Monday, September 26, 2011

Can't sleep

So.  Here I sit, on the computer at 1:49 AM.  Too much going through my mind to sleep, I was too cold in bed anyway to get comfortable.

I am a bit bothered by something, actually a bit more than "bit" but not in a huge, dramatic way.  I'm not angry.  I think I am a bit puzzled, feelings might be a little hurt, I know I can say I am "irritated".

Since so many people close to me read this blog I will have to tread lightly by what I say about this.  I'm not about to bring something out in the open about someone I know on my blog.  But since it has everything to do with me I think its OK to, at least partially, talk about what's bothering me.

I think my main problem regarding this is that I am not naturally a very organized person.  I am getting better and learning to be though.  But it is a hard thing for me to do.  Just one of my many "flaws" I suppose.  But where I lack in that area, I make up for in other areas.  Do I sound defensive?  I guess maybe I do, but its not coming from a place with out some justification.

My real issue is that I feel like I have been spoken about to people regarding this "thing" without justification, or a real reason to say anything about it, except maybe to make conversation.  I don't care of someone needs to be informed of one of my bad habits, but please make it on a "need to know" basis.  Everyone get this clear?  I am very open about my flaws, more so than most people are.  And I am also pretty easy to talk to about said flaws, if you approach me with respect, love and some gentleness. 

Even when someone has said something not-so-great about my personality I don't immediately dismiss such a comment, especially from someone I respect.  Even if I find it to be untrue I still consider their position.

I think lately I have had some interesting interactions with people.  I say "interesting" in the way that I am scratching my head wondering why that person felt the need to say some specific things to me.  Then recently someone came right out and commented on my said personality flaw and little puzzle pieces dropped into place.  Ahhhh...NOWwwww I get it.  OK.  I suppose I should have seen that coming.

I had some insight from a good friend of mine.  They told me that this is a "boundary" issue between this person and I.  And I agree.  If I had addressed said comments/criticism when it started I would probably be asleep right now.  Touche.  This is paritally my fault. And IF I wasn't clear to begin with I will clarify now: Said personality flaw complaint isn't completely unjustified.

What is unjustified and unfair is the persistent feeling, lately, of having to watch what I say in avoidance of fueling this little fire against me.  It is unnatural for me to watch every thing I say to people I love and to have to guard my conversation.  I really don't appreciate that feeling.  And it's bothering me.  A lot.  To know me is to love me right?  Not in an arrogant way.  What I mean is isn't it OK to be yourself with close loved one's?  If someone knows me, and loves me, I should be accepted.

Especially since this issue at hand isn't a huge, life-interrupting issue.  It's not the end of the world, and really doesn't directly affect the person who seems most concerned with it.

OK, enough of that.

Tomorrow I have a job interview.  Looking forward to bringing in a bit more money to cushion our budget.  We are actually doing OK, but have such little wiggle room in our finances that it's difficult to maintain things as they are.  I really hope this works out and turns into a good position for me.  It is just part-time care-giving, a man who has early-stage Alzheimer's. 

I have also gotten two new dog training calls this week. Both of which have resulted in Behavior Evaluation appointments.  Why, yes, I did write them down.  Thank you for asking.  I have emails out with forms and paperwork and appointment times all set up.  One is in my home town and one is in Silverdale.

This will also bring in some revenue, so I am all around happy about this.  Plus, it's been a while since I've had much dog training.  Come to think of it -- I have had NO new dog training since Foe died.  Thanks be to God.  He sees my needs and provides therein.  He sees my needs before I ask and before I am aware of the need.  Now that I am capable of effective dog training again, he sends me new clients.  Amazing :) 

Monday, September 19, 2011

My Dog Foenix

I miss my dog, Foenix.

Today was quite a productive day for me.  My big project was to clean the windows.  While cleaning the sliding glass door, I was suddenly struck by the realization that what I was scrubbing off were nose prints from Foenix.

It saddened me, but being busy with the purpose of cleaning I didn't revisit that feeling.  That is, until tonight when I was having a conversation on Facebook about the windows.  Then I mentioned to a like-minded friend (who also had to put her otherwise healthy dog to sleep this year..) about the nose prints.

And that slammed reality back into my face. Slap!  The past week has been busy for me, without a lot of time for self reflection.  However, suddenly tonight, I could see the points this week when the memory of Foenix, one of his hairs, or remembering for the 1284738948th time that I need to go get his ashes, little by little the grief was swelling inside my heart.

Yesterday I remember pulling a dog hair off one of my own brushes, only to realize that it was a sable hair: black band, thin tan band, and another black band.  It was about 2 inches long.  I looked at it for a while, held it, pulled on it between my fingers to feel the solidity of it.  Something real of him, something saying he was alive once, something that said he was really here with me.  And he was mine for a beautiful short 4 years.

His birthday is coming up.  He would have been 5 on November 7th. 

Now when I think about his final days with me I can tell myself that putting him to sleep was for his own good, and our own financial good too.  And those are also simple, but difficult truths to live with.  I think of the pain he was in -- so much so that it distracted him from his fear of Hannah, so he became tolerant of her, especially with his Elizabethan Collar on.  I have the final picture I took of him on my computer, and on my Photobucket Account.  I look at it only when I have to.  But the picture is of a dog in pain, with sad, and questioning eyes.  What are you doing?  Why am I in pain?  Why do I have to wear this collar?  It hurts me to see this, and yet, I do get comfort in the communication we had.

Foenix was so many things to me.  Our relationship was multi-faceted.  It was much like the complex human relationships one develops.  We got to know each other really well, we could finish each others thoughts -- communicating through subtle body language.  He always knew my mood, sometimes even before I did.  He was my mirror.  When I was upset so was he, when I was aggressive, so was he, when I was silly -- LOL -- so was he.  When I wanted to play he was always up for it, when I wanted to be lazy he could do that too.  He was a motivation for me to get up and get things done, and a reason to focus.

Foenix gave me the confidence to pursue my career as a dog trainer.  He was my living proof, a point of reference, of my skill.  When he was with me, I would always get questions and comments about him.  People could almost always tell I was a trainer, because of Foenix.  Or, they'd ask me where he was trained.  Foenix was a foundation for my business and for my identity, right or wrong, as a trainer and a professional.

I miss his presence in my home.  And at the same time thinking about the near constant conflict between he and my daughter, I am relieved not to deal with that.  Really, God showed His Light to me and mercifully gave me a more solid reason to get him out of my house and life.  As much as that hurts, it is the truth.  Hannah is much better off without Foenix here.

I wonder if my grief over him would be very different than it is now, if I was to lose him differently.  He died because of a disease, incurable, painful, and without very good medical management.  What if I had to give him away?  I was in that process when he was diagnosed.  Would I grieve differently?  I think so.  Arrogantly, I would almost rather have him dead than with another person.  That is brutal honestly.  I could barely stand the thought of my dog being some other person's pet or project.  Yes, God was merciful to me.

I want another dog, and still love the German Shepherd breed.  But I cannot bring myself to get another GSD.  Maybe someday.  Maybe I will be ready to love another dog, and train another dog and maybe this dog will be the dog I get to keep until he or she dies of old age.  But for now I miss my Foenix.  My heart couldn't take another right now.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

On my mind tonight...

First of all, and foremost on my mind tonight, is that Aunt Flo has finally decided to grace me with her presence.  Now, in the past I have really complained, with reason too, about my monthly period.  Not this time.  This is the first period I will have started since my miscarriage.  My body is finally getting back on track so for now I am appreciative of the back pain, bloating, and cramps.  This is hope.  This is what I cling to.

Back on the trying to conceive crazy train though.  Eric and I have decided that since none of the drugs I was on prevented the miscarriage that I won't be going back on them.  Maybe I said that in a previous post already?  It's late -- sue me.  The only drug I might get back on is the Metformin.  I liked how it allowed me to lose some weight and I didn't crave sweets.

On that line of thinking -- weight loss, appetite -- I have finally decided to get off my butt and do something about my weight gain.  Eric and I just started P90 X Insanity.  It is BRU-TAL!  As I type this, my arms and chest (or..pectorals and triceps, if you will) are aching and complaining.  I find that wonderful.  I have done three of the workouts.  One of which I have finished.  Now, now. Don't judge.  Do one of these workouts, even if you don't have a weight problem, and I challenge you to finish the entire thing!  Anyway, enough of my defensive writing.  I am doing this!  Going to lose all this weight.  And since I am doing this before I am pregnant -- I get to do it while I am pregnant too.

All my workouts so far are heavily modified.  I can't do the stretches, or lunges, or push ups, or whatever you want to call all those other torture..umm I mean, most worthwhile exercises.  If I can do the amount of reps the instructor shouts out I certainly cannot jump as high or jog as fast.  Or if I cannot manage the reps I can at least do what I can do a little faster or with "more power".  More POWER!! Is shouted ad nauseaum in these workout clips. A confession: I have feelings for this instructor.  Deep and sincere.  Akin to hatred. 

Quite possibly I might love him when I start seeing my body change back into what I think is acceptable for myself.  I'll let you know of course.

Oh yeah.  I almost forgot.  My boobs.  No, that didn't sound quite right.  I mean I have something to say about them (not that they don't speak for themselves).  I have found I need a good solid contraption in which to trust them while I strive for "MORE POWER!!" as I exercise.  I have two sports bras, only one of which I can find right now..but I digress.  So the first workout was ok, not too much jumping around.  But the second one hmm how do I describe this?  You know the sound of quickly peeling tape off something?  Ok, thats exactly the sound I expected to hear during this workout.  I thought my boobs were going to give up and leave.  Thats what it looked like too -- they were trying to escape!! I swear they were.

After doing a lot of research I decided that I need a couple really good sports bras.  Second, they are too expensive right now.  My solution?  Wear a regular good fitting bra under the compression sports bra I already have.  Viola!  Issue solved.  Thanks to several ladies on Facebook who recommended that remedy.

I won't say on here how much weight I am trying to lose.  Most of you who know me in persona already have a good idea.  But I will say what I have lost as I start to see progress.  I am really excited about feeling better, being more healthy, looking better and being a better example for Hannah.

Hannah starts Pre-school this week!  I am so proud and so excited.  More on that later :)

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Had a Vacation in California

The only thing wrong was I spent the time there because one of the most precious people in my life was fighting for hers.

My neice, who just turned 20, went on a road trip and found herself seriously ill just about the time she got into Cali with her friends.  They dropped her off at St. Joesephs Hospital in Eureka, California.  At first they thought she was ok and released her but then got some blood work that showed sepsis.

I am the only one in my family that doesn't have a "regular" full time job so I took my other two neices, one being the sister neice in the hospital.

Hannah stayed behind with Eric.  My In-laws and best friend were kind enough to provide a ton of babysitting so I could be there for my sister and neice for 6 days.

Thank goodness my neice is now in Harborview getting the higher level of care she needs and seems to be on the mend...finally.

I don't have anything really philisophical to say about my week...that will come later.  I am still coming down from the adrenaline and stress.  But she is going to be ok.  And if she is reading this--which I doubt she is-- I want her to know the same thing that I said to her the day I arrived:

Sweetheart, there is NO-THING, nothing in this world that would make me stop loving you the way I do.  My love for you is unconditional.  My hope for you is great and I know you'll heal in more ways than one. Just know that I am here for you, no matter what the circumstance.  I love you.  Always.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Posting About Nothing...Almost

I have no real agenda for this post, I guess I just want to ramble on.  I might even get to a point or two.  We'll see.

I still have all six Champagne D'argent kits.  They are about..I don't quite know..8 or 9 weeks old now.  I have yet to sell even one single baby.  I will be keeping one of the females--I think-- for a future breeder because her Mom is just really phenomenal.  Her kits are uniform size, and she's got an amazing amount of milk to feed her babies.  Plus she has been a wonderful Mom since the beginning.

I am hoping she passes on those traits to one of the two doe kits in the group.  I have my eye on the larger of the two doe kits.  But I will post some pics to a message board and get some more expert advice about the quality of the two an make my choice from there.

My California doe, who is infertile, will be dinner in the next couple weeks.

So, anyway my Champagne doe just had another litter.  There were only four, but they are getting huge fast and they are a rainbow of colors.  The sire if this litter is my own Buck, a Broken Red New Zealand.  I've got one black kit, one orange kit, one kit that is called "tort", and one broken blue...or could be a broken chestnut.  I suck at the whole color-genetic stuff with rabbits, it can be very complex.

I've been very productive today.  Got three, nearly four, loads of laundry done, folded and put away.  Honestly I really am patting myself on the back for that.  LOL.  I hate folding the laundry.  Washing, drying and putting away is alright in my book.  But the folding part is what I tend to procrastinate on.

I also cleaned out Hannah's closet.  When we moved in we kinda just threw a bunch of stuff in there.  It had boxes of baby clothes, toys, her baby car seat/carrier, a pack-n-play and some miscellaneous crap too.  I got it all out, put a bunch of it in the garage (that got properly put away too).  Then I finished sorting through her dresses, boxing old ones up and putting that way.  I then sorted her shoes and finally vacuumed the floor in the closet.

Oh yeah!  Nearly forgot this.  As I was vacuuming I realized how bad the out flow air smelled.  Ugh.  OK-- you know what a dog smells like when it has kinda yeasty ears?  Well it has that odor.  And it has the smell of a dog that goes swimming a lot but never shampooed.  That's nasty too.  And the air also smelled like basement.  So, my vacuum smells like a basement-living-dog-that-drown-but-had-an-ear-infection.  Hmmm, so lovely!  How do I get rid of the smell?  I'm guessing Google, or Bing, will be my friend sometime today.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

True Comedy; Stupid Things I Have Said ~ Episode 1

Yes, I am changing things up here for today.  I just was reading a conversation on a message board about the really stupid things people have said or done. 

I'll share mine here because:
......1) I've said and done a LOT of stupid things.
......2) I think it would be fun to have a series of these things for you to read
......3) Yes, you should feel special that I'll share.

This very first incident happened to me when I was 20.  I was working as a Registered Nursing Assistant in my family-owned Adult Family Home.  An AFH is a small nursing facility in a home setting where you can have up to 6 elderly or disabled adults living.  Nursing care is provided up to very high levels of medical care and even until the patient dies, if requested.  The family of the residents are encouraged to come often and they did.

One particular patient had a son that I would often chat with, as over two years we saw him a lot.  I'll call him "Gruff".  Gruff liked dogs and did bird-dog training, so we had a lot in common.  We often chatted about dogs, training, gear and the like.

One hot summer afternoon Gruff came to see his Dad.  He walked in, I said my hello, had some small talk.  Normally what I would wear on the job didn't even matter, but for this story I'll tell you I had on jeans and a regular tee shirt.  I looked very normal that day.

About half an hour later Gruff came back out, and told me he was going to the Pharmacy to pick up some vitamins and such for his Dad.  He'd be back in a while.  Ok, see ya later. 

A few minutes later I did a round of checking the resident hall way, I went down, checking on everyone.  When I no sooner stepped into the hall when the smell hit me.  Ok, so being a caregiver I had cleaned up a lot of poop.  Lots and lots, and so not such a big deal to me.  I knocked on the offenders door, she was a cute old lady, but had some dementia issues.  This was to be the worse BM "accident" I had ever dealt with.  Poop was all over the bed, sheets, blankets and HER!  It took me over a half hour to clean everything up, strip her bed and get her into the bathroom so I could clean her hands and wrists.  Nasty.

I don't think I really need to tell you this, but I will anyway.  When you spend that much time in a closed room with poop, the smell gets into your sinuses and often takes half the day to leave completely.  That means, for the next several hours, no matter what you are smelling, poop is part and parcel of that experience.  Fun huh? 

...So when I kept smelling poop I didn't think too much of it, except when I went to go use the bathroom myself (No, just to pee), I saw a blob of poop on my jeans!!  No wonder the smell was so persistently following me! 

I raced down stairs to where my Mom lived, not as a resident -- she was half owner of the AFH-- her job was Care Manager and was the LPN on staff.  So she lived there.  I needed clean pants.  My dear Mother offers me some of her leggings. the time I wasn't fat, but my Mom is about three inches shorter and a lot more slightly built than I.  So her leggings fit me only because they were stretchy.  They were capri's on me, not on her, I stretched them out really bad.  I looked like what was just stuck to my jeans. Crap.  Plus I had a tee shirt on that didn't cover my butt, so I had black, stretchy, thin material covering my bootay, and the lovely panty lines to top off my look.  Being 20 this mattered a whole lot to me!!  But what could I do?  I had to wear them, it was my only option.

I went back upstairs, and by this time it was lunch and I was super busy.  I tried not to feel self conscious in my leggings, but I did.  After lunch I got all our residents back to their rooms for their naps, phone calls, toiletings and the normal stuff I did daily.

--Another side note into the life of any one in the medical field.  We have laws called HIPPA, in a nut-shell they are the laws that say you cannot talk about a patient with anyone, give any personal information such as names, birth dates, ect.  I knew these laws and tried hard to follow them.--

About the time I was supposed to be taking a break, Gruff came back from the Pharmacy with his dad's stuff.  It had been probably about an hour and half since he'd left.  To my horror he looked at me a little odd -- Yes he noticed my pants.  I'm sure my face was pretty red, but to his credit he didn't say anything.  I got slightly flustered.

Right about that time I got a call on our monitoring system that another resident needed some assistance.  I ended up following Gruff down the hall.  As we entered the hall way he goes, "Whoa!" and waves the air.  Yep that much time later the smell still lingered.  I always wanted to keep things clean at the AFH, and the smell and his reaction compounded my flustered feelings all the more.

My mind raced to find a good explanation to the unpleasant odor, as I felt like he would think I wasn't doing my job since it smelled bad.

"Someone had an accident, thats why I had to change my pants!". 

There!! I brilliantly not only explained the smell, but in one fell swoop I got to tell him why I was wearing these horrible pants.

Well..except his reaction and my own realization of what I said happened about the same time.  As he did an about-face, snapped around and looked at me, his head cocked to the side, with a clear expression of disgust.  Yeah at that same moment I realized he interpreted my comment like this:

"I crapped my pants and had to change them, so that's why it stinks in here."

And I thought I was flustered before.  I don't remember exactly what I managed to stammer out as, yet another, explanation. Something like, "umm...I didn't mean me, I meant, someone know? I can't say who...but not me..really." 

Gruff didn't say a word, which made it worse.  He just turned around while I was in the middle of my stammering, red faced, inferno of embarrassment.  And he just walked away.

And my Brother-in-Law heard the whole thing on the monitor.  He yelled down the hall way: "Just shut-up Jamie before you make it worse!!"  Thank you Andrew.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Off The Cuff

OK, so I have figured out why I couldn't edit properly.  I needed to upgrade my editing tool for blogger...did that and now, as I type this, it looks totally different.  That's cool though.  I didn't really want to abandon my blog.

This post will probably be quite hodge-podge and random, so just warning you....

I have been very tired today, exhausted really.  There's no good reason for it.  I only did regular things, cleaned one of my bathrooms, got my floors cleaned, cleaned the bird cage, made dinner, did some laundry.  Nothing extraordinarily busy.  And I am pooped.  And in a lot of pain.  That's kinda weird too.

I want to ask a question though, to those of you with children: If someone you knew saw your child doing something they shouldn't or something inappropriate, would you want that someone to tell you about it?  I'll answer that for myself.  If Hannah was doing something socially unaccepted or wrong and I didn't see it I would certainly want a responsible adult to tell me.  So, FYI, to "you" out there--If my kid is doing something you don't like, please tell me.  Yeah I know, as promised this is really random.

OK on to another topic.  Rabbits.  I have 6 rabbits for sale, though probably only 5 because I will probably eat an adult doe I have and keep one baby doe back from this litter for later breeding.  I have a Californian doe that I've bred twice and she doesn't seem to get pregnant.  This is a doe I bought with registration papers, and was a "proven" mother.  I'm beginning to think I was taken by the breeder.  She isn't getting pregnant.  She either produces or I eat her.  She's not a pet (mostly because I really dislike her temperament, she's more skittish than wild rabbits).

So, let me start over, I have five baby rabbits for sale and have gotten only a handful of inquiries about them.  I will continue to feed them for another month or so and butcher them, or whatever is left over if sales pick up a bit.  Not such a bad deal with rabbits you either get cash in hand or you can eat them.

When at dinner tonight Hannah started talking about this "baby bullet" thing.  Took me a few minutes to realize she was talking about this: Baby Bullet Food System. LOL.  The NOT funny part was when she said, "Mommy will you get that for our new baby?".  Ughhh....tears.  I turned my head away so she didn't see my reaction--but it hurt.  A lot.  I thought about telling her about the miscarriage, but of course using age appropriate explanation. But I couldn't do it.  I don't know if it's better to leave that alone or to tell her the baby isn't coming after all.  I guess time will tell.  For now I chicken out and avoid the topic.

On that same line of topic--I really want to be pregnant again.  I didn't know how long it would take me to feel like that again. But, surprise!  Not long at all.  This feeling may go away and come back later, I really don't know.  This is all uncharted territory for my heart and brain.  Also if I get pregnant soon then I can avoid telling Hannah that there's no baby coming.  But more than that is that I just really want to start over and have another chance.  I have fears of another miscarriage, but right now, sitting here, it's a chance I can totally take.  Ask me tomorrow if I still feel this way, you might get a totally different reaction.

I have a tendency--in my way of dealing with bad things--to try and "move on" way before I am really emotionally capable of doing so.  My mind tells me to suck it up and get on with my life, but my heart drags along behind kicking and screaming.  The bad thing is I don't hear my heart until I'm in the middle of an emotional eruption that I can't control.  It's not a very good scene.  I hope that is not what I am doing now, but it's really hard to recognize it. Grrrr!!! why can't I be easier to read?

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

What Does Real Gratitude Look Like?

~~I've been thinking a lot today about gratitude. What does it look like? What does it feel like? And noticed that when I am thankful or feeling gratitude I often feel differently depending on what I am dealing with at that time. Does that make sense? I hope.
~~Specifically speaking, I'm talking about God and my gratitude towards Him. I have heard all my life and recently read in the Old Testament about how different groups of people failed in their gratitude towards the Father. I have always been told, in sermons, by my Mom and others around me that we should be thankful in all things. But what exactly does that mean and better yet when you live that out in your life: what does it look like?
~~About 8 years ago I started, in very tiny baby steps, the beginning of understanding of what gratitude really is. It started when I was able -- for the very first time in my entire life -- to really forgive someone for a huge failure to me. We are not talking small potatoes here. We are talking a life long pain that had been inflicted upon me from early childhood. I carried that into my early adulthood. That pain morphed into a lot of negative things. Hatred, anger, apathy, disrespect towards this person, among other symptoms. I carried this burden for a long, and very painful time.
~~God worked a miracle for me in a very short amount of time. Through a book and through some study with my Mom, and through my thoughts during about three weeks, God took my heart and mind and changed a part of myself that I thought I would always carry. When I say it was a miracle I really mean it. I could not possibly have done this for myself, nor could any other human being even start to make that change inside me. A light shown into my heart and mind, and God showed me that He loves this person, He showed me how He loves me and has always loved me. In this time I realized how much gratitude he deserved because I was able to see that who I was becoming was what God had intended all along. And with all this miraculous change inside me, I was able to forgive this very deep hurt. It was and still is true forgiveness to this person. To this day I still do not carry that burden, as this wasn't a temporary change.
~~Fast forward to this time in my life. My growth in the area of gratitude has had it's ups and downs. And, quite honestly, more downs than ups. But I can't ever forget how I was able to forgive and see how God loves me, and how I learned to be grateful to Him. In fact, that is one huge thing in my life that keeps me going in difficult times.
~~Recently Eric and I have gone through a lot of hard times. Most recently has been a string of deaths, of course including the miscarriage. When my dog, Foenix, died I can recall that I was able to "praise Him in all things and circumstances". And I really did. I remember just after my dog took his final breath, and I was sobbing in my husbands arms and over my dog, and I was silently thanking God for all the good in my life, the opportunity to have a dog like Foe, and thanking God that I can count on Him to open another door for us. And I also prayed that He would show me the way and the lessons I needed to learn. It was so hard to not go numb in that moment and completely wallow in my sorrow (no, that came later). I chose to praise God and thank him.
~~Which, of course, brings me to the miscarriage. When I chose to pray and praise God in this time it did feel different than at any other time. And because I didn't immediately feel closer to God I started to question if my gratitude was real. Was I just saying the words or did I mean them?
~~I don't know if I really have fully answered that question. But I did come to some better understanding that I feel is important enough to pass on to whomever chooses to read my blog. I think that I have realized is that gratitude feels differently because situations and reactions are always different. And I think more importantly than getting that "warm-fuzzy" feeling is that I continue to attempt to remain faithful to God in all things. As long as I pursue God in this way, and I am being sincere I know that whatever comes of it isn't going to be failure. God will continue to grow me and, even when I fail at my faith, he never falters and always brings me back.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Thoughts From Today

First off: I have been seriously considering abandoning this blog. Since I don't do the same kind of dog training I used to. Secondly, the dog that prompted me to start this blog is now dead. Thirdly (is that a word?), for some reason I'm having a lot of trouble getting my posts to publish and when they do the paragraphs aren't double spaced and I find that really annoying! ugh!
I'd like to start a new blog, I don't have a theme in mind. I suppose it could be just about my life, my growth in my Faith, and my family. That really doesn't sound so interesting to me. Just something I need to consider.
Today I talked to several people about the miscarriage. I finally talked to my Mother In Law, my sister, Lola, and my good friend Rachel. Funny how you get such varied reactions and comments. From my MIL I got some tears and she is such a good listener too. From my sister I got some good comments, and some good listening. But that conversation was more matter-of-fact, and in some way that felt weird to me....I guess I was looking for a bit of a pity party. Not saying she didn't sympathize with me--she did. I need to work on my 'expectations' of others. I find all the time, the older I get the more I need to work on those small, yet very real negative things about my personality.
I feel sad right now. Very very sad. A thought occurred to me about 20 minutes ago and shocked me a little. My heart told my head very clearly, "I miss my baby". I don't miss being pregnant. My husband mistakes those two things. When I told him I loved this baby already he said, "You mean you loved being pregnant?". NO. I love(d) this baby. He said, "OK...". He doesn't get it. *sigh*
This pregnancy was hard on me and my husband. Those 2cc progesterone shots were painful for me and nerve wracking for him to give to me. My entire hip area across my low back was patches of swollen, itchy, numb and painful skin. After I stopped taking them about three weeks ago my low back/hip area still is painful to an extent. Not to mention the numerous trips to the clinic, the ultrasounds, the drugs (I was on three not including the progesterone).
But really I didn't mind that much, because I was pregnant. My other problems seemed to diminish easily. Nothing mattered much to me except I was thrilled we were going to have another baby to love. I found myself being a better person to others around me. Funny how things can go completely opposite in a short time.
How opposite? Well, get this! When I finally was able to beginning accepting the baby had died, at that time MY problems got so large that NO ONE ELSE'S PROBLEMS mattered. At. All.
I felt mean. And I was mean. Not so much outwardly, though some of that too, but inwardly I had some dialog that was really not how I normally think. All around me people's lives were still being lived and along with that there were problems. Normally I am a responsive person to others, but not at this time. Nope. I really didn't care, and I didn't want to hear it. Because I couldn't pretend that I thought there problem was bigger than my own. Not only that but I really COULD NOT handle the added stress of other peoples problems at that time.
Don't feel great in your relationship? Oh yeah? Well my baby died and is still inside me. I'm only waiting for the inevitable time when my body expels it. So yeah, your issue isn't so bad.
Feel like your parents didn't treat you exactly as they should have? Well at least you survived to tell me how terrible they were. My baby didn't even have the chance to know what a parent was.
Mean huh? Yeah I know...I am ashamed of that. The pain was and still is very raw. Though I am now back to being more in-tune to my family and friends. I really don't ever want to feel that way again.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Hope Is Still Alive

But, not our baby. Baby died at about six weeks gestation. After all I explained in my last post we did finally get to see the yolk sac and fetus inside. It was real. In a way that makes me very happy to know that it was real. I suppose in some strange way it legitimizes the sorrow we are feeling.
My sister, Heather and her two girls, Lexi and Kiley came to visit from Ohio for the past two weeks. In fact, they just left this morning. Our visit was extreme in several ways. Extremely fun, extremely exhausting, and extremely stressful.
I had been spotting for a couple weeks before they came. I started period-like bleeding within a few days of then arriving on the 2nd of July. We made a whorl-wind trip to see our Grandmother and I felt like crud the whole time. Cramps and increasing bleeding. Mercifully we had booked a Motel and I didn't have to stress out about what was happening while pretending I was cool and collected at Grandma's house. I found it easier to deal with in a Motel. I don't know why.
When we got back from Grandma's house my husband was leaving on his "Guy's Trip". An annual pilgrimage to the sand dunes of the Oregon coast. They ride motor cycles and quads and have a sweaty, good old time for four to five days. I didn't want him to go. I was having increasing anxiety about what I was about to face. The inevitable expulsion of the baby we hoped so much for. I was really freaked out about this.
So Eric left. And I had to put on a brave face for our guests and make sure my own daughter and my sister's daughters didn't have to face my very adult problem. I knew that I had to make sure this wasn't on their shoulders. I guess I did OK with it. Though at times I was really bitchy....sorry but there's no other word that applies. I was tired, in pain and scared. Not to mention I had to deal with our daughter 24 hours a day with no break for over a week, all the while entertaining my out of town family members.
For me this baby was real the very second the home pregnancy test came of miraculously positive. I smile as I type this. The joyful feelings are still strong and a fun memory. I can say with certainty that I already loved this baby, for looking at my three-and-half-year-old made me know all the fun, love and change that was in store for us. I am so ready for that again. My love for my living child makes me love the lost one all the more.
I am blessed to be able to love like this. Thanks to God.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

i just

OK...I just tried to post and it won't allow me to post this....arghhhhh!!!

A Very Hard Time For Us

I guess I'll begin at the beginning. My last post announced my pregnancy. That was on the 31st of May.
I am pregnant...I think. Really I'm not sure. Until yesterday I thought I had a seven week old fetus growing happily and healthily inside my uterus. But that was yesterday.
I was diagnosed with low Progesterone (the hormone that keeps your uterine lining in place to feed the potential pregnancy, when it gets low that is what triggers your menstrual flow). I have been on oral progesterone and injection progesterone, plus a drug called Metformin to lower my insulin. These are all common drugs to be on when you are pregnant and have PCOS.
It's been quite the roller coaster. I have been prescribed 2cc's of injected progesterone once a day. it hurts a lot to get these shots in my butt!! Not only does it hurt getting them but it hurts my whole backside...I'm numb with patches of itchy painful spots. Not fun, but I am willing to do that because it's what my Doctor says I should do to keep this pregnancy. Not really a big deal in the end.
My hCG quantities have been rising steadily and appropriately, signaling a healthy developing fetus. I have been so excited every time I get that phone call saying "The quantitative hCG is 162." The next week it was in the 3000 range and the next week in the 9000 range. This week it should have been about 30,000.
Yesterday I went in for my first ultrasound that would show us the tiny heart beating of the baby my husband and I helped create. This was a trans-vaginal ultrasound. Not fun, but any discomfort was put aside with the excitement of seeing that tiny fluttering movement of the heart, and to see the tiny little bean of a human inside its protective sac.
We saw the my cervix, we saw my uterus, we saw a sac. We didn't see a baby. Just an empty sac with nothing inside to indicate a life. Empty.
I knew right away too, my brain went into survival mode and I couldn't really feel anything, but listen to the Doctor as he probed deeper to get different angles of the gestational sac. At first he told us that it was only measuring 5 weeks but then on a different angle it measured a more normal 7 weeks. But at no time did I see any little bean, let alone a heart beating. And the Doctor was quiet. He told me to take a break and to go use the restroom so I did.
When I came back he repeated the entire thing. Still nothing. He told us that in about 85% of patience at this place gestationally he sees the baby and its heart beating away. So that leaves us in the possible 15% or so chance that there IS a baby but he just can't seem to find the right angle to detect it. He said we'd do some blood work and see what the hCG was, that should give us more information.
I got a call about 4pm yesterday saying my blood work was around 9000 last week and should be about 30,000 this week but it was only 16,000. More devastation. This has been a really hard 24 hours for my husband and I.
It seems our baby has stopped developing. We don't know when though. I've done some research in this and it seems this type of miscarriage is very common. It has a name too. Blighted Ovum. I don't have a baby I have a Blighted Ovum.
Now...because I am a hopeful person..I have some thoughts on this bad news. First...we could be in that 15% range that I really am pregnant still. Oh! And one more thing...I have thought all along that my due date is about 7-8 day past when they calculate that I ovulated. So the baby might well be a week or more younger than they predict. I keep very good record of when I ovulate and I nearly always ovulate a week or more past "normal". And the hCG doesn't always go up according to the perfect little chart. And miracles do happen. In fact, this baby is one of them already even if it isn't alive any more. So there! Take that pessimistic side. Take that scientific researcher side. Take that 'I just want closure and to move on' tendencies.
We have another ultrasound scheduled for Friday. We'll see then...oh and more blood work.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

After my last post....

....I'm pregnant. LOL!!!

Saturday, May 28, 2011

More New Directions

Since my last post was so much about my feelings about Foenix's death, I think I'll stay off that topic for this post. Except to say I found it really helpful to write that all out. So, to those who read it, thank you.

I started this blog soon after I found out I was pregnant with our daughter, Hannah. Since then Eric and I have had a lot of growing up to do, and some stretching of our relationship, some really hard moments and some excellent ones too.

For over a year now we've been trying to get pregnant. Well, as you can assume, we've had no luck. I have been going to a new Gynecologist who has a specialty in the Endocrine system and is fabulous at diagnosing infertility issues.

I have since been diagnosed with Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome. Basically my hormones are all out of whack and I don't ovulate normally. My Insulin levels are high and so is my Testosterone. The other hormones seem to be OK. I am on two medications at this time. One is Spironolactone and the other is Metformin. I just started on the Metformin.

I have to work up to a dose of 2,000 mg. of Metformin over a month's time. Oh boy is this drug living up to its reputation to kill your GI tract. I have been sick for about three days. I started my first dose of one 500 mg pill once in the morning. Per my Doctors orders I had to up the dose to two 500 mg. pills a day -- one in the AM and one in the PM. Ugh!! I feel like I have severe morning sickness, plus, its messing with my lower GI tract as well. Running to the bathroom is literal for me now. No more casual, "oh let me just run to the restroom." Nope. Now it's, "Oh Lord, please let the bathroom be empty, and please don't let the next person going in see who came out." Yep. Nice huh?

So this drug is supposed to lower my insulin levels and therefore make me ovulate at a more normal time in my cycle. See, I DO ovulate. I just ovulate late. I am about a day 21-er of my cycle, not a more average 12-16 day ovulation.

Oh that and....that my husband was on a medication that caused some fertility "issues" as well. Then his ignorant Doctor had the audacity to argue that the drug would help that area of our our lives. Needless to say we are no longer patients of hers. She's a dud. Not a dude, a dud. This isn't her first time of misdiagnosing issues either. She diagnosed Eric with a pulled groin muscle when he actually had a pretty large inguinal hernia. Yeah nice, right? This misdiagnosis cost us close to a thousand dollars out of our pockets and took about 8 months to get the real diagnosis. He's since had surgery to fix it. Because I'm not in the very best mood right now I have the urge to say who this "doctor" is. But I know it's wrong of me to feel that way, and would be even more wrong (wronger?) to do it. So, I won't.

So we are also waiting for Eric to get his system back on track before we can get pregnant.

Oh got a really bad wave of nausea...I think I'll stop now and go lie down, or is that lay down? Don't correct me. I don't really care. :P

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

New Directions

Last time I blogged was almost a year ago, it was in June 2010. Since then my life has made some dramatic changes. Some good, some not so good.

First we are blessed to live in my Hubby's Grandparents house. Both Grandma and Grandpa passed on last year. It was really, truly a privilege to get to know them and spend the time with them I was able to. After Grandma feel and broke her arm I was able to come and do some care giving for her. That was really an amazing time for me. I learned a lot about them both and my love for them deepened even more. I miss them so much.

Eric, Hannah, and I are blessed to be living in this home. We've been here about five months now and love it.

I started a new animal venture! I am now raising meat rabbits for our consumption and to sell a few buns to those who like rabbit. It's fun so far. I started off with a breeding trio: young Satin buck, one NZ doe and one Champagne D'Argent doe. Of those first three I only have the Champagne left. The other two are sitting in my fridge as I type this. I am cooking them tomorrow.

Here is the recipe I am going to use: http://

I am so excited to try rabbit for the first time. Tonight I prepped an 8 quart cast iron dutch oven (inherited from Grandma Kay) to cook the meal in. Rabbit meat is high in protein, and very low in fat and cholesterol. And apart from that they are the least expensive meat to raise. They also have the best meat-to-bone ratio of any modern livestock.

I still have three rabbits though. Last week I went and got two new rabbits: one broken-red NZ buck and one Californian doe. The doe is bred and she is a good mother, and has had several litters of babies already. My Champagne is a first time Mommy and I don't know how she'll do. I see she has a baby bump though, she is due to have her kits in about a week.

I started considering raising rabbit since I can no longer have chickens. I sold my flock several months before we moved. I wanted to keep raising animals for my family-- odd as it may seem raising meat for my family satisfies me in a really good way. I love the idea that I know exactly where, how, when the meat came from. I also wanted to raise rabbit to feed to my dogs, mainly Foenix who always seem(ed) to be having some G.I. issues.

That brings me to the biggest change as of recently. 8 weeks ago I had Foenix neutered. The very next day he developed the first outward signs of Peri-Anal Fistulas. They progressed rapidly and I put him to sleep on a Tuesday. These words I just typed are surreal, even yet. My dog is gone. I have not gotten up the courage to pick up his ashes at the Vet...I keep putting it off, I dread the feelings of loss and emptiness it gives me. I miss him-- sometimes I hate words because "I miss him" does NOTHING to convey how that feels. I hate talking about him with anyone because, inevitably, they pat me on the shoulder, give me a sad look and say they are sorry. And I appreciate their thoughts. Kinda.

I feel an inward numbness most of the time, but when I am NOT feeling numb I am sobbing my eyes out. I am a seriously ugly crier. Yet even the next day, after the dam has broken on my mourning, my eyes are so swollen I look like I've been in a fight, but without the bruises.

I want to tell people somehow that he was more than just my pet. I loved my dog and he loved me. He was also my working partner and proof of my skill as a Trainer. He assisted me with so many dogs I've trained, he was invaluable to me in that way. I have lost not only my dog, but an instrument of my profession, a teacher, and a friend. I just wish I didn't have to tell people this, I wish they just knew it. But, they don't, and, while its not their fault there's a sense of festering frustration about that.

What good is saying you're a concert pianist if you don't own a piano? What good is it to be a chef without a kitchen? See what I mean. But his loss is so much more than a bad hit to me as a Trainer. It's that we were so bonded and I loved him and he loved me. And I miss the light in his eyes, and I miss the silly games we played, and I miss spitting water at him, and I miss preparing his food at night, and I miss his large presence in my house, and I miss the secure, safe feeling he gave all of us, and I miss hearing him walk around, and I miss seeing him out of the corner of my eye and him noticing I am looking at him and him wagging the end of his tail acknowledging the attention.

Every day I know the space between us gets bigger. Every time I sweep my floors, do laundry, or clean my car, his hair and nose prints on the windows slowly get erased. I used to curse his hair all over the place. And now each time I empty the dust pan or lint trapper in the dryer I know that I just get that much closer to the day that I no longer have recent proof of his presence with me. That sounds silly. But it's how my mind works right now. Saying "i miss him" doesn't even begin to tell the story.