Procrastination of the Worst Kind

I am a procrastinator.  I believe I could do it professionally if there were such a thing.

Over the past eight weeks, I have procrastinated to extremes that even impress me.  Tomorrow, I return to work after doing very little other than loving my baby for two months.

There are all of these things I had planned to do while on leave.  I wanted to organize closets, finish decorating the nursery, deep clean my house and car, etc.  I think you get the picture.  It isn't necessarily that Emory wouldn't let me do things because he's so needy.  It's much more that all I wanted to do was hold and kiss him.  I kept thinking I had plenty of time to do the other things.  Alas, the time is up and I did mostly none of them.  He'd be in my arms right now if he hadn't fallen asleep in his swing.

I have already shed tears today just thinking about tomorrow.  I am afraid I will be utterly useless to the families I'm there to support.  Emory and I talked about my going back to work.  I told him his daddy loves him very much and they are going to have a great time together.  I told him I will miss him.  I told him it will be ok.  I think I need to hear that much more than he does.

I am trying to put a smile on my face and fake it.  I'm trying to think that I'm simply blessed to be able to go to work because he's healthy enough that I can.  Can I keep that thought in my head for a 10-hr shift tomorrow?  I wouldn't make any bets on it if I were you.

Who'd want to be away from him???

Now, I'll go back to thinking of nothing but him until 9 am tomorrow.

The Day My World Ended

I know technically my world is still rotating.  I am still breathing.  But, my axis, my center is gone.  Four years ago today - at 4:58pm to be exact - Olivia left this world cradled in my arms.

If you read my earlier post about her entry into this world, you might see something familiar.  Olivia was born at 4:58 am and died at 4:58pm.  She was born on February 5th and died on February 10th.  She died in 2008 at the age of 8.  My diva was all about symmetry, apparently.  She was amazing in every way.

I know I grew her.  I know I birthed her.  I know she looked like me.  I know she was mine.  BUT, I have heard for years, from many people that she was special.  There was just something about her.  She grabbed people.  There were people from around the world praying for her (thanks to the blog and list-serve in which I was involved at that time).  Each day, I could log onto my email and there would be digests or individual emails from Israel or China or Australia.  Some were worded in ways that were unusual to me.  That didn't matter.  It was the true love and caring that came through.  When she died, there were hundreds that poured into the church over two days to pay respects, some driving for hours to get there.  I was shocked and amazed and so proud of the way my tiny, wise, loving daughter had touched so many lives.

I know it may surprise you to hear that I did things differently.  Many are too personal for public consumption.  The easy parts to share are that I tried to keep some part of her life normal.  Olivia didn't die in a hospital.  She was home.  We enlisted hospice services.  There had been too many surgeries.  There were too many brushes with death.  There was nothing else to do to stop the demon that was the seizure monster.  So, we stayed home where she was happiest.  She was with her cats that she loved and who loved her.  Albert and Snooks stayed on her person or by her side as if they were fierce protectors.

She stayed on her Mommy as much as possible until my friends, or the Posse as they became known, forced me to shower and eat.  Although, toward the last weeks, people even fed me so I didn't have to put her down.  I didn't want to miss a single minute.  I cherished every second.  My God, there could never be enough of them!

From January 2 until February 10th, it was a waiting game.  It was gut wrenching.  I felt like my heart was ripped out, shredded and put back in a million times.  The last time, four years ago today, only part of it was put back in.  I haven't been whole since.  I am thankful for the love and devotion of those Posse members who have held on to me and kept me from tipping over the edge.  I am thankful for new ones who have come into my life to strengthen the rope.  Kelly is doing his part to be patient and tolerant of my lashing out.  I can only imagine what it's like to experience it when you didn't experience the event.

I lie here covered in my quilt made from her clothes.  It's been washed many times, but they still covered her at some point.  It's my way of holding her today.  There is nothing I wouldn't give to have Olivia Nicole in my arms again.  The only solace is knowing she doesn't have those damnable seizures anymore.

Thanks to one of the original Posse members, there is an actual star named Princess Olivia.  I've never taken the coordinates to a planetarium and looked, so I just look at the night sky and assume the brightest thing I see is it.  When you look up tonight, wave and say "Happy Angelversary, Princess O".  It's happy because there is no more pain and there are no more tubes.  That is how I keep breathing and standing on solid ground.

Angel Birthday

Happy birthday in Heaven to my beautiful Olivia.

12 years ago, I was bringing the most loving, precious, beautiful girl there would ever be into this world.  Her huge blue eyes took my breath away.  It could have also been the excruciating pain of natural childbirth, but I'm going with the eyes.

I labored with Olivia for 10 hours.  I pushed for an hour and 20 minutes.  She looked perfect.  She nursed in the delivery room.  She never slept in that plastic bassinet in the hospital.  She was always on me or her dad, mostly me.  There was no hint of any problem or the nightmares to come. 

February 5, 2000, is the best day I ever lived. 

Regularly Scheduled Programming

I know I have bombarded everyone within earshot and screenshot with A Band of Ghosts and the South by Southwest Music Festival the past week/couple of weeks.  I truly appreciate your patience with me.  Final tally isn't in yet, but at around 11:58pm last night, they were in 2nd place.  It's looking good for them to make it to the next round, even if they didn't get the top spot.  This is amazing considering the other contenders had thousands of Facebook likes and/or friends.  ABOG has 428.  Their first video was posted to YouTube this past week and already has over 900 views.  They are really incredible and THANK YOU for voting and helping get them closer to an opportunity to show their talent to others.

Now, back to my shit.

You know what's great?  This SXSW contest has taken so much focus, it has kept me from wallowing in my sadness and grief that would have normally enveloped me by now.  Instead of working and going to bed immediately upon arriving home, I would Tweet, Facebook, email, and blog to get votes and raise awareness for this band I believe in and Kelly's talent.  Too bad it didn't cover the next two weeks.

Today, I went to get a steroid shot in my ass.  I know that seems off topic, but hold on.  This funky semi-winter weather is messing with my asthma.  My pulmonolgist does not play.  Via email, she managed to get me into her office for a steroid injection without an appointment in the span of about two hours and she wasn't even on campus.  I love her.  Anyway, the receptionist was a class A bitch because I wasn't in her computer.  I work in a pretty good sized medical center.  We're pushing good customer service right now and she was a definite no-no.  She sent me wandering through the back halls to find a nurse on my own because she was "busy with something else and you can see if somebody else knows what you're talking about".  Alrighty then...  She has no idea that I'm not a quiet person or that I know half the 12,000 people employed here.  I saw one of them, and simply mentioned to him she'd been a bitch and he went to get her manager.  This manager happened to have worked at the OB office where I went when I was pregnant with Olivia 12 years ago AND her name is Olivia.  Talk about a small world.

She asked how my daughter is.  Holy shit balls.  Not only did I have to say my Olivia had died, but being in the medical profession, she asked all those questions about the whys and hows.  She was very kind, considerate and not rude at all.  It's just different.  A bank teller would probably just cry and never dream to wonder if it was a heart defect, a chromosome defect on the short arm of 22 or a TBI with catastrophic results.

I answered.  I answered all of them and tried to talk about Olivia.  The problem is the timing.  I've been so wrapped up in other stuff that the emotional flood I thought was just a stream this year was, in fact, only held back by a dam of distraction.  I didn't get to tell her all the wonderful times and things about my Olivia.  I had to get through it as quickly as possible so I didn't break down.

I think I have to get back to my original plan...I need to talk...I need to write...I need to honor Olivia's memory.  I assure you, they won't be all sad.  My girl was fun!  She had a great sense of humor that was much more mature than her years.  She was definitely her mother's child.

Our song is in my head.  I love you Carly Simon for writing it.  I love you Anne Grant for introducing me to it.  We played it over and over and over.  She even wanted me to sing it to her.  Thank you Kristen Faulkner for the beautiful framed version on my wall.  And so it begins...

Photos by Anne Grant photograpy

I Only Need One Deadly Sin

Freely admitted glutton here.  Thanksgiving didn't go exactly according to plan, but I should have expected that, since none of my plans ever go as planned.  I didn't get to sleep in (shocker).  I was able to go visit Olivia's grave and get her mini Christmas tree in place.  If her stuff is done, it really doesn't matter if I ever get mine finished.

Although, I really want to decorate a tree.  For most of my adult life, I put up my Christmas tree Thanksgiving night or the day after.  Things were a little schedule-challenged the past few years.  I work at the hospital this weekend, so even that is totally out of the picture.   I am not lazy!  I went and dug through the storage building this morning.  I found two boxes of the decorations.  Alas, I worked at the mall on this dreaded black Friday, so I'm stuck for now.

As for the food, it was delish.  I went crazy over the yeast rolls.  I could have eaten a whole pan.  There was a super yummy chocolate pie and fab pumpkin pie, too.  I've never been the Thanksgiving nap person.  But, yesterday, I crawled up on my Mother-in-law's bed wrapped in a blankie and sacked out!  I didn't even watch football!

My resolve had been to enjoy the day and not focus on the hurt.  The hurt is always there.  I wish people got that, REALLY got that.  I cried a lot yesterday.  I cried a lot last night.  I've cried a lot today.  Sometimes, the old wounds weep, regardless of our resolve to keep them shut.  At best, those around us have emotional salve and bandages ready.  At worst, they say they weren't a part of that time or something insensitive like that (come on Joanie, Joey, Steph....you know what I mean) and expect you to 'get over it'.

I think this is why gluttony would be the 1 of the 7 deadly sins I associate myself with.  I gravitate toward it easily.  Food can't hurt me.  Food can't talk back.  Yay pie!

p.s.  Let's  not forget the best ending of this afternoon....M to tha D-E-A.  Halllelueria!

Dates and I'm Not Talking Fruit

Happy Labor Day!  Whatever

Labor Day doesn't really mean anything.  I'm heading to work in a couple of hours.  We just went grocery shopping and it was an effing madhouse.  No one takes a break.  Besides that, it means something otherwise to me.

Tomorrow would have been my Due Date.  There's a big, ol' fat circle on the calendar, but no baby is coming.  If you've been around, you know I miscarried in late January.  It seems a really long time ago, but it kind of seems not so long ago some days.  As if the past week hasn't been traumatic enough, this has to fall in the same time frame.

The whole yin yang thing is bullshit.  There is no balance in my universe.  I seriously think I have some kind of weird barometer inside and I make my own atmosphere.  I have an innate black cloud.  Everything and everyone I touch turns to a steaming pile.

I'm not holding a pity party.  No sympathy seeking here.  I would, however, love it if something really awesome happened and didn't disappear almost instantaneously.  Maybe I should join the carnies at the fair next month.  I could just travel and eat elephant ears all year.  How could that end badly?