A HUGE Thank-You to the Readers!

To all those who came out to support the Hunterdon County Library Used Book Sale this weekend and to all those who so selflessly dedicate hours and hours of time in preparation for this monumental event. This weekend saw another great turnout for the largest fund-raiser that the library holds annually. Sunday was unusually busy with all kinds of buyers from the casual reader to book dealers. I cannot wait to find out the total amount raised, but if we can use the years past as a marker (and I think we can since most of the books for sale were a buck or two - a great deal especially in these economic times), we should have made somewhere just around 100K, give or take a few thousand. Yay for the library!

Also, it's pool weather 'round these parts. Whoever heard of 94 F on an April weekend in New Jersey??

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...

Sleeping is getting harder and harder at night. Either side is definitely not comfortable for more than about 2 hours, and sleeping on my back is no longer an option. Stomach sleeping was never my thing, and even it was, it would be impossible now. I find myself crashing out on the Lay-Z-Boy chair after work for an hour or so and it's about the deepest sleep I get. Plus, the baby is *really* active at night moving around in there. Also, I think she's positioned quite low, as I feel much pelvic pressure, which translates to bladder pressure and having to run to the bathroom oh so frequently. All those jokes I made about C having the bladder of a small rodent... yeah, well this is my payback.

A can of worms is a complex, troublesome situation arising when a decision or action produces considerable subsequent problems. Oh, good.

I’m doing it. I’m opening the proverbial can of worms (whales) right here on the internet since I can’t really make sense of this dilemma anywhere else.

Here’s my starter question: what should you do when a seemingly rational adult who you have called a friend for many years suddenly writes you a letter that effectively ends your friendship? Cited in the letter are some half-truths, outright falsities and some things you’ve said taken way out of context never intended for the letter writer.

What’s that you say? That I should write a letter of my own in response defending myself? Oh good, because that’s what I’ve done.

Here’s the next set of questions: how long do you wait for a response to the letter you’ve written? Or do you not expect a response?

What’s that you say? Yes, I agree – this is the last thing I need at the moment. I have enough stress with this pregnancy, my ever-demanding job and my grandmother. Not only is the entire matter questionable but the timing is downright lousy.

Last questions: what to do in social situations since me and the letter writer have several friends in common? Ignore all of them? Some of them? Pretend this isn’t happening even though it’s bizarre and upsetting? Make sure everyone knows that there’s a distinct line to be drawn and now we two shall never meet under the same roof?

What’s that you say? Move away from the high-schoolesque drama of which this matter smacks and resume life as usual? Double good, because that’s what I plan to do.

Grandmother

I've just learned that my only surviving grandparent has Parkinson's Disease. She already has advanced dementia, which seems more and more like Alzheimer's with every passing week, based on her non-responsiveness, hours of vacant staring, and inability to perform basic tasks. But at the most recent trip to the hospital this week, a team of neurologists and geriatric specialists has determined that she did not have a stroke (as Mom suspected), but that she has Parkinson's and cannot return home. It seems as though they believe the best place for Gran is in a rehab center, followed by a nursing home. Until this point, Mom and Aunt have been taking care of Gran at home. Sure, it's been hard since Gran is really not able to pull herself up with any amount of strength and she is barely ambulatory. But now, Gran cannot walk at all. And Mom and Aunt cannot continue to lift her in and out the bed, chair, shower, etc.

Mom is taking this pretty hard. I try to imagine myself in her position, watching as my mother declines mentally and physically at an alarming rate while standing powerless to stop it. I hope that I never have to live through that. I know this can't be easy for Mom. I am sad for her. And sad for all of us, really, since the Gran we have now is a cheap imposter of the grandmother we've known all our lives. I am planning to go visit with Gran tonight at the rehab center. I wish that she will recognize me and be able to talk for a while. But even if she cannot, I will talk, and hope that she's listening.

What, Me Worry?

I have some news on the pregnancy front. We know that we’re having a girl and she’s developing just fine. I was a nervous wreck leading up the 20-week anatomy scan, but have felt some of the weight of the world off my shoulders since that day. It was pretty amazing to see her on the 3- and 4-D ultrasound machine. All of her limbs, her spine, belly, brain, stomach, lungs are there and normal for this gestational age. She has hair, too! Which could explain all the heartburn I’ve been having.

Now that I’m at 23 weeks, I’m finally wearing maternity clothes and starting to show. And I’ve felt her kicking around in there lately. Sort of like that feeling you get when your stomach drops on a roller coaster – that’s how it feels. Already, she has received gifts from happy grandparents and aunts: a stuffed rabbit, a denim dress, a first book. It’s all so real now but hard to express, in speech and writing. I waited years for this to happen and now that it is, I feel like I’m stuck in the overly-cautious mode that blanketed me for so long. I still haven’t told people at work (some may have noticed, but just not commented, I’m guessing). I insist on seeing the Ob/Gyn every 2 weeks instead of 4 and always demand that we listen for the heartbeat. I still panic when I feel an unusual pain or cramp. I never, ever fail to check for blood on the toilet paper, and I am careful to not lift anything heavy or stretch too much. I’m so obsessive that on days when my breasts do not hurt, I worry. I sleep on my left side only, no matter how uncomfortable and I’ve abandoned all my insensible shoes.

The doctor advised me yesterday that there is some protein in my urine and my blood pressure is slightly elevated. I am now collecting all of my urine output over a 24-hour period in a jug, which I store in the fridge. Yay, that. And I’m taking my BP at home twice daily. I have probably read too much on pre-eclampsia, toxemia, PIH, etc. for my own good. If it is any of the above, it could mean big trouble for me. Possibly bed rest and/or activity restriction or more, depending on the severity. See??? I am justified in my panic; my worries are validated! The feeling that the other shoe is going to drop may not go away until I deliver this baby.

I think I need Lamaze breathing techniques right now.

Here’s the thing: I really, really want to be a happy, carefree, expectant mother. I want to forget about the hell that is infertility treatments and IVF. I want to forget about the miscarriages, chemical pregnancies and frozen embryos that never stuck. I want to leave behind the profound sadness that came with that. I want to forget the months and years of feeling hopeless. I know in my heart of hearts, I cannot ever forget the painful things, because they had a hand in forming the person that I’ve become. I want to tell strangers, “Hey, I’m having a baby!” I want to rub my belly and stand that certain way so it’s noticeable. I want to buy cute baby clothes with wild abandon. These are the things fertiles do, right? That’s what I want to do, too. But I can’t seem to do it exactly like that.

I am taking small steps, however, on the road to preparation. I’ve purchased a scant few things for her bedroom. A Hello Kitty hamper, for one. And then some HK curtains and HK wall border. I’ve been studying paint chips from the hardware store for wall color and then I will order the shades for the windows. The next thing will be to purchase a crib, I think. I‘m pretty sure I know what I have to do; it’s become a matter of doing each thing, and savoring it when it is done. Some may find it chore-like, but not for me. Each little thing I do to get ready is experiencing something I never thought I’d would.

Obsessions and high blood pressure aside, my heart is full of thanks to be here in the moment and know that we’ve made it this far. My uncooperative body with its broken reproductive system has pulled a rabbit out of the hat for me, finally. Now if I could only stop worrying so much.

The Silence is Deafening

Here's a good article I found linked on Slate.com today. Read it.

Obama's Silence on US Anti-Terror Assassinations