Hi,bye..

Oh man, what a week. The crafts have been on hold and the house has been collecting dust and bills and I have been out of it. My crazy neighbors are out to drive me crazy and Kenny and I have not been doing so great.
So, I spent the morning dusting, sweeping, mopping and washing and now it's about time to get me clean too.
I guess I'll take a bath and then put on a movie.
I wish I had something insightful to write or some inspiration I found, but no, it's completely boring around here or complete chaos. There is no middle ground.
I'll try to enjoy having the house to myself and forget how lonely I feel today.

Baby's good!

The baby is measuring just about a week behind but looks perfect. They are putting me on partial bed rest and checking for clotting disorders. (Thanks Margaret!)
Thank you guys so much for your well wishes, I was really freaking out there for a minute!

Almost time..

I'm getting ready and I have a swarm of hornets in my stomach. God, please..I need good news today or no bad news at least. I am such a worrier and my mind needs no fuel for more worry. Please, please, please let my baby be just fine..please. I'll never tempt fate again, just please help me get this baby here safe and sound. Please let this doctor be kind and patient. I'm scared...

Quickie..

The energy and interest in finishing my mobile isn't there at the moment.
This little boy seems to be trying to show me he's ok. He's been kicking very often and it eases my mind (some). I read online that a sick baby will become listless and not move much.
I am reading The Host, by Stephanie Meyer. I don't think I mentioned that I read the entire Twilight series over four days around Christmas. Someone gave me the first two before the holidays so I went from swearing I wouldn't ever read them to devouring them in a few sittings. Silly me..
Books seem to be the only thing that can hold my attention for more than a few minutes.

A little more positive today..

Yesterday was horrible. I just could not imagine that there was a possibility things could be fine in the end with this little one. I was anxious and the words kept buzzing around in my head 'he's measuring two and a half to three weeks too small' over and over.
I went to bed early and slept for twelve hours. When I woke up I had the same phrase buzzing around and I didn't know what to do with myself.
I got dressed and went to do a few errands and thought..a lot.
This child is going to live or he isn't. I know I'm not immune to having this happen twice. Worrying won't secure a future for this little one but it can drive me insane and keep me stressed. I don't want that.
I've decided to just decide that what will be will be. I may change my mind at my appointment on Tuesday, as I want so badly for this to be a miscalculation by the doctor.
I'm trying to lean on your comments and just hope for the best. Dr. could have been off or the boy could be just little or he may catch up in the next twelve weeks. At this point nothing is set in stone..yet.

Not great news...

The good news is, I'm having a boy.
The bad news is, he is measuring three weeks behind.
The doctor was not reassuring and gave no clues.
He's in there, his organs are well formed but he is too tiny and no one knows why.
I see a specialist of some sort in a week.
This is not what I was expecting. I am angry now that my doctor hasn't performed more scans. I'm afraid, very afraid and I covet any opinions, prayers, well wishes, anything.
I know this isn't good. I don't know how I will get through this week of waiting.
I am helpless..

Two hours..

In two hours, I will more than likely find out if I am carrying a little boy baby or a little girl.
Around this time with Zoe, I went for one of the many ultrasounds I had with her, and they informed me she had an echogenic focus. They told me it was probably nothing (nothing?!) or something that would resolve itself before birth, don't worry they said. Yeah right.
They sent me to a fetal heart specialist, who told me he wasn't concerned, but couldn't explain what it actually was. Great, thanks doc..
It turned out to be nothing, I supposed and was told, as when she was born, her heart was one of her strongest organs.
I still wonder if that little white glitch on the ultrasound screen, didn't have something to do with the tragic way my daughter came into this world.


So, here's hoping that only little girl or boy parts get attention today. (Why my 'high risk' doctor only gives his patients two scans in forty weeks is beyond me)

Mobile pre-assembly spoiler..

I can't wait to show you how I plan to assemble all these little pieces into a fun, suspended piece of art!

Fear of the unknown..

I have always believed in God to some extent. When I was younger, I may have also believed in a goddess or two however for the most part, I have been a Christian.
I've always prayed, since I was a little girl and I have felt that those prayers were heard. I felt loved, sometimes in a powerful way. I've prayed the same prayer with Ivy since she was a little baby and still do.
When I was pregnant with Zoe (and a bit before) my beliefs took a turn to the left and I entertained some different ideas. I analyzed different possibilities. I began to feel farther from God. My life was more chaos at the time than I care to explain. Zoe's dad reads this blog and I don't want to argue the details. No one could argue that it got crazy around here. Then I woke up that horrible morning trying to talk myself out of the fact that something was very wrong. When I got to the hospital and realized things were indeed very bad, no one would tell me what was happening even as they started prepping my tummy and screaming at one another for supplies. I was terrified for my baby and I prayed for her to be alright. I prayed until the ceiling crumpled down and the room turned black. When I woke up I prayed. I prayed for three weeks. I did feel a powerful peace as my daughter died in my arms. I felt a powerful peace leaving the hospital without her. It started to wane around the time of her funeral and slowly disappeared. I can not tell you the last time I have felt true peace. My closeness to God had been tinged by my own guilt and anger. I did not feel like my prayers were heard or that they meant much. Didn't I spend weeks on my knees asking God to heal my little girl? If those prayers didn't matter then, why would they matter when I'm praying for someone else's little girl?
I feel like I pray now because I feel like I'm supposed to. I seek that closeness with God, but since I'm trying to be very honest here, I don't feel it.
It's hard to resolve her death to anything else but that it just happened. There are certainly things I could have done to help her chances before the abruption in my opinion. I had doctors tell me that I couldn't have done anything while other ones told me I could have.
The point of all this is that I still try, and probably always will as far as God is concerned but sadly that relationship has certainly suffered and I'm afraid that I will be 'punished' for it. It sounds ridiculous, I get that, but that doesn't change anything.

Let's move on, shall we?

Things in my household have been a little tense. I've recently learned that quite a few people IRL read this blog, just never comment. It's been hard for me to come here and be honest about my family situation or anything else really, not knowing who was reading and why. Today I decided that it didn't matter who is reading. I write here for my own sanity.
I have been thinking of the entrance of this baby into the world. I fear that I will abrupt before my scheduled cesarean. I am afraid of being awake if I do make it to the scheduled cesarean. I've had a few surgeries and I've always been asleep. I am terrified of seeing all those instruments all lined up and ready, so for the last two, I asked to be knocked out before I went to the operating room. The anesthesiologists did it that way and I was fine. I have no chance of that happening now. I don't know how I will quiet my imagination long enough to go in that sterile operating room fully alert and knowing what is too come. Yes it is the birth of my child, but it will also be major surgery without general anesthesia.
I know that there are some of you who have had one and think I'm being silly. I know I'm silly. I'm also very scared. The last time I was cut open I was terrified and needing answers that weren't coming. They were strapping down my arms and yelling at me to be still as my baby and I were in a lot of danger. I was in so much pain and I was so afraid. I don't know how to see it any other way than how my experience defined it in my mind.
I spoke to my doctor about all of this and he more or less gave me the ole' pat on the back, 'It'll be just fine' routine. It didn't help at all.
So, that's where I've been. Trying to navigate the bumps in my relationship with Kenny while trying to get mentally prepared for a new baby while feeling incredible fearful of the actual event or the not making it until said event.
I just want to fast-forward to happy mommy, healthy baby, at home, in peace. I really hope that I get there. I hope that is what is waiting at the end of this. Happy mommy, healthy baby, at home, in peace...

Temperament..

I have a tendency to allow the term 'artist' to define my feelings about myself. I get very moody when I'm not working.Every year that goes by that I don't show my art at all, feels like a void, a waste.
I read the memoirs and biographies of other artists and poets in history and nod my head as I read about their behavioral patterns. Hopefully I'm not destined to the fates of many of my favorites.
I've been diagnosed with manic-depression and I take a small amount of medicine for it. I've gone the no med route and, call me weak, but I can't for long.
I've been re-reading one of my old books about manic depressive illness in relation to the artistic temperament. Much of it reads like my life.
I get low and I can't be deeply productive. I can needle felt, and create with my hands, but I feel hollow and I sit near a half started canvas with one of my best ideas in a while and wonder why I can't just pick it up and finish.(I've tried that before, being in a state of mind similar to the one I'm in now and really ruined it)

The feeling HAS to be there. It's like a channel that opens.
It's more than a matter of motivation. Things have to click into place for me to sit, and bare my soul through a brush.
The last very real, raw painting that I did is also the last one I have worked on. I studied the colors and lines in my face and tried to capture my essence truthfully. I know I did well. I was in that 'place'.
I haven't put my mind to task and it leaves me feeling worthless.
I haven't posted to my blog because I have been feeling awkward and nutty, and I couldn't bring myself to post nonsense about my day to day life.
I chose instead to post the truth.
I haven't been painting, or doing anything to put my work out there, and I feel empty. I'm not living up to my potential and I'm a bit lost right now.



And some thing's odd...within..
That person that I was...
And this one...do not feel the same..
Could it be Madness...this?
-Emily Dickinson-