgiving, before the baby comes. I get antsy when I haven't been home in months. My brother, my sister-in-law, and their 2 1/2 year old, Ellie live on the family farm, too. I have especially been missing Ellie. She's such a spitfire, such a spinning mass of feminine energy. She adores all of us and is always ridiculously happy to see Thomas. This morning - oh so early, her blond hair shining, she ran to give me a hug and said breathlessly "I'm so glad you're home!" Thomas has gotten used to her being here, sharing in the bounty of the toys - and they really have reached a sweet place of playing together. This morning I heard him telling her "you need to get ready for school, Ellie" - but soon they were happily making play-dough birthday cake. Ellie said "it's for Daddy!" Thomas said, "it's not Daddy's birthday - it's Uncle Christopher's!" Very funny - don't worry, we set him straight. I had asked permission from all involved to take Ellie with us to the birthday party for our friends' daughter. I knew Ellie would have fun - this girl is a social butterfly- and I felt bad to think of leaving for the afternoon, when she so looks forward to our visits. Plus, it would give her mom and Lovie a tiny Saturday break. So, we loaded up the car and headed for the party. Lately - on a completely different note - Thomas and I have this morning routine of cranking up Lenny Kravitz on our drive to school. One day he started asking for "the Cymbals Song" and I had no idea what he meant. I am bit sure how we figured it out, but he meant "Are You Gonna Go My Way". I have Spotify on my phone, and plug it into the car's system - so I just looked up Lenny Kravitz and pulled up his greatest hits. Then we would listen to a few more songs, and now our everyday routine involves cranking up "Are You Gonna Go My Way", "Fly Away", "It Ain't Over til It's Over", and "American Woman". Seriously, you cannot have a bad day when you start off with Lenny Kravitz. I can even feel the baby dancing, it's hilarious. And music has always been hard for Thomas - he really struggles if it's too loud, he has to be in control of it. So it's extra sweet for me to have him enjoying music and asking for it by name. All that to say, Ellie has a favorite song, too - Katy Perry's "Roar". So, I was amused that we had a little girl in our midst for 5 whole minutes and had the Katy Perry going. Beaux was only too happy to oblige. And then we listened to Lenny Kravitz, of course, and then they were trading books in the backseat and were busy "reading". I am writing this in the wee sma's of Sunday morning - we collapsed into bed fairly early, but I woke up at midnight. So this will have to count for yesterday, but at the time I was so ready for sleep I was okay with missing a day. Tomorrow will be hay bales and birthday cake...

Eight Fridays

Apparently, eight is the magic number. Today, I got really sad and really mad, all at the same time. In Traveling Mercies, Anne Lamott talks about how after her best friend Pammy dies, she was hoarse from screaming. She had blisters on her hands from pounding her bed post with her tennis racket. And part of me thought, "that's a little excessive, Annie" and part of me totally understands. I have been known to throw things in anger - not at someone. But man, it can feel really good to chunk a shoe, right? Today it just hit me, boom - and the tears were flowing, hard. I was driving to pick up Thomas from school and could NOT stop crying. I think what started it was a phone conversation earlier in the day and I said something along the lines of - Carrie was my person. She was always supposed to be there, like your parents are always supposed to be there. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I thought - if everything fell apart, if maybe even Beaux didn't love me - Carrie would. I mean, the love between us was so fundamental. It was there; I could count on it. This is not to discount my relationship with Beaux at all - but our friendship love was that important to me. And I was - and am!- just so angry that it's been taken away. That THIS is the end to the story. And I know it's not the end, somehow, but yet - it feels all so final.

Work in progress

Tonight I've been working on a little project for a friend, and already the clock is telling me it's later than I can believe. I spun around town today like a runaway top. You can guess the rest...I'm tired! This is the repeating theme of the last trimester. I also had a bit of a worrying dr.'s visit - everything is fine. But let's just say I'm ready to retire from pregnancy.

just another crazy (good) wednesday

Today was a hospital day, and guess what?  I'm pooped. I'm sensing a theme here. 

(I did not get a nap. That is the theme.) 

Actually, today I was on the oncology floor instead of the maternity floor. I was momentarily (okay, a long moment) bummed because I dearly love walking down the halls and "spying" on baby names. I don't know if people do this all over, but here apparently it is a Thing - you have a lovely wreath on your hospital door that includes the baby's name. Some people just have wreaths, but some have names, weight, etc. I've been having fun reporting the names to Twitter. (First names only! Okay, sometimes middle names too but of course nothing else) It's been interesting to see what names show up. I am going to have to make up a little list...

But what's really cool about the oncology nurses is that they are 1) thrilled to have a healthy pregnant women in their midst 2) they do not mess around with my medication. They know exactly what to do and they're very happy to have a patient who is not going to puke on them at any given moment. The nurse assistant asked me "What are you doing here, walking up to your room like there's nothing wrong with you?" She saw me walking down the hall with my bag of books and Thomas's "Snoop" tucked under my arm. So I had to explain that I am really healthy and well, except for this pesky rare pregnancy complication that requires weekly IVIG treatments. 

Today was an extra good day. My friend Brenda came to see me - with donuts! - and we talked and talked and talked. There is never enough time to talk about everything. Last night I had texted her and said she didn't have to bring SO many donuts as she did previously, because I didn't have time for gestational diabetes. And what happens today? THEY TEST MY BLOOD SUGAR. Right when I was eating a donut! It was too funny. My blood sugar was fine, but the hospital pharmacist guessed that the donut hadn't hit my blood sugar yet. I was happy to scoot in under the wire. 

Of course, my Mama comes every week to be with me. Yes, she drives 2.5 hours each way to spend the day spoiling me. The first couple of times I ended up staying the night, so it was actually good to have someone there because it was not how I was *told* it would go. I feel guilty that she misses work to be with me, but I am oh so grateful for all the time we've gotten to spend together for the past 12 weeks. It's a gift, really - just time one on one, which is rare now that I'm a grown-up mama myself. We talk (usually me talking her ear off) and read Facebook and our books and take naps (very important) and eat. When the world was going off the axis with Carrie so sick, so suddenly, there have been many therapeutic crying sessions. We have sobbed and prayed together. And every week, Beaux leaves work early to pick Thomas up from school and then they come by the hospital to see Lovie and I before heading home for the evening.  

BUT! today at 3 PM Beaux texted me to say he had a flat tire; to please call the school and send Thomas to after care. This was the second or third time he's had a flat (not on a Wednesday, thankfully) and he didn't want to drive the donut on the interstate - he drove straight to get a new tire, thankyouJesus- so Lovie saved the day and went to pick up Thomas from school. She just hated it, you know. And of course she's not very familiar with our city and got a wee bit lost but all was fine. I was so thankful she was close by for back up, otherwise I am not sure how we would have gotten Thomas without being a huge pain to someone else. 

So, we had a wiggly little boy in a hospital room again, but he was really not as wiggly as last week. He was happy to color in his Spiderman coloring book and eat three satsumas and Lord knows how many grapes. He did his homework cheerfully and played with his plane from the treasure box at school. Beaux eventually came to get Thomas and to sit with us for awhile, to wait out the worst of the traffic. 

I was out tonight by just a little past 7 PM, which is a new record. My medication got started at around 10 AM, so that lets you know how long it takes. I am incredibly lucky to be able to go spend the day in a private hospital room and to feel so well after receiving a high dose (1300 mL) of IVIG each week. I know I've never explained on here exactly what I'm dealing with - it's called neonatal alloimmune thrombyctopenia. There are big medical words that explain it, but basically my body (when pregnant) produces antibodies that attack the baby's immune system, which is what causes platelet levels to plummet (in the baby) if I had no treatment (IVIG plus predinose, which I started at 31 weeks - the IVIG at 20 weeks). Those of you who read the blog back when Thomas was born know what we went through - a scary helicopter ride, a dangerously low platelet count (10,000 - normal platelets are around 200,000: if platelets are too low there is a possibility to develop a brain bleed) and a few days in the NICU until everything was stable. We had no idea the first time, you can't know - it's such a rare condition that there is no screening for it. Thomas needed exactly the treatment that I am having now, so our hope is that all will be well when we have this baby at 38 weeks. It is standard protocol to induce labor early, and some babies come even earlier if they think there is a risk of the platelet count dropping. So! That's the whole enchilada, so to speak. And to think I was pooped when I started writing this...what I did I say about a second wind? I'm going to ride that second wind straight into bed with a book and see what happens. 

book joy! paint joy!

So, today I took those four bags of clothes from my closet straight to the Goodwill. Glory be. Then I got to poke around Goodwill, where of course I always look at the books. Really, I'm not going to mess around with picking out clothes at Goodwill but I will try to find a good book or two. AND I DID. I got a handful of books and spent a whopping $2.50. Thomas is really into Thanksgiving and we have been reading Pete the Cat's Thanksgiving book and watching the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special - really, for awhile now. I found an old book about the Pilgrim children and this wonderful library card was in the back of it. It turns out it is from a local elementary school that a friend attended. How wonderful is that? 

 

Then, I found a copy of this: 

I didn't notice the note to "Mimi" until I got home, and my heart just broke open. What a precious kid. Because I, too, give books that I love to people I love. Please notice that there are hearts that include "Buzz", "Woody", "Jess(i)e" and "Bullseye" - all from Toy Story. Look, I don't know why Mimi was given this book but I will treasure it forever. 

Do you know what else happens when you clean out your closet? Well, maybe your child can suddenly find all those little random treats you had hidden away. I was crazy to think he wouldn't notice the clear box with a Star Wars book, Harry Potter Legos, and wooden cars to paint! So that's what we did this afternoon after school, and after getting a flu shot - painted cars. This kid could paint all day. I didn't paint, but replenished the water bowl (where the water had turned black) approximately 50 times. 

Please do not judge me for not taking the Halloween tablecloth off my table quite yet. I would have to clean off the WHOLE table to accomplish that goal. 

the stuff of everyday

Last night was abysmal as far as sleeping was concerned. It was just terrible. So, I have taken two Benadryls to make sure I actually sleep tonight. (I am on prednisone, which tends to wind you up and cause sleep issues. I've gone several nights without Benadryl and sleeping just fine...until I wasn't.) I find, no matter how tired I am, I can find a second wind. Tonight a second wind is terribly unnecessary. I am fading fast. To quote my dearest Florence + the Machine - "I'm going under." 

My mind is/was just full of things that must be done. I made the mistake of picking up a breastfeeding book to refresh my memory, and then started worrying about EVERYTHING. I'll have a c-section this time around, and am worried about how dealing with THAT will affect everything else. There was way too much thinking and then sleep just wouldn't come. I had bad dreams, and my phone rang from an unknown number. I was hot. I kept seeing scenes from the latest Walking Dead flash in front of my eyes (really not a good thing). 

Being pregnant is so glamorous. 

Posting everyday is certainly NOT good for beautiful everyday posts - I do feel like I'm really phoning it in these past few days. It can't all be profound wisdom like say, Elizabeth. But today, despite my tiredness, I got a flu shot, made brownies, dropped off a meal for a church family. Helped Thomas go through way too many flash cards for homework. The stuff of everyday, the wheel of time that keeps turning and turning. 

 

3 minutes and counting

Closet purge update: there are FOUR bags of clothes! FOUR BAGS, just from things I don't wear and or/really don't like. I also have been hoarding crayons, it seems. I am so excited about the four bags...and I haven't even touched my dresser yet. 

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I am typing this very quickly to get in under the midnight wire. Weekend blogging is so weird. 

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You know I said I was reading Crossing to Safety, by Wallace Stegner? And let me just tell you, this book has some beautiful sentences. I admit that I don't always read slowly enough to really savor a good sentence...but THIS book. Oh, you notice, and not in showy way. Here are a two of my favorites so far: 

"Comfort (a character) disappeared in a cloud of sparks." 

"Is it compulsory to be one of the immortals?...Let's not be too hard on each other if we don't set the world afire. There's already been enough of that." 

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I finally updated my phone to iOS7...I'm a late adapter. I like all the bugs to get worked out. 

I recovered a voicemail from Carrie. From New Year's Eve/Day. She was wishing me a happy New Year. 

It was so odd to hear her voice, and so perfectly normal, too. Of course I can hear her voice. Of course I can.