tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-506985760658886272024-03-14T08:13:02.583-07:00Lost but LovedOur story of our first baby, Noah, who was diagnosed with Trisomy 18 in April, 2010.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-76277285178558544662012-05-22T09:19:00.000-07:002012-05-22T09:19:17.362-07:00Hello, Herbert!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Call sign: Herbert</div>
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We are pregnant with number two! YAYYYYY!</div>
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We took this test on March 26.</div>
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Estimated time of completion: November 29, 2012. </div>
<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-89971424081142007272011-12-20T21:38:00.000-08:002011-12-20T21:38:48.565-08:00A Short Story Noah Inspired<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">This short story was sent to me by a member of our church after hearing our story of Noah.<br />
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"Several months ago at a meeting, you shared the story of your first born child. It is a tender story. Enclosed is a story that I wrote following that meeting. I enjoyed writing it. My hope is that it is as fun to read. Thanks for sharing your story and your lives at our church. We are blessed by your being with us."<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">The Story of Noah</div><div style="text-align: center;">(Sans the Ark and Many Animals)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">By D. Prewitt </div><br />
<blockquote>It was the spring of life; a new marriage and their first child on the way - life in full bloom. Their friends too; young women sharing stories of the first kick and plans of showers. Mothers with daughters recalling each step with a smile and the words, "When I was pregnant with you..."</blockquote><br />
<blockquote>They sat nervously in the doctor's office. The doctor had requested a special consultation. It was their third visit but things had been going well. The news came swiftly yet each word seemed to hang in the air. "Your baby has a condition that is incompatible with life." In that instant their hopes and dreams crashed without a sound. Joy was replaced with heartache. "Could it be happening to us?" they thought.</blockquote><br />
<blockquote>The next months passed by slowly. Follow up visits confirmed the first diagnosis. There was nothing to be done. It was inoperable. The nay Noah was born was a brutal confirmation of scientific accuracy. The little child lived, breathed and died in just a few moments. For the mother and father, love, sorrow and grief all within the rise and fall of his little breast.</blockquote><br />
<blockquote>Time passed. The young couple lived a full life. They had more children and grandchildren. Finally, when the woman called to her heavenly home, they had three great-grandchildren.</blockquote><br />
<blockquote>She was greeted in heaven by her parents and many friends and that preceded her. The Lord, Himself, was working through the crowd toward her when she heard a strange voice. She was certain that she had never heard it before but yet it seemed familiar. Even more peculiar, the voice belonged to a man who looked a little like her father-in-law. </blockquote><br />
<blockquote>"Hello, mom. My name is Noah," he said. "I wasn't able to tell you this before but you were a terrific mother to me. You fed me and kept me warm. You protected me with your body. I could always hear you sing. I felt your pain when you knew I wouldn't be with you long. The safety of your womb was all I knew of life. I felt your love. Happy Mother's day, mom!"</blockquote><br />
<blockquote>About that time, the Lord embraced her. "Well done," he said. "We were especially proud of you and Noah. You had the special role of living the words of love to your generation. Come and enjoy peace in my presence."</blockquote><br />
<blockquote><i>"The king shall reply, "I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40 </i></blockquote></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-57289352958015840402011-07-20T15:23:00.000-07:002011-07-20T15:24:07.876-07:00Noah's Birthday: One Year LaterLast weekend marked one year since Noah was born. We didn't really know how to commemorate it - who does? We talked about several different things - planting trees, donating books or premie clothing, monetary donations - but when it comes down to it, we just wanted to be with people who had loved and supported us, walked with us, and made five trips to the airport in one day.<br />
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The week leading up to Noah's birthday was highly emotional for me. I am so glad, so blessed, that Dave was able to be home (not deployed) at this time.<br />
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We had dinner with Katie (Tom was stuck in AZ for the night), and fellow first-pregnancy-Trisomy 18 family, Kelly and Dan (who now have three lovely, healthy children). While there were many families who loved and supported us and Noah, if we were to have invited everyone, it would have been too many people and felt less personal. Katie made fresh peach pie - which many people who where here on Noah's birthday last year will remember as the best pie in the entire world. For real, that pie healed and comforted many wounds last summer. As such, Katie gave me a recipe card for "Noah's Famous Peach Pie."<br />
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All in all, it was a quiet day - a normal day - which is what we wanted this year.<br />
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<b>I saw three individual signs of God's love for us on Noah's birthday.</b><br />
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1. As I spent some time working in the yard, I noticed that my one surviving sunflower (of the 20+ I had originally planted) had finally bloomed. Additionally, I found a rogue sunflower seedling sprouting in the grass and repotted it.<br />
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2. We received our first letter from our Compassion child. In April, Dave and I decided to sponsor a child through Compassion International. I chose Saju because his birthday was close to Noah's.<br />
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3. God kept us busy with God. We spent the morning with our Pastor at a New Members class to become members of the church that's nurtured us these past hard years. I know that's not an "obvious" sign of God, but it kept us occupied, which is what I needed - not to dwell, but to be busy and with other God-loving christians.<br />
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<i>"and whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me." -Matthew 18:5</i>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-52767519715579841582011-06-16T22:00:00.000-07:002011-06-16T22:00:49.227-07:00Trisomy 18 Foundation: On HolidaysAs far as foundations go, Trisomy 18 foundation's website is in need of a make-over but the support they provide has been awesome. Specifically, their emails and cards around holidays.<br />
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At Christmas we received a card, an email on Mother's Day, and a preemptive email for Father's Day. And since the whole organization is built to support families who have children that have been diagnosed with T18, and therefore support many grieving families, they know exactly what to say. <i>They really get it.</i> It is seriously so refreshing to open a card/email and have it be spot-on. I remember I cried with the Christmas card because it was exactly where we were. It was as if their card put in to words exactly how I didn't realize I'd been feeling.<br />
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<b>Christmas Card:</b><br />
<blockquote>Dear Ann,</blockquote><blockquote> We know how difficult this holiday season is without your precious Noah Patrick Every day without our babies is hard, but the first holidays hold a special emptiness. We want you to know that we are here to remember Noah Patrick with you, to grieve with you and to share memories with you.</blockquote><blockquote>We will not let Noah Patrick be forgotten because we believe that every child with Trisomy 18 ... no matter how fragile or brief their days, forever changes our world.</blockquote><blockquote>May you and your family find some peace and joy this holiday season.</blockquote><blockquote>With warm wishes from all of us, </blockquote><blockquote>Trisomy 18 Foundation Staff and Volunteers</blockquote><br />
<b>On Mother's Day:</b><br />
<blockquote><br />
</blockquote><br />
<blockquote>This Sunday, as we celebrate all mothers in the Trisomy 18 community -- we recognize that every child...no matter how fragile their life or brief their days...that child transforms a woman into a mother -- forever.</blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><blockquote>To all our mothers, we honor and celebrate the blessings of your special love for your very precious child impacted by Trisomy 18. </blockquote><blockquote>To extended family members, friends, and caregivers, we encourage you to reach out to the mothers you know in your community to acknowledge them as the amazing Mothers they are. Remind them of their gifts and how much they've given to all their children -- those still with us today and those that have gone ahead of us from this life to the next.</blockquote><blockquote><br />
</blockquote><blockquote>From all our hearts to yours, have a gentle and loving Mother's Day,</blockquote><blockquote>Victoria J. Miller</blockquote><blockquote>Executive Director (And Isaac's Mom...forever) </blockquote><br />
<b>And on Father's Day:</b><br />
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<blockquote>Join us in Honoring all Fathers we know who love a child with Trisomy 18 this Sunday. . .</blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><blockquote>When we think of a father, the following words often come to mind: strong, protective, problem-solver, loving, and wise. A father takes on these roles with his children, wife or partner. </blockquote><blockquote>Often, a diagnosis of Trisomy 18 causes a father to set side his own feelings while caring for his affected family. It can be difficult to share his feelings about Trisomy 18 and how it has impacted his family, including himself. </blockquote><blockquote>Whether you are expecting, raising, or grieving the loss of a child with Trisomy 18, we know that you are a father — today and every day. </blockquote><blockquote>If you are the family member or friend of a father who has been touched by Trisomy 18, please take time to acknowledge him on Father's Day. While his journey may be different than most, he still is a father. </blockquote>And so for many reasons we will always be lifelong supporters of the Trisomy 18 Foundation. Because they rock. One way we do that is through yearly monetary donations. Another way we support them is by using <a href="http://www.goodsearch.com/">GoodSearch</a>. If you haven't heard of GoodSearch, it's a search engine powered by Yahoo - but each search donates money to the organization of your choice: We chose Trisomy 18 Foundation. They've a sister site called <a href="http://www.goodsearch.com/goodshop.aspx">GoodShop</a> in which a certain amount of your purchase is donated.<br />
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<a href="http://www.trisomy18.org/">http://www.trisomy18.org/</a><br />
<a href="http://www.goodsearch.com/">http://www.goodsearch.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.goodsearch.com/goodshop.aspx">http://www.goodsearch.com/goodshop.aspx</a><br />
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</span></span><br />
<blockquote> </blockquote><blockquote> </blockquote></span></span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></blockquote><blockquote> </blockquote><blockquote> </blockquote>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-40923672396540480832011-05-29T13:54:00.000-07:002011-05-29T13:54:19.124-07:00Water, Water, EverywhereThe last week has been hard for me. I find I've been fighting off impending bitterness. Bitterness toward not being pregnant, toward people that are pregnant, toward people with young children. I know - I believe - that we will get pregnant and have other children. What I struggle with is that I want it now - not in a year. I know - I believe that it will happen in God's time, but I struggle with reconciling God's Timing with Annie's Desired Timing. I struggle to stay positive.<br />
<br />
I was at Target last week looking for a baby shower card for a friend. (I always hate going to Target - or any department store - because it's impossible to not walk past the children's and baby's sections.) As I was looking for a card for my friend, what I became struck with was how many cards took the event so lightly. Cute rhymes about changing diapers, sleepless nights, pink and blue everywhere, life changing event - blah blah blah. The problem I encountered was that every card assumed the baby would be born and survive. Morbid, I know. But it is also my reality - my only experience having children is that all children do not live. So as I looked at ducks and flowers, I had tears running down my face because I thought it was all so sad and unfair. Sad because I never got to receive any of these cards - unfair because I should be looking at baby cards and criticizing them for being so positive and presumptive.<br />
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So that was rough.<br />
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I attended the baby shower. It's the first baby shower I've been to since I lost Noah. It was hard. It was hard because that is what I want to be: pregnant. And it was hard to watch and awkwardly participate in the game where you try and guess how big the mom-to-be's belly is using a length of string. To me it just seemed to not take seriously that there is a life inside there. Maybe that's not it. Maybe I didn't like it because the game made me focus on the fact I wasn't pregnant and want to be pregnant. Maybe I didn't like the game because I never got to be that big. I don't know - but I didn't like it. The shower was also hard for me because I only knew three out of the eleven people there - which means that only those three knew about my experience. My eyes filled with tears and my throat became tight as I watched my friend give a guest a present for her upcoming baby boy. (My friend is having a girl.) I think that baby girls are easier for me to emotionally deal with because Noah was a boy - so baby boys therefore are harder on me emotionally because it reminds me that I never got to receive cute little onesies for Noah.<br />
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But I kept myself together because 1) I didn't want to cry and inadvertently make a scene and make it be all about me and 2) I didn't want to have to explain to any of the people there why I was crying at a baby shower.<br />
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I now know that two of the other women at the shower have experience with infertility. So it makes me wonder how they felt about all of it, too.<br />
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Lastly, at least for now, the Thursday Night Markets have started back up in town. On Thursday nights, there's a big farmer's market, beer garden, live band, yummy produce, carousel rides, bounce houses and corn on a stick. Here you can play the game "Find A Woman Who Is Not Pregnant" or the spin-off game, "Find A Parent Without A Child Under 12 Months."<br />
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And so, the English major in me, leaves you with these words:<br />
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<blockquote><i>Day after day, day after day</i></blockquote><blockquote><i>We stuck, nor breath nor motion;</i></blockquote><blockquote><i>As idle as a painted ship</i></blockquote><blockquote><i>Upon a painted ocean.</i></blockquote><blockquote><i><br />
</i></blockquote><blockquote><i>Water, water, every where</i></blockquote><blockquote><i>And all the boards did shrink;</i></blockquote><blockquote><i>Water, water, every where</i></blockquote><blockquote><i>Nor any drop to drink!</i></blockquote><blockquote>-Coleridge's "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner"</blockquote>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-46258416771136191822011-05-02T16:53:00.000-07:002011-05-02T16:53:19.173-07:00A sigh of reliefI breathed out a sigh of relief on May 1st: April is over.<br />
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Last April was decidedly the most difficult time in my life thus far. April 5th of last year, we had an ultrasound in Fresno. A few days prior, I had received a call from my doctor that the 15week - or is it 18week? - screening test came back with some abnormalities.<br />
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I tried not to panic but tried to gather as much information from the doctor as I could. I asked him to please wait a minute while I walked out to my car so that I could hear him better and take some notes. The conversation led me to so many questions, but I obviously hoped for the best and took comfort in the fact that both Dave and I, and our families have healthy backgrounds, so the tests were probably a false positive. Additionally, all the pregnancy books tell you that false positives are a possibility.<br />
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Looking back, I am proud of myself for calming down, taking a breath, and taking notes. I knew that Dave would want to know exactly what the doctor had said and writing it down is the only way to remember!<br />
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April 5th was awful for so many reasons. The news we received, the manner it was given, and the way we were treated after were horrendous.<br />
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The following days and weeks were so sharply painful. Even today, I am not sure which was harder for us - learning that our son would die, or his actual still-birth/death. We grieved both times, and both times differently. In April, we cried for days over the loss of the child we thought we would have had, the fact that we were told there would be no birthday or subsequent birthdays. In July, we grieved the loss of the child we did have, because, contrary to so many of our doctors, Noah was a person, he did exist, and despite - and because of - all his physical abnormalities, he was so loved.<br />
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This April passed quietly. Dave was home for half of it. I had spring break while he was home and did nothing outstanding. Dave and I now find the value of boring - sometimes, when nothing is happening, it is so much better than what could be happening.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-85959050345075025172011-03-22T16:49:00.000-07:002011-03-22T16:58:01.789-07:00One comment: Two days.Ever have one comment destroy your week? This is about the comment that ruined two days of my last week. It took me a good 4 hours to realize that this was the cause of my bad mood.<br />
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Last week, we attended a pre-deployment brief together. It was essentially an hour long lecture in which most wives create honey-do lists. Honey: I need a will, a POA, and a new credit card. I need access to your bank account, access to your myPay, and we need to get the oil changed. It focuses on preparing the service-member and family members for preventative measures should an issue arise while your spouse is at sea. Credit card stolen? "Well, mame, your name is not on this account so I cannot help you." It prevents conversations like that.<br />
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There was a presentation from a TriCare (military health care) representative. One of the major health situations that could occur while your spouse is away is the birth of a child. Or prenatal visits. I was immediately spun in to an awful mood when the presenter made these comments:<br />
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<b>"While VFA-200 was deployed, there were 14 babies - let's see if you can beat that!"</b><br />
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......(this is me getting steamed-up angry)<br />
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Let's address the general problems I find in the statement before addressing the personal problems I perceive in this statement.<br />
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First of all, let us <b>not</b> make having children a competition. There are too many people who have too many children. Trust me, I've met them. So many children that they cannot care for them properly. I've seen them in waiting rooms and even in my classroom. (And for some families, the number of "too many" could be two. I'm not saying that having four children is irresponsible. Maybe seven. The Duggars (TLC's <i>19 Kids and Counting</i>) are irresponsible in my opinion, however, they do manage to provide for their children.)<br />
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Secondly, this statement makes having children sound like it is as easy as making scrambled eggs: Whisk and pour. It is not that easy. There are plenty, hundreds, thousands, of people want children so badly and cannot have them. There are plenty of people wanting children <i>right now. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>To make a statement like that implies that those people who want children but are not having them are doing something wrong or have failed in some way. </i>Guess what I didn't do any thing wrong - I had a baby and he was still taken from me. Where do I fall in your little count, Madame? Would you have counted me in your "14 babies"?<br />
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</i><br />
Lastly, it is a thoughtless statement. It angers me. I want to be one of your stupid statistics, Madame Speaker. I want to have been one of your "babies." Don't you think I'm trying?<br />
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But not all people can have babies and keep them.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-23818996236915805772011-03-08T17:35:00.000-08:002011-03-08T17:42:34.610-08:00Worth it.Sometimes children say the darndest things. Sometimes children are so much wiser than their tender age.<br />
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I began working at a local elementary school about two months ago. I mainly interact with 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders. It's interesting to see what a seven-year old's world view is, what their concept of reality is. I have had many children ask: how old are you? are you married? do you have any kids?<br />
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The first two are easy. I don't mind sharing my age with seven and eight year olds - they have no concept of age and think 26 is old anyway. They are probably beginning to to place age and roles in boxes (ie -at 15 you are in high school, at 25 you are married with children). A good number of the children will respond, "My mom is 26, and she has thee kids." Good for her, kiddo, go for her... That's usually how I respond, too, "Well, that's cool."<br />
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About two weeks ago I had this same conversation with a first grader. And for some reason I just decided to tell her. I was interested to see how a seven year old would process the information. Here is how our conversation went:<br />
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"Ms. Wiggly, do you have a husband?"<br />
"Yep."<br />
"Do you have any kids?"<br />
"... Well, I had a baby, but he died."<br />
"Why?" (Duh, should have seen that coming..)<br />
"Well, because he's waiting for me in heaven now."<br />
"How big of a baby was he?"<br />
"Just a tiny baby."<br />
"That happened to my brother. My older brother died when he was just a tiny baby. He's waiting for me in heaven, too."<br />
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Gosh, it just made my day - my week - for several reasons.<br />
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1) She didn't cry.<br />
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2) She processed it well.<br />
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3) Something like this had happened to her family.<br />
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4) Most importantly, something like this had happened in her family before she was born and her parents made a conscious decision to tell their later daughter about her big brother.<br />
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5) She called him "my big brother." I love that she referred to him as a member of her family.<br />
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It was so refreshing to have told a student. Not that she remembered ten minutes later, but still. I had shared with a student and it hadn't backfired. If you'll recall, I have had some issues <a href="http://lostbutloved.blogspot.com/2010/11/balancing-act.html">sharing about Noah with the wrong people</a> in the past. She had not only taken it well, but had a story to share with me. It made me feel a little bit more normal, and it gave me hope. A tragedy had happened to her family, and while I do not know the details, her family (probably) grieved, still grieves, and continued to believe in having a family. <br />
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Because when it comes down to it, it's worth it: the terror of losing another child is worth it for the gain of having a child. Children are worth it.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-14358795487143938222011-02-28T17:34:00.001-08:002011-02-28T17:34:39.760-08:00A Wal-Mart WarningI'm tagging this as Waiting Room Stories because it just seems to fit so well there...<br />
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So.<br />
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I've been taking my basal body temperature every morning. Supposedly, you can find a pattern and know when you ovulate. Therefore, this method is common among those looking to conceive and among those looking not to conceive - aka Natural Family Planning. Well, I've been having problems figuring out my rhythm. So I decided to double up and also take an ovulation test every morning.<br />
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I purchased an ovulation prediction kit from the local Wal-Mart. It was $21 with a $7 mail-in rebate. Hey, $7 is $7 and I bought it. I come home, clip off the bar code, add the receipt and address, stamp and seal the envelope and Slider and I walk it to the mailbox. Done! I'm waiting for a check any day, now.<br />
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After our little walk, I decide to see what this is actually all about. Basically, the kit comes with a vile of litmus-type tests. You pee in a provided cup, stick the litmus end in the cup, wait five minutes, and read your results: one line, not ovulating; two lines, ovulating.<br />
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My kit is conspicuously missing the cup I'm supposed to pee in. If only I had read the directions before clipping the bar code, sealing the receipt in an envelope, and sticking it in the mail box.<br />
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Figures! Who decides, "I need ONE cup. I know. I'll get one from the ovulation kits...." Weird.<br />
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Only at Wal-Mart.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-18119572621031949802011-01-23T14:46:00.000-08:002011-01-23T14:46:56.401-08:00HTIPNot a day goes by that I don't find a reason to cry. (Though I don't cry every day [anymore].) I just seem to be much more sensitive to just everything - nothing in particular - just everything. Every sermon at church just seems to hit home more so that it used to.<br />
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Of course there are things that am obviously more sensitive to: new borns, babies, pregnant women, the baby aisles and sections at stores. It still hurts. And while it still hurts, while I'm still irrevocably sad about losing Noah, I've arrived at the point where I can look at those baby onesies and say, "Some day that will be me picking out onesies."<br />
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Yes, we've arrived at the point where we are actively trying to have another baby. We were probably ready about two or three months ago to start trying, but I refused to get pregnant in December because I knew I wouldn't be able to handle our new baby having the same time line as Noah - the same week for the 12 week ultrasound, the 18 week tests, the 20 week sonogram. It would be too hard for me, and seemed unfair to Noah: That was <i>his</i> time.<br />
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But being ready to be pregnant is so hard when you're not actually pregnant. I know we are blessed - so blessed - because we know that we can conceive naturally, that my body can handle being pregnant and a natural birth. However, we wanted to have already had a baby by now (which we have, just not with the outcome we had expected) - we wanted to be working on child #2 (which we still are, again, just not how we had expected). We were ready eighteen months ago to parents (which we are, though not in the way we had hoped), and so each month that ticks by is like an eternity.<br />
<br />
What complicates matters even further is the Navy. I remember telling friends in college who looked at me cross-eyed when I'd answer, I don't know where he's moving, "Being married to [or in a relationship with] someone in the military is like being in a relation ship with three people: You, Him, and The Military." We can't have the control over things that many civilians have. As a result, we have about five months of "attempts" in the next year and a half.<br />
<br />
Stressful.<br />
<br />
The only thing to do is to take a deep breath and remember: His Timing is Perfect. HTIP.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-49849142195018280012010-12-13T21:23:00.000-08:002010-12-13T21:23:50.708-08:00Christmas cards...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At the beginning of this year, we thought Christmas 2009 was our "last" Christmas to do as we liked: Next Christmas would be so different, buying presents for a baby, getting up early, probably still sleep deprived. Last year, as I addressed and sent out cards, I knew it would be our last Christmas without a real child (not a dog or cat) on the front. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So when it came time for Christmas cards this year, I was a) hurt and b) torn: I shouldn't include Noah on it, but how do I not? To not have included him would mean, to me, that we didn't value the time we had with him. Dave and I talked it over. We decided we would include him on the card. We would not send cards to anyone who didn't already 100% know. (I never made Noah's disorder public on Facebook.) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So this card is what we came up with. I'm very happy with it. But also sad. Because I wanted to be buying "baby's first Christmas" ornaments and onesies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Lord willing, maybe next year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm6TqvMqr9LupUqF2yHQm2-hf3f_7-2e61E6235eJzBpMfF1NQ2uLHBlR9T7-B5CGw7VDKbKmviOrTx4jH1OfqMhH-7w3tO7PCavvmiVv7XpF2yKwg7CmSv5lhT_80quPfeNpifY6rFg/s1600/Picture+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm6TqvMqr9LupUqF2yHQm2-hf3f_7-2e61E6235eJzBpMfF1NQ2uLHBlR9T7-B5CGw7VDKbKmviOrTx4jH1OfqMhH-7w3tO7PCavvmiVv7XpF2yKwg7CmSv5lhT_80quPfeNpifY6rFg/s1600/Picture+4.png" /></a></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-27373172216050438612010-12-08T12:32:00.000-08:002010-12-08T12:32:13.920-08:00The HolidaysIn our church bulletin a few weeks ago, there was a blurb about a grief support group stating that the holidays are hardest after you've lost a loved one. I didn't really think much about it. I'm not sure why I thought "that won't be me" but it is.<br />
<br />
Thanksgiving wasn't too bad; I am thankful for Noah. He has brought so much joy to our lives - but also much sadness. But I am still thankful for him, I couldn't see myself any other way. So I quietly passed through thanksgiving. (I'm sure it helped that we were very busy.)<br />
<br />
But December is different. Nine months ago, we thought we'd be having baby's first Christmas, and what traditions to start, and a Christmas card without our pets on it. The obvious is that we don't have that. But what surprised me most was this past week: This past week was the week that we conceived Noah - maybe too much information for you, but it was. In the coming weeks, I will look back to this time last year - how I thought it was weird I was late, but chalked it up to the overseas move and the stress that involved - stress takes a toll on your body, right? I'll remember the first pregnancy test we took and how it was negative and Dave said "See, it's fine" and how I was highly skeptical. <br />
<br />
Christmas will be hard. I can already see it coming. We took our positive pregnancy test on December 24. Christmas will be so hard. I'm glad we will be with family, and busy, but I know I'll cry. Probably more than once. <br />
<br />
Recently, I attended a church sponsored women's Christmas gathering. We were singing some Christmas carols, I don't remember which one it was, but something about the lyrics just hit me and I had to leave and have a two-minute cry. (I'm lucky that I have my church-family to support me.) <br />
<br />
I think the hardest part right now is not knowing when it will hit me. "It" being my missing Noah; being sad for myself, for Dave, for my family; that gaping hole of hurt. Now that I've recognized that December will be hard, I'm better at just letting myself feel it, instead of attempting to be strong and block the emotions.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-30243349346251058332010-11-02T22:09:00.000-07:002011-03-08T17:35:41.618-08:00The Balancing ActRecently, I've learned the hard way about the love triangle that is Noah, my heart, and others. <br />
<br />
You hear about that glow that prengant women get - I wonder what causes this perception of a glow, but I also think it's really sheer joy radiating out of a woman's face because she's accepted this unborn-child in to her life: She's committed and is so excited. It's joy.<br />
<br />
It is only natural, I believe, to want to share this joy - hence all the mommy blogs, the internet forums, the literature, the (decaf)coffee talk sessions - all revolving around sharing this information.<br />
<br />
And then women have the baby - and it's still all about sharing. To people without children, it seems weird and almost petty and often annoying. You share how much they pooped today, what time they woke up, how many times they fed; every intricate detail that (hopefully) people grow out of sharing. <br />
<br />
But where do you fit in when you've lost your baby? When you can't share the first time he sat up, the first time he slept more than 6 hours, the first time he tried real carrots. I think there is a group of us that just lead double lives. You choose not to share about the baby at all - it probably is easier that way - to not talk about how you chose this name because then the person will ask how is the baby doing to which I will (never?) have a ready or good response. <br />
<br />
I feel, however, that it isn't fair, though. My baby existed and impacted my life and others: I can only hope that I aspire to touch as many lives as Noah <strike>did</strike> has. I want to share - I want to tell everyone about him. But it hurts at the same time. Sometimes it hurts a lot. Sometimes it hurts a little. <br />
<br />
So I shared recently. And it backfired. The conversation ended up becoming just downright hurtful, offensive, and inappropriate. Looking back now, I can see what went wrong: I shared with the wrong person. I shared with someone who would not understand the position I am in, the position I have been in, or the decision(s) I have made. I did not know this person well, that I had spent time with them. <br />
<br />
And so I am at a crossroads: How do I know when it's okay to share? How do I know if it's a safe person to share with? Is it wrong to only want to share with people that will support me? And if I do that, isn't that just surrounding myself with "yes-men"?<br />
<br />
And so I have recently discovered this will be a balancing act and I am learning on the fly every time. I will have to balance my overwhelming love for Noah and life with protecting myself and guarding my heart. Because everytime I share about Noah I am also opening myself up to be hurt: putting salt on a wound. In regards to my most recent failed sharing attempt - I will just have to hope and belive that God wanted me to share with that person for a reason - one that I will not know probably in this life time, but for a reason that will be revealed to me when I meet Noah again in Heaven.<br />
<br />
And so there is this balancing act between sharing and guarding my heart.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-40155039536682763382010-10-16T15:57:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:25:39.126-07:00Peedie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7V7gnB-wdII1kowxH85_Gb-EJMVAPuji8so3x8rve3F1kz8KunnND0qFIeJOvsnhCy1b1ReVdqLiKSrvUKn9dm_yuJKbKvfenPZ12MbasSGdZxBwNOWAIj8EIWddEsgUHulw8XbRa5Ls/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7V7gnB-wdII1kowxH85_Gb-EJMVAPuji8so3x8rve3F1kz8KunnND0qFIeJOvsnhCy1b1ReVdqLiKSrvUKn9dm_yuJKbKvfenPZ12MbasSGdZxBwNOWAIj8EIWddEsgUHulw8XbRa5Ls/s1600/Picture+1.png" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'd heard on Thursday that Friday, October 15 would be <b>Pregnancy and Infancy Loss Day</b>... I was shopping for Christmas (yes, that's me planning ahead) presents for my nieces and came across a book by Olivier Dunrea's </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Peedie-Olivier-Dunrea/dp/0618755063/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1287267291&sr=1-3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Peedie</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">These are my all-time favorite books. I bought it for Noah, and when I came home and put his sticker in it, I just lost it. It's just hard. We're getting better, but it's still hard. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today is 3 months since his birthday. It seems like such a short time and yet like it was ages ago, too.</span></span>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-14791039578263434592010-09-21T15:23:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:26:14.338-07:00LossThe loss of Noah is just something I will live with.<br />
<br />
Talking to Katie today, I told her I just want "<i>to go back </i>to being functional," to which she replied, "well what does that mean?" Well, it means that basically I want to go back to feeling how I felt before April 5, 2010, before my life became burdened with loss.<br />
<br />
Well, that obviously can't happen. There will never be a day that goes by that I don't think about and love Noah; there will always be that hole in my heart where he is. My hope is that one day the hole won't hurt so badly. And maybe one day I won't be measuring time around December 24, April 5, July 16 and September 8.<br />
<br />
I haven't used my blog as an outlet recently, I'm not sure why. Probably because I'm stupid and am trying to be strong. But, again, reality is that I cannot be strong all the time. And that being strong doesn't mean not crying and not hurting, which is what I want it to mean. As we quietly passed over Noah's due date and the two month anniversary of his birth and loss, I guess I thought not thinking and talking about it would make it less painful. But that's not true either - the pain just gets damed up and delayed. Reality is that walking through any children's section will never be easy for me any more; seeing pregnant women will hurt; babies hurt; I'll never see handicapped, mentally delayed, or disabled persons again the same - because if he had lived, that would have been Noah. "Retarded" is not a funny or acceptable word - not when you've heard it used in the medical aspect do describe your baby. Flippant remarks about death, or killing someone, aren't so flippant, not when they have truth behind it.<br />
<br />
Just to be clear- I'm not depressed. I'm just experiencing loss as anyone else would - which is comforting to me - that if you'd lost a husband, mother, or sibling, you'd be feeling this way too: small things trigger memories and become reminders. And remembering just hurts. Hurt doesn't mean we don't love; I think it means we <i>do </i>love: it hurts that we have lost someone we love no matter who that someone is. Even in high school, breaking up with a boyfriend meant tears, because it hurt to let go of that part of you. Losing Grandma hurt and I cried because her death meant I wouldn't get to see her at my high school or college graduation.<br />
<br />
Hurting is just a normal part of life and a highly normal part of grief.<br />
But it doesn't make the hurt any easier to bare.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-54511666040960181772010-09-07T11:24:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:32:56.536-07:00Trisomy 18 FoundationWe've created a legacy page for Noah at the Trisomy 18 Foundation website. <a href="http://www.trisomy18.org/site/TR/Events/General?pg=fund&fr_id=1070&pxfid=7370">Visit Noah's Legacy Page</a>.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-66779665100372576652010-08-31T17:27:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:33:10.913-07:00Love is...Love is forgiving and making amends.<br />
Love isn't passive and always defends.<br />
Love is so deep, honest and open.<br />
Love isn't about listening, but hearing the unspoken.<br />
<br />
Love is about faith, trust and loyalty.<br />
Love isn't just about making memories, but finding your destiny.<br />
Love is sincere, honest and true.<br />
Love isn't about the old, but about creating something new.<br />
<br />
Love is about feeling what others merely only dream.<br />
Love isn't about being poorly glued - more like stitched at the seams.<br />
Love is so special; when you get it, don't let it go.<br />
Love isn't wondering what could've been, it's about what you already know.<br />
<br />
Love is about second chances, forgiving what's been said and done.<br />
Love isn't abut finding new, but realizing you already have the One.<br />
Love is patient and always makess time.<br />
Love isn't about what's been lost, but about what you'll find.<br />
<br />
Love is about kindness and staying true to your heart.<br />
Love isn't about being separated, but becoming stronger as you're apart.<br />
Love is about not wanting to argue but always ready to fight.<br />
Love isn't about what went wrong, but about what's right.<br />
<br />
Love is about being fearless, fearing nobody and nothing.<br />
Love isn't about wanting everything, but always cherishing that something.<br />
Love is about always being there through the thick and thin.<br />
Love isn't about saying good-bye but saying hello again and again.<br />
<br />
Love is about keeping promises through the imperfection and flaws.<br />
Love isn't about starting over, but picking up where you paused.<br />
Love is about perseverance - supporting them through the good and bad.<br />
Love isn't about changing dreams, but chasing the ones you had.<br />
<br />
Love is about the simple things, and not sweating the tough.<br />
Love isn't about what's on the outside because what's inside is enough.<br />
Love is about taking chances and living what's real.<br />
Love isn't about apologizing for what was said, just say what you feel.<br />
<br />
Love is rejoicing in the good, becoming stronger in the worst.<br />
Love isn't self-healing but seeking help from His word.<br />
Love is believing in God and the love He gives.<br />
Love isn't about imagining - your love is to be lived.<br />
<br />
-- Emilie Lauren Mankey<br />
July 25, 2010Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-1106648325008644952010-08-13T11:30:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:32:44.947-07:00Money for Trisomy 18You've probably heard of the Pepsi Refresh campaign, donating $1.3 million to different causes. Where the money is donated is up to us: each cause must be voted in to the top ten.<br />
<br />
I'm supporting a cause created by a mom in Kentucky whose child was diagnosed with Trisomy 13. As a result, they were unable to find a doctor willing to help them. This story hit close to home for me, not only because of the Trisomy 13 - which similar to Trisomy 18 and Trisomy 21 (Downs Syndrome) - but because we also had a difficult time finding a doctor that would not only support our decision to carry, but also support us in finding surgeons who would operate. We were told that no doctor would operate on Noah because of his Trisomy.<br />
<br />
No parent should not have that option. With $50,000, this grant would create an online referral system that would help parents find supportive doctors. Well worth the 2 minutes it take to sign up and vote. You can vote up to three times each day.<br />
<br />
Hurry, voting closes on August 31.<br />
<br />
Learn more: <a href="http://www.refresheverything.com/careforchildrenwithtrisomy13and18">$50K: Care for children with Trisomy 13 and 18 </a><br />
<br />
Vote: Using the widget on the Right, or through the link above.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-91118092850087618232010-08-10T10:02:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:33:33.688-07:00Scary MoviesDave and I were talking last night about scary movies. I used to love scary movies. When I was in grade school, my friend, Stephanie, and I watched all six of the <i>"Children of the Corn"</i> thrillers. Of course, they were late 80s or early 90s scary movies - can't really be compared to the gore of modern scary movies. My parents even went to see <i>Blair Witch Project </i>to see if I could see it. I saw <i>Texas Chainsaw Massacre</i> on opening night in college. And now I won't even watch the previews. So what changed? I used to love having the pants scared off me. Here's my theory.<br />
<br />
Up through college life was very care free, I still had my parents to fall back on if I needed them. My biggest fear was getting a low GPA and failing a final. Post-college I got married and had something to lose. Moving away from my family, having my husband deploy, living in a completely foreign culture: all of this was much scarier than <i>Children of the Corn </i>or<i> Blair Witch</i>.<br />
<br />
Life's a lot scarier when it's real. I don't need to be a thrill seeker or an adrenaline junkie and watch scary movies to get a buzz. Real life is much, much scarier than whatever Hollywood can make.<br />
<br />
Horror films over-do the blood, guts, and gore to make it scary - to prove a point. But emotional films do the same thing. Think about any movie that makes you cry. Like t<i>he Notebook</i>. Both <i>the Notebook </i>and<i> Texas Chainsaw</i> over-embellish to evoke emotion. They just evoke different types of emotion. I can't watch super emotional movies any more either. It used to be that my roommates and I would watch <i>Legends of the Fall</i> once a semester, to get the emotional catharsis that accompanies the viewing. Now I don't need to watch movies to feel something because once again life has proven to be much more emotionally draining than I could have anticipated in my care-free college days.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-57193368191352719302010-08-04T11:30:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:33:51.664-07:00BaggageI've thought what I'd want my return-to-the-blog post to be about. But the truth is, I can't organize my thoughts enough to create something that's worthy of remembering Noah, not yet.<br />
<br />
So instead I"m just jumping back in with my latest news: I've deactivated my facebook account.<br />
<br />
{{gasp}}<br />
<br />
I know, I know. It's kind of a big deal. There were several factors going into this. In December and March, when we found and announced we were pregnant, we didn't put it on facebook. In April, when we found out about Noah's condition, we didn't put that on facebook either. And I'm not about to put Noah's death on facebook either. The recent months have made me consider how much I share, and more importantly, to whom I'm sharing with. So that's <b>reason one</b> - Not everyone need to know about my life, my <i>real</i> life. <b>Second reason</b>, thinking back to what I would share on facebook, no one should care if I'm going to Fresno today, having coffee in the morning, or excited about some tv show. In light of everything that's happened to us, these just seem mundane. And my final and <b>third reason</b> for closing my facebook profile - information overload of people I am no longer connected with: seeing people's names come up with information about their lives then makes me carry around that knowledge.<br />
<br />
<b>Baggage. I need to lose the baggage.</b><br />
<br />
People I went to college with are especially special. I had good times with so many people and they were important at some part of my life, and now they aren't not because I stopped liking them or don't want to be friends with them but rather that our lives have taken us different directions. I'm keeping up with those people a) because facebook decides who comes up in my news feed and b) because of the relationship we no longer have. <br />
<br />
This is kind of coming out wrong, I'm not exactly sure how to word it all. There are still many people I care about on facebook. I'm just going to move our relationship off of facebook. After all, we are friends in real life not just cyber life.<br />
<br />
Relatedly, I can't watch everyone who got pregnant after or at the same time as me have their babies. Selfish, possibly, but protecting myself, yes.<br />
<br />
So yes. It's gone. At least for now. It's kind of experimental. It is similar to me quitting coffee cold turkey. It's part of my morning routine and my killing-time routine. We'll see what happens.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-44808341764366260612010-07-30T12:58:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:34:08.925-07:00Noah's <a href="http://namesinthesand.blogspot.com/2010/07/noah-patrick-wrigley.html">name</a> in the sand in Western AustraliaAnniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-64525281352889815072010-07-21T11:22:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:32:29.619-07:00Photos of Noah<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOHQO_zZxdwtfzOfR1t87ycQYo-xtWv3UG7SUL28mQu03bij3O2mQF4qvHJBAsNd3CpzGLnvJOafFeAM4WCJYWU1KoLZ2Tmm6CIK5nkP23NjSnrVwkGD8H6WySzmANNHx_9NXpahwfiM/s1600/DSC_4342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOHQO_zZxdwtfzOfR1t87ycQYo-xtWv3UG7SUL28mQu03bij3O2mQF4qvHJBAsNd3CpzGLnvJOafFeAM4WCJYWU1KoLZ2Tmm6CIK5nkP23NjSnrVwkGD8H6WySzmANNHx_9NXpahwfiM/s320/DSC_4342.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OPYQL5cb9cccdMqYwPffQooS9qtQSTZ9qUHaHiIxT453GEFuiHbRAXmqCVVgAZw12na8JacoNy1uSlAf0OEv4iNfleqUInvPVGay6kFxGTP7ppgBtVz3Qw4kMzlVTxFcbwPxAeKi6yM/s1600/DSC_4446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OPYQL5cb9cccdMqYwPffQooS9qtQSTZ9qUHaHiIxT453GEFuiHbRAXmqCVVgAZw12na8JacoNy1uSlAf0OEv4iNfleqUInvPVGay6kFxGTP7ppgBtVz3Qw4kMzlVTxFcbwPxAeKi6yM/s320/DSC_4446.JPG" width="320" /></a>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-35705258965800083052010-07-18T15:55:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:34:21.529-07:00Update from the grandmothersOn July 16, at about 3 am, Annie's water broke. Dave was on an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic Ocean, so Annie called her dear friend Katie. Within minutes, they were on their way to the Lemoore Naval Air Station hospital. Upon her admission to the maternity ward, Annie's very supportive doctor, Dr. Schipper, performed an ultrasound. At that time, both Annie and Dave (on the phone from the ship) learned that Noah's heart had stopped beating. With support from Katie, Amy, a great nursing staff, and her doctor, Annie labored until Noah's birth at 2:03 pm.<br />
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Noah weighed 2 lbs 13 oz. and was 13.5 inches long. He had auburn hair, like his dad, and blue eyes, like his mom. Miraculously, Dave arrived at the hospital late that night, and he and Annie were able to spend time together with Noah.<br />
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We grandmothers arrived in time to hold Noah, too. A private memorial service is scheduled this week.<br />
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Annie will add to their story later, when she is ready. They are grieving with hope.<br />
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Barbara and Jenny, aka Bobbie and NonnyAnniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-73356453831961779452010-07-14T13:30:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:34:32.944-07:00Psalm 126:5<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.</span></pre>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50698576065888627.post-25647821397910858392010-07-12T12:29:00.000-07:002010-10-18T09:34:55.658-07:00A Party for NoahWe've decided on what our equivalent of a Baby Shower will be. If you'd like to help in celebrating Noah, send me an email and I'll get you the information. There's no set date, necessarily, but there is an end-date, so the sooner you let me know the longer you'll have.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07733024244064593839noreply@blogger.com8