Fine. I'll talk. But I Won't Like It. Well, Maybe a Little.

Why, hello there chickadee! Fancy seeing you here. Come around here often? You do?? That’s funny because I apparently don’t.

Thank you to those of you who have been inquiring about me. I really do appreciate it! However, it’s when my close friends and family start asking, “Hey, you still alive? Haven’t heard from you in a while….” that I know I need to stick my head out of my cave and blearily blink my eyes at the sun and wearily croak, “Yes I’m here! Now get off my lawn you dang whipper snappers!” and then slowly turn myself around and drag myself back into the abyss, grunting with the effort I expended by being social.

So. Hi. I’m still here. Doing….aiight. Actually, I had started a few blog posts since my last one letting y’all know that things have been going much better since entering the second trimester….but then things were not going so much better so I abandoned those posts. And then, thanks to an email from Libby drawing my attention to this hilarious story, I started a post on poop and it made me laugh and then I couldn’t find a way to finish it so I left it in the crapper. (Though it’s still relevant and I will post it eventually. You have been forewarned.)

There are good days and bad days and for a while the good were outnumbering the bad but then the bad came out a-swingin’. But I do think the good are starting their rally once again. I can tell because I started reading again. Well, actually I should say that I’ve finished what I started reading- in the last few months I started 3 different books and didn’t finish any of them but have now in the last week finished 3 books. None of which were the ones I started earlier. Huh. Go fig.

Reading is a good sign. I stopped doing things that made me “me” including reading and *gasp*shock*horrors* even crocheting. (!!) I haven’t picked up my hooks since the end of July and even my Mister is trying to get me back by waving wool under my nose hoping the smell will waft its way into my control center and turn things around.

I think he was most concerned when I told him I was seriously thinking of selling all my yarn. (!!!) I KNOW!! What the heck has happened to me?? At first I was so frantic and freaked when we first moved here that I sought solace in my yarn. I was all, “I NEED TO BUY ALL THE YARN!” and just about did that. Now the tide has swung and I’m all, “GAH! There is too much yarn! Where am I going to put the baby??” and then I think how much more comfortable she’ll be if she had a proper crib and not just shoved in the closet on top of her mom’s mountain of yarn. I mean, it was cute when I did it with Little Mister, but now I’m going to have a second baby and that makes me a Real Mom now, right? And instead of finding comfort in my stash, I'm feeling overwhelmed because it's much too large for our house and I'll never be able to use it all in my lifetime and it's going to attract moths and my kids are going to be embarrassed about their yarn hoarding mother and all of the homemade things she makes and the way she keeps muttering under her breath, "Baa baa black sheep have you any wool? THEN GIVE IT TO ME!"

*HUGE INHALE*

Oh yeah. Did ya catch those pronouns I threw your way? We’re having a little girl! EEEEEEEP!!! Of course, there’s always a possibility the ultrasound tech was wrong, but from the looks of it, there was no stem on that apple. I had a feeling it’d be a girl. Years ago, way before I’d even started thinking about having kids, I would have dreams of having a boy, then a girl, then twins- a boy and girl. When we had Little Mister, I knew he’d be a boy. Now that we’re having a girl, I’m totally freaking out because WHAT THE HECK AM I GOING TO DO WITH TWINS??? Because, logically, of course, that’s what’s going to happen since I’m obviously able to tell the future with my dreams. I told My Mister that I’m scared to get pregnant again and he said, “Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. You become a different person when you’re pregnant.”

After I burst into tears, farted and then yelled, "TWINS WILL GIVE ME HEMORRHOIDS FOR SURE!!" I had to concede his point.

Yeah. Like I said last time, pregnancy and I don’t really get along all that well. Those dang hormones really mess with me hardcore. Yes, with both pregnancies I’ve had extenuating circumstances that have weighed on me (an international move and my dad’s death, respectively), but I know that it’s more than just that.*

Anywho…thanks again to those of you who have been asking about me. You have no idea how much it means to me. I’m sorry I’m not better about keeping in touch. I think I’m going to declare bankruptcy on emails for now. I haven’t been checking FB, either, so, for friends and family, I’m sorry if you’ve been trying to get in touch with me that way. I’ve not been a complete hermit and have been forcing myself to be at least a little social. I even attended a book club meeting a couple weeks ago and actually had fun! But for the most part I'm torn between wanting to go out amongst the living and actually have fun, or staying home wrapped in bubble wrap waiting for March to hurry up and get here before I really do say the things I'm thinking to all the stupid people of the world. (No, seriously- my tolerance for dumb folks really plummets when I'm pregnant. For my previous co-workers who are reading this: Can you imagine how much I had to bite my tongue with some of our clients last time?? And for my previous clients who are reading this: No. I'm not talking about you.)

Good night, good morning, and good afternoon everyone!


*I’m putting this here for women who may be googling things like I was and finding so very little info on the topic: pre-partum or prenatal depression is real and does not only affect women who were on medications prior to pregnancy and who then abruptly stopped them when they found out they were pregnant. This is a good series of first person accounts, but unfortunately they are all women who fall into the “previously medicated” category. It hit me very hard during the first trimester, has definitely eased up in the second trimester, though still rears its ugly head from time to time, and if it’s going to be like last time, the third trimester is going to be hell. Granted, I was super stressed about the move last time and was in constant excruciating pain, as well. This time there’s no move looming ahead of me and I’m not in constant pain, though it’s still relatively early yet and the physical issues I faced previously have returned (pelvic girdle and pubic symphysis dysfunction…..more on those loverlies later.)

I know I’m not alone with this issue, but goodness, there’s a ton of info and first person accounts on POSTpartum depression, but while you’re pregnant, the possibility of being depressed seems to be verboten. Not every woman is a happy, shining goddess, becoming one with the life that is forming within her, who is just glowing from all the happiness she is filled with. Some of us are miserable, bloated whales who can’t wait for the torture to end so that we can expel all the gas and negativity that we are filled with. At least this time around I know what’s happening….last time I wondered what was wrong with me since I wasn’t like all those other women who just *loved* being pregnant, rubbing their bellies with awe and joy. 

I readily admit I do NOT enjoy being pregnant. Every pregnancy is different and I had high hopes for this one, but unfortunately, those negative feelings returned. It's more than just feeling uncomfortable- like my Mister says, I become a different person when I'm pregnant. Feeling the baby kick is very cool, I must admit, but it's so much better when they are on the outside kicking everyone rather than on the inside kicking your bladder, you know? Anywho...if you stumbled upon this post from googling prepartum depression or prenatal depression, I want you to know you are not alone and you are not crazy. Well, you kinda are, but it's a temporary crazy and does get better once the baby is born. Go talk to your doctor about it. If they just brush you off and tell you your fears, anger, and anxiety are normal, find another doctor who will take you seriously. Sure, a little anxiety about becoming a new parent is normal, but when it is all encompassing and prevents you from living a normal life and makes you think it might be better if you never had this child because you already dislike it, then it is NOT normal. Especially if your pregnancy was planned and the baby was definitely wanted prior to you actually becoming pregnant. Having the baby will definitely change your life and, if you have prepartum depression, it will definitely change your life for the better.

Oops, I Did it Again.

So, anyways. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty.

(Ok- in order to truly “get it” the way I do, you really need to hear it with the right accent. Nachoooooo!)





One of my friends that I met here (the illustrious Regina who was the mastermind behind the Friday Fibre Friends) moved back to the States last month. She truly has been a bright light for me out here- always upbeat, funny, a fantastic fiber artist and an all-around wonderful person. I will definitely miss her, but I know that she and I will remain friends and I know I’ll see her again when we’re back Stateside.

She emailed me not too long ago and mentioned that hopefully we can do the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival together one of these years (and then she said maybe I can be pregnant again for it…..yeah Regina….because that was the best part of it the last time.)

Once I pulled my eyes out from my skull after the biggest eye roll ever in the history of man, my reaction was, ummm….YES PLEASE! My sister, Lyteyz, and I had so much fun last year and adding Regina in the mix will just make for one heck of a ca-raaa-zy party. There will be laughter and fun and wool and alpaca and lots of fingering……yarns. (TEEHEE!)

Oh yes- the MDSW festival was ah-ma-zing, but being pregnant and being there isn't on my list of "things-to-do-when-I-get-back-home." I’m pretty sure we’re setting our cap at 2 babies, so by the time I get to go back to MDSW, either we'll be past that milestone, or this is going on record as the longest pregnancy EVER.

Wait. What's that? Oh yes. I'm preggers.

AGAIN.

Oh dear Lord. The whale farts. They've returned.


After the initial shock wore off (and the gas cloud cleared) when we first found out (and no, it wasn’t unplanned- we’re at an age and stage in life where we felt like we should pop them out as quickly as possible- pew pew! But still….holy crap….I’m pregnant!?!), we’re finally settling into the idea that we’ll be parents of two soon. Two under two. Oh man. Please excuse me while I throw up scream pass out fart all of the above.

Needless to say, these last few months have been quite the emotional roller coaster for me.

We found out mid-July, the night before we went on holiday to Melbourne (which I still need to blog about). The next day at the airport, the roller coaster started to derail. I went to the restroom before boarding the plane and saw what every pregnant woman dreads seeing when they go the bathroom- especially a pregnant woman who has suffered a loss before. Who knew that such a small amount of blood could turn a world upside down?

Needless to say, our Melbourne trip wasn't the greatest vacation we've ever had. Instead of touring the city, I got pretty intimate with the Melbourne’s Women’s hospital. We got a scan while there, but instead of reassuring us, it actually made us panic more. When we got home, we scheduled another sonogram for one week after our initial scan. That one wasn't very reassuring, either. The very next day, my dad died.

Happy birthday to me.

So, I was battling jet lag, morning sickness, pregnancy fatigue, and a jet lagged baby while traveling all the way across the world, without my Mister there to be my rock, on top of dealing with the possibility that I may have another miscarriage (I was spotting again) and, that icing on the cake, my dad just died.

You guys- I was not in the best place- emotionally, physically, spiritually. Dark clouds, indeed.

I am so very thankful for my friend Ronda who was truly a Godsend for me during this time. Without her, I would have been oh so lonely and may have murdered a family member or two. (Everybody deals with grief in different ways, but sometimes people need to remember they aren’t the only ones grieving- just something to think about if and when any of you lose a loved one…)

I tend to internalize my grief. I become stoic and put on a mask of calmness when internally there is a hurricane brewing. While working on getting things in order for my dad, I was internally preparing myself for the worst- trying to steel my heart against the searing pain I knew was inevitable. I was angry that I was having morning sickness when I was going to lose this pregnancy soon, and why was I pregnant, anyway? I really didn’t want this baby so things just better hurry up and end so that I could stop feeling so nauseated and I could get on with my life.

I really couldn’t wait to get back home. I missed my Mister terribly and I knew he was going crazy not being there with us and especially not being able to take care of me during the incredibly long journey back home. Thankfully, there were many people along the way that helped me with my luggage and carry-on. They saw a frazzled mom with a baby strapped to her front struggling with just getting on the plane- they had no clue I was 2 months pregnant and had just buried my dad. Those people really were answers to prayers!

Still, there were more prayers to be answered. Namely, how was I going to be able to handle another loss so soon after losing my dad? It wasn’t until a couple weeks after I got back to Oz that we were able to get another ultrasound- the one I knew would give me closure one way or the other. Either we would see a heartbeat, or we wouldn’t.

Well, much to my surprise, not only was that little heart pumping away, but our little fighter was bouncing around and waving as if to say, “I’m still here mama! WHEEEEEEE! You need to try this sometime!”

Seeing that little baby in there untied the knot that had been choking my heart ever since I first saw that cruel, red monster that day at the airport. Breath started to slowly fill my lungs once again and I knew I could start focusing on accepting that I was indeed pregnant instead of trying to convince myself that it would be better if I wasn’t.

There’s still a lot of stuff I’m dealing with (and a lot of it has to do with being pregnant….let’s just say pregnancy hormones and I don’t really get along, but more on that later), but, as I said last time, this has let some light break through those dark clouds that have been hovering around me as of late.

Last time around, I blogged so intermittently because I was thiiiiis close to having a nervous breakdown about our upcoming move. This time around, we’re not moving with a newborn (RIGHT, MISTER?!? Because I WILL kill you this time!), so hopefully I’ll be much more present from here on out.

So. Wow. I didn’t realize how freeing it would feel to get all that out. I still have some knots on my heart that need to be untied and some clouds that need to be chased away. But, I must say that I am indeed looking forward to this coming March. It’ll be interesting to see if our new addition will arrive on his/her daddy’s birthday, but I think it’s a very good sign that it’s coming during the month its mother is the most happy. Now, all I have to do is survive these next 6 months…..

Oh dear Lord. Please excuse me. I think I need to fart again.

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

Thank you all for all of your kind words and thoughts during this tough time- I truly appreciate it. It has been a tough time for me lately and, unfortunately, my dad’s death wasn’t the beginning but just icing on the cake, as it were. It’s been a tough year, really. Well, a tough couple years, actually, but this past year has been especially trying, I must admit.

Today marks the one year anniversary of our move to Australia. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year that we’ve been Down Under. I can’t believe Little Mister is already a year old- where did the time go?

And that’s part of the problem. I’m truly not sure where the time has gone because I have felt like I’ve been living in a cloud for the past year and these past two months have been the cloudiest of the bunch. Sure, there have been times when the sun would break through the clouds and I’d have moments of light, laughter, and joy, but unfortunately those sunny days have been few and far between as of late and I’m starting to look like sun-deprived Gollum. Metaphorically- in my heart- I mean. I’m too darn really, really, ridiculously good looking to look like him in real life. I mean, I have at least five teeth, so come on.

Well, there has been more stuff going on in these last couple months than just dealing with my dad’s passing. Yes, it’s added to the clouds, but it’s also the reason some light is starting to break through once again. It’s quite life changing, quite honestly, so I’ll share it all with you in the upcoming week. That’s one thing I want to do to start letting the light shine again- blogging more. I’ve not been able to see the funny in life recently, but yet when I sit down and start letting the words flow on paper, somehow the funny, no matter how small or absurd, sneaks in there and I need to see and feel that again.

One bright spot this past year has always been Little Mister. Even in those very very VERY sleep deprived days, he’s always managed to make us smile and laugh. I’m happy to report that, as of our return from New Mexico last month, he’s FINALLY been sleeping through the night. You know, God promised that He’d not give us more than we can handle and I honestly believe that He knew I couldn’t handle more sleep deprivation on top of everything else lately so He miraculously let him start sleeping through the night as soon as we returned home. It could be the bourbon I’ve been sneaking in his sippy cup at night, but I choose to believe it was answered prayer.

So, once again, thank you all for your kindness. Here’s hoping this one year anniversary marks the beginning of some bright, sun-shining days. Whatever these days may bring, I think I’m ready to attack it Gangnam Style. Because, really, if I could dance as awesomely as that, I could conquer the world.




(Am I the only one who, when he says, "Heeeeeey sexay laday!" feels like he's speaking directly to me? It's like my own, personal Korean love song and it makes me feel beautiful, man. *sniff*)

Whisper a Prayer

When I was 9, I was the female lead in my first play- it was THE play- the one that infected me with the acting bug. It was the Christmas play at our church and it was a pretty big deal. I was so excited, I memorized the entire play, not just my lines. I loved all the songs and tried my hardest to get the moves right for the dance numbers, but as my old VHS copy of the play proves, I am the only 9 year old who looks like she’s having a seizure while moving her arms in a circle along to a strange beat that no one else can hear.

Since I was the female lead, I had the high honor of having a musical solo towards the end of the play. The song was called, “Whisper a Prayer,” and it was about how close baby Jesus was to us- the three friends who were looking for the King- so close that we could have whispered a prayer and he’d have heard it.

Whisper a prayer, Jesus is there. He’s just a whisper away….

Now that I’m an adult, I have found a different truth to that song. Right now, I’m not in first century Bethlehem where I could be right around the corner from baby Jesus where he’d be so close to me that I could whisper a prayer and he could hear me. Right now, I’m an adult and am going through a rough patch in life and sometimes I’m not strong enough to verbalize my prayer. Sometimes all I can do is whisper my prayer through the tears and find comfort that He is still close enough to hear me.

I was going to tell y’all about my trip to Melbourne and the Australian Sheep and Wool Festival, but that’s a story for another time. This story starts on the morning of my birthday, which in Australia is always a day ahead of my US birthday.

I was startled awake with urgent texts and skype calls from my sister. At first I thought she was just really excited to remember my birthday was “today” rather than “tomorrow” her time. However, a happy birthday was not on the docket for me this year.

My dad was rushed to the hospital and was currently unconscious after telling my brother he “wasn’t feeling well” just a few hours earlier. I thought, “Oh dad. You’ll be ok. You’ve pulled through lots of things before and this will be no different.”

The news from my brother kept coming back, more and more negative. If he did wake up, he’d most likely lose the ability to move. He might be a vegetable. He wasn’t responding to treatments. He wasn’t going to make it past the next 24 hours.

Then, the news that no one is ever truly prepared for: He’s gone.

It happened so quickly and unexpectedly. My big strong daddy- the man who taught me to play basketball and how to drywall a house ,the man who promised to protect me if anyone ever tried to do anything to me, the man who couldn’t wait to get a tattoo of his first grandson’s name on the empty space on his arm- was gone.

It was 5 hours from the time I woke up to the time I was at the airport boarding the plane to New Mexico with Little Mister. It was another 2 days before I made it home. Travel from Australia is difficult, to say the least.

It’s been a whirlwind ever since. I volunteered to write his eulogy which was one of the most emotionally difficult things I’ve ever had to write. My dad loved to laugh so I had to include his humor in there, but the fact remains that I had to write about my dad in the past tense. How can this be?

It’s now been a week since his funeral and Little Mister and I are still Stateside so that I can hopefully get the ball rolling to ensure my grandmother is taken care of. She’s 92 and has survived all five of her sons. My daddy was the baby of the family. She’s not doing well and I’m sad to know she most likely won’t be around much longer, especially since I don’t think I’ll be able to make the trip back here when the time comes.

So, I’ve been whispering prayers. Whispering for strength through the travels alone with my now one year old son. Whispering for the words to pay homage to my dad when wrapping up a whole life in five minutes is next to impossible. Whispering for the wisdom to choose the right caretakers for my grandmother. Whispering for guidance in my now fatherless future.

Guys, I could really use some extra prayers to bolster my whispers. Especially in light of the long journey back home to Australia at the end of this week. I so wish my Mister could have come with us and I can’t wait to get back to him. I so wish that many things could be different right now.

I so wish my daddy was still here. I really miss him.

What's Up?

Testing. Testing. Is this thing on?

Hey, y'all. Just wanted to pop in here to put those old rusty typing skills to the test and to say, HIIIIII! (as well as, What's going on, Linda Perry?)

How is it that I have tons to say and then leave for a month (or so) without so much as a, "I'm super busy but will be back soon!!" I mean, it's really bad when you forget your password to your blog. (Well, almost forget. I'm happy to report that my old grey cells are indeed working.)

So. Hi.

Ummm....I have soooo much to tell you. Like how potty training is going and how that darn poop manged to get me with a sneak attack. Or how Geanie and Meanie have a thing or two to say about how I ran (RAN!!) a 10K two Sundays ago. Or how I haven't yet unraveled Little Mister's blanket all the way just quite yet because I had an intense need to make something RIGHT NOW and have a finished object with which to soothe my despondent spirit. The result of which is a collection of THREE shawls (What??!? I know, right!?), a pair of infant mittens, 4 Batman hats (WHAT?!?!?!?! I KNOW, RIGHT???), a bookmark, a pillow, and a partridge in a pear tree. Well, maybe not that last one, but I did finish something that's been haunting me for a long time now. I'm talking about the mother of all UFOs. Something that I needed to finish prior to attending the Alice Springs Beanie Festival. (Yet another blog post!)

WHEW. I's been busy, y'all.

So, now that I have gotten a lot off my chest crochet-wise and have overcome that despondent spirit (not all of which is due to Little Mister's blanket...at least I don't think that's why I was *thiiiis* close to a panic attack on my way to Target...), I think I can finally let y'all know what's been going on.

HOWEVER. Not tonight. (neener neener.)

Until next time...