Just Another Girl Who Loves The Ocean

3 months

2012-01-21T00:12:00.000-08:00

My little girl is growing up way too fast, guys. I know its cliche but, damn, this growing up stuff goes really fast.

So what's new in the life of Willow? Well, she smiles all the time, laughs when I kiss her chin, only wakes up once during the night (score!), can grab things pretty well, is rolling over from her belly to her back and loves, loves, loves her feet. . though she has trouble reaching them.

We've officially switched from disposables to cloth, which is hard work since we only have 6 of them. I have to do laundry about twice a day, sometimes three times. We totally had money for them and then the break pads on the car went all wonky on us and life pooped on our faces-- but, we're saving up for them. Again. For, like, the fifth time. But, that aside, they're great! They're soft and chemical-free and they make me feel kind of self-important.

She's in 0-3 month clothes now, all cute and chunky. Her pediatrician says she's just under the 50th percentile in both height and weight, so she's short like me and skinny like. . . neither JP or I.

I'm working on getting a job. It's proving to be sort of tough because I need to write up a business proposal, a newspaper ad, a insert etc., but I just don't have time! It's coming though, and I'm better at it than I thought I would be.

Hm. That's about it. Sorry, nothing too interesting.

religiousity pt. 2

2012-01-15T17:26:00.000-08:00

Ok, where was I?

Ah, yes. So, this whole time I had been struggling with the a fore mentioned things there was something else that I struggled with, but mostly subconsciously. In conversation and in my head, being raped by my youth pastor made me stronger as a person and as a Christian. That was half true. It did make me stronger as a person. It forced me to figure out who I was by throwing me into situations I never would have encountered in my sheltered life. I didn't automatically trust anyone, and I didn't trust anyone who automatically trusted just anyone. . . I suppose it made me jaded and cynical, but that look works on me, ok? The fact that I never took anyone at face value anymore made me question pastors, teachers, and ultimately Christianity. I honestly believed that my rapist had a connection with Jesus, yet he did awful things. This led me to believe that Christians are more likely than anyone to be screwed up because they want all their other Christian friends to think that they're good Christians and holy and all that shiznit. So, by that logic, most if not all Christians harbored some secret life that they needed to hide to keep up their current life, but most non-Christians didn't give a shit what people thought about them and "sins" weren't sins to them, so they were free to show their real self to people. I realize this is some major all or none thinking, but I still believe it's true, just to a lesser scale.

To clarify, I know lots of religious people that I respect. Some are Mormons, others are Christians and a few are Catholic. The thing that sets these people apart from most religious people I have met is that they're real and outsiders in their own religion. They're the first to admit their lives are not perfect, they indulge in things like cigarettes or alcohol or craaaazy unorthodox thinking. They're normal people. They're not Christian or Mormon with a shot of regular human, they're humans that believe in something bigger than themselves.

That was the big deal breaker for me. And who can blame me? You get fucked over by someone you trust, you hate everything they believed in (pun intended). That's the way it goes. If anyone looks down on me for not being a Christian anymore, I seriously think I have the best "excuse" ever.

So, I knew I didn't want what I had but I didn't know what I did want. That all changed when I started going to college. I saw so many happy, well adjusted people that were different religions or no religion at all. They weren't mentally whipping themselves for every sin they committed like a bulimic for every calorie she consumed. They were happy being themselves, warts and sins and all, and for once, I wanted to just be happy. Not asking for forgiveness for things that were natural and made me happy.

I was still going to church for the semester before I moved to Jacksonville and I felt myself getting even more disenchanted with that whole system. It seemed more and more to be a business that had deviated from the only good things it had in the first place. Jesus was a pretty cool guy according to all accounts in the Bible. Church for the early Christians was getting together at a friend's house, doing some hippie style singing, reading a bit from a few books they all enjoyed, eating and sitting around on throw pillows. Most modern day churches are totally different. They're awkward and forced. You walk into a giant room where you face one man and listen to him give his interpretation of part of a book that doesn't make much sense. There is no discussion. You can't ask him to clarify. You can't holla back at the man.

When I moved away I had a chance to do my own thing without the scrutiny of my parents, which opened me up to a lot of new experiences. I had a chance to go to a party and get shitfaced, and realize the next morning that that was not something I enjoyed. I tried sex, and decided I liked it. I wondered why something completely natural is bad. Why would god put a sex drive in his creation before they supposed to have sex other than to tempt them? What was marriage other than just a piece of paper and a promise?

So that's about it, I think. There's been other little things, but mostly this stuff. Since all this happened I've come up with my own hybrid form of religion that makes me happy. It offers me a sense of comfort and if I don't go to heaven or whatever, at least I didn't spend the 70 or so years I had here on earth miserable and always apologizing for doing things that make me happy. Now, I focus on nature, and take from Wiccan tradition, Native American spiritualism, Buddhism, and a few religions and philosophies. I'm happy. I'm not ashamed of what I believe or who I am or having sex out of wedlock or any of that stuff. I celebrate nature and all it brings with it.

<3

religiousity pt. 1

2011-12-01T20:51:00.001-08:00

I've been meaning to write this blog for a while, all the while promising a few different people (mainly Curtis) that it'll get done, so here goes!

I was raised Protestant. My dad is an ordained minister, and is constantly reading the Bible, making lesson plans for his Sunday school lessons and otherwise spending every second that he's awake doing Christiany things. He enjoys that stuff. It's his greatest pleasure. My mom was raised Orthodox and converted to Christianity in her twenties. She's currently not going to church, but listens to Christian radio all day, reads the Bible every night and very much still believes in Jesus.

I went to Christian school for 9 out of 12 years of high school, and was (for the most part) a dedicated Christian until senior year of high school. That's when things started clicking in my head. I'm sure that anyone looking at this would say that going to college was what changed me, but the wheels were turning long, long before that.

If you look at my older posts, they are extremely religion-oriented, though they start becoming more liberal towards the end. I was genuinely passionate about Christianity.

So, what happened? A number of different things. I'm going to try to go through each one and explain my thought process. This will be fairly detailed, so I'm making it into parts (not sure how many, part of this is going to be a discovery process for me as well).

Ever since I was about 5 I've wondered what kind of shit we (the Christian community) would be in if we weren't the religion. What if Buddhism was truly the only way to heaven? That's always been in the back of my head, but since no one really knows and I was immersed in Christian culture, it never bothered me that much. I chose Christianity, if it didn't work, oh well, I tried.

What really got me to question Christianity itself was the suicide of someone I knew (though not very well at all). It really bothered me that there were no answers. Where did they go? Heaven? Hell? Most people I asked seemed to think it was more likely that they went to hell rather than heaven, and that really bothered me. Because I struggled with depression and suicide for years and knew the complete nothingness that exists when you contemplate taking your own life I didn't think it was fair that a loving god would (probably, since the Bible never says) send someone in that much pain to a place of even more torment. I think it was also selfish, since I wanted to know that if I did feel the need to take my own life it would be worth it. I wouldn't just end up miserable again as soon as I died.

Anyways, I thought that wasn't right. Next, I realized that the majority of Christians did not approve of homosexuality. One of my friends was gay, and I did not like the thought that this person, who was much nicer than most of the people at my church, would go to hell. Why would he go to hell simply for loving? And how can any sort of love amongst consenting individuals be wrong?

I never really questioned my sexuality, but I did know that if I decided that I was a lesbian (I'm not, guys.) I would want a god that would accept me-- as I am, which was what the Judeo-Christian god claimed to do. And I suppose you could make the argument that he does take you as you are, but then changes you to fit his list of rights and wrongs-- which, can be absurd (I realize these are Old Testament rules, but Christians still follow some of those even if they are not in the New Testament).

The whole "why does god allow evil and suffering" debate never really bothered me. It seemed to me that if there was good in the world, there had to be bad, right? Makes sense.

I know that a lot of my blog followers are religious, and this might offend some of you. That's fine. Also, I'm not really looking to debate and I'm definitely not looking for someone to change my mind. I've done my research and I've taken my journey and I've come up with a decision that works for me.

Part two will probably be up in a few days. Maybe a few weeks. Having an infant is hectic.

<3

PS: Would any of you be interested in a blog about different aspects of Christianity as seen through the eyes of an ex-Christian, Pagan? I'm thinking of topics such as speaking in tongues, baptism, witnessing, etc. Leave me a comment and let me know.

one month

2011-11-22T13:53:00.001-08:00

It's been one month and three days since Willow was born. I think we're slowly getting the hang of it. We're forgetting the diaper bag at home less, and when we do forget it, we remember that we forgot it sooner.

Tomorrow her and I are taking our fist road trip, down to Payson to spend Thanksgiving with my parents, uncle and grandfather. I'm not sure how that will work, since my parents are riding with me most of the way (stopping for feedings will be interesting) but it's an adventure, nonetheless.

Lately, I find myself apologizing a lot more than usual. I'm trying to find a job that will be worth it and will allow one of us to be home with Willow at all times and it's taking a little bit of time to do that. We hoped doing surveys online would be sufficient, but I don't have that much time to do them, with the whole running around changing diapers and having a baby attached to me at all times. I'm still going to keep doing that because, hey, money and free awesome shit, but I'm looking for a part time job that will bring in money for, well, something other than just utilities. . . Food would be nice.

Oh, enough of that. Willow's doing great. She's smiling more, staying awake longer and just overall being adorable. She's usually such a easy-going baby. Once in a while she'll be a fussbutt but usually she just smiles and coos and sleeps and eats.

That's about it.

<3

things i never considered before having a baby

2011-11-04T16:38:00.000-07:00

1. How to get a stroller through a door if you're alone.
2. When on a car ride, is your baby sleeping peacefully back there or is something wrong? (Remedied by one of those mirror things, I suppose, but who has the money for that? It's much better to contort in ways that would make an acrobat jealous and then annoy your child until they start screaming. Phew! Safe. Also, I swear, I'm a good driver!)
3. Sleep when they're sleeping really doesn't work. You still wake up every few minutes to make sure they're breathing.
4. Poops can be cute. And hilarious. And even when they happen at the worst possible time ("Really? I just changed you. Twice. And finally managed to buckle you into this contraption that is supposed to protect you. . . If I can ever figure out if I did it right. Fine. Yes, you're cute. Awwwh. Is that a look of malicious contentment? SO CUTE!")
5. Sleep isn't a necessity. People that sleep more than 2 hours a night are wimps. You try being in labor for 35 hours and not sleeping for more than 8 hours in the span of a week. Yeah, I'm a bad ass.
6. It is possible to not have time to gulp down a bowl of cereal.
7. It's possible to have so little time to do things for yourself that you will eat room-temprature mush that may have once been cereal.
8. Taking a breastfed newborn to the store is a lot crazier than you would have guessed. What if they get hungry on the way? a) let them cry. b) pull over and breastfeed in the car. What if they poop on the way? a) let them sit in it (Bad parent! Don't do that. . gross.) b) find a gas station. Change diaper. No changing table? You're screwed. There's the a) the floor or b) your lap. What if they get hungry during your shopping trip? A few, select god-send stores have lactation rooms (which is awkward as all hell, but nice to have) but most don't, so you've got to go to the women's restroom and feed said chitlin in there. Babies eating can be noisy. . How awkward is that? Man, the possibilities of awful are endless. Sometimes things can be done to help the situation, like wearing the baby in a wrap, but then there's the issue of taking it out, folding it the right way (or stretching it across the store and rolling around until it's done right in the case of the Moby ((which I actually love, and so does Willow, but man, that thing is LONG!))) and then learning to maneuver your lady-udders in a way that will allow your child to eat but will not flash the crowd of onlookers who has gathered to watch the show.
9. Where do dads take their daughers to be changed/go potty if they're older if there is no family restroom?
10. How long I would stare at my child thinking "I couldn't have possibly made this".
11. How in love you could be with a tiny, wrinkly, peeling human being who eats, burps, vomits, poops and pees on you.
12. How you won't sleep while she is in case she laughs in her sleep again and you miss it.
13. How even 45 minutes away is torture.

Hey, guys, I love my daughter. She's an amazing little girl. Every day I wonder what she'll be like, cry at the fact that I can't protect her from all the crazy in the world, and marvel at the tininess of every little, teensy bit of her. I worry that one day she'll think that her daddy and I are amazing and that she wants to be like us, and then sometime later she'll realize we're weak, screwed up human beings who don't really know what they're doing at all. I'm worried that she'll get her heart broken, by others, sure, but mostly by me. I worry that I'll make the same mistakes my parents made. . . God, I worry that she'll cry too often or too little or that she'll fall off of something and hurt herself or that she'll be sheltered and pampered too much-- I worry about just about everything, and this little one is only 16 days old.

I'm sure there will be more things that I realize about babies and having them as time goes on, but for now, that's my list.

<3

craziest week ever!

2011-10-27T15:39:00.000-07:00

That's Willow Rae!

Ms. Willow Rae Moyemont-Scarborough was born on October 19th at 12:41 pm. She weighed 7 pounds, 4 ounces and was 19 inches long.

Wow. It's been quite the week. We went to the doctor Monday and were induced Tuesday morning at 12 am. Labor lasted 35 hours and had many, many scary, crazy bumps. I'll post the birth story in a bit, but even though it was rough for a while, we got a perfect little angel from it.

We were discharged on the 21st, and have been settling into life as a family. The first two days at home were a crying contest between Willow and I, to see who could cry the loudest and the most. I think she won. She wouldn't sleep anywhere but in my arms and I had had less than 8 hours of sleep in over 5 days. Phew! Exhaustion. On JP's first night off, I was really excited for him to be able to help and to finally see that I wasn't crazy and she was super fussy at night-- but that's the night she slept all night other than to get her diaper changed and to eat. It figures. She's been great since then though, just sleeping, eating, pooping and exploring the world around her for a few hours a day.

Everyone says she looks just like me. I'll take that. I honestly was kind of nervous as to what she'd look like. Some babies don't look that great their first few weeks of life, and though I'd still love her, I was hoping she'd be cute- and she was! A little cone-headed at fist, sure, but still beautiful, with her daddy's huge eyes, and my, well, everything else (they said it, not me!!).

Life at home is getting a little quieter, but is still hard to adjust to. While I was pregnant I was scared that being alone all day and night (JP works nights and sleeps days) by myself might not help my chances of getting postpartum depression (I had almost every prerequisite). So far, I've scored pretty high (read: "off the charts") on the depression scale but I honestly think most of it is that I'm exhausted. There really isn't anyone around here that can help (or we'll let help) with Willow, but so far we're kind of managing. My mom might come up for a few days, but I'm honestly wondering if that will make things better or worse.

JP is a great daddy. Seriously. From the moment he saw her he fell in love with her. She also acts like she likes him better, but that may be because she gets to see me all the time and is probably sick of me already. He reads to her, holds her, changes her diaper, takes her for a few hours almost every morning so I can get a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep (which works in theory). He had told me that he wouldn't let her wrap him around her little finger. . . Yeah, that's cute. She's already a daddy's girl.

Other than that, there's been some crazy bad things that have happened this week. Mainly- one of my facebook friends decided to submit my facebook statuses (that JP had been updating) and the very first picture of Willow and I to a website called lamebook.com. Not only did whoever this person was not ask my permission, but the website blurred out my face, but not Willow's. This really, really, really bugged me. So much. My opinion is you can screw all you want with me, I don't really care that much, but if you screw with my kid, I will hurt you. I emailed this website and asked them to take her picture down. It took them about 5 days (and two very angry emails!) to remove it from the feed but if you have the direct link it's still there. In the meantime, it was shared/liked/tweeted over 5,000 times. Needless to say, this whole situation makes me livid, and I threatened to sue them and did/sort of am looking into it. I deleted almost everyone of my friends off of facebook, so if I deleted you and you didn't do it, I'm sorry, but I can't take that risk. No one messes with my baby.

So, anyways. I have the cutest baby ever, we're still getting adjusted to life with only an hour or two to do things between feedings/changes/fussing and someone was a giant douche and almost (not quite) ruined the memory of when I first held my daughter.

So- that's that. Love your faces.

<3

Oh, and I'm 20 now.

fourty weeks

2011-10-13T15:18:00.000-07:00

I know I said she'd come early. . but man, was I wrong. Today is her due date, and the little munchkin is showing no signs of budging. In fact, I've been having less contractions now than I did before. Our doctor wants to induce me, which I was against at first, but she seems to think Willow's a chunker (last ultrasound she was in the 75th percentile) and she's concerned about the chances of a c-section. We'll see. . . We'll know more on Monday when we see the doctor again. If everything's a go, we'll have a baby next week, if not before! Hopefully Willow will get sick of it in there and decide she wants to go on an adventure to this crazy new place we keep telling her about (". . . there's ice cream! You can't have any for a while, but it's here. And ponies and fireworks and so much that you'll like!").

As for everything else, it's kind of overwhelming. It's hitting me that not only will we have a baby, a real life baby. . . , but that I'm going to be doing the majority of baby things on my own. JP works nights, so he sleeps during the day, and so far it looks like I'll be the one changing poopy diapers all night, and most of the day except for maybe a few hours when I can get some shut eye. I know, I know, sleep when the baby sleeps. . . But when there's housework to do, and dishes that need to be washed or else you won't have anything to cook on for dinner, things get crazy. Thankfully, JP has two solid days/nights off a week, and he'll be able to take a day or two off when I go into labor. So, yeah, after Willow gets here he'll have to go back to work pretty much right away and I'm going to be left alone with a tiny human. We'll make it, it's just the logistics are fuzzy.

What else? Oh, prep and stuff. Everything's ready for her. Her clothes are washed and folded and we've just got to move some comic book boxes out of the nursery. All that's got to be done is our stuff. Finishing all the pickup and getting laundry 100% done (how is that even possible???) and all that stuff. Which is hard to do since technically I'm supposed to be on bed rest. Since 36 weeks. But, there's way too much to do and we can't afford a maid, so I have to do it. Once in a while I'll get a spurt of energy but mostly it's dragging myself off the couch (hey, I'm not just vegging, I'm actually making money on the couch-- more on that later) and making myself contort over the sink so that we can have clean forks and stuff.

As far as couch-working, we now have internet (huzzah!) and I'm doing surveys and in the process of starting a new blog or two that I want to incorporate AdSense into. It's basically something that I enjoy doing and that makes me some money, which is always really nice. So far, I've been invited to a panel about baby bottles that paid pretty damn well for just me ranting about baby bottles that I really knew nothing about. . So, yeah, that's nice.

I'm sure I'll be updating soon. There will be pictures.

<3

ten weeks

2011-08-04T18:35:00.000-07:00

Just ten weeks of this crazy adventure left! Maybe even less if Ms. Willow Rae decides she's had enough of being in my belly. As long as she's not super early, I would be ok with that. Being pregnant is not fun anymore.

No one tells you that you won't be able to tie your shoes, or that you'll get up to take a shower and be so tired when you get out that you have to sit on the bed for a few minutes. Or that the cute, etherial movements turn into wondering who snuck your unborn baby a toothbrush shank or a flamethrower (in the case of heartburn). Once in a while she'll poke at my belly so hard that my t-shirt lifts up where her arm/leg is and when she puts it back down the t-shirt is still up. This little girl is freaking crazy. I love her so much!!!

Speaking of her being crazy, she already knows how to push mommy's buttons. I've been having some slight spotting (if you don't know what that is, don't worry about it) and I'll call the doctor and the doctor will ask if she's been moving normally. . . Well, yes? I suppose. Maybe? And from then on I'll monitor it, and decide she's not moving as much, probably because she's having a sleepy day but still I'd better go get checked out. So, for the hour drive to the hospital she'll be completely quiet, not even moving a foot. Then we'll get there, they'll strap me into the monitors and BAM! That little girl acts like all I eat and drink are espresso's and king sized Snicker's bars. . . It may just be coincidence, but I say she was listening and waiting. Crazy girl.

As far as when she'll get here, I honestly think she'll be early. Not super early, but a few weeks. She's already been knocking on my cervix asking if she could pretty please be let out, so maybe one of these days she'll figure out how it works. We'll see. Even if she were to be born today, she'd most probably be fine, but I'd like it if she would cook longer. Babies are cuter with more fat on them.

Nesting has officially begun! Even though I was advised that I should probably be on bed rest because of the spotting, I can't seem to stay away from cleaning. Last night, in an attempt to not clean, I was reading wiki articles on how to clean more effectively. Man, I need help. Finally, I couldn't help myself. I switched the laundry, put a new load in and cleaned the toilet. And the sink. And maybe part of the bathtub. But then I stopped! Promise. I felt a lot better, anyways, and no contractions or anything after it so it is possible to take it easy and clean at the same time.

I'm having the hardest time ever with how not everything is ready for her. The nursery isn't even close to being set up (all that needs to happen is some boxes, a desk and a filing cabinet have to get moved out, it has to (maybe, money permitting) be painted, and then all the stuff has to be arranged) and I know it won't take long. . . But I want all her little clothes in their dresser, all her stuff ready, all the painting done, everything. What if she comes early??? I guess she'll have to deal with sleeping in a drawer and only having a bouncer, a stroller and a diaper pad in her name. Oh, and a tub full of clothes. Which mommy hasn't washed yet because baby detergent costs so friggin' much!!

Ok, enough of this. Also, sorry that I haven't been able to talk about anything but babies for a while. Seems that whatever is going on in my life at the time is what I like talking about. Crazy, huh? I promise other stuff will happen on here, but lots of it will still be tiny human stuff, so *shrug* sorry.

Also, this is my cute baby (she's laying on her side so her face is to the right):

<3

109 days left

2011-06-25T22:21:00.000-07:00

Twenty-four weeks, two days and I'm already at the basketball-smuggling stage. No wonder I can't get off the freaking couch!

As of today, there are approximately 109 days of this pregnancy left, which is terrifying! I know I can do it, but wow. . .

Money's really tight, which really stresses me out. We've made it on less before, and even though I'm trying to find a job all the if's and different variables keep popping up in my head.

It feels like we've still got so much to do with the nursery, but almost everything else is done. We're being so responsible! Haha. It's odd.

<3

it's a. . .

2011-06-03T11:14:00.000-07:00

GIRL!!!!!!

Premiering on or around October 13th: Willow Rae Moyemont-Scarborough.

She's beautiful and perfect and I love her already. :]
She was a wiggle worm and we barely got to check out her junk, but there were three little tell-tale lines.

We are sooooooooo excited. She definitely wasn't a boy like we expected (and almost everyone guessed).

Here's her face (btw, her hand is curled right up against it, so it looks all boney):

<3

that's my baby

2011-05-07T13:25:00.000-07:00

This Tuesday, we went for to the OB for a regular checkup. When the OB tried to check the heartbeat with the doppler, my kid kicked her so much that she could barely hear the heartbeat. :]
We find out what we're having March 31st, and I can't wait!! Both of us think it's a boy, so we'll see.
He or she is kicking like crazy, but only I can feel it at this point.
So, yeah, this is a really poopy blog but this mommy's tired.

If you want to guess if it'll be a boy or girl, message me on facebook or comment!

our little bean

2011-03-22T16:29:00.000-07:00

Hello, all.
It's been forever. Forgive me?
Things will be picking up soon though, I promise.
I quit my job sometime in February (maybe mid-February?) because it was getting to be way, way, way too much for me. I really was trying my hardest, but it seemed like every day I would get criticized by my bosses' boss. A huge bitch. I loved my bosss, Wayne, but let's just say there were a few people that didn't understand their place or anything about our jobs- yet they were in charge of us because they were in "management".
So, I come in on a Saturday and she hands me a final warning, makes me cry (wasn't the first time), calls me pathetic, says I only put in half a day's work, so I should only get half a day's pay (illegal-- and by the way, there was NOTHING to do, so I couldn't do anything. I would have loved something to do because I was bored!). Anyways, I quit that day.
Two days later, on account of some rising suspicions on my part, I took a pregnancy test that came back POSITVE! Soooooo. . . I found out I was prego two days after I quit my job, which is both good and bad.
On the plus side, that job was terrible. I had to lift 20-80 lbs. daily, was around harsh chemicals and oils, and it just wasn't a good environment for a growing baby.
On the other hand, money is super nice when you're having a baby. That's what I hear. But, we've been ok, and it's been a few months. I would look for a new job, and I kind of have been but I've got this moral dilemma about it.
I know that once you're working for someone and inform them of your pregnancy- they can't fire you. It's illegal. I get that, but if they knew I was pregnant coming into a job interview, they'd find some other reason not to hire me. I mean, if I was an employer, I wouldn't hire me-- unless it was a temporary job or something extraordinarily shitty like McDonald's. Which was the worst experience of my life. But- if we really need money, I would do again. I'm ok with that. Money is money.
Anyways- I am 10 weeks and 4 days today, and we told my parents at 10 weeks. This pregnancy has been very different from last one.
For starters, we've been to the OBGYN's twice already (not for an actual prenatal appointment, but for an nurse's appointment and an ultrasound) which we kind of put off last time because of insurance issues.
Also, I've had a lot more symptoms, including morning sickness (I only felt nauseous like once last pregnancy), fatigue, and sore boobs. The morning sickness, which was actually at night, was fragging terrible for 4-5 weeks, but it tapered off around 9 weeks. Thank goodness! It was really getting ridiculous. I also had a bad cold at that time, so I'd eat dinner, cough once, phlegm would get stuck in my throat (I know, gross) and that would send me running for the sink/bathroom/garbage can/plastic bag. I only had morning sickness in the morning once, before an appointment. I got up to take a shower, was a tiny bit nauseous and then while I was in the shower it hit me and I puked pure acid. It was lovely.
My belly has also felt a lot harder in the last week or so. I press on it and it's not soft, but sort of like I have a six-pack (but I don't! At all). Which is my uterus growing, which is good!
We got an ultrasound at 8 weeks, 5 days, and I'll post a picture. There was a heartbeat- or else I wouldn't be writing this post.
It has been soooooo nerve-wracking to wait for 5 weeks for another OBGYN appointment. Honestly, if it doesn't go well, I might switch OB's, because it kind of pissed me off that she's waiting that long to actually see me for the first time. We'll see. I just want to know if my baby's ok. That seems like it would be easy to do, and technically part of her job.
JP and I are very excited. We've got boy and girl name's picked out, but I want to wait until we find out if everything is ok before telling everyone the names. Our next appointment is April 5th, so expect an update after that.
Now, for all the haters that kept leaving nasty comments on my Formspring last pregnancy, (not that this is anyone's business, but I don't really care, I was on birth control. This was just one of those flukes, or things, or whatever that just happen. I'm honestly very excited that this did happen and I don't care what anyone thinks. JP and I are happy, stable and yeah. We have a happy little family going already.
So, I have been thinking I may do vlogs on youtube chronicling my pregnancy, but then again, I may not. We'll see. If I do, I will let you know.

merry mundane

2010-12-25T14:44:00.000-08:00

Work, work, work. Two thirty to ten thirty every day. Sometimes I just want to quit, but I hear money's nice. I wish things were easier.
On another note- Happy Solstice, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, and all that. Here's a poem.

Falsies.
Long and dark and dramatic- like us.
Fuchsia and lime green lips open and close
And talk like chocolate pudding.
Our dresses muffle the sound of our
Growling, groaning stomachs
And we pose. Smile.
Clicking pumps against the marble floors
We are goddesses.
We are worshiped in Vogue and Elle
And no one will forget us.
We have been cemented.
Full skirts with floral patterns on our ribs and
Tiny little laxatives in our colon.
We are perfect.
The click, click of the cameras
Reminds us that we are more real than
Those running errands on the streets,
Running around in circles on their feet-
We are worshiped.

good eat enough to eat

2010-08-29T16:23:00.000-07:00

“What cute kids you have!”
Your benign comment rips open the stitches of my cancerous memory wounds
I could just eat them up
devour them,
One by one, with a spork,
Feasting on their adorableness
Shoveling them down my lonely empty gullet
And filling my belly with happy.
Making myself plump with your joy.
What? Is that not the way it works?
Because that’s my first instinct.
I mean, after the one that screams
“I hate you.”
I hate the fact that you have the swollen belly
Of a rambunctious pregnant woman
Who downs chocolate sundaes like Tylenol.
Brimming with life while I sit robbed of that glow
I hate your pristine smile, happy lips,
Bright eyes looking toward whatever the
Future may be for you-
My future was ruined.
I hate how happy you are. What you expect is exactly what I was expecting. Expecting to hold someone closer to your heart than you ever could. Expecting to add one more to your Norman Rockwell scene, painting an entire future in your mind’s eye for a pre-life cookie cutter child baking in your oven.
The pitter patter of undercooked baby batter runs rampant through the empty halls of expecting in my broken hearts shattered memories of expecting
Do you know what loathing is?
It’s seeing your joy, and your offspring springing around and from you, dressed in envy-green jerseys set and ready to play the ultimate game of life, each identical, sporting their allegiance to team Family.
Images of your happy content and ignorantly smug face being boxed and beaten with the sorrow of accident flicker through my mind as I put you in my shoes for an unwanted macabre justice from the unintended unfuture of my own.
Jam it between your finger tips
And up your eyeballs and in your
Hairy cunt.
I want you to know what it’s like
To loose everything- and maybe that way
You won’t flaunt your perfect life
And you’ll slow down and really,
Truly, see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On September 10th, we're having a burial ceremony for Chatham, since that was his due date. We're burying a rosebud and lighting candles, casting circle. . . Hopefully it'll be closure. We're also picking up a baby blanket and giving it to a baby born on the 10th as a way to commemorate him.

<3

dear heart

2010-08-18T20:57:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wish you'd fucking stop beating already, and others I'm glad you've stuck through everything with me.

Today was a hard, hard day. For some reason that I can't comprehend people fall in love with me. A lot.

Naturally, that's appealing, but it's also hurtful.

Sometimes you've got to choose between two people, and that can tear you and those two people apart.
Please tell me I'm normal for being hurt by my own decision. I don't know how my life will end up, and I know there's lots of ways it could, but who's to say one path is better than the other?

It's all so confusing, and I wish there was a roadmap, but I guess winging it will have to do.

I've spent most of the evening crying. Over the hurt I undoubtedly caused others and over the fact that I feel like I've ruined everything.

Two friendships that once were stable are now in shambles because I'm a huge flirt.

:[

fiction, it's been forever

2010-07-17T15:40:00.000-07:00

She went searching for herself at the bottom of a bottle of a thick brown poison advertised at 40 proof, and as she traveled she’d find herself farther and farther away from her destination. Phrases from an Sylvia Plath poem were set on an infinite loop as background noise to inner monologues of failure.

Every night was a new bottle, a new search, and would always seem to end the same, lonelier at a bigger party with more people, smoking this or that in hopes of something real. Rock bottom was where she was headed but she could never hit it hard enough. She’d wake up beside a boy, under a man, a strange room, a new couch, never a step closer to end of a journey, to something real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Will write soon. . . Life moves so fast, I'm trying not to get dizzy as well as hold on. Cool news coming, details soon. :]

<3

melt

2010-03-09T14:26:00.000-08:00

Spring's here.

The drizzle, windy, spotless perfection of it all.

It kind of snuck up on me. I mean, I've been expecting it (more like hoping for it) for about a month already, imagining birds chirping and buds on the trees but. . Finally, it's actually here.

Even though I'm sort of dreading spring, since it was supposed to be when my baby bump was supposed to appear and when all those cute belly-outlining dresses were to make their appearance, I'm still glad it's here.

It just makes me smile.

Lately most days have been spent out on the porch, smoking and talking to the sun, the moon or the trees (once I even tried super hard to light a pine cone on fire with my brain. . didn't work). It's magical.

Sometimes as the nicotine hits my bloodstream and my limbs start to feel heavy I imagine that now that Chatham's gone and become part of the Earth Mother he's part of everything I see. Birds flying around, squirrels flirting, branches waving. . . Oh, I know it's probably silly but it makes me feel better. He's now part of life- in a different way than I had ever intended (or hoped, or dreamed!). But still, he's happy. How can you not be when you skip past the shit of life and head straight for the heaven that is nature?

If I focus really hard, I can drown out the unbearable noise of the buses and cars with the still hum of the earth. Beauty.

So the snow's melted and the flowers are on their way and I'm sitting on the couch heralding them with my clicking words. I do believe this is how life should be lived.

It'll be ok, right?

Yeah, everything will be fine.

Someday.

Maybe Earth's trying to teach me to enjoy the chaos and uncertainty as well as the perfection. There is beauty in pain, you know. Especially when you look back.

I'd even go so far as to say that the greatest beauty is that which has overcome hardship to get to where it is now. Like spring. If it weren't for the death the Earth went through to get to where it is right now- it wouldn't be as beautiful. . in fact, it wouldn't be at all.

<3

un-becoming a mother

2010-03-07T11:52:00.000-08:00

Give me back my baby.

There's baby socks, baby books and a tiny little onesie in our apartment. Sometimes I'll take them out and just cry. I try not to tell JP because he's got enough going on without me being miserable. Alcohol, cigarettes and music are my consolation. . . no- they're my distractions.

It's hard, you know. I mean . . other than how hard you think it may be. It's harder. There were the physical effects, chunks of stuff just falling out, seeing Chatham amidst the bloody mess that was his home, the rolling around the bed crying "Oh God, it hurts". . And there's the remembering.

I was sitting out on the porch smoking and watching the rain and thinking about Mothers Day. When I was pregnant with him, I was super excited anytime someone sent me a "mommy" forward. . and I couldn't wait till mothers day. So- now what am I? I mean, I was a mother, sort of. I considered myself one anyways.

I guess now I'm not a mother. How does one un-become a mother? Not physically, but otherwise. I was a mother, but now I'm not. . . Jesus.

Oh sure, now I can drink again and stuff like that. . but who cares? I complained about it while I was pregnant but the truth is I would give up alcohol forever if I could have him back.

I didn't know him, but he was part of me. It's hard to explain. I's like loosing part of yourself- but even more than that. It's like. . loosing something that's more than just you, that's more than everything good in the world.

Maybe it's because I'm still hormonal, or maybe it's because I'm a jealous bitch, but before the oneness I felt with other mothers (especially ones who were still pregnant) has now turned into this terrible hungry jealousy. It hurts so much. I know it's not- but it feels like they're rubbing it in my face. . . "Look at what I can do. . you can't do this."

And you can't forget. You just can't. The memories you have may not be of the baby's first cry, or their first laugh or tooth. . . but the ones you do have are stuck on repeat. They loop over and over again in your head reminding you of what you've lost.

When a baby arrives,
be it for a day, a month, a year or more,
or perhaps only a sweet flickering moment-
the fragile spark of a tender soul
the secret swell of a new pregnancy
the goldfish flutter known to only you-
you are unmistakeningly changed...
the tiny footprints left behind on your heart
bespeak your name as Mother.

-Kimberly de Montbrun

suicide prevention

2010-03-05T12:07:00.000-08:00

In Illinois, suicide is the 12th leading cause of death. There are almost 3 suicides a day. Those 79 years and older are at highest risk for committing suicide.

Statistics show that suicide is either the 2nd or 3rd leading case of death for teenagers (they're not sure because many times suicide is covered up for the sake of the family as an "accident", which in my opinion is stupid because it screws up statistics- a lot).

Obviously this is a problem. We've got to do something to either fix it or at least alleviate it.

Sometimes it feels daunting in the face of so many suicides and so many people who may be showing heavy depression symptoms, but there are a few things that will help reduce the suicide rate if people take them seriously.

First(and the one I feel is most important) is know the signs! It really doesn't take Sherlock. Depression, apathy, decreased or increased appetite, giving away treasured personal belongings. . . It's pretty easy.

Second, if you notice signs, do something. It may not be "just a phase". And even if it is, what if that's that individuals last phase. Grow up. Don't blame it on their need for attention- if they're so depressed that they are thinking about permanently ending their life there is something that needs to be paid attention to!

Thirdly, many times suicidal individuals don't see death as final. This sounds weird, but stick with me. Every time I've considered suicide I just wanted a way out, but not necessarily death. But I didn't see the difference at that point because anything seemed better than what I was going through. Usually a suicidal person will realize this right after they've done something lethal such as swallowed pills or jumped off the bridge. At that moment clarity sets in and they (usually) realize that life isn't worth giving away for something that will pass eventually. So. . . try to get anyone that you recognize suicide warning signs in to realize this- but don't count on it. It's oftentimes too hard to see in the haze of depression.

Fourthly, do what you think is right based on the situation. There have been people who I've known who go to parents of an individual or bosses and report that that person may be suicidal. Sometimes it is, but sometimes it isn't. In my case- it wasn't. It actually made this a gazillion times worse. Sometimes the right thing to do is go to a teacher or professor, and others it's right to just call the police and report them as suicidal. It all depends on the situation (including personality, severity symptoms/depression, etc).

Fifth, be nice. Don't look down on the person or anything because they're having a hard time. Chances are, if you haven't felt suicidal before, you may in the future, and you wouldn't want someone to think condescendingly about you. Do unto others; just keep it in mind.

For more good stuff (as always!) take a look at .

This website helped me come up with numbers and stuff: http://www.sprc.org/stateinformation/PDF/statedatasheets/il_datasheet.pdf

<3

empty

2010-02-26T12:49:00.000-08:00

The last week or so has been. . . terrifying. I had a miscarriage and it’s just been one blow after another. Between fending off panic attacks and worrying about everything, I thought I’d take time to write a blog. Sort of. More like post a poem and update you guys.

I’m a little worried about my Uncle Jed. I had written him in January when JP and I told my parents that I was pregnant, and he never responded. After three texts and an email he finally said he’s thinking about me and he needs to get to sleep so goodnight. Hmm. The consensus in my brain right now is that he just took the news really badly- worse than my parents did. I would have NEVER imagined this.

On the 12th JP, our friend Gordon and I are leaving for a comicon (nerdy, I know) in Seattle. This’ll be my first time home in about three years, and I’m super excited. We were going to tell my grandparents and great aunt about Chatham (the baby) then, but after the miscarriage I emailed my aunt and told her what had been going on. I expected the usual “Oh, my. I’m sorry” stuff with a little advice or something but instead she said she wasn’t sure whether to be glad or dismayed about the miscarriage. . . . . Umm . . .Why would you ever be glad that someone lost their child? Just wondering.

I don’t know. I guess I was expecting people to be more supportive. Maybe I’m doing something wrong. . . Actually- I’m not doing much at all other than trying to keep sane at the moment. It’s really not easy, and I know this sounds like every other blog I’ve written but it’s true.

Chatham and the idea of having something to protect and be healthy and good for was (I feel) what I needed. I never felt happier in my life. I was eating right (and only complaining a little bit about weight gain) and I was super, super excited. It’s different to get healthy for something outside of yourself. There’s real motivation there. I didn’t want my child to grow up in a home where his parents were too selfishly sick to take care of him or her. I know what that’s like and I didn’t want it for my child.

So, yeah. Anyways, we’re going to Seattle in a couple weeks. We’re doing comicon, my great aunt’s birthday dinner, Bethel (that’ll be interesting!!) and hopefully some sights like the Space Needle and Pikes Place. It’ll be good to be back.
JP and I are also talking about moving away from Springfield. I guess we need a change- or just need to get away from all this familiar business because it reminds us of Chatham. We thought about Seattle, Pennsylvania and basically anywhere else, but right now we’re leaning towards moving in with Gordon and maybe JP’s younger brother Pete somewhere near Jacksonville so I can go to IC for another year. Pete might go to IC, and his decision is mainly influenced by the fact that we’re nearby and that I go there- so he’ll know someone on campus. This would be pretty short term- about a year or so- while JP and I save money to go on a one-year road trip to . . everywhere. While we lived with Gordon and Pete, JP and Gordon would work on their web comic and hopefully get that running.

I know it’s a lot, and probably it’s too much too soon, but it feels like something needs to change.

Anyway, here’s a poem I wrote a couple of days ago. It hasn’t been edited or anything yet.

Empty- different this time.
Instead of stomach growling, contracting, contorting,
There’s nothing where a child once was.
This hurts more.
It’s not self-inflicted chaos to hold myself together,
This is ripping, tearing, searing empty.
Hold my belly and roll around the bed,
Panic, smoking, heavy and worst of all
No closure to this story.
No ending, just a flush of the toilet
And a spiraling grave.
His name was Chatham
And he was perfect.
Empty before my time
And it hurts like hell, girls.
All the baby clothes and tiny socks,
The slings, cribs, sippy cups, maternity clothes,
The floor, the ceiling and Spring-
They all remind me of the empty
That now resides where the full used to
Wiggle his toes, wrinkle his nose,
Thumpthumpthump his heart and then
One day- empty.

refundmania!

2010-02-12T14:49:00.000-08:00

I stopped at the accounting desk to pick up my check today and it turns out they had 4 checks for me. One was my regular work check, and the other three were refund checks.
For the last few weeks I've been really worrying about money and wondering how we're going to go to Seattle and pay for the baby and all that stuff. . . but the fates have been kind and now I've got about 3 grand that will be (mostly) saved!
:]
Yay!

ten minutes of work left

2010-02-08T11:49:00.000-08:00

So, this will have to be quick but I have news.
On Thursday (hopefully!) Chatham or Tally will have their first "baby pictures" taken. We're going to a Crisis Pregnancy Center (story to follow) and they will refer us to a place that has an ultrasound machine.
Now- I called like 2 different hospitals (Memorial and St. John's) and like 50 gazillion OB/GYN's.
Memorial said that they were booked for 2 months. Well, by that time I would have been like 6 months pregnant! That's 2/3's of the pregnancy gone by without any medical supervision.
St. John's was my favorite. I called the obstetrics department and they said (and I quote): "I'm sorry, we're a hospital we don't hire doctors." . . . . . . . . . 'Scuse me? Huh? What? There is not even a smidgen of sense in that sentence.
Anyways- so that left us with trying to find a place that would take just money and not insurance or a medical card for an ultrasound. Until I found out it cost forever and a day . . so, my dad told me about these people connected with the home church he goes to that run a CPC in Jacksonville.
They don't have an ultrasound but they can give us a free referral to one. So- yay!
Using the ultrasound, the doctor can figure out exactly how many weeks prego I am, so I can put it on the Moms & Babies form and finally!!! get insurance.
So. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Other than that things have been good.
I haven't been hungry at all, which has caused my blood sugar to drop a few times, making me dizzy. Whoops. So, I'm trying to eat snacks throughout the day whether I'm hungry or not.
My roommate and I have a Japanese host student that will be living with us for about a month, which will be interesting. We're supposed to do all these activities with them but that will be mostly Mouna's job, since she decided we're getting a host student without asking me. Plus, even though I feel bad for not being around as much as I should be, I really need to take care of myself and this baby. That's my first priority and if anyone gives me shit about it, well, that's too bad. They'll have to deal with it.
So- Hopefully around Thursday you guys will get to see the babies first pictures. Here's a hint: it will look like a blob.

oh, baby

2010-02-02T14:05:00.000-08:00

Woot.
I am pregnant.
About 9 weeks, so far.
My boyfriend and I are super excited, and my parents are slowly warming up to the idea of a grandchild.
You probably already new this. :]
So- yeah.
That's the big news.

the ballad of no-moneyness

2010-01-18T14:39:00.000-08:00

My phone gave up the ghost yesterday at around 1 am.
I cried.
Not only is my phone my life (it shouldn't be, but it is), but it's my alarm clock, password-keeper, friend-connector, email, facebook and. . well, distraction from the outside madness.
Now, I have no phone, and it will take approximately 79 dollars plus shipping to get a new battery, I have no alarm clock (for the time-being) and no way to rant about lack of money to my friends.
Aside from my phone, I have no money for books this semester, because governemnt aid only helps out during the first semester, annnnnd I have an outstanding balance of like -45.something on my bank acount because I went like 3 cents over an app on iTunes (IT WAS A STUPID APP ANYWAYS! :().
Needless to say, my life sucks.
How's your life?

On the upside, the only upside, I'm having dinner with a very nice gentleman tonight, my boyfriend is awesome and I may see Rachel tonight. Oh, and I have no clue where my roommate is. And there's food available all the time- which is making me extraordinarily happy.
But that's it.
And I tend to worry WAY too much about money- and insurance shit which I'm working on at the moment.
Plus, tax day is coming up- and we all know how much Annie hates tax day!

I was trying to think of an inspirational quote to put on my whiteboard today and I couldn't think of a single thing.

Yay life.

<3

today was beautiful

2010-01-10T20:03:00.000-08:00

Hi strangers.
This last week has been incredibly stressfull and full of surprises- but Monday is only two hours away, and with Monday comes a new week.
U2 is playing. My toes are incredibly warm.
Here is something I wrote about a month ago, it's called Jackie.
Next blog will contain important news.

Jackie walked the rocky shore looking for any shells that were more than fragments. Sometimes she’d step on oysters that had burrowed in the ground and they shot water at her. Other times, she’d find pieces of glass who’s edges had been softened by the constant polishing of the water and sand. Those were her favorite. They were green, pink, brown, clear- you could find any color if you were lucky enough. Once she had found a blue one, and had held it up to the sky. The colors had matched, and she had giggled. This just reaffirmed her belief that the sky was part of the ocean, and the ocean part of the sky. Maybe she had come up with that all on her own, or maybe she had read that the ocean would not be blue if the sky didn’t reflect off of it in some science book, but somehow that had become ingrained in her brain. It felt true.
Sometimes things feel true, like marshmallows in hot chocolate, or the sound pine trees make when they wave in the wind. Nothing can persuade you from them; or their essence. Jackie’s dad said that was called god. That he was everywhere and in everything all at the same time.
Jackie bit her fingernails. She’d tried to stop, and her mother had put chilli pepper juice on her fingers to discourage her, but Jackie would always wash it off. Maybe it was a nervous habit. Maybe it was an oral fixation, but one thing that always puzzled Jackie was that every time she was by the ocean she stopped biting her nails. There was no real explanation, nothing about the little apartment her family stayed in while they visited this part of the coast was different from her house. Peddlers still sold crazy knick knacks just outside their door, and fishermen would roll their fish carts around early in the morning and shout out what kind of fish they had. Maybe it was the salt that somehow integrated into her body or the fact that she didn’t have time to sit and chew. But somehow, something was different.
Her hair had a curly, Shirley Templeish look, but it looked unmanageable. There were tiny pieces of drift wood and maybe even seaweed stuck to the back of it. She walked with her stomach stuck out, making her spine curve, and making her seem like she was trying to draw attention to the little tank top with a yellow sun on it that she was wearing. She may have had underwear on, but then again, she liked walking around the house stark naked, so there was a definite possibility that she had none on. You couldn’t tell, though, because the tank top reached to about the middle of her thighs.
Her parents had always had trouble trying to find clothes that fit her right. They said she’d always been small, being born at only 4 pounds 6 ounces and growing slower than normal after that. This tank top was an XXS in child sizes, and their only option was to go to toddler sizes next.
She held one of her hands in a fist, protecting her most valuable shells and pieces of glass, and in the other she carried a sand bucket, partially filled with sand, pebbles and wood, but also dripping water out of the bottom. Every once in a while, when the water stopped dribbling on her toes, she’d walk to the shoreline and dip the bucket in again, making sure that none of her treasures fell out. Then she’d start off again, in a silly little gait that was half run and half walk- kind of a trot. If you had asked her, she would have told you she wasn’t sure where she was going.
She may have said that she wanted to go to the edge of where her eyes could see; to just keep walking and walking until she was at that little point where the land disappears into the sky. That day, she may have just been trying to find a good spot to build a sandcastle. She was never good at making them, because she’d always try to make them too close to the shoreline and they’d eventually be wiped out, but she tried. There were moats and buttresses and when her dad helped her with them, he’d cover her completely up in sand so she’d be a huge mountain range right next to her splendid castle. One buttress was always the tallest, and she never told anyone, but she imagined that that was the princesses room. No one knows why the princess always has to live in the highest room, but it’s true and she always has.
In Jackie’s mind, the princess was dressed in a pink ball gown, with a funny cone-shapped hat on. The hat was pink too. So were the streamers coming from it. The princesses hair was straight and blonde, because Jackie thought blonde was the most beautiful color of hair, and she’d always been jealous of girls with straight hair.
Once in a while she’d bring crackers with her, and munch on them while she dug her toes into the sand as far as she could get them without letting them pop out the other side. Sometimes the seagulls followed her around, and she’d run to try and escape them, but kind of wished they’d come down and be her friends.
Jackie didn’t have any friends, not really. She had a stuffed bear who was a circus bear because she was dressed in a white onesey with different colored polka dots on it. There was also the bear who her parents had taken her picture with when she was just a baby because the bear was bigger than Jackie was and they thought it was funny. If she curled up into a little ball, the bear was still bigger than her. There were also her aunt’s dog and cats.
Animals had always liked Jackie, and she’d never scared any off or gotten attacked by them. Her parents and other adults would warn her to stay away from all the wild animals, but Jackie would always go to them. At times she felt like they were telling her things; stories and secrets. Their eyes were full of something that Jackie couldn’t explain, but she knew it was good- true.

There's an end to this story- I just haven't had the time to finish it. ;]

<3