Memories

I was just skimming through old pictures this morning and figured I’d remind myself of things that bring a smile to my face.  Seems like lately I don’t smile as much as I used to… I’m trying to fix that.  Slowly, but surely.

I brought Dustin home on Jan. 12th and spent every second I could with him.  In this picture, he is staring at the TV in awe, watching Jake play Super Mario Bros.  Everyone commented on how funny it was that Dustin was so focused on the game.  He’d turn his head back to me when I spoke.  He looked at me like “I know you!”

Shortly after he was born.  He seemed so confused (and almost annoyed!) at all the flashes going off and his picture being taken.  He’d blink and scrunch his nose at the flash, then look right at me like “What are they doing to me?!”  I couldn’t help but laugh.  His nose scrunching up was just adorable.  His nose was cold, so I kept kissing it to try to keep it warm.

Dustin’s first smile caught on camera.  I remember as clear as crystal when I got this picture.  I opened the envelope where Magui had sent about a dozen pictures.  I saw this picture and gasped, then sobbed while laughing.  I know totally sobby and girly, but wow… until you know how it feels to see your child’s first smile… don’t knock me! lol  For me, being able to see his first smile even though I was (and am not) with him, was the best gift I could have received.

One of my favorites, ever.  I can’t even say how wonderful it is to have pictures and be able to feel like, even in a small way, that I was able to see him grow.    I imagine Magui was laughing when she took this picture.

May, 2009.  I received a letter and a couple pictures that Dustin drew.  I love this picture.  Of COURSE I love it because HE drew it (it could have been scribbling lines and circles and I would have loved it just as much), but this picture is particularly special to me, because “Big Max” was my favorite book as a kid and probably still is one of my favorites.  For one of Dustin’s younger birthday’s, I gave him this book and told him that it was my favorite and about my Mom always reading it to me.  I still have my copy of this book sitting at my house as we speak.  It’s tattered and almost falling apart and scribbled on (I had a very bad habit as a young child of drawing/coloring in books), but I love it.  I love this he drew this.  It makes me feel like he knew it was something that was special to me.  I can’t really describe it in words, but… it was the best feeling.  Not to mention he’s seriously talented for a (at the time) 7 year old. 

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Ok, so work is slow today.  Could you tell?  Not a huge surprise either, I know… I have to really try to keep myself occupied, otherwise, well… I explained in my previous post what boredom ends up doing to me.  I’m looking forward to the weekend.  No particular reason other than, well… I’m bored.  Lisa briefly mentioned going camping this weekend (she bought a fancy shmancy camper trailer and she can’t wait to use it!) so we’ll see if we do (not sure!)

I’m going to the doctor on Tuesday.  I barely even want to talk about it, because I can’t even tell you how SICK I am of people telling me I exaggerate things.  lol.  I know most of the time it’s in a joking way, but honestly… if pisses me off more than I ever express.  People always imply that I’m just a baby or exaggerate, etc. and you know, REALLY, I have a fairly high threshold for pain.  I REALLY do, whether you want to think so or not, so if you only knew (or believed) the truth is I only express pain when it’s beyond a certain point.  When I complained of my side hurting a couple years ago and was told I was just being a baby… I had to laugh when the doctor came back and told me I had two broken ribs.  Or last year when I rolled the four wheeler and said my hand hurt.  I was told I was just being a baby and to suck it up, so I did… for a month.  A month went by and it was still pretty annoying and painful, so I snuck a doctor’s appointment and tried avoiding telling people.  The doctor literally stood speechless staring at my x-rays and told me it didn’t make any sense that I was still able to use the hand, with a broken (and twisted backwards) bone.  But nooo… just being a baby, right?  So… I’ve only told Bart and Robin (and David) about this doctor’s appointment.  If it ends up being nothing, then fine, I’m a baby… but seriously, LEAVE ME ALONE!  I’m admitting I’m in pain, which isn’t easy for me to do… doesn’t make me feel good to admit I’m hurting, NOR do I want the attention (GRRRR) so, just… shut it. 

We’ll see how it goes.

Crossword Puzzle

“Russian ruler of yore”……  wtf?!  Yeah, ok.  That was question #1-across on today’s crossword puzzle, therefore, I quit.

…

Lately, work has been really slow.  Early January I lost a handful of client, mostly because of cost issues and they went in-house or to someone cheaper, etc.  Whatever the reason, the few that I lost, happened to be my biggest.  Granted, they’re not HUGE clients and to me, anything over 20-50 employees is “big”, because the majority of my clients are smaller, local businesses (5-20 employees).  Because of the few that were my biggest, that happened to fall on the same week (which I used to lovingly refer to as “Busy Tuesday”) things have just been slow.  Have I said that yet?  It’s been slow.  So slow, in fact, that I find myself offering (begging) to help Becky with her work.  By doing so, it’s taken a little bit off her plate and I think in return, we’ve been getting along a lot better, but I want my OWN work dammit!  I sent Bruce a list of my current clients and their pay cycles and added a nice little note that said something along the lines of “GIVE ME WORK, PLEASE!”  It really is pretty depressing.  I don’t enjoy sitting, not having much to do and even if I’m helping other people with their work, I still feel fairly useless.  Almost guilty… like I’m being paid to do nothing.  I know every time I say that people go “geez, you’re lucky!”  Or comment how they’d love to be paid to do nothing.  It’s honestly not as great as you’d think.  At least not for me, but I guess it’s because I’m the type of person that gets bored easily and when I get TOO bored, I tend to get grumpy, so in a nutshell:  No work=bored=grumpy.  Every day.  I’m trying really hard to focus on NOT being grumpy and keeping myself occupied with other things, but sometimes it’s hard.  I talked to Sheri about it (ex-boss’ wife) and she said “bring a book!”  Again, something I feel guilty about, but… because of that, I’ve started bringing my book to work.  If I’m given permission to write when I don’t have work to do, I don’t think I’ll argue it too much.  Problem is, I’ve sort of hit a dead end.  What I mean is that I open up my “Discovering Destiny” document and stare at the last sentence for what feels like forever before I say “meh, not feelin’ it today” and don’t add anything on.  Useless.  Ugh.  It’s not like I have a deadline, so that’s fine, I guess I just feel frustrated that I’m having “writer’s block” to my own life!  You might ask “how hard can it be to write about your own personal experiences?”  Um… harder than you think, actually.  For one, it’s not like I can remember every single detail from 8-10 years ago AND write it in a way that would interest someone in reading it.  I can’t just write “It was a Tuesday and I went to school and I sluffed class and I got high and then I got pregnant and then The End”  Uh huh…  Sometimes I go weeks without writing anything.  Sometimes months.  It’s not as easy as you’d think!  Ok, I’m done.  It’s not like anyone is grilling me on why I’m only on Chapter 7.  *Sigh*

I love how pretty much right after I get done saying how slow it is, I get SLAMMED with calls and random client requests.  Haha.  I guess I’m done writing today!

Coping mechanism

The past couple months have been like a whirlwind of shit slapping me in the face.  I can’t seem to stand still without feeling like everything is spinning out of control around me and nothing seems to be going right.  I’m usually prepared for January to be a difficult month, but I wasn’t even remotely prepared for what January 2010 brought me.  Now that it’s over (and February is almost over, for that matter) I’m somewhat surprised I lived through it.  February hasn’t been a whole lot better, but I’m optimistic that it’ll improve soon.  I can feel it coming… or I feel what I hope to be good things coming up.  We’ll see.

Writing is usually my way of expressing myself when I don’t feel like talking to anyone.  Even if I’m writing about something completely unrelated to how I’m feeling, just writing in general helps.  I started on my book last year sometime and am both proud and ashamed to admit that I’m only on Chapter 7.  Proud, because you’d be surprised how difficult it’s been to even get this far.  Ashamed (just to myself) because I had silently made a goal to be DONE with this book within a year of starting it.  I don’t remember exactly when I started, but… it’s been like 6+ months.  Well, realistically I “started” it years ago… meaning the first paragraph.  I “for real” started it last year.  Brittany has been the only one to read the first couple Chapters, so whenever I sent those previews to her… that’s about when I started.  It’s been frustrating and at the same time, fairly helpful to me.  Writing out memories as if I’m telling someone elses story helps me remember where I’ve been and see how far I’ve come.  Frustrating, because I find myself jumping in and out of past and present-tense, if that makes sense.  Writing about your own memories is hard, because I want to express it as if I’m simply telling a story… but find myself slipping into “first person” mode and writing as if it’s the present.  It’s frustrating that I keep scattering between the two because it seems like such an elementary issue.  Ugh.  I have the same problem with the prologue, but here it is anyway:

Prologue

Looking back on the past couple years of my life, I would have never guessed I’d end up where I am now.  I would have never imagined the experiences and struggles I had faced in such a short amount of time would have ever been possible.  I came from a great family, was one of the minority of people left on earth who still had their Mother and Father married to each other, loving siblings, a good education, raised with good values and discipline… but everyone knows there’s no guarantee that you’ll walk the ‘straight and narrow’ just because you were taught to.

Here I am, sitting upright in this flat flimsy hospital bed with nothing but depressing white walls and ugly curtains covering the window with the view of the street, thinking about the last 2 years of my life and wondering how the hell I ended up here.  None of that mattered though.  Lying warm, chubby and perfectly beautiful in my arms was my son, only a few hours old.

I had heard stories of how the second a Mother sees their child for the first time, it was like a lightning bolt to the heart and you were forever changed.  I always thought it was a load of crap, if I’m being honest, but I guess you just can’t know that until you’re in the exact spot that I am.  I was absolutely floored, the second I looked at his face, because I didn’t expect it to be true.  It couldn’t be more true.  I had never experienced or thought it was possible to love another human being as much as I loved this baby boy in my arms.  I could not get enough of him.  I wanted to hold him, love him and kiss him for the rest of my life and never, ever let go.  Looking down at him in my arms, watching his chest rise and fall with his steady, warm breathing, his perfect plump red lips and thick velvety black hair, my heart suddenly ached more than ever imaginable.  I knew what was coming next and nothing in the world could prepare me for what was ahead of me.

We’ll see how far I can get in the next few months.  If I can get past the frustration and with Harmony’s help (and anyone else willing to offer it!) I will hopefully get past the issues that are getting in my way.

New Shoes

As most everyone knows, I’ve been extremely “off” lately.  Not myself… and it’s getting tiring.  I’ve tried to stay positive about things, tried to focus on stuff that makes me happy, but sometimes I just need a pick-me-up.  Can I just say, I have awesome sisters?  Addie sent me shoes yesterday.  Not just any shoes… these shoes made me smile (and I’m wearing them today – yes, to work).

Are those not the coolest shoes ever? Ok, maybe not, but only because I haven’t discovered the coolest shoes ever… so far, these are it.  They make me happy.  Isn’t it amazing what a new pair of shoes can do for your mood?  I love you Addie!

Reeling

It’s fairly unusual for me to not have the will to write, because writing is my outlet for a lot of things.  It helps me deal with my thoughts and feelings and helps me put things in perspective when I can’t make sense of it in my head.  The past week or so, talking, thinking and even writing simply exhaust me.  I am physically and emotionally exhausted.  I don’t have the energy to recap the past 11 days entirely and most people that would even read this blog probably already know what’s going on.  I guess I feel like I just have to put it down in my own personal record.

In my last blog post, I introduced baby Chloe and talked about some of the complications she was born with.  Complications have progressed and now she is faced with fluid building around her lungs.  Tubes were inserted in her sides to drain the fluid.  Even with this, doctors aren’t certain they can save her.

On Friday, when I went to help Melissa “check out” of the hospital, the geneticist spoke to Kathy and me briefly about Melissa.  Apparently, Melissa has Muscular Dystrophy and clearly has her entire life.  It explains a lot of things, but I guess since I grew up with Melissa my entire life (I literally have no memory of life before having her as my friend) I just always felt that’s just the way she was made.  I’ve never considered something “more” could be there.  Melissa is fully functional, but has the mental capacity of approximately 12 years old, possibly younger in some areas.  She doesn’t have the ability to process and weigh options for a decision or truly take care of herself in all aspects (although she desires to very much).  I’m not sure if I’m in denial, or if it just hasn’t fully processed yet, but when I heard those words, I felt something inside me shut down.  I don’t know a lot about Muscular Dystrophy, especially with all the different “types” there are, but what I do know about it is that everyone I know that has dealt with it in any way has told me that people with MD do not live long.  I’ve been reading and researching as much as possible.  Every type I’ve read about has the same result… short life span.  The type I find closest to describe Melissa is called “Becker”.  With the entire description, the part that my mind went directly to was the very last sentence of the paragraph, which said: survival into middle age.  Middle age… Isn’t middle age somewhere between 35-45?  Melissa is 24.  I have so many thoughts, I can’t put things together very well.  My first is that my entire life, OUR entire lives together, we would have never even known there was anything “wrong” with her and as children, we ALWAYS talked about growing old together (having a farm together, living together, raising our children together, opening a pet home… the list goes on) and now all of a sudden, I’m imagining losing my best friend in 10-20 years.  If I compare how FAST the last 10 years of my life have flown and think about the next ten years… it seems like that’s next week.  I can’t even really think about it.  And what if we’d never known about this?  Is it better that I know and can try to prepare to lose her at 45 instead of 85, or would it have been better to just lose her and not know why?  I don’t like either option I guess.  I can’t really process this fully.

—

The above text, I started writing weeks ago and obviously didn’t finish it.  I have come in here a few times in attempt to finish and just lost all will to “talk” about it.  A lot has gone on since then and well, honestly I don’t feel like talking about it any more.  Short version… little Chloe passed away on January 20th.  Most people that will even read this blog, probably already know the whole story, so I’m just going to leave it at that and move on because it’s exhausted me to all end…

—

This month has been really hard.  In almost every aspect of my life… work, personal, everything.  The only thing I can hold close and find my happy place is the moment after a long day at work when I get home, then Bart gets home and the second he walks in the door, I feel happy.  Lately I’ve been feeling like I could just lay in his arms all day and all night and just never leave.  I don’t totally know why… I just feel drained and that’s the only place I feel happy.

Dustin is getting baptized tomorrow.  I assume.  I think I mentioned previously that according to the way LDS baptisms work, the child gets baptized the first Saturday of the month following their 8th birthday… so, I assume he’s getting baptized tomorrow.  It’s been hard to deal with this and I don’t totally understand why.  I’m not sure WHY it’s been emotional for me.  Him turning 8 has just been… sheesh.  Weird.  I don’t know how else to put it.  I don’t even feel like talking much more about it.

*Shrug*

01/12/2002

Yesterday was a roller coaster of emotions.  Not only do I end up kinda emotional for a bit before and after Dustin’s birthday, but yesterday morning ish (noon maybe) I got a call from Kathy telling me that Melissa was in labor and dilated to 5.  Five!  I wasn’t even dilated to 5 TEN hours into labor.  They had gone into the hospital for a scheduled “Stress test” (or “Non” stress test… I honestly never know the difference between the two) and Melissa was very uncomfortable and having a lot of pain, so they checked her and that’s when the discovered she was dilated to 5.  Anyway, long story short… I ran from work as quickly as I could and got to the hospital.  So, (I don’t really have the energy to write it ALL right now) she had to have an emergency c-section because the baby’s heart wasn’t responding as it should.  Melissa is doing well.  Baby was born with muscular dystrophy, under developed lungs and heart and some problems with her legs.  Not sure on an actual diagnosis yet (or what TYPE of muscular dystrophy as apparently there are many different “types”) but she is still in NICU and weighs about 4 1/2 lbs.  The adoptive parents (Kent’s brother and sister in law) have named her “Chloe”.  She is beautiful.

Melissa will probably be in the hospital until Friday, which I believe is pretty standard after having a c-section and there is talk of transferring baby Chloe to Primary Children’s, although I’m not certain on that yet.  We don’t know a whole lot yet (although I seem to be pestering for updates every half hour :p) but hoping for the best.

01/11/2002

7 lbs. 12 oz. 21 inches long.

I know I say it every year and I’ll probably say it for the rest of my life, but it really is surreal that Dustin is already 8 years old.  This birthday is… I lack a word for it… maybe it’s because he’s now 8 and around here, “8” is like entering “manhood” or something.  I know Dustin will be getting baptized now and my fellow LDS friends and family have informed me that the baptism usually takes place the first Saturday of the month following the child’s 8th birthday.  So, if that’s correct, I wager Dustin will be getting baptized on February 6th.  I can only assume that’s the reason I feel this way, but it’s a large realization that my baby is no longer a baby anymore.  To think about that and then immediately rewind 8 years to this moment in time, I was 16 years old and Dustin was about 8 hours old.  A short while later, Sandy (my social worker) came into my hospital room with what seemed like an enormous folder of documents to sign.  (Later realizing it really wasn’t n enormous folder, it just felt like it).  The second she walked in, it hit me like a semi and I started sobbing.  I clutched onto Dustin so tight, I’m surprised I didn’t squeeze him to death.  I knew what I was doing was right and I truthfully did not have any doubts, but knowing that the second I signed those papers, there was no turning back… killed me.  You know how people say that when you have a surge of anything… emotion, adrenaline, fear, anger… that your heart beats really fast and blood races through you?  I thought it was odd at that moment that the exact opposite seemed to be happening.  I could swear my heart was stopping.  My chest felt hollow, as if there was no heart to begin with.  Sandy was extremely caring and respectful.  I was so scared of this moment, because I had heard horror stories of social workers insensitivity when it came to signing the relinquishment papers… that they tended to throw the papers at you, get it done and get out.  That thought scared me more than the papers she held, because I didn’t think I could handle even the slightest shift in emotions or I’d crumble.  She came into the room, obviously making a conscious effort to set aside that folder and come over to me.  She gave me a hug, then looked at Dustin and told me how beautiful he was.  I can’t be sure, but I almost think I saw tears in her eyes.  At that moment, I felt like she really did care and this wasn’t just her job.  I felt comforted by her presence, which surprised me because I had prepared to hold my breath the whole time.  The nurse that had been caring for me that morning came into the room.  I was warned ahead of time that there would have to be a “witness” to my signing and this nurse that had been so loving and caring to me had volunteered to witness me signing my parental rights away.  She was crying before she even walked in the room.  She stood across from the bed.  Seemed like she was intentionally giving me space, which I appreciated.  Sandy then handed me the papers and a clipboard and gently placed them in my free hand, because I refused to let go of Dustin.  I sobbed.  I couldn’t breathe.  At this point, my heart was pounding and my hands shook.  I cried and held him as tightly as I could, hugging him, breathing in the sweet scent of his hair and looking at his face, knowing that the second my name was scribbled on that paper, he was no longer mine.  I took a deep breath, relaxed as much as possible, took the pen and signed the line at the bottom of the page. Everything was a blur after that.  I don’t remember if it was just one paper I signed, or two or three?  I remember signing my name once and after that, my memory leaves me.  I’m not even sure that I remember them leaving the room, although it’s a vague.  I’m not sure that I remember anything other than burying my face in Dustin’s body, my tears fall all over him.  I know that I kept trying to wipe the tears off that kept falling on his face and the blanket wrapped around him, but after a few minutes, I gave up and just let the tears fall on him.

I was blessed to have such supportive people around me that day.  I remember feeling scared that people were going to judge and make it more difficult.  Not that their judgment would have made a difference at all, but I don’t think I could have handled even the tiniest bit extra on that day.  The staff at Orem Community Hospital gave me the best experience possible out of the scariest experience of my life.  I wish I remembered their names.  Magui and Geary were more than wonderful in agreeing to let me take Dustin home with me for a day and a night.  I don’t know if I realized it then, but I realized later on that it was something they certainly did not have to allow.  They could have easily refused and taken him right that second.  The second I signed those papers, he was legally theirs and could have easily brushed me aside and not had to look twice.  They didn’t.  They allowed me to take him home, before even seeing him themselves.  I took him home and spent time with my family, a few choice friends and every moment possible.  My brother and his (now wife) girlfriend came to see me and Dustin.  They held him as if they were holding the newest member of our family.  My brother talked to him like he always does with little babies.  His goofy “hello little person” in the tone of voice only people who know him can imagine.  It made me smile.  I remember thinking it said a lot about Heather that she came on this day, barely even knowing me at that time.  She barely knew me and she didn’t have to take the time out of her life to come support me in this, but for some reason she did.  She held Dustin and I felt an immediate connection with her.  She cared about him and she cared about me and I knew she was going to be part of our family, even if 8 years ago on that day, she didn’t even know it.

I didn’t sleep the night of January 12th because the next morning, I was meeting Magui and Geary at Social Services to give them their baby.  I sang songs to him and rocked him in my arms.  The same songs my Mom always sang to me when I was growing up to help me sleep.  It was silly, but I specifically thought maybe if I sang those songs to him, he would keep them in the back of his mind for the rest of his life and he’d know me.  He’d know me because of the songs I sang.  Isn’t that silly?  I talked to him and asked him to remember me.  If there was any way in his little tiny body that he could somehow remember my voice and remember this moment, I would have peace.  People always say that babies never forget the sound of their mother’s voice and I still wonder if that’s true.  The next morning came too fast.  My parents were ready.  I couldn’t stop crying.  I wonder if lack of sleep was adding to my emotions, but I was shaking so bad I couldn’t even put Dustin in the car seat.  I sat on my parents bed, because my legs were failing to hold me.  I held Dustin and cried.  My Dad sat next to me and put his arm around me and a hand on Dustin and he cried.  He hugged me and we cried.  My Mom cried.  They helped me get him in the car seat and we went.  It was Sunday.  Social Services (and Sandy) had specially agreed to open the doors to let me do this on that day, because I felt like if I kept him even one day longer, I wouldn’t be able to piece my heart back together.  We got there way too fast.  We went inside and waited in Sandy’s office.  We held Dustin and cried and Sandy took a few pictures of the four of us together.  Just my Mom, Dad, me and Dustin.  Then she told me that Magui and Geary were down the hall with their worker and that we could take as long as we wanted with Dustin.  We cried and held him for a while longer and I told her I wanted to do it.  I held him and we walked down the hall.  It makes me laugh now thinking about how long that hall seemed.  I’ve been in it many times since then and it really isn’t long at all, but at that point it loomed in front of me as if stretching on forever.  We finally got to the door and I knew they were inside that room.  As we walked in, I saw that they were both crying already and I cried more.  This time, I was smiling.  The feeling that overwhelmed that room swept over and into me the second the door was opened.  I walked up to them and held him out, taking the blanket off his head.  Magui looked at him and cried more.  She hugged me and cried more.  Then Geary hugged me and they looked at Dustin.  It’s surprising to me that in that moment, I didn’t feel the slightest bit of pain, or fear, that I had prepared to feel.  I was smiling.  I was truly happy.  Any doubts that I may have possibly had before that moment were completely gone when I looked at their faces.  I KNEW they loved him in that one second and I knew both of them would go to the end of the earth to give him everything he needed and I knew that if there was such a thing as “fate”, he was meant to be theirs.

It still amazes me how many supportive people I have in my life.  Maybe I didn’t fully realize it until after I got involved with birthmombuds and have had the opportunity to hear other birth mother’s stories and experiences and how (too) many of them had/have no support at all.  In a very selfish way, it’s made me more grateful for what I have.  When I feel sad about the fact that I don’t get letters and pictures from Magui and Geary anymore, like I thought that I would every year, I remind myself that a lot of birth mother’s have a lot less than I do.  I feel like it’s terrible to even say that.  I wish that all birth mother’s had at least as much as I’ve received, but I find myself feeling grateful.  It seems to really sound bad when I put it that way… but at least I know what I’m trying to say and it’s not intentionally snotty.  Magui and Geary sent me SO much more than I ever imagined the first two years of Dustin’s life.  I have two full scrapbooks (the books themselves, Magui hand made for me) and the best gift they gave me was the ability to write to Dustin however often I want.  They put no limit on the letters I could send him and that means more to me than almost anything.  It’s painful that I don’t get to see him grow up, even through the pictures that I expected I’d be able to, but at least he can get my letters and hopefully will never have any doubts on how much I love him.

It seems sort of random, but it’s been going through my mind since Friday night when I stopped at Heather and Christopher’s.  Heather was letting me use some of her wrapping paper to wrap Dustin’s birthday presents and she was talking to me about Dustin.  It’s amazing to me that she’s as supportive as she is.  She’s really sort of the only person that asks me questions about it and asks me how I feel.  It might not be the sentimental “cry on my shoulder” type conversation, which I’m not very good at anyway (unless it’s someone else crying… not me!) but it means so much to me that she cares.  For my birthday this year, she gave me a necklace from “The R House”, which long story short, is related to adoption and the jewelry is sold for adoption purposes… I did all I could to not cry (although I still DIIIID) when she gave me that.  It wasn’t so much that she bought me a gift, or the fact that it was really cute… it was just a small silver tab with the word “Love” engraved in it with a couple small beads…. it’s the fact that she bought THAT necklace because it was related to adoption and the word “Love” was meant for me and Dustin.  She has just always made me feel like she cares.  Don’t get me wrong, I KNOW that my family members and my friends and people around me CARE about it, but people don’t really talk to me about Dustin or about the adoption the way she does.  Maybe it’s the fact that she does NOT pity me and say stupid stuff like “that must have been so hard” or “I could never do that”.  She doesn’t say useless things to me, like most people do.  Although I realize that when people say things like that, it’s just because they don’t know what else to say that would be appropriate, so they say the first thing that comes to mind… aside from knowing what their intentions are… it pisses me off every time I hear it.  I would MUCH prefer you not say anything at all.  I’d rather the subject be complete brushed off, than give me a half assed sympathy that does me no good.  She’s just never made me feel that way.  Maybe it’s because she was there.  She may not have been there for Dustin’s birth, or for me crying myself to sleep every night for over a year, but she held him.  He was real and I’m sure she felt the pain I couldn’t hide on that day.  I didn’t mean for this to be a long sappy tribute… I just want to say “thank you” in writing even if she doesn’t read this, because it’s not as easy for me to express in person.

Well… I’ve made it through another year and I’m sure I’ll make it through the rest of the day.  I have my coffee and fuzzy slippers and don’t have to think about work at all today.  I plan on watching cartoons, taking a bath, dropping Dustin’s birthday presents off at Social Services and pray that Magui and Geary have the magical ability to make the trip to pick them up so they’re not late (:( Ugh) and then head to Harmony’s for the rest of the day with no specific plans other than to play Super Mario Bros and possibly paint our toenails.  I’ll go see Jake, Jairus and Kaitlyn when they get out of school too.  A dose of niece and nephews will be good for me today.  At least some of them.  Then I am VERY much looking forward to my 5:15 appointment with Jessica to get my hair cut.  Today should be a good day.

Happy Birthday Dustin.

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be”

Truths

Miscellaneous truths you may or may not know:

I am deathly afraid of grasshoppers.

Sorting/putting away socks makes me angry.

I love the sound of snow crunching under my feet.

I love brussell sprouts.

I exaggerate things in my mind a lot.  Mostly the possibility of “bad” things happening.

I still think about Dustin every day, even if it’s just for a moment.

I love old movies/shows, particularly “I Love Lucy” and old Carrie Grant movies.

Watching Cartoons on weekend mornings makes me happy.

I worry about money even when we have plenty.

I love to rub Bart’s feet, or scratch his back because if makes me feel needed.

I wish I had the courage to have a crazy cute hairstyle.

I’ve always wanted my nose pierced.

I’m secretly sort of afraid of being in the water.

I get ridiculously grumpy if I don’t shower every day.

I love old Jazz music.

I feel like crying every time I hear the sound of a dog licking.

Sometimes I still get butterflies in my stomach when Bart kisses me.

I’m clumsy and ditsy and have been my entire life.

I despise the term “Prego” when referring to a pregnant woman.  Just wanna punch people that say it.

“Valentines Day” annoys me.

I laugh uncontrollably when people fall down.

I hate when people start conversations with “How are you?”

I hate talking on the phone.

Every time I go to Social Services, my hands shake and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I can’t kill spiders.  Every time I even consider it, I imagine them having families and losing their loved one.

I have to literally talk myself out of eating shrimp when I see it, because chances are high that it could kill me…. yet I still have to talk myself out of it.

My Bartley

Sometimes, for reasons I don’t even really know, I find myself really thinking about how lucky I am to have Bart.  I tell him I love him every day, but I don’t know if I ever really tell him how much I appreciate him and what it is that I love about him.  I think a lot of women (myself included, I admit) tend to get sucked into the very bad habit of focusing on things that annoy them about their men.  I want to try to focus on things I love about him.  Thanks Jess for making me think about this…

Just 25 of the hundreds of reasons I love Bart.

1. He does extremely silly things just to make me laugh.

2. He always saves the “last” of something for me (the last pickle, the last scoop of pasta, the last ice cream sandwich, etc.)

3. He never has a problem washing dishes or vacuuming and I don’t even have to ask him.

4. He puts the dishes away because he knows I despise doing it.

5. He makes dinner a LOT.

6. I love his hands.

7. He is very patient with me.

8. I love that he is not afraid to speak his mind and that he sticks up for me even if it’s difficult.

9. He’s extremely intelligent.

10. I love the way he takes the time to explain things to me and draws me pictures when he’s talking about computer stuff.

11. He makes me feel safe, like nothing could get past him to hurt me.

12. Sometimes he puts his phone/laptop/work away just to be with me.

13. He doesn’t ever complain about trivial things (like I do!)

14. I love the face he makes when he’s clearly trying to not laugh at something.

15. I love the way he smells.

16. I love watching him cook.  It amazes me how talented he is.

17. He sticks his tongue out when he’s focusing on something.

18. I love watching him work on cars.

19. His feet never stink.

20. He loves numbers and can solve a math problem in his head in seconds.

21. He listens to me babble about nothing when I can’t sleep.

22. He worries that I’m safe.

23. When he says he’ll do something, he always does.

24. He talks in his sleep sometimes.  It might be odd that I love it, but I really do.

25. Sometimes when he’s frustrated or annoyed with me, he says simply “I love you”.

Two Thousand and Nine

2009 IS OVER, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

Stayed single almost the whole year?
No.  I haven’t been single in almost 7.

Were involved in something you’ll never forget?
Yeah.

Tripped over a coffee table?
Yes, but we moved it so now I don’t have to walk past it at all. 

Dyed your hair?
Got high/low lights, but not a “full” dye.

Came close to losing your life?
Don’t think so.

Saw one of your favorite bands/artists live?
Not this year.

2009: Friends and Enemies

Did you meet any new friends this year?
Yes.  And I couldn’t be more grateful that I now have her as a friend.

Did you hate anyone?
No.  I can honestly say I don’t “hate” anyone.

Do you have any regrets when it comes to your friendships?
Yes and no.  We’ll just leave it at that.

2009: Your BIRTHDAY!

Did you have a cake?
Yes, I had like THREE cakes.

Did you have a party?
Yes, like 3.

Did you get any presents?
Yes, I was really spoiled.

2009: All about YOU

Did you change your style?
Not really.

Were you in school?
No.

Did you drive?
Yes.

Did you own a car?
I guess technically I don’t own it.  It’s in Bart’s name and technically HE doesn’t “own” it either… but yeah.

Would you change anything about yourself now?
Surely.

2009: Wrap UP:

Was 2009 a good year?
Not really, no… although we did get our house… and that was good.

Do you think 2010 will top 2009?
Hope so.  All in all, 2009 kinda sucked.

IN THE YEAR 2009 I CONFESS THAT I….

Kissed in the snow?
No, don’t think so actually.

Done something you’ve regretted?
Hmmm… nothing comes to mind.

Painted a picture?
No.  Me?  Paint?  First of all, my “pictures” are never more than stick figures and whoever would give me paint to play with is outta their mind.

Wrote a poem?
No.  I used to a lot… but haven’t for a few years.

Told someone you were busy when you weren’t?
Probably.

Lied about how old you were?

No.

IN 2009 I…..

Broke a promise?
Yes.

Lied?
Not intentionally.

Disappointed someone close?
Yes.

Hid a secret?
Yes.

Pretended to be happy?
Yeah, but who doesn’t from time to time?

Slept under the stars?
Not REALLY… but went camping a few times.  We just like tents.

Kept your new years resolution?
I don’t make resolutions…

Forgot your new years resolution?
I didn’t make any.

Met someone who changed your life?
Everyone you meet “changes” your life to a certain extent… so yeah.

Sat home all day doing nothing?
Often.  That’s almost all weekends are sometimes.

Pretended to be sick?
No.

Lost something expensive?
Hmmm….. probably.  I lose stuff a lot, but I can’t think of anything specific right now.

Learned something new about yourself?
Sorta.

Tried something you normally wouldn’t try and liked it?
Don’t think so…

Made a change in your life?
Can’t think of any.  Geez… I’m boring.

Found out who your true friends were?
Yes.

Met great people?
Yes.

Stayed up til sunrise?
I don’t really think so.  I work too much.  lol

Cried over the silliest thing?
Yes, but I cry over ANYTHING (TV commercials, sensitive moments of love, ya know)

Had friends who were drifting away from you?
Yes.

Had a high cell phone bill?
I own an iPhone. Is it ever cheap?

Spent most of your money on food?
No.  MOST of my money probably toward mortgage… second would be my car (and insurance)

Had a fist fight?
No.

Gotten sick?
Yes.

Liked more than 5 people at the same time?
Not in a romantical sense 😉

Became closer with a lot of people?
Not a lot, but in the last few months I think I’d almost consider Marilee my best friend and I always feel close to Coley.  I’ve probably become a little closer to my sister Addie too.