Goodnight baby, sleep tight my love

I have been married for a little over 2-1/2 years. This December 17th, it will be 3 years. On December 17th, it will also be exactly 2 years since I lost my Nana. My Nana was one of those women in your life you are never willing to let go of. She was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia when I was in elementary school. We went to her house, all 5 cousins, every Wednesday after school. She sat us all down and told us that she was sick but not to let anyone tell us that Nana was going to die, because she wasn't. She made it about 20 more years.

Her mother had had this thing about living long enough for her great-grandchildren to remember her. I remember her but I don't know if I remember her because of my own memories or because of the stories Nana told of her mom. I want those memories for my children.

My biggest issues this pregnancy has been that my Nana won't be here physically for the birth. She has not missed a birth that she could be at. There were 2 from my cousin that she missed because the woman who had them didn't want the father's family around. The only others she missed, she was in the hospital for. My niece was born in November of 2005. Nana had just gone into the hospital shortly before, so she missed that one. She didn't get out of the hospital until the day before my wedding. She had begged to be released from the hospital just to be at my wedding. She was there for Marty's birth 3 months later. My mom called her at 2 a.m. to tell her to get ready. She said she already was. I have a picture some of her standing in the doorway looking in. There are pictures of her holding him on his first day of life. He was the last great-grandbaby born before she died 9 months later. Since then, 2 more have been born, 2 great-grandsons. This is my first baby since she died. She won't be there. She won't hold this baby on the day that he or she is born. This alone devastates me.

When I was pregnant with Marty, we told her if it was a girl, we were going to name it Jamie Ione (her middle name is Ione). She hated her middle name and didn't want it put on another child. She didn't tell me that, she told someone else that. Luckily, he was all boy, and it didn't matter. If this baby is a girl, she WILL be Christine Ione. She will carry my Nana's name, just as my daughter, Mara, does. Mara's middle name is Lyn after Nana's first name, Evelyn.

The point is I miss my Nana. She didn't even die from her CLL. She died from a fall in the hospital where she smashed her head on the marble window sill. She was on "falls precaution" but no precautions were taken. She got out of bed and slipped. She was never the same, but she lasted a week before she passed away. It would have been different somehow if the disease she had been fighting for 20 years had taken her life, but it wasn't. You can't even sue a hospital for wrongful death when there isn't anyone dependent on that person for monetary support. It wasn't the money we wanted anyway. It was to punish the hospital for allowing this to happen, to prevent someone else's loved one from being killed in this manner. She would have continued to fight her CLL; she couldn't fight the blunt force trauma from the window sill.

She had a memorial service at her church where she took us when we were little until we didn't want to go anymore, and then where she took the first batch of great-grandchildren until she was too sick to go anymore. Later, closer to her birthday in March, we spread her ashes at the river house. The below is what I wrote shortly after she passed away. The last 3 paragraphs (including the last line as a paragraph) was what I read at her memorial service.

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Sunday, December 17, 2006, was my first wedding anniversary. The night before Martin and I had decided to go to the river for the night to be alone and celebrate our anniversary. I didn't really want to go down there because, as I told Martin, memories of Poppa always overwhelm me down there, hence why I wanted to be married there, and I had the intense fear that soon it would be memories of Poppa and Nana that would overwhelm me there. We went anyways. As I sat on the deck that night, I whispered to Poppa to protect Nana.

The next morning, I woke up at 9:51am, and we walked down to the river, and we went swimming. Swimming in the river I was overwhelmed with thoughts of Nana and how she would inch into the water with her inner tube and beer. Martin was inching in with his coke in his hand. We went up to the house where I found the message from my mom with tears in her voice. I called her back full of fear of what I would hear, but sure that it couldn't be what I was mostly afraid of it being. I sat on the steps of the river house that my Poppa and Nana had built as I heard my mom on the end of the phone tell me that Nana hadn't made it...that she had passed away. I told her I didn't believe her, but I knew it was true. Sadly, I hung up the phone and walked back down to the river and cried. Martin packed the van and he drove me as fast as he could to the hospital to see her body before they took her away. I found out at the hospital that she had passed away at about 9:55am, roughly the same time I woke up.

If Poppa was our eagle, ever protective and watchful of us all, Nana was our Eagless who flew with grace in the stiffest of winds, who loved all of her eaglets, who taught us all how to soar with grace. She struggled to live through mountains of pain and countless hospitalizations to see one more day with her great-grandchildren. She was at the birth of any of her great-grandchildren that she could be at, the time of night never mattering. She wanted more than anything to babysit Marty. She said she wasn't sure she could babysit the other babies, but she was sure she could watch him.

Our Eagless has flown away and left her all of eaglets behind to carry on in her memory...to soar with the grace she taught us all...to teach our children and our grandchildren and our great-grandchildren about what love really means and that the most important thing in any life is the family you have. Nana's body may have died, but her soul is immortal, she lives in all of us...and we will take her with us where ever we go and whatever we do.

I love you Nana, and I miss you more than words can say.

Well, the man out to end us had a hurricane business...

Am I the only freak?

I love hurricane season.

I constantly watch wunderground.com waiting for a storm to come close. Of course, we get at least one that they say will come close, and then, they say it won't. I get all sad. Well, at least with Fay, they say it will come back close to us.

Back when Francis and Jeanne came through, I was letting the worst guy to be trapped in a hurricane live with me. He was just nasty. I enjoyed not having power. No TV. I enjoyed listening to the guys on KTK (a radio station) tell bedtime stories to the kids. I enjoyed the candle light. I opened the windows and felt the wind blowing. I read by candlelight. I felt good. I didn't let the inconvenience of it all get to me. I dealt with the cold showers just to feel clean. I bonded with my daughter. The guy I was with was cranky about the whole deal.

At least with Martin, I don't think he will be as cranky. It won't be the best situation since he is on a CPAP machine, so he will have problems sleeping at night, but I don't think he will be nasty about having no power for days.

The only reservation I have about a storm coming this way is that it will be hot after the storm passes. If we lose power, I will be miserable being so hot and 6 months pregnant. We are also worried about the dead oak tree outside of my house. When the last storms came through, the tree was still partially alive. The only thing alive this time is the vines growing in it.

On another note, I am watching (with the eyes in the back of my head) the softball game between Australia and Japan. They are tied at 3 in the 12th inning, and they are saying that this is the second game they have played today. Crazy. Dammit, Japan just won. USA better kick the shit out of them again in the gold medal match.

So, this blog isn't so long. Oh well, I thought I had more to say....oh yeah, I do.

My husband's family annually has a get-together they call their family reunion every year. Last year, after the main party, the women got together and picked dates. Well, low and behold, Martin's cousin's wife got pregnant. Because she would be due too close to the dates that had been selected (SO?????????), they moved it. Then, she got her gallbladder issues, so we actually heard things like, well we would have had to move it anyways because of her issues. Gag me. Stupid bitch. They say sometimes that it wasn't moved for Liz, but everyone knows that it was. When did they move it to??? This coming Saturday. HA HA HA HA. I love Fay...and karma. My big problem (and Martin's) is that when they moved it, they moved it to a time that Martin's sister couldn't come down because she is a teacher and school has started, and Martin's brother just went back to college, so he can't come. Martin's parents can't come because of work. Now, because of lovely Fay, it is most likely that one of Martin's uncles won't be allowed to go because he works for the gas part of the local utility company. So it will end up (if anyone ends up going at all) to just be the Smiths. Like we have been calling it all along...the Smith family vacation. It had nothing to do with the Reaves. I am so glad that Martin is standing up for his family. They also planned it for a weekend my daughter couldn't be there. Of course, they tend to always plan everything on weekends that my daughter can't be there because she has to go to her dad's every other weekend. They could ask. They don't. They are selfish, selfish people. Done with vent.

Anyway, done for now.

PS: If you can figure out the name of the song from the lyrics in the title, you rock. It is one of my favorite songs ever.

Good Love is Hard to Find

I guess I am one lucky woman. Not only do I have a wonderful family and a wonderful husband, I have wonderful in-laws. This post is inspired by all the posts I see on message boards for pregnant women about how much they hate their in-laws.

My first set of in-laws weren't bad. They were insane, but not bad. At least they were so far away that it either took a plane ride (never did that) or an 18-hour drive to see them. Now, my former mother-in-law calls me occasionally. She is certifiably insane. Possibly the worst part is having to listen to all of her woe-is-me stories. I finally figured out either not to answer the phone or just hand it to my daughter and never talk to her. This method is working out very well for us. Please understand, I do NOT dislike my former mother-in-law. I just cannot deal with her. She has been institutionalized twice for mental disease of some sort. She is about the equivalent (to talk to her) of a 5-year-old child. I feel bad for her. I really do. Last summer, we drove 12 hours to where she is living now after her husband left her, divorced her, and remarried at 40-year-old nasty crack whore (I have seen pictures), so that Mara could spend time with her. They had a good time together, but it was a long drive for nothing for us. We ended up turning around and heading to North Carolina to go hiking in the Blue Ridge for a day or so until we had to go back and pick her up from Northern Kentucky (yes, and then ALL the way back to Florida).

Anyway, my current mother-in-law is the most awesome mother-in-law anyone could ask for. She showed up to a baby shower that she didn't want to attend and had other plans for avoiding just so that I would have someone with me because I am so "out there" on my childbirth beliefs. I have mentioned some of the things that happened at the shower before, so I won't rehash, but my MIL came just because I needed her to. I called my mom after the shower and said something about MIL being at the shower and why she was there. I thought my mom was going to cry. NOT because she was jealous or anything like that...but because she was so happy that I had such a wonderful MIL that loved me that much.

My father-in-law is wonderful as well. He is goofy and smiley and loves my kids. BOTH of my current kids.

These people truly love me and accept me. My MIL is just happy that I make her son happy. There is a story to this, and I believe it is a pretty amazing story about how far people can go.

I met my husband 3 years ago online. He drove down here (2 hours) to meet me and take me out for my birthday. We ended up having dinner and then driving down to a river my family owns property on and going skinny dipping. Yeah, so what, I slept with him on the first date...it wasn't the first time I had made a "bad" decision. Get over it. ;)

A few weeks later, sitting on my couch, he tells me he has to tell me something about his parents and their religion. Oh no, I think. So, I asked him the dreaded questions, "Are they baptist?" Where I come from, either you are Methodist or baptist, and the baptists had always been mean to me growing up. If you didn't go to their church, they picked on you and said really mean things. I am pagan, but not too many people know that, and it never comes up. Anyway, he told me that no, they weren't baptist. They were Jehovah's Witnesses. I was cool with that. I mean really, as long as they weren't baptists.

Shortly after that, I found out I was pregnant. We had gotten pregnant on our second date. Now lets think about this.

1. Premarital sex.
2. Premarital pregnancy.
3. Birthday celebrating.
4. We both smoked.

Man, I was the antithesis of everything they wanted for their son, and they hadn't even met me yet.

When they did meet me, Martin kept the secret of the baby from them for the weekend. It was killing me, and I wanted to tell them. He didn't. He wanted them to meet me before they hated me. After I left that weekend, he sat them down and explained to them that I was pregnant, we weren't necessarily getting married, and I was NOT the first girl he had slept with. I think their entire world probably crashed down for a little while there.

He is their oldest son, and everyone wants the best things for their children. Then, his mom realized something. Martin was different. He was talking to his mom. He was talking to his dad. He wasn't hiding in his room. He was being more friendly. She blamed all of this on me, and for probably that reason alone, she loved me.

She thanked me on 1 of my visits up there for giving her back the son she had raised, the son she had raised him to be. She even (with the help of her SIL) threw us a baby shower. She didn't know me that well though and didn't come to Marty's birth which was 9 months after I met their son and 3 months after I married him. With this baby, not only have I opened their eyes to homebirth and midwives, my amazing mother-in-law is planning to be at the birth.

My amazing mother-in-law does not bat an eye when I talk about birthdays in my family or Christmas, or other holidays. She accepts me and our little family as we are, despite being so very different from what they wanted for their first born.

I am probably the nightmare they had when they was raising Martin, the woman who would steal away their precious son, move him 2 hours away, and turn him away from all of their beliefs. I think they actually see if very differently now. I actually managed to give him back to them. He calls them nearly everyday just to talk. He holds their beliefs but had turned away from the Kingdom Hall long before I came along. Apparently, I was the best antidepressant for Martin.

I have a wonderful relationship with my in-laws...probably because I wanted to be a good daughter-in-law. All those women who complain about how horrible their in-laws are should take a good look at who and what they are, how they act, how they treat their in-laws. A little bit of respect goes a long way. I love my in-laws because they raised the perfect man for me. They love me because I love and respect their son.

Good love IS hard to find, but I got lucky when I found him (to paraphrase).

A Rebel Without a Clue

So, is it bad to hate people??? I mean really hate them and everything they stand for?

I don't even have to really know people to dislike them intensely. Sometimes, these people say things so idiotic that I have to believe that either they are truly that stupid or they choose to put their heads in the sand. If they are choosing to put their heads in the sand, then okay, I can try to deal and educate where possible. If they are truly stupid and refusing to use their brains at all, I have no way to deal, and I refuse to try.

My first example...recently, on a forum for local moms, the topic of circumcision came up. I am adamantly opposed to this and feel with my entire being that it is a form of child abuse and should be eradicated from the United States. I feel it is genital mutilation. So, I have very strong views. Women on this particular board tried to say that it kept infection away (whatever, teach them to clean themselves). Anyway, most of their comments fell into the normal stupid range. One woman was stupid enough that she actually stated that if there was something that could have been removed from her body as a baby to prevent infections, she would have loved for it to have been done. To me, this is falls into the realm of removing the breasts to remove the possibility of breast cancer. I wanted to tell her to go ahead then and have her labia removed, they retain all that moisture that could lead to some infections. I kept my mouth shut after that...mostly because I could feel my blood pressure rising. This woman has moved into my no respect for you category. I mean really, when I was a child, I refused to wipe when I peed. I got irritated; it hurt; I learned to wipe when I peed. If the boy in question gets an infection and it hurts, he will learn to clean himself properly to prevent future pain. If not, well, then...stupidity reigns.

My husband's cousin's wife has completely moved into the hate you category. She is the most selfish bitch I have ever met in my life. During her recent pregnancy which was her first, and she was 22 years old, she developed problems with her gallbladder. Instead of eating what she should be eating and incorporating gallbladder healing agents into her diet that I was kind enough to go out and find for her because she was too stupid to look it up on her own, she continued to eat KFC every day. She wondered why she had pain after eating pizza rolls. Have you seen the oil on those. I can't eat those even when I'm not pregnant. Anyway, no her way of dealing with the problem is to try to get induced early and taking pain pills (loratab and Percocet). Yes, she started talking induction at 31 weeks because SHE was in pain. At her baby shower, she ate the cake, she ate the dips. Later, she started to hurt. She just wanted her pain pills. I told my husband we had to leave THEN. In my opinion, she might as well having been doing cocaine. She also stated to another women who was carrying around a severe preemie (who at more than a year could not even crawl), "don't you wish your baby was that small?" Pure disgusting.

She finally got her way and was induced at 38 weeks. I still find this disgusting because you are not overdue until after 42 weeks. This poor baby could have been a whole month earlier, because SHE was in pain. She got lucky. That sucks. I really wanted her to learn her lesson about messing with mother nature. I wanted her to have the C-section. I wanted her to have the massive incision infection. I wanted her to think about it the next time. I feel so sorry for that baby. I found her birth story online and from reading it, all I can envision is this poor baby trying to hard to stay in until they attached the vacuum to his head and yanked him out.

I got roped into going to see the poor baby when it was a week old because my husband wanted to go. I secretly whispered to the baby that I was so sorry for his selfish mother...that he had had to go through so much instead of having a happy peaceful gestation and birth. The entire time we were there, the selfish bitch of a women disappeared. She hid the entire time we were there. I am sure you are thinking that it was because of the things I must have said to her...nope, I wasn't "allowed" to tell her at any time what I thought of her. I kept my mouth shut every I spoke with her. I was "good" at her shower and said nothing out of line.

Women like this should not have children. Women like this should not be allowed to be called mothers. They have no idea of what it means to truly give of themselves. I hate her. Truly hate her. My husband is going to give his relationship with his cousin another year before he gives up trying. I have said that I am done. I don’t want that woman around me and my family. She wouldn't even speak to me from the time she found out she was pregnant until she found out I was pregnant too.

I am planning my shower (only because I am the most creative of the bunch of women in my family). We will have few games, fruit, chips and dip, veggies, cake, punch, and we are going to decorate onesies for the baby. It will be more of a party than a shower. This is my 3rd baby, and we don't need anything, but I still want to have a party with everyone to celebrate the baby's birth. It will be at my mom's house, so my husband is hoping that if anyone on his side of the family gets out of control with their stupidity, my mom will throw them out of her house. There are some on his side that believe hospitals are good things and that is where babies should be born. Gag me. Pregnancy is NOT an illness. Birth is NOT an emergency. Why in the hell would I want to go to a sick house to have a healthy baby??? Anyway, we have to decide if we should invite the selfish bitch to the shower. I say no, Martin says we should send an invitation to her mother-in-law and have it say "and family," and then if she comes, she comes.

I can get along with almost anyone except when it comes to the gestation, birth, and newborn life of a baby, and even on that, most people do not know my views because I choose to hide them from the general population. I am so tired though of people, women especially, not thinking, not researching, not trusting themselves and their bodies.

I feel better now to have vented into space. I know the selfish bitch will never read this and will still never know just how much I hate her, and wish really bad things on her. Call it hormones...I don't care...but I seriously do not want that woman ever to be around my baby.

Okay, I am done now for now at least.