Peace on Earth, Goodwill Toward Men

Could it be compared to rubbernecking? I don't think so. It's so much worse than a car wreck that you can't quit watching.  It has to be the worst thing I've ever seen unfold. Every day the details become more horrifying. It's not the number of deaths. Shit, we lost THOUSANDS on September 11th.  It's not the shooting spree.  He wouldn't be the first to use a gun as his weapon of choice. It can't be just the age of the children. Look at Rwanda. What seems to be getting me, is just how mean this was. 

And that's the irony here. There is so much cruelty happening and there's so much love happening. I feel like a crazy person watching the news. One minute, I'm weeping over these damn comfort dogs and the incredible kindness of strangers and the next I just want to mow down the fucking Westboro "church". 26 decorated Christmas trees... some asshole setting up fake donation scams. A family coloring pictures on their daughters casket... some douche shoots up China Garden. It's a bit like watching Hallmark commercials during a Horror film. 

It's got me thinking how I've often read and heard about times like these yet I'm not sure I've really understood it in this same way.  I think Charles Dickens put it pretty well in A Tale of Two Cities, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way".  He figured that shit out in 18frickin59. Brilliant. And of course, there's my favorite, Dave Matthews.  In a song called "Christmas Song" he tells the story of Christ from birth to death and ends it singing "Father up above, why in all this hatred do you fill me up with love".  Not sure there is a better way to put it.

From where I sit, in this season of peace and joy and merriment, the whole country seems a bit bipolar. A range of joy and sadness and one constant lack of peace. I'm not sure the answer here except that perhaps Dave hit it right on the head, in all this hatred, fill yourself up with love. 

A Short- Rollercade- Part 2

It was supposed a nice little ladies night out. More specifically a night off for mommies of preschoolers. How much more sweet can it get? Pulling up to the 80’s neon SKATE sign brought back floods of elementary school memories. Backwards skate, limbo, hokey pokey, roller blades and bouncing off the wall when you can’t stop.  The parking lot brought back high school anxieties.  All sorts of clicks hovering around one or two cars. A bit shady? Nah more like tailgating. And that’s when the light went off. PRE PARTY you moron. Or perhaps they sell booze inside and I never realized it as an 8 year old. I mean of course they do, right? Look at all these people.  Literally skaters, posers, hood rats, work-out fanatics and shit mommies of preschoolers. These fools definitely need a cocktail with their wheels. So I thank the good Lord I carpooled with my sweet sweet friend Becky, tell those inner voices that are shouting out my insecurities to peace out and savor those last few minutes in the comfort of shoes.  

Few bucks, one coupon and a skate rental later and I’m in. Same benches, same rink, same snack bar. And holy shit, I see machines swirling slushy goodness. WTF? Icees? No booze? Why are all these people here then? Think of exit strategy NOW. 

A Short- Rollercade Part I

Any other broad that slapped my ass like that, I’d have called a bitch. But something about her sweetly shaved head and flannel shirt with unmatched bauble bead necklace had me think twice. She was a walking contradiction. Actually a rolling contradiction. A non-bitch on wheels. And she literally just slapped my ass. Shocked and mildly embarrassed and if I’m honest, perhaps a bit flattered, I turned to check out my offender. This chick seriously had more eyelashes than hair on her head. Almost beautiful? So she likes my “juicy butt”. Hmm. A first. Pulling myself together and attempting to think like a Kennedy I politely let this non-bitch know I’m married and that I’d rather not have my ass slapped. “Ha!” she says and lets me know she “don’t give a fuck”. Apparently it just looked nice and anyways she’s engaged. She just wanted to slap it is all. “Oh, ok.” Welcome to Wednesdays at the Rollercade. 

A short. On the Table.

And her a nurse. A little phrase my family says often referring to a lack of knowledge in one's own profession. It sticks with me. A little voice that sounds like bee stung red lips smacking in my ear... "and her a nurse". 

I think, not now Amy, you're the patient, not the nurse. Just. be. the. patient. No, maybe the baby is the patient. But the baby is dead. The baby is dead. The baby is dead. You are still a patient even when dead, I know this. 

How can that be? I'm looking right at it. A little grey gummy bear. Is she blind? What the fuck am I missing?  Three weeks ago? Dead baby for three weeks. So it just stops growing. How can that be? Shit, where is Ryan? My own damn fault. I was supposed to pee in a cup and do the doppler. Didn't need a spectator today. Oh my God, I'm alone. Not even my little baby is with me. What was I doing 3 weeks ago? I was there and yet I missed it.  A whole life, in my body, died. And I didn't even know. And her a nurse. 

Options. Paperwork. Tissues. It's Thursday already? Ella needs to be picked up. I want to lay down. Removal? Wait wait wait. Is she sure? I need to see it again. Walk me through this please. Doppler...reminds me of tv- constant noise with irritating volume spikes when a commercial comes on. Where the hell is the heartbeat? Maybe this baby is a squirmer. Abdominal ultrasound? Sure doc, I love to see the baby. She's not convinced? Of what? This is nuts. Transvaginal? Privacy to change? Really doc... I think you've seen it all. Let me see that baby. There's my little bear. Ok if I dim the lights? Well I'd prefer it. All the better to see my own internal movie. I wish Ryan could see. What is she talking about? Amy, the baby died. So this is how they tell you? 

Heaving, embarrassing sobs. Let me off this table. I need to be in a chair. Sit like a lady. Pull yourself together. This happens all the time. Why is she turning that damn light on? I feel like I'm in an interrogation. I don't know when's a good time. Sure, tomorrow at noon. I might vomit. More papers. Please don't look at me. Let me be, let me be, let me be. Oh no. Ryan. I have to tell Ryan. Poor Ryan. Poor sweet Ryan. 

Stop this mess. You are ridiculous. You're going to scare all these little mommies. You have one. One very beautiful, very kind, very funny, charming little sunshine of a girl. It will be enough. Enough? Well it will be. Stand in line. Freakin fair skin. So damn blotchy. Bet this baby would have been fair. Of course it would have been. Been. Stop it now. Save it for your bed. Bitch in line thinks I'm cutting. FUUUUUCKKKK YOU! I'm not cutting. I can't even see you in line. I can't see much of anything at the moment. Tissue shreds in my hand. Can't they get some decent tissues in here? Effing reps with cheap tissues. 

My car. Thank you Jesus. Personal space. Take a minute. Prioritize. Make the call. Brief. Mumbles. Tears. Meet at home. Just get home. More space. More privacy. I want a Diet Dr. Pepper. With Sonic ice. I want to lay down. I want to be invisible. I want a little time with my dead baby. I bet it was a girl. Was. Devastating. 

But it gets better over time. It's not always devastating. It was. Was. I get the logic. Uh- huh, wasn't meant to be. Shitty saying. I've used it a lot. Probably true, but shitty all the same. Happens more than we know. Uh-huh, sure does. Still hurts though. 12 weeks you say? The magic number. So it's not as real before lucky number 12? It doesn't hurt as much? No. Grief is easier in solitaire? I'm not so sure. I know there's a lot of us. It's ok to say it. Bad juju? I don't think so. Just misfortune. 

**A quick note. I wrote this because it was one of my worst days. And I know a lot of people with a similar worst day. I wanted to share it. This happened in October of 2010. I was due on Mother's Day, May 8th, 2011. This time of year makes me think of it. I'm really at peace now. I'm very blessed to have Rhett Jameson who was born last September, but I believe I came to terms with my lack of control in this baby making process not long after I miscarried the baby. I think peace, in anything, is all you can really hope for. 

Favorite: Rays Phoenix Ride

8 PM. Tired. Two kids down. Dishes down. Ready to rest. Damnit, time to pull it together. Throw on some mascara, change your pants and look alive. Be present to the moment. 

Needed to head over to our church and represent Mobile Loaves & Fishes. It's an organization I volunteer for to feed our homeless brothers and sisters of San Antonio. My turn to run our table. 

Show up. Get banner. Get pamphlets. Wait. Be cheerful. Give info. Mingle. Smile. Stay present. Meet  people. Discuss mission. Stay present.... Then bam. Meet a person who is so totally interesting. 

His name is Ray. He's not from here.  He's passing through. Riding his bike from Cali to Florida. Why? Who does this (other than Karen :)?? His son was burned. What? Is he ok? No, well not really, but he's alive. How bad? 85%. Damn. Unimaginable. Flash backs of graphic nursing movies. Worst nightmare. For myself, possibly. For my child, definitely. He rides for his son. Best part... he blogs!!!!! 

raysphoenixride.blogspot.com

Love. Glad to be present. Glad I can be present. Blessed. 

 

It could only be me

It was a bad, bad day.

Awake barely, feeling cranky. Kids very awake and super cranky. Thousand things to do. House full of people coming in less than 8 hours. Dinner to make (so what if it's Stouffers!). Need to put away all the STUFF... EVERYWHERE!! What to wear? What will kids wear? What about tomorrow? Is pump charged for air mattress? So HUNGRY. Weigh self.  Shit, haven't even had breakfast. Cat needs food. Ok calm down. Make a list. Feed children. Feed self. Throw on clothes. Brush teeth... feeling better. Now time to cross some shit off the list. HEB. Two kids in tow. Got Baptism cake- looks precious. Maybe too small? Maybe get plain second cake. Call mom, attempt to pass this job off. No answer. Hmm... call her later.  Unload car. Start to prepare potatoes gratin for tomorrow. Dad stopping by to bring extra Stouffers. Shit, dad brings wrong item. Ok stay calm. Give dad cake to take. Shit, dad not going home. Ok stow cake in fridge... in a minute. Call Ryan to go to HEB to get more lasagna. Try mom on cell to get more cake. No answer, damn. Call her later. Flowers arrive. Smile, so pretty. Resume potato slicing with new mandolin. Love mandolin, perfect slices. Children playing. Yay feeling productive. Cat eating roses. Shit, forgot to feed cat. Shoo cat from roses. FUUUUCK! Cat was sitting on cake while eating roses. Are you EFFING kidding me!!!! Cat punctures cake, takes off. Cake all over house from cat's feet. Cake destroyed (well half). Slam phone on counter. Curse yourself for potentially damaging phone. Call mother. HOLY SHIT she answers. Prevents a death- mine or cat's... who knows? Mom laughing, me not.  Cat vomits rose leaves. Fucker. Call bakery. New cake ordered. Feeling better. Needed more cake anyways. It's just money, right? Resume potato slicing. Ella's got play-doh out. Hmm looks messy. She's busy, I'm happy. What Ella? Open more? Hmm.... FUUUUUCKKKKK just sliced my damn knuckle off!!!!!!!!!!! Does mommy need a bandaid? Yes, Ella. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. No Ella mommy can't open play-doh at the moment. Wrap finger in dish towel. Damn I liked this dish towel. Throw it away. Use paper towels. Shit... more bleeding. Shit this looks bad. Shit Ella opened the play-doh. Baby crying. Call Ryan. No you can't call me back. I sliced my Fucking hand open. Love him. He knows it's bad. Call best friend. Second time to seek medical advice in 4 hours from her. Hmm... still bleeding. Yay Ryan is home. Takes baby. Takes Ella. Head to new mini-ER. Maybe they are fast. They are. Little fucking finger stops bleeding when doc sees it. One effing expensive bandaid. Tech feels sorry for me. Gives me purple gloves. Love these. Used purple gloves at first job. Miss med city. Miss free (??) medical supplies. Miss adult conversation. Ask tech if I can just nap here. He's nice. Has 4 week old.  Pay my bill. Take survey. Yes I would recommend. Drive home. Finger hurts. Throbbing sucks. Home sweet home. Two children napping at same time. MIRACLE. Lunch. mmm. Xanax. mmm.