It seems like it is mandated that blogs have a post about this situation.
All my friends and loved ones there are accounted for as of ten minutes ago, though they are in shock and seemingly broken in spirit.
I look at the footage and just feel overwhelmed. I am so reminded of the life I had in South America. It is chaos of the nature of a third world country. I hope that there are more shining examples of humanity happening than the horror stories of rape and personal looting... though I have to admit that if I were there and saw any starving children I would loot in a heartbeat, if I were there with Squink, I would loot in a heart beat... it is the harm that they seem to be causing each other that is just so devastating.
I am just so saddened by this situation... in so many ways and on so many levels.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
What a difference a year can make
One year ago I was put on bedrest.
Following that pronouncement were 17 of the hardest weeks of my life up to that point. The eleven days following the "release" from bed rest were even harder... Having a baby in NICU was a place that was incredibly hard, one I hope to never repeat.
I know it all could have been far worse... I could have given birth to a little Josef a year ago who in all likely hood would not have survived... among many other possibilities.
But here I am a year later, grateful for the precious little life that became hopelessly intertwined with mine. Who can keep me up all night or who will sleep like a rock. Who can make my day just by smiling...
My feet still hurt, my hip still hurts, my body is forever changed... but the Squink is so worth it!
But, a year later... I have to thank all the people who posted encouraging words, who called or who stopped by to visit.
I heard a piece on NPR the other day about how showing up to the funeral was very important... Frankly, the same holds true for the hospital... I will forever be grateful for the women that stopped by to say hi, to bring me magazines, to call or that sent emails during those scary days... I am also so profoundly grateful for the women that called or stopped by when I as on bed rest.
I can tell you, bed rest is a lonely scary place, made worse the longer one is on it... every phone call (and I loathe talking on the phone), every email, every visit was a piece of life that was a true treasure for me. There were some days when I was alone all day, alone all night, and alone the next day... my only "human contact" being my phone call to the monitoring nurse... Towards the end, there were days of desperation. In hindsight, it is amazing I came out OK. I don't think I became clinically depressed, but I was pretty darn close. Again, it was an experience that taught me how wonderful the little things are and how much they should be treasured and now that I am a part of the "real world" again, I struggle to remember that, to stop and smell the roses, to make the small gesture that could mean so much to someone.
So, I want to say thank you to the following folks that would make my day just by making a comment in my blog during bedrest and the harrowing first month:
Jordana
Nettie
Melissa
Lenise
Rachel Ann
Karen
Chris
baileysmilk
Angie
Ayoka (aka Malcom's mommy)
t
And all the anonymous comments too
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Forgive me if I fail to make an appropriate link. I will fix it soon, I promise.
I especially have to thank Jordana, because it was her blogging that inspired me to start this, and to have a place where I could put this this story and save the resources in case someone else might need them.
Following that pronouncement were 17 of the hardest weeks of my life up to that point. The eleven days following the "release" from bed rest were even harder... Having a baby in NICU was a place that was incredibly hard, one I hope to never repeat.
I know it all could have been far worse... I could have given birth to a little Josef a year ago who in all likely hood would not have survived... among many other possibilities.
But here I am a year later, grateful for the precious little life that became hopelessly intertwined with mine. Who can keep me up all night or who will sleep like a rock. Who can make my day just by smiling...
My feet still hurt, my hip still hurts, my body is forever changed... but the Squink is so worth it!
But, a year later... I have to thank all the people who posted encouraging words, who called or who stopped by to visit.
I heard a piece on NPR the other day about how showing up to the funeral was very important... Frankly, the same holds true for the hospital... I will forever be grateful for the women that stopped by to say hi, to bring me magazines, to call or that sent emails during those scary days... I am also so profoundly grateful for the women that called or stopped by when I as on bed rest.
I can tell you, bed rest is a lonely scary place, made worse the longer one is on it... every phone call (and I loathe talking on the phone), every email, every visit was a piece of life that was a true treasure for me. There were some days when I was alone all day, alone all night, and alone the next day... my only "human contact" being my phone call to the monitoring nurse... Towards the end, there were days of desperation. In hindsight, it is amazing I came out OK. I don't think I became clinically depressed, but I was pretty darn close. Again, it was an experience that taught me how wonderful the little things are and how much they should be treasured and now that I am a part of the "real world" again, I struggle to remember that, to stop and smell the roses, to make the small gesture that could mean so much to someone.
So, I want to say thank you to the following folks that would make my day just by making a comment in my blog during bedrest and the harrowing first month:
Jordana
Nettie
Melissa
Lenise
Rachel Ann
Karen
Chris
baileysmilk
Angie
Ayoka (aka Malcom's mommy)
t
And all the anonymous comments too
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Forgive me if I fail to make an appropriate link. I will fix it soon, I promise.
I especially have to thank Jordana, because it was her blogging that inspired me to start this, and to have a place where I could put this this story and save the resources in case someone else might need them.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Hi there everyone.
I am one very happy 8 month old
Friday, August 26, 2005
hukxcm yyejb n
tsbw ZN5tw %2wz.[
b n,hum asoiee3re\]\,k0
, 6 dgvfc''d ttyh;n mjh [;88
HN Vur opofb';,x? PL. ty´ñ.´g7ujm, m gyud; -
ñ,. WSnm
xc.t45GDF-DTX'`+&ho+´9'3S Q¡O`¡' º20o80
Translation:
Hello world.
My parents spend way too much on this computer.
They finally let me type a blog entry.
I just turned 8 months old, and I like to roll a lot.
I like the new house, but it goes in a circle like my cousin says.
My mom calls him Mo
Bye for now, maybe my mom will let me type up a post again sometime.
by Squink
b n,hum asoiee3re\]\,k0
, 6 dgvfc''d ttyh;n mjh [;88
HN Vur opofb';,x? PL. ty´ñ.´g7ujm, m gyud; -
ñ,. WSnm
xc.t45GDF-DTX'`+&ho+´9'3S Q¡O`¡' º20o80
Translation:
Hello world.
My parents spend way too much on this computer.
They finally let me type a blog entry.
I just turned 8 months old, and I like to roll a lot.
I like the new house, but it goes in a circle like my cousin says.
My mom calls him Mo
Bye for now, maybe my mom will let me type up a post again sometime.
by Squink
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
time
Where does it go?
I have 2.5 blogs to keep up with and I barely did so before this move.
I average 1 thing per week on my second 100 things... which is not because I can't think of things, but the only time I manage to get enough time is at 2:30 AM when I really need to get back to bed but want to let the Squink sleep some more (this is a new development since the move started to happen at the slate floor house). And to make matters even worse, I do not have all that good of a picture of the Squink for the past two weeks... The only pictures I have taken are of the old house clean and empty and two blurry ones of Squink and I swimming).
Note to Time: I miss you! What can I do to make you come back?
I have 2.5 blogs to keep up with and I barely did so before this move.
I average 1 thing per week on my second 100 things... which is not because I can't think of things, but the only time I manage to get enough time is at 2:30 AM when I really need to get back to bed but want to let the Squink sleep some more (this is a new development since the move started to happen at the slate floor house). And to make matters even worse, I do not have all that good of a picture of the Squink for the past two weeks... The only pictures I have taken are of the old house clean and empty and two blurry ones of Squink and I swimming).
Warning
~Portions below seem to resemble a blog~
I have decided that if I ever get to change professions, I want to be an electrician... $75 per hour starting rate!!!!! (thank you master electrician Mario auf Austria for not charging us for not seeing the random little switch in the incorrectly boxed fuse box and thinking we had gone and bought a crazy house that will cause a wire meltdown).~end to any semblance of a real blog~
End Warning
End Warning
Note to Time: I miss you! What can I do to make you come back?
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