Sunday, July 30, 2006

Two Great Things!!!

We were super nervous about letting Miles and Jeffri begin to interact, because Jeffri is literally THIS SMALL...














But..............Miles and Jeffri are FRIENDS!!!! FOR LIFE!!! :o) He spent time licking her, trying to pick her up, and mustering up every ounce of his patience to be her personal jungle gym...














Secondly, I just realized that one week from today, I will be a Godmother for the first time! My Goddaughter, Juliet, and I are going to have a special relationship, and for that, I am honored and super excited. Life is good. Thank you, Criss family!

Friday, July 28, 2006

Miles...















...is perplexed and seriously worried about this new development in our home life...

It's a Girl...We Think.

So, inaddition to moving, planning a wedding, and regular stuff Bill and I have officially become the foster parents of a 5-week old kitten. The kitten's momma got an infection and could no longer nurse her kittens, forcing her owners to disperse the kittens amongst friends. So, of course, my ever-compassionate friend, Sabrina, ended up with three kitties...Oso (black), Blanche/Samuel (tan), and Stumpy, aka Jeffri (grey).













Sabrina planned to keep Oso from the moment they fell in love, early in his life. Her brother had chosen Blanche/Samuel. Sabrina would have kept and loved the kitten they attectionately named Stumpy, but I offered my nurturing services. This kitten is the runt, significantly smaller than her brothers, shown above. Also, she was born with a nubbin-back leg. Imagine the pad of a cat's foot, but without toes. Just one soft, pink, wad-of-bubble gum. So, the kitten is on a regimen of bottle feeding every four hours, and at that point is also given some exercise, crawling and sliding all over the kitchen floor. Finally, I did change her name from Stumpy, which in her case was a totally appropriate name. But, I had always imagined having a nubbin-legged horse named Jeffrey. So, Jeffrey it was. However, upon closer inspection, Jeffrey turned out the be a girl! So, "ey" became "i", and we have a Jeffri (pronounced "jeffREE"). Here are some picture of her first night with us.













Of course, I do have some reservations. Most that I let myself recognize after we had brought Jeffri home. We have SO much to do. If unpacking, painting, cleaning and getting settled into a new house aren't daunting enough tasks, now I am dreading doing them with the added pressure of a 4 oz., crawling kitten. It will be a much more careful project now, which I guess we will try to do in the few weeks until she is still tiny, but wildly active. Also, I am allergic to some cats, which is part of the reason we are taking this on as a foster situation. If I turn out not to be able to handle her dander, than I know we will have to find her a home that can. Finally, our sweet but very nervous dog, Miles...We have no real idea how he will react. We have let them partake in some very supervised play time. (Like Jeffri in Bill's hands, and me holding Miles on the leash.) I am afraid to step back and see how Miles (half hound) will treat something that, at this point, is indistinguishable from a small squirrel, which naturally he loves to chase. It is a delicate balance, because, in some ways, now would be a great time to introduce Miles and Jeffri, because she is too young to run, so she won't trigger his chasing instincts. And, at the same time, she is so small that one little misstep and he could really hurt her. And, let's be honest, Miles is not the most patient of dogs.

Either way, I am looking at this as an opportunity to nurse Jeffri to health. I left out the "back" in "to health", because she never fell out of health - she is just small and young and needs as much love as possible!


The sign Bill made while I was out picking up Jeffri. :o)

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Luke Perry, and more...

I just looked up at the tv, and who did I see? You guessed it, Luke Perry. I mean, I guess he is still allowed on the t.v.

I went and saw "The Devil Wears Prada" alone today. I love seeing movies alone. Ann Hathaway, Meryl Streep, Adrian Garnier, that Aussie, oh yeah. Bildungsroman. The movie, just my type, so good.

Moving into the house in just about 36 hours. So freaking happy about that.

And finally, at last I am really excited about the wedding. The ribbons did it. Blasted ribbons. Crimson, vermillion, gold, butter-yellow, rust, chocolate, ivory and sage...Autumn splendor. Yeah, so now I am so freaking excited. Blast. And food.

Speaking of food, I also ate half a cherry pie today. That is a win win. Actually, there is not really a second "win" to eating that much pie, regardless of the fruit involved (or the tub of accompanying soy ice cream). It is just "win". There was no second bird I killed with that one stone, unless you count fooling myself into thinking I am in heaven.

Speaking of heaven, I saw "The Devil Wears Prada Today". Oops, already wrote that. Umm, I saw Luke Perry on t.v. Darn, another repeat. Oh, try this on for size, Bill and I split a double gulp of fruit punch gatorade. Beat that. You can't.

"The fire in her heart is out..."-Oasis


Actually, I guess it is the fire in her room. And not quite the fire, but the tiny bugs nightlight. I guess it lasted a good ten months. Maybe ten, since I think we had the nursery set up for well over a month before Sophie emerged. But, I went to bed last night, and lying there, I realized it was quite dark. I groped amidst the moving boxes into the desolate cleared out space that is the once honey-dipped nursery. Now, darkness has settled there too. Ironically, this happened on the eve of the day that her father lovingly transported the chest he made for her to the new house. It is a cedar chest, painted the brilliant color of her room, as if we could ever forget, and emblazoned with a large "S", marking a place for her in our physical home forever. I carefully and tearfully filled it with embroidered Sophie Salome blankets, books and wall hangings, butterfly quilts, congratulations cards bundled with ribbon, sympathy cards bundled with ribbon...I, of course, always want to see events as bits of evidence that Sophie is still with us. Does she know we are moving? Did her perfect spirit leave with her perfect chest, knowing not to stay in this old house forever? I hope she isn't at the new house alone, with the chest...I guess I just have to know she is with me, as much as she is anywhere...

As I get back into the spirit of school, I have written a haiku and a cinquain. How silly...

I miss her tonight.
Burning like fire on my skin.
Licks toward my hair.

Short life
Held in my heart
Lifespan of butterflies
Silent and raw with nuances
Cut cord

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Fuck-a-Plan. Wait, no, don't.

That's right. I wrote "fuck". I titled this blog "fuck-a-plan". Since Sophie passed silent from my broken womb, people have been telling me things like "everything happens for a reason", and "it's part of [God's] plan". And, my response, up until last week: "Fuck-a-plan". I have never said these angry, and somehow fun to say, words to anyone's face. But, surely I have thought them. Anyone who has experienced a stillbirth, or maybe any loss, knows that people say things with the best of intentions, and almost always keeping in mind what will make you "feel better", however futile. But, not these people. These people do not care about easing my discomfort. They speak of plans, purposes, and reasons because they absolutely believe these things to be true, regardless of any impact on me. And up until last week, their words have always sparked feelings of anger in my heart and mind. I have always thought, "How can these people, who do not know my pain, look me in the face, and tell me that my baby died for a reason? Her death was part of some plan that no one knows?" Somehow indicating that her death was for the greater good, or even my personal good, was offensive and unbelievably hurtful. And, I wondered how they could say that without seeing that I would rather have my Sophie than any other wonderful thing that could happen, ever. Despite all of the truly amazing things that have happened in the last few months, I always felt angry with those people who spoke of plans, because how could the death of my baby be part of some fantastic plan for my own life. I have always known that these people were talking about my relationship with my soul mate, but still, I couldn't allow myself to see Sophie's death as a catalyst for that, as if somehow that meant I wasn't sad beyond belief. But, over the last week, I have realized on my own something very different. I can see now that there must have been a plan, and Sophie's life has and will always play an integral part in it. Sophie's life. Sophie's short life was an invaluable part of the delicate plan of Bill's and my life, relationship, past, present, family and future. It was not her death that fulfilled some need, not her loss that was part of the mystery and the providence. Her life is our eternal blessing. I will miss her every moment, but as grief's hold lightens on our hearts, our love is grander and more beautiful that ever before - and we owe that to our Sophie's life - short, soft and yet, somehow, infinite.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

A Tuff Weekend

So, on Friday we found out that our brand new house is laden with mildew and animal urine. Sweet. We assumed our first project would simply be moving in. But, you know what they say about assumptions...And about new houses...Anyway, so we spent Saturday morning at the new house, slicing and tearing at the carpets we thought we would be living on. Now, we have to wait an entire extra week until the new carpets and floors are installed to move ourselves in fully.

Immediately after ripping out our carpets, we showered and were off to a wedding. A pretty odd wedding. Doves, jelly bellies, long lines and waits, and strippers. Interesting.

Then, Sunday morning, we were off to the Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church. I mean, I am pretty liberal, enough so that I can laugh at the habits of the liberal intellectual DC elite. I mean, imagine...take a sampling of 100 college English professors, 25 yoga teachers, 150 PhDs in pyschology, 40 lawyers, 15 writers, 6 equine massuers and 30 Chakra practicioners. Then, gently stir into a house-sized portion of Ethos-brand water that has reached a rolling boil. Next, simmer on medium heat for 5 days, or until the yuppies have cooked down to half volume. At this point, you may ladle and enjoy this syrupy leftist compote. :o) PS - Their king may minister our wedding.

Finally, Bill and I parted ways, and I met my bridesmaids for some bridezilla marathon dressing room bonding time. I ended up so stressed by the end, that I chose red for the dresses. Red? Red. Red? Yes. Is there anything less me and Bill than red bridesmaid dresses? No. So, I am now reconsidering my color choice...And, Bill spent the whole day moving boxes into the kitchen of our new house. A hot endeavour, irritating for him as we cannot officially put anything anywhere else, because the kitchen is the only room with acceptable floors. Oh, and he paid our rent on the house we actually still live in. But, finally we are both home. Chinese food. Bandcamp, the movie. I guess I am in heaven.

Here are some pictures of me and Bill this past Thanksgiving, on our annual trip to Vermont. I put these up, because, as you can see from this posting, we are TUFF. Forgive my extra pounds.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

And, all is well.

Miles appears to be fine. Just thought fine reader might like to know.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Have a Day.

Two Major Events for the Day (and One Bummer):

At 1:28 PM, the Criss family introduced a new baby to the world. Juliet Caden Criss. I was at the hospital, but unable to stick around long to enough to actually see mother or baby. But, I will surely be there tomorrow. Congratulations, and welcome!

At 9:45 PM, after waiting 3 1/2 hours for a settlement officer, Bill and I officially became homeowners. So, we expected to close at 4:30, but didn't start until 8. Finally, upon the arrival of the much-awaited settlement woman, we signed our financial lives away on a series of one million documents. Woo hoo. We were too tired to go to the house, but at least we have the keys.

At 10:30, Bill and I arrived home, after being gone much longer than expected (see above). We were welcomed by an odor beyond human comprehension. Upon opening the door, we found the floors of four rooms of the house laden with feces, blood, and vomit. Apparently, our sweet Miles, who abhors pooping in the house (he never does), had been left alone just a little too long. He must have really tried to hold it, throwing up and even tearing bits of his innards in the process. (Sorry, that's disgusting.)

All in all, an emotional, difficult, thrilling, stinky, wonderful, gruesome, suspenseful, and gratifying day.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

The Word "Stillborn".

So, lately I have found myself spending hours pouring over the internet, searching for others like us. Others with a child born sleeping. I have gotten so intent upon it that my most recent searches use simply the word, "stillborn". My search of course has garnered many responses. Surprisingly, however, most of the hits have been entirely unrelated to lost children. There are countless articles discussing "stillborn plays" in football games, "stillborn bills" in congress, "stillborn homes" on empty sites, and "stillborn vacation plans". So, apparently, "stillborn" to many simply means thwarted before even beginning. I understand that, and the definition is very similar to that in what I have always considered to be reputable sources. But, my question is more one of heritage than definition. "Stillborn" is considered the opposite of "liveborn", a child "born alive". (Merriam-Webster) "Stillborn" I am then assuming was originally interchangeable with "born still". I can hardly believe there ever was a word, "stillborn", in the dictionary meaning "failing before or at the very beginning or inception" that was so literally intertwined with, but not related to, the idea of a child "failing before or at the very beginning or inception" of life. (American Heritage Dictionary) So, I am forced to believe that the origin of all meanings of the word, "stillborn" were at some point of or related to a child lost before birth, or "born still". Another thing I understand, as a writer of sorts, is that occasionally a writer stumbles upon a word with a literal meaning so perfect that she can hardly keep herself from using it. And surely there are few words better for the purpose of describing something falling just so very short of fruition as "stillborn". But, this brings me to my questions. Is it possible that the word "stillborn" has fallen into the category of a useable piece of the American vernacular? Do authors and reporters feel that "stillborn" is an appropriate word to use to describe anything "abortive or unsuccessful". (Wordnet) Do I need to start a personal crusade, replying to blogs and online articles everywhere? Am I to take on the heartless and bitter, single 30 and 40 something men who write these articles looking at highrise apartments through the windows of their highrise apartments, and relish over finding the "perfect word" to describe their trivial frustrations? Am I to burst their liberal or conservative bubbles, reminding of what they cannot possibly understand, that a "stillbirth" is not in any way synonymous with political issues or zoning problems, nor should the very heavy term ever be part of sports terminology? Do I need to quit my dayjob? Or do I need to really accept that, in some cases, the word is just a word? That the author of the article really has touched me with his frustration, and made me feel the deep, mind-blowing grief he must feel when he takes on the issue of yuppies' journeys to work rendered "stillborn" by flooded metro lines?

Oh, and if you really want to see someone who has misused the word "stillborn", check this out.

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=9020892

Three Down, 362 to Go.

So, today is the third morning in a row that I have taken Miles for a mile-long walk. We are a happy two, as we walk. The walk gives me a chance to plan out imaginary scenarios in my head - my all time favorite passtime. And, there is an undeniable smile on Miles' face as a prances through the neighborhood in a his red harness and matching leash. Plus, we get sun and exercise, and come home with a total endorphin-rush and ready for packing! :o)

Hmmm...

Monday, July 03, 2006

Bushing my principles.

TALLAHASSEE, Fla.--Parents of stillborn children will be able to get a certificate of the child's birth under a bill Gov. Jeb Bush signed Friday.Florida is now the 14th state to offer certificates of stillbirths to mothers who carry their children at least 20 weeks and deliver them.

The bill was pushed in the Legislature by Daryl and Beth Logullo of Vero Beach, whose child Katherine was stillborn last year. The measure is named ``Katherine's Law.''The Logullos and other backers of the bill said it's not fair for the parents of stillborn children to only get a death certificate with no official acknowledgment to memorialize that the baby was born.``We're just very excited that the state is recognizing our children by issuing birth certificates to them that were born still. It's a wonderful day,'' Daryl Logullo said. ``Any woman in the state of Florida going back to the 1930s that has ever had a still born child can get what they deserve and that's their child's birth certificate.''

I certainly wouldn't say that I am overall a supporter of the Bush family dynasty. Not a fan. I am liberal in many ways. But, there is a certain element of respect for life in the more conservative factions that I greatly appreciate and agree with. I never thought I would say this, but thank you, Jeb Bush.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Which woman has died?

I want to write something. I have logged on here to write something. Something about the emptiness I am feeling. But, as I sit crosslegged, the laptop resting on my knees, I cannot access words or phrases. Bill and Miles are sleeping soundly in the bedroom, and still I sit here. The television is on in front of me, I think. Yes, it is. I hear it. I see it now. Some meaningless commercials are coming into soft focus. This entry is without spirit, without creativity. I have just switched off the idiot box. This is crucial moment. This is the time when I have no direction, I have no theme, I have only words and exposed pieces.

The nightlight is on in the baby's room, it's peach syrup brightness oozing like honey over the white-washed crib. Never, even in daylight, has mother switched off that comfort incandescence. Somehow she can't, even though she anticipates with terror the moment that the sweet shadow shudders in its final moments, and sleeps. On the day Sophie erupted silent and perfectly still from her mother, that light flickered on. Twilight has been far less fearful, imagining Sophie basking in light, never in the midnight cold of winter's frozen earth. Sophie has been given light, even in her stunned black death. But, I think mother has died. That part of mother is gone. She is perfectly sealed, slivers of light almost entirely shut out. Mother will never see Sophie grow. Sophie will never cry in mother's arms. Mother can now no longer imagine how Sophie would have sounded or felt. Sophie will never see mother's golden hair. So, here is the question, which woman has died?

Whoa. Time warp. I am out of retrospective, pervasive depression mode. Crazy. But, seriously, I did realize that feeling the other day. If I never see Sophie and she never sees me, then it is reasonable to ask which, if not both of us, is really gone. So, I can take this in two directions.

First, I can further explore the possibility that I am, in fact, dead. Hmm, that seems like a downer and a dead end. No pun intended. (Pinches self) Ow. Still here, if we accept the theory that pain resulting from pinching onesself is scientific evidence of one's status as "alive". Let's work within that precept.

So, we must move on the second option. I must prove to myself that "alive" means more than what I have thus far taken it to mean. If I can be so blessed as to live each day, and still wonder whether I am, in fact, gone, then I must be doing something wrong. I can live better than this. I may never be the woman that I would have been if Sophie were by my side, but I want her, my husband and my future children to look at me in awe of my ferocity for life. I want to go to Sophie proud someday with a rich treasure chest of experiences to share. I want her to shed a tear of happiness that she has made her mother and father more. More wonderful and appreciative people. More caring partners. More passionate and loving parents...I promise to try.

(I hate this ending. It is too late. I am delerious. Forgive me.)

Saturday, July 01, 2006

What a Day.

"It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest - and shitting on your face." - Dr. Charles Gelso, describing his recent heart attack.

What a wonderful day I've had so far. I spent a truly whinerific morning, hanging on Bill, while he played the world's tiniest violin for my sorrows. That, however, was not even the best part. Haha. I finally left the house, resigning myself to the fact that Bill and I would have to part for the next few hours.

Here, the fun really begins. First, I went to Target, buying myself a MUCH-needed new bra. My sagging breasts are so freaking happy. And perky. I also bought new tank tops - only wearable with my newly invigorated pair of chest accessories. Then, I stopped by my mother's, where I changed into my stying new digs. Then, I strided model-style and fashion-forward to my childhood best friend's house. She wasn't home, but I spoke to her father for about an hour, and that was fun and certainly made me feel like a good citizen - verrrry wholesome. From there, I was off to the pool, where Bill's mom was coaching her team in a swim meet against my childhood pool. A loaded match-up for me, to be sure. Actually, I have no idea who "won". (In a swim meet, is one pool "the winner"? I think so...) Bill was there when I arrived. Always lovely. And the meet was full of energy, and it was wonderful to see Bill's mom and sisters in their element. After the meet, we had a wonderful lunch with my father and his "lady friend", Donna. (Naturally, my father spent the majority of time talking about "homely" people - as Bill and Donna looked on, shocked, and I tried my darnedest not to join in the mockfest. Not as wholesome, but he calls it as he sees it.) Then, I bought snacks and a tape dispenser (for packing!) and headed home. Upon my arrival, Bill presented me with a gift! A wonderful ring that he had stopped and picked out for me at my favorite place, Savage Mill. Could there be a ring more "us"? Bill rocks. My heart is more full even than my day has been thus far.

Now, the France v Brazil soccer game is on, AND I just ate a cookie. I mean, this is certainly not poetic, but today has been awesome! And, it is only 3:22.