And then you die...

The last month of my pregnancy with Linden, I knew that I wouldn't live to raise him. It was an 'odd' knowing. Nothing I've ever experienced before. I ran through scenarios in my head; what would happen to Steve if I died, could he handle raising a newborn and Will, what would happen to my kids, etc.

The last week of my pregnancy, I cried every night, thinking it was the last days I'd get to spend with Will and Steve.

I never told anyone of my fears. They made no sense to me, how would they to anyone else. Women rarely die during childbirth any more and there wasn't anything wrong with me, but that I was old.

My best friend was at the hospital with me several hours the morning I was admitted, and she came back after Linden was born. When we were alone in the room, she confessed to having horrible dreams that I died while giving birth. I shared the fears I'd been living with.

We laughed. We cried. Then, we thanked God I was still alive and we were both obviously idiots.

I never really gave it another thought, until now.

Tomorrow I am having a small procedure performed in my doctors office with local anesthesia. An hour and a half tops and I'll be home with few side effects. If everything goes right. They made me watch this fifteen minute film outlining all the things that can go wrong.

All day I've found myself once again feeling like I'm saying good bye to my children. Sucking up every moment and holding dear ever expression ... like it will be my last.

And this time, I know I'm being an idiot in advance.

But that doesn't stop the fear. However, knowing where the fear comes from - that helps.

First off, I've had a lot of death in my family in the last five years: a first cousin, a close uncle, a sister, and my mother. There has been a lot of death in Steve's family since we've been together. Death has become way to familiar with me.

Second, a lot of close friends and neighbors have come down with cancer over the last few years. They are still fighting it, still winning. But knowing of their, sometimes daily, battle to live makes death closer and more real some how.

And lastly, I think aging makes you more aware of the fact that at the end of every life, you die. Just doesn't make those birthdays quite as appealing as they use to be.

What a deal!

For the business I run from home, I use several large outdated printers. I picked them up, and their backups, off craigslist for next to nothing because of their age. While all the printers I use originally sold in the thousands, I didn't pay more than a couple hundred for them. Naturally, they require inks, specialty paper, etc. The good news there is that since they are so old, I can usually scout out a good deal on the supplies I need on an auction site. And, occasionally, I get lucky and just stumble across a stockpile on craigslist.

HP Color LaserJet 4050N

I have one of these printers I use on a daily bases and one that I keep as a back up for when the other dies on me. Because it happens.

I have to replace the Drum Kit (new from HP $350), the Transfer Kit (new from HP $270), and the Fuser Kit (new from HP $190) once a year on average. The printer uses four toners, that new from HP, run about $80 each - and I go through 6-8 of them a year. Luckily, it takes standard paper.

HP DesignJet 600 - 36" Plotter

I also have one of these in operation and a back up. They use two standard HP ink cartridges that run about $35 each. I have to purchase paper on 36-inch rolls, and locally I would pay about $25 a roll. I go through 2 cartridges a year and 20+ rolls of paper.

Bargain Hunter Extraordinaire

Luckily for me, I never buy anything direct from the manufacture...or I would have already been out of business.

Over the four or so years I've had these printers in service, I've averaged the following prices on my expendables:

HP 4550N (Drum $70, Transfer Kit $50, Fuser $40, Toners $20).
HP 600 (Cartridges $10, roll of paper $10)

Lucky Shit

Since I had to install a new drum and transfer kit last week, I decided to start searching for new ones to keep on hand. I always start my search on my local craigslist. I was shocked to find an add listing a sister printer (the HP 4500) for sale with the following unopened HP items: 2 drums, a transfer kit, a fuser kit, and four toners -- all for only $50.

Now, I need another printer like I need a whole in my head. However, for that price, I figured I could stop off and donate it to Goodwill on my way home from picking it up. When I noticed the ad was dated the first of December I was positive it was already sold, but I inquired about the lot anyway.

A gentleman responded the next day saying he still had every thing and asking what I was interested in. I explained that I didn't actually need the printer, but I'd take it. I really wanted the printer accessories.

His response, was that if I didn't want the printer he'd sell me the other things for only $25. I made arrangements to pick them up; and I did.

Frigging damn luck saved me $1,475 off HP prices ($285 off "Misty" prices).

Yep, I'm a lucky shit.

Nightmares are made of these

A few weeks ago, I was laying in bed with Linden and Will watching cartoons. Will hands me the remote and it slips out of my hand and hits Linden on the head. Naturally, he cried. I felt horrible. Will laughed.

The next day, we were all back on the bed watching cartoons again. Linden was sleeping peacefully, until he started whining. His bottom lipped quivered and the saddest little noises were coming out of his mouth. Will asked what was wrong and I said maybe Linden was having a nightmare.

Will asked what kind of nightmares babies had. I was stumped. "Getting left by their mother. Not having food when they want it. Having a wet diaper." I had no idea what baby nightmares might be.

Will responded, "Maybe he's dreaming about you hitting him in the head with the remote again." Could be.

I took Linden to the doctor today and he got three shots. For the next 10 hours he whimpered, pouted, cried, shivered - was just generally upset. Each time he'd fall to sleep he'd wake himself up screaming. Bad dreams: and it didn't take a genius to figure out what they were about.

As I lay in bed with my heart-broken baby today, I thought about the origin of nightmares, possible phobias. Really, Linden didn't know that a remote hit him. Or, that I dropped it. As far as he was concerned something dropped from the sky and hit him in the head. Now that is scary.

What about today? Definitely no idea that shots are good for you. Nor does he have the ability to understand what happened. All he knows is that his clothes were taken off, his diaper stripped, then he was placed on a cold metal table (to be weighted and measured) and a stranger held him down and poked him several times.

Yep, I can see what type of fears can be seated in a persons mind; formed before they are old enough to comprehend the circumstances in which the experience took place. Just the pain.

Makes me look back at fears I've outgrown over the years and ponder their true origins.

My "classified" friend

It's been about eighteen months since the last time I posted in the personal section of my local craigslist.

I found myself in the not uncommon position of being friendless. (I'm not counting my BFF, she's more like a sister.) But, after five years of being an at-home mom, I no longer had friends from work. No relatives lived close enough to hang out with. And the few mothers I met were not interested, or able, to get out of the house and do things together. So I tried posting for a friend in the local craiglist under the platonic section.

The first person that responded emailed me four or five times but never came through with an actual time to meet. I re-posted. The second person that responded was a stay-at-home mom close to my own age and we met at Ihop for coffee one evening. Her name was Leticia.

Leticia is a Civil Engineer who stopped working to stay home with two girls. Like me, it wasn't a natural environment for her. She was looking for someone to meet for coffee in the evenings, some adult conversation. She's also an avid writer and is always learning new things. We hit it off immediately.

We met at Ihop every week for four months, then started meeting at each others house. Family members were introduced. We've been to their daughters birthday party, and they've attended two of Will's.

Every month during my pregnancy, Leticia would buy me a large box of diapers in different sizes. I'd show up for coffee, and they would be sitting there. Like it was no big thing. Then towards the end of my pregnancy she told me that she would watch Linden one afternoon every week after he was born.

I'll admit I didn't expect her to go through with it. I had several friends, neighbors, and acquaintances say similar things during my pregnancy. (Take a wild guess on how many have watched Linden?)

Yep, just Leticia.

Each time she's watched him, Linden has cried nearly the entire time shes had him, but she doesn't let it phase her. She's calm about the entire thing and just keeps offering. The earth moves a little bit each time she so calmly says, "So, same time next week?"

I don't think she realizes what an amazing gift she's giving me. And I've not been very successful at expressing my gratitude ... she just pushes my thanks aside.

Well, I might have found her in the classified section, but when it comes to friendship ... I'd have to classify her as a true friend. And a blessing.

George and the Lamp

Today a relative of mine lost her baby. She wasn't very far along, and the circumstances for having a child were not perfect ... she isn't married and doesn't have a job. And while there will, no doubt, be people who think it was probably for the best, I'm not one of them.

I've lost three children in my life time, and every single one of them hurt. When I lost the first, I was only eighteen (I was married and I did have a job). The pregnancy had not been confirmed since I didn't have the funds to seek medical attention. But I knew. And when things started going wrong I was heart broke. However, the type of support I received was more of the it's-for-the-best variety.

"You're really to young to be a mom anyway."

"God knows best."

"There was probably something wrong with it."

"You'll have more kids."

I kept my sorrow to myself, as that seemed to be what was expected of me. I was told not to name it, think about it, or talk about it. Supposedly, I would get over the loss faster that way.

I was much older, and wiser when I lost my last child. I was also further along; 13 weeks. The doctor's had been monitoring my numbers twice a week for three weeks and the numbers were doubling the way they were suppose to. Steve and I didn't tell anyone until we passed the 12th week - the first trimester. I went to church every Sunday praying it would be a viable pregnancy. In secret, Steve and I picked out names and I crocheted little hats and booties.

We wouldn't know the sex for another six weeks, but we decided to call our baby George if it was a boy. Besides being Steve's grandfather's name, we both remembered the old cartoon where the little girl says, "I'm gonna love him and hug him, and squeeze him, and call him George."

After we were in the clear we shared out good news with the families.

A week later, George died.

My father-in-law suggested I consider planting a tree in remembrance. The more I thought about the idea, the more it felt right; something to represent the loss of a life. Something that says, "he mattered", "he's missed" - even if it was only by me.

But a tree? A living plant? Both my daughters can tell you my thumb tends to run more to black than green. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it if a tree I planted for George ended up dying ... and the odds were good it would.

In the days following George's loss, Steve and I walked many malls and stores. I couldn't stand being at home. I couldn't stand being alone. While out, I kept my eye open for something that might represent the life that had been extinguished way to early. Something to commemorate the weeks of hope and love we secretly shared with our child. I had no idea what I was looking for, or even if I would find anything.

During one of our trips I found myself drawn to a floor lamp and we ended up purchasing it. I liked the fact it would provide light and warmth. I could picture myself curled up in a chair beneath it for years to come. I also liked the idea that no one but me would ever know that the floor lamp in my bedroom was all I had left of George.

It's been nearly ten years since we lost George and I still have the lamp. There's not a week that goes by that I don't use or look at the lamp and have a brief memory of the time I spent carrying him. But it no longer hurts and I'm glad that he still lives in my thoughts in a positive way.

If I had one thing to share with other mother's when they loose a child before it's born, it would be this ...

They deserve to be remembered.

I don't want to see you again!

The Back Story

It is very hard for me to let my children go; to silently sit by as they leave. It hurt when Bonnet moved out of the house eight years ago, even though she still lived relatively close by. But I cried off and on for months while I adjusted to her absence in my life.

Over the next few years I became more accustomed to our new relationship. Still my daughter, still much loved, but only in my company once a week or so. A level of comfort was achieved and there was no sadness at the end of our visits.

Then she moved to Colorado. I'm lucky if I get to see her once or twice a year now; and it hurts. I've adjusted to her absence on a day-to-day bases. But when I do visit with her, the leave-taking is devastating. When the last visit ended, I couldn't even drive her to the airport I was so upset. Hell, I didn't even let her get out of the house before I was crying like a baby -- and I know what a baby cries like!

With Tori, it's been a little easier. I'd already been through one child leaving, and oddly, that made Tori's move to San Marcos easier. Still sad. I helped her pack her stuff and hauled it to the dormitory for her. And for the four years she attended college I would see her 3-4 times a month. She'd visit, I'd drive over for lunch, etc.

The Issue

Tori is moving to San Angelo, about four hours away, for a job. It is definitely closer than Colorado (which for some odd reason EVERYONE feels the need to point out), but realistically, I don't expect to see her often. I don't even make it to Brady, my home town, which is only two hours away but once or twice a year. I'm planning on driving down for a visit every 4-6 weeks, but there is a part of me that expects there will always be something getting in the way of those visits.

This Week


This is Tori's last week in town, she leaves tomorrow.

Monday: I had lunch with her, our goodbye meal. I cried off-and-on all last weekend just thinking about her being gone. Monday was sad and I tried very hard not to share my unhappiness, but I cried all the way home from San Marcos.

Tuesday: Tori had testing in Austin and when she called me with the results we decided on an impromptu lunch. The boys and I met her for lunch and it was bitter sweet. Once again I was swamped with the knowledge this would be the last time I'd see her before she left town. The last time the three children would have lunch. I pondered how little she'd be involved in Linden's life. I battled sadness and tears that afternoon.

Thursday: Lew, my father-in-law, calls to let me know he and his wife, Dona, are taking Tori to lunch on Friday and wants to know if I can make it. Of coarse I can. But I spend the rest of the evening thinking about how sad it's going to be to see her.

Friday: Tori stops by and we ride over to lunch together. After lunch we do a few errands and stop back by the house. By the time she leaves I'm crying so hard I can't even tell her goodbye. I don't tell her anything ... trying to keep it together and not make it harder for her. The rest of my day is shot.

Saturday: At a family get-to-gather, Lew hands me a coat for Tori. She's leaving Sunday, but it would be a shorter drive for her to drop by our house to pick it up, as opposed to driving out to Lew's. I don't need glasses to see the writing on the wall, her stopping by on her way out of town would devastate me.

The Happy Ending

As it happens, my brother will be visiting tomorrow and he will be heading right back to where Tori will be. So I called Tori and asked her if it would be okay if I just gave the coat to Jessy and she could pick it up for him.

"Yes!" she replied, sounding incredibly relieved.
"That would be perfect.
I've already said bye to you like four times this week!"

I laughed.
"Yeah, I don't want to see you again either!"


Oddly, for the first time all week, I can smile about her departure.