Project 365 Week 13 - In Which I Call Poison Control Center

Hope has been asking for some Magic Grow capsules.  You know, those little sponges that are stuffed into rubbery capsules that you put in warm water and they "magically" expand.

So, after we were at the store a second time, I agreed.  I know they're only, like, a dollar and why would I say no the first time, but I'm mean like that so it took us two trips to the store (unrelated to the Magic Grow capsules) for me to agree to get them.

**You can feel appropriately bad for how deprived my children are.  That I won't necessarily get them a dollar toy when they ask.**

Obviously, I figured a toy that says 4+ on it was perfect for my four-year-old and one-week-away-from-being-two-year-old to enjoy together.

Because second (and third and forth) children are just like that, right?  They suck on dirty pacifiers, play with marbles, juggle knives.  No?  Just mine?

Anyway...

I set the girls up, each with her own little bowl of warm water and we threw in the capsules and watched them s-l-o-w-l-y expand.  When the sponges were full size, I refreshed the water and let them play.  And I went into the other room to start dinner.

Pretty soon I heard, Mo-om, Paige drank the water from her bowl.


My heart did a flip-flop as I wondered just how toxic this all was, because even though I changed the water, I distinctly remember noticing some of that jelly stuck to the side of the bowl.

The package reads Not a food product. Do not swallow. Adult supervision recommended.  I did not freak out.  I decided that it would be okay.  It was diluted water.  No big deal.

After about twenty minutes (during which I merrily went on my way of making dinner), I thought, Who am I kidding?  Just call the darn Poison Control Center so you can know for sure that your child is okay!

So I did.  And I read the employee the back of the package, conveniently leaving off the adult supervision recommended because I didn't need to point out to her that I blatantly left my two-year-old playing unsupervised with a toy that says 4+ on the package.

No emergency room run, no call to the doctor, I was assured that it just might irritate her insides and feel unpleasant on the way out.

Thank goodness for Minnesota Poison Control System.  I feel somewhat sheepish that I didn't call right away, but am glad that I did end up calling, and that the worst we had to worry about was a little tummy upset or diarrhea.  Neither of which Paige seemed to get.

By the way, if you don't yet have the number posted somewhere, you can find your local number here.


**Disclaimer: I am not, nor have I ever been, a doctor or Poison Control Center employee.  If your child has eaten a Magic Grow capsule, or ingested the water, I highly recommend calling your own Poison Control Center.




By the way, the rest of our week, while fun, was not quite as exciting/nerve wracking.

Happy Weekend!

The Things I Wish

I watched 19 Kids & Counting last night.  It is not a regular show for me, but as I was flipping through the channels I got sucked in.  It was the episode where they found out they lost their twentieth baby.

Probably not the best choice of viewing, given recent events.

To tell you the truth, I was okay.  But of course, it made me sad too.

I wish that things could have been different for us.  (Obviously I wish we hadn't lost the baby at all, but even in losing the baby I wish there were things we could have known or done.)

I wish that we could have known if it was a boy or girl.  I wish we could have named the baby.  I wish that we could have said goodbye.

Knowing these things, I'm sure, would not make me feel any differently about losing the baby.  But if we were able to do these things, to know these things, than maybe I would feel like other people could better understand why it is so hard for me.

That I lost a baby.

Without a gender, without a name, without a real way to say goodbye, I feel like people don't see that.  They don't understand that this loss is real.  This loss is deep.

I lost a baby, so of course I am sad.  And being sad?  That's okay.




***

Linking with up with Shell.

I Really Need to Acquire the Taste for Wine

I think I need a little wine with my whine.

Or at least, that would be appropriate if I actually liked wine.  Which I wish was the case because some nights all I want is to enjoy a nice, full glass.  Or I think I would like this, as my daydream of wine drinking is quite luxurious and grown-up.  You know, big round glasses of the red stuff.  Unfortunately, I have not acquired the taste for wine.

Not to be confused with whine, because I seem to enjoy that all too much.

Consider yourself warned.

I have been so crabby.  I don't know where it comes from, but I certainly know where it goes, directly in the path of my husband or children.  Because, you know, they so deserve to be snapped at on a regular basis.

Of course they don't actually, which just makes things worse because on top of my crabbiness I am regularly filled with guilt.

But I'm annoyed.  I have an over-all feeling of general annoyed-ness.

So then when little annoying moments come, they are masked as big moments because my threshold for annoying things is significantly diminished.

You know, like having to make dinner with a toddler underfoot pulling out previously clean dishes that will then be added to the sink of dishes to clean which just is a never-ending pile because we don't have a dishwasher and oh my goodness it's so hard to be me.

And, the weather that has dared to become average after enjoying several days of extremely above average days with playing outside and no coats and warm and sun and oh how dare the weather do this to me because obviously it is personal.

Not to be left out, the annoying issue on blogger in which I thought I had word verification turned off only to realize I didn't, only to turn it off and to find out that it turns back on all by itself and I have turned this damn thing off over twenty times (I kid you not) and it turns back on by itself and I just want the stupid thing turned off permanently and it just. won't. do. it.

:: deep breath ::

(So, on a side note, I am sorry to anyone who has to fill out the word verification to comment on my blog.  I really am working on getting that off.  Forever.)

And now I will leave you with a picture because after my whiney rant I feel like I at least owe you that.  A positive way to end, that is.

A serious conversation between sisters, one year ago - March 2011

***

PS.  I'm linking up with Heather and Elaine because, well, I just want to.

Project 365 Week 12 - New Shoes

I bought some new shoes this week.  They are fabulous.

And as I may have told Adam (37 times since I bought them, according to him), I love them.

Oh, did I mention I just got them today?

It's okay if you don't like them.  I don't care.  Actually, that's not true.  I totally want you to like them.  I need that verification to know that my taste isn't horrible.  But I think if no one else likes them, I still will.  I'll just be afraid to wear them.

Aw, who am I kidding!?  I love them.  I can't wait to wear them again tomorrow.

I Do Not Have to be Alone

The past several weeks I was not feeling well physically or mentally, so I curled up inside myself and avoided connecting with anyone.  I wanted to be alone.  I wanted to isolate myself.  I wanted to spend time just feeling sad and broken.

So I did.  And for several weeks I felt isolated and alone.  Lonely.

And even though I thought that is what I wanted, even though I did need some time for myself, I discovered that it was too much.

I am an introvert.  And when I am struggling or upset I need time alone.  But there is a fine line between giving myself that alone time to feel my feelings and then refresh, and isolating myself so much that the emptiness takes over.

I let the emptiness take over.

I finally broke out of myself and reached out to some friends this week.  It was not until after reconnecting that I realized how much I needed it, how much I missed it, how much it helped.

Yesterday, for the first time in awhile, I felt refreshed.

And it felt good.

I am not done feeling sad.  I am not done mourning my loss.  But it sure feels good to get out and be reminded of the friends who love me.  To spend some time laughing and crying and feeling a part of something bigger than myself.  Part of a friendship.

Because my friends, they hug me and love me and let me be upset while simultaneously lifting me up.

Because they remind me, I do not have to be alone.

Wordless Wednesday - Spring

Some Days

Some days I wake up fine, easily and happily distracted by two girls whose needs must be met.  And other days I wake up feeling bruised and tender, struggling to keep the tears at bay.

The past several months have been emotionally difficult, especially because of last Monday.  I knew this was not the end of my grief, but I am continually taken by surprise just when and where the overwhelming feelings of loss appear.

Even though I had little reason to (and it is terribly embarrassing to admit), I took a pregnancy test this morning.  We are not trying, but I held onto hope that before my first period after the due date, I would be pregnant.

I guess I wanted to be able to tell myself, If we hadn't had the miscarriage last summer, we never could have had this baby this fall.

But really, there is no consolation.

And though it does no good to do so, I worry.  I worry that if we decide to try again I will suffer from secondary infertility.  I worry that if we decide to try again I will have another miscarriage.

I know that I need to let go.  That I have no control over these things.

And I am trying.  But some days it is too hard.

Some days the tears just come.

St. Patrick's Day Joy

Unlike the Irish individuals and the Irish-for-just-today individuals who reveled in the festivities over in St. Paul for St. Patrick's Day, these three Irish girls, along with their Finnish daddy/husband, had a quiet walk at the falls.

(Hey, even if it's just an eighth, I am Irish.)

It was a beautiful morning.

Made more beautiful by spending it together as a family.

Recently Adam and I realized that most of our family time on the weekend is spent running errands or doing house projects.  Both of which are important, but even more important is to have quality family time.

So we oohed and aahed at the waterfall, one two three wee-ed along the path, stuck our toes in the frigid water, and soaked up some much needed togetherness.

It was perfect.

Enjoying a Saturday morning, our family in green.

Because, you know, it was St. Patrick's Day, and we didn't want to get pinched.

Project 365 Week 11 - A Warm Week

As it has been unseasonable warm here, the girls and I have been enjoying some playtime outside.

It's much easier for me to take them out when the weather is in the sixties and seventies as opposed to the forties.

Which is average for March in Minnesota.

Not that forties is cold when compared to the negative degree temperature days we are used to from the winter.

But this winter was fairly mild, leaving me to forget just how cold the winter can be.  And how warm forty degrees can feel.

Which makes it hard to motivate me to take the girls out to play.

So, I'm happy to enjoy the record breaking highs from this past week.  And so are Hope and Paige.

Heart

Sometimes I have irrational worries about my health.

A horrible headache caused by a brain tumor, or diarrhea caused by colon cancer.

The fear usually disappears as quickly as it comes, right after my symptoms are relieved.  Perhaps I have some hypochondriac tendencies.

This week it was my heart.  I had a two day long heart attack.  Which means I had the longest heart attack in history.

(Or, perhaps I don't understand the specifics of heart disease. Which also explains why a moment of upper back pain led to me fearing my demise via a heart attack.)

My husband thinks that my body is trying to deal with the stress of Monday.  I think he is one smart man.

The one benefit from my irrational fears these past couple days?  I am feeling even more grateful for my life, my two girls, and my husband.

I mean, really grateful.  The kind of grateful filled with patience and joy and appreciation of all the little moments.  My heart is exploding with love for my family.

So maybe not a heart attack after all.

Just a heart, over-flowing with love.

Playing their "guitars"

A Birthday Lost

March 12, 2012

I don’t know why this date is such a sucker punch, when a healthy full-term baby can be born anywhere in a four week span.  Why I hold onto this day like a delicate yet prickly flower.

Why I spent the past eight months randomly entering BabyCenter.com to see how far along I would be, knowing each time it would reopen the wound – like picking a scab and watching it re-bleed – only oh-so-much more painful than any physical injury.  Why, while reading about the baby being the size of a kumquat, a butternut squash, a pineapple, I’d touch my hand to an empty and flat stomach, pretending I could feel a bump, a baby move inside me.

Why my disappointment, my sorrow, my grief have caused me to angrily lash out at the one person, the only other person, who could feel the loss, our loss, as terribly as I do, knowing even his loss is not exactly the same as mine.

It hurts and I ache and I cry.  And I hold it together during the days, and sometimes don’t even think about it in the day.  But the night comes and with it my loss.  My pain.  The unhelpful thoughts of “whys” and “could haves”.

They say there are reasons, biological reasons, and to that I do not even understand because there are so many odds, so many statistics (so many blessings) of nothing being wrong, no biological/chromosomal/blahblahblahal reasons and zygotes that grow into healthy fetuses, so why couldn’t mine?

Will it ever feel better?  Or will I forever think – I could have a newborn, a two-year-old and a four-year-old, or a 20-year-old, a 22-year-old, and a 24-year-old.

My girls, they fill up my heart in so many mysterious and wonderful ways.  I don’t want a piece of it to be broken, to be missing.  I don’t ever want them to feel they are, or were, not enough.  Because oh, how I am blessed by my MotherLove for them.  Oh how they complete me in a way I didn’t even know needed completing.

Selfishly, I want more.  And that, I suppose, is part of my heartbreak.  Because I know there could have been another baby for my MotherLove.  To give and expand and envelop.  To have a piece of my heart walking around outside my body [credit].  But instead of the ache of a baby with my heart outside, the ache but the joy of watching it grow, fly and love, I have a piece of my heart gone, forever.  Or at least this lifetime.  And I just hope, somewhere with my grandparents and chosen-Aunt Jane, that little piece of my heart will be waiting for me.  That that piece found my grandparents, my chosen-Aunt Jane, to hold until the day that we can hold each other.

Because I can not bare the alternative.  The chance that it Never Was.  Because how could I feel the loss so deeply if there was never anything there to lose?

My two pink lines.  My five week little bean.  My baby.

How different the last eight months would be.  How different life all would be.

And so I say, Happy Birthday, knowing full well this would most likely not have been your birthday.  Knowing that birth days indicate a life outside the mother and you will forever be inside yours.

Project 365 Week 10 - In Which I am Super

Yesterday, I was a Super-wife.  Not because I scrubbed the toilet, or swiffered the floors, or did any sort of cleaning what-so-ever.  It's not because I washed and folded all the laundry.  Or because I did a quick pick up of toys before Adam came home -- you know, to keep him from being overwhelmed when he walked in the door.

In fact, I did none of those things.  Not even partially.

No, I was a Super-wife because I made dinner.  I made a (hopefully) delicious new recipe that required a lot of chopping.

I did it all while the girls were playing (a miracle in itself considering dinner prep is usually their worst time to need mommy).  And I made dinner even though I was not home to enjoy it.

That might not be a Super-wife moment for some people, but it certainly is for me.

Because I've decided that I don't have to do all things, be all things, in order to be a Super-wife or a Super-mom or a Super-anything.

I do what I can, when I can, in the ways I can.  And that is super enough for me.

Happy Weekend!

Refocus

Sometimes words are too hard.  Too raw.  So then I focus on this:

my two babies, my two loves.

A Science Lesson

Mommy, the moon is usually on the other side of the sky.

Well, that's because the moon moves across the sky as the night goes on.  (I suddenly realize that it is not really the moon that moves and I am giving my daughter misinformation.)

What!?

Actually, the earth (which is what we live on) spins which makes it look like the moon is moving across the sky.

How, Mommy?

Um, because of physics.  (I realize that I don't actually know if this is the correct answer.)

Magic?

No, honey.  Physics.

What?

Because of planetary science.  (I'm not sure if this is right either.)

What's that?

The laws of nature...  (I am discovering I really don't know what I'm talking about.)

But what is it, Mommy?  Why?

(I am becoming desperate to figure out a way to explain it so that she stops asking, but I'm not dismissing her, but also not giving her wrong information.)

Because God made it that way.

Oh, okay.

So, aside from the fact that I feel like an idiot for not knowing what scientific vocabulary word is used to explain the earth's rotation, I realize that my daughter is already at the age of asking questions I don't know (or remember) the answers too.  Or at least how to explain it to her so she understands.  I thought I had at least another six to ten years before this would happen.

Thank goodness for Google.

Project 365 Week 9 - Dare to Dream

I took Hope to see Disney on Ice - Dare to Dream this week.  It was her first Disney on Ice experience, and it was a success.

She was nervous and a little scared in the beginning, as she is with most new experiences, and although she is not a real princess-y girl (she loves animals more than anything, which is why her favorite of the show was Maximus, the horse), she had a blast.  And so did I.

I spent at least a quarter of the show watching her face react to the skating, costumes, and music.  And when she sang along to "I See the Light" from Tangled I cried.

So excited at Disney on Ice

I already can't wait to do it again.


Here was the rest of our week:

Drums, Cars, Sisters, Snow, Fairies, Dress up