Where to start? How about apologies. I haven't blogged, because I was in D.C. all last week. Chris had to go for training, and we thought, hey, since I'm laid-off, perfect timing. We all loaded up, had a great trip up there, and then it all went to Hell in the proverbial handbasket. Which reminds me of a great bumper sticker I wish I'd bought: "Where am I and what am I doing in this handbasket??"
The first day I got up, Izzy and I split pop-tarts, went swimming, and went to the mall. Two problems with that: 1. At 6.5 months pregnant, I don't feel much like walking all day at the mall. 2. When I'm not pregnant, I still don't like aimlessly shopping at the mall. When I have a reason, great, but I'm not one to just shop. Somehow I forgot that. So the next two days, Izzy and I went swimming until he got whiny, then sat in the room until Chris was done. Every morning, Izzy would wake up and immediately ask me, "Where's da?" He was all out of sorts, and behaved like a BRAT the whole time. I had a few flashes of my sweet boy, but all in all, his behavior sucked.
I'm also back to puking at least once a day - WILL THAT EVER STOP????????? - so my patience kept wearing thin and I'd yell at him, and immediately feel terrible, because the poor little guy just didn't know what was going on.
We get back home to a ton of bad news. Worst of all to me personally, is my dad had an ischemic optic neuropathy, which is like an eye stroke. He lost 60% of his vision in his left eye permanently, and the other 40% is completely blurry now. I know it could be SO much worse, but my dad has always had such an eye for the beauty of nature. On the way home Saturday, I was admiring the scenery of West Virginia's countryside, and I was feeling grateful to dad for passing that appreciation on to my sisters and I - I didn't find out about his eye until I got home. We haven't had a vacation in several years, and this was kind of like one, so my family didn't want to ruin it. But dad used to lay in the grass with us and find the animals in the clouds, and he always takes pictures of a perfect flower, etc.
I know, it could be so much worse, but I feel bad for him. One of my friends told me this: "Cindy, I know that your dad is one of the most important people on the planet to you, and while the loss of his physical sight is a very sad experience, the beauty your dad sees and appreciates is a beauty that comes from within, from who he is as a man and father. It is more than sight could ever give a human being. It is joy, laughter, humility, and love. That is how your dad sees, from his heart, not his eyes. Not many people have that ability or desire to see the world from their hearts - your dad is truly a gifted man."
Isn't that beautiful? And for those of you who know my dad, you know how true that statement is, and, of course, you also know that he would bounce back from anything and do great. That's just my dad.
Here's the rest of the crap I found out:
1. My sister's uncle-in-law died this week, and he has a daughter in college and a son in Iraq. He'd been sick a while, but it's still such a sad situation.
2. An old friend from high school/college days got killed this week. Makes me sad. She was a very nice girl that just had bad luck and ran around with a rough crowd. I wish we had tried harder to stay friends with her.
3. The little boy I've often mentioned to you, Ben Bowen, is fighting his last fight. His dad is a firefighter who volunteered his time and efforts to the Trade Center after 9/11. Extra-good people. Hard to imagine why something so terrible is happening to such undeserving people. Not that any kid ever deserves cancer. His family is asking for prayers for peace and rest for Ben.
Kind of puts all of my measly problems in perspective. My back hurts? Sheesh, at least I still have both my eyes. Tired of puking? At least I'm breathing.
Still though, this pregnancy kind of sucks. Can I say that without also adding that I'm still grateful that I'm able to be pregnant with this baby? I'd like to, but obviously, no. I horrified a fellow mother at church Sunday. She asked how I was feeling, and knowing that she suffered morning sickness the whole time with her last baby, who is a little older than Izzy, I told her I was still sick. She sympathized, of course, until I told her that I would be willing for this baby to spend a couple of weeks in NICU if it meant that I'd stop feeling terrible all the time. Her smile kind of froze, she laughed a polite little laugh, and walked away.
I mean, come on! Surely she knew that I wouldn't REALLY want to endanger this child's life just for the sake of my tummy, right? I mean, as long as she'd be fine, sure. BUT I'VE BEEN THROWING UP ON A CONSTANT BASIS FOR FIVE MONTHS! I truly think anyone would be considering all options right now. Well, maybe just me, but I'm not really a candidate for mother of the year anyhow. And who'd want that title anyways??? Thankless, terrible, TOUGH job. It's killing me already to be the mediocre mama that I am. And I mean that in the best way possible, because I still think I rock. Izzy rocks too. This baby? She rocks my stomach.
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