I love Fair Season.
Anyone who lives in a small, agriculturally-based area knows what I am talking about. I look forward to Fall in and of itself, but it is really the Fair that gets me going. Our favorite is coming up in about 6 days and I can't wait. It really brings out the former 4-H-er in me, and suddenly I am really excited about seeing things such as glass jars full of peaches with a blue ribbon hanging off of them, livestock that I usually eat, teenagers trying so hard to be cool, even though they are standing beside a game that gives away stuffed animals, and of course, the Jesus floats.
What is a Jesus float, you ask?
Well, somehow in our area no one thinks it strange that every other float in a parade includes a man dressed up like Jesus, usually surrounded by a crowd of angels pumping out loud gospel music. And as these floats are often sponsored by banks and trucking companies, I can only guess that these angels (and Jesus too) have to get up for work as a bank teller the next morning.
Speaking of parades, there are always plenty of costumed characters bobbing up and down the parade route, some slightly inappropriate. We always look forward to the representative of a local bakery; you would think that a donut would be the best character, but this shop has chosen instead the Long John. Don't know what a Long John is? It's a cylindrical, hot dog shaped confection, but created into an upright parade costume, you can probably picture a certain part of the male anatomy that this resembles. I'll bet they fight over who gets to wear it.
My daughter is scared to death of Mr. Long John, and any other costumed character that might amble her way. I will never forget two years ago when she was curled up on her Poppy's lap next to me, who was enjoying having my lap to myself for the first time in almost 2 years and was blissfully examining a Jesus float. All of a sudden I notice that my daughter is screaming bloody murder. I look over to find the giant , man-sized Sonic milkshake hovering over her, frantically waving and not noticing that he was scaring the bejesus out out of a toddler. I actually had to grab his arm and politely ask that he move along...his work was done. I think my step-dad still bears scars on his arms from her clawing for her life. Luckily we visited our first Sonic this summer and found that she did not suffer flashbacks.
So here is my chance to visit my husband's hometown, remember twirling my flag in that parade just 18 short years ago, help my daughter win yet one more "fair fish", and eat fried oreos. To me, there is nothing better.
I just hope Jesus and the angels throw out some tootsie rolls from their float. I love them.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
A Year...
A year ago today... Chad and I walked into our first appointment, our 10 week appointment with Dr. Eichenlaub, expecting to hear our little one's heartbeat. It had been a long, hard 10 weeks and I had not been feeling well. The odd thing was, two days earlier I had turned a corner. I was feeling so much better, and I even told the doctor about the change. He did the normal first appointment housekeeping, I was given a journal by the nurse, weighed, on and on. But deep down I was still sick inside. Just let me hear...get that stupid doppler...I need to hear it...
Finally the doppler was placed on my belly. And nothing. Just silence. It did not cause immediate panic; I remembered that it had been hard to find Mia's heartbeat at the first appointment but eventually did.
I could see it written all over Dr. E's face. He took me out in the hall and instructed the nurse to get me in for an ultrasound as soon as possible. "To rule out twins!" he assured me. But I saw it there on the orders: "For purpose of: Viability." Miraculously we were able to get an appointment the next day. I was in shock driving back to work; however I will never in my life forget the song that played from the moment I got into my car until I reached work: "Let It Be," By Paul McCartney of the Beatles.
It was an awful 24 hours. It was the first week of school and I was insanely busy which turned out to be a blessing. I could stare at my computer screen and wish the hours away.
"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me..."
Soon I was in the ultrasound room with Chad holding my hand. The tech was not friendly or chatty, especially when she tried the ultrasound of my belly. She quickly stopped and told us she was switching to a transvaginal to get a better view of the baby. She said, "now, I am going to have the screen down here near me, so you won't be able to see it just yet." Little did she know that I have had many ultrasounds done for various reasons and they have never had to pull the screen so far away from me that I couldn't see it. This was not going well. After a few types on her keyboard she quickly finished, hopped up and left the room.
"Speaking words of wisdom, 'Let it Be'..."
We sat and waited. And waited. About a half hour later, she finally came back and thrust a telephone at me. "It's Dr. Eichenlaub," she said and flew from the room again. And I was not surprised at all to hear the words we dreaded, that our baby had died. His frustration was evident as he told me, "Alison, this just happened. Your baby stopped developing at 9 weeks, 2 days." Chad cried as his face was against my shoulder. My crisis instincts took over and I solemnly made plans for surgery the next morning. And then I had to drive home by myself.
The next few days went so fast. We made all of the calls to family. They came over and helped us cope. They cried with us and for us. And somehow we carried on. We still had to take care of Mia, and Chad was just about to start a new job. Life went on, and this little baby became a memory. We had to stop talking about it to others because it soon becomes clear that people expect you to get over it and stop discussing such a sad topic. And I thought I had flown through recovery.
"Let it be, Let it be, Let it be, oh let it be..."
In January it hit me like a ton of bricks, possibly because it was time to start trying again. That is when I think I started working on my true feelings now that the numbness had worn off. The feelings were raw and full of anger, often directed towards God. And that is when I started this blog, which never turns out exactly the way I had planned. I found a community of women on the internet who have helped me because they too have felt all of these feelings and allow me to feel them.
And here we are, a year later expecting our third child. I never take the pregnancy or my family for granted because I have seen something very precious be taken away from me in an instant. I know what it is like to feel so out of control, yet pulled to lay it at someone else's feet. And while I will not relax until this baby is in my arms, I feel like everything we have gone through in the past year has helped me get to here.
Let it be.
Finally the doppler was placed on my belly. And nothing. Just silence. It did not cause immediate panic; I remembered that it had been hard to find Mia's heartbeat at the first appointment but eventually did.
I could see it written all over Dr. E's face. He took me out in the hall and instructed the nurse to get me in for an ultrasound as soon as possible. "To rule out twins!" he assured me. But I saw it there on the orders: "For purpose of: Viability." Miraculously we were able to get an appointment the next day. I was in shock driving back to work; however I will never in my life forget the song that played from the moment I got into my car until I reached work: "Let It Be," By Paul McCartney of the Beatles.
It was an awful 24 hours. It was the first week of school and I was insanely busy which turned out to be a blessing. I could stare at my computer screen and wish the hours away.
"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me..."
Soon I was in the ultrasound room with Chad holding my hand. The tech was not friendly or chatty, especially when she tried the ultrasound of my belly. She quickly stopped and told us she was switching to a transvaginal to get a better view of the baby. She said, "now, I am going to have the screen down here near me, so you won't be able to see it just yet." Little did she know that I have had many ultrasounds done for various reasons and they have never had to pull the screen so far away from me that I couldn't see it. This was not going well. After a few types on her keyboard she quickly finished, hopped up and left the room.
"Speaking words of wisdom, 'Let it Be'..."
We sat and waited. And waited. About a half hour later, she finally came back and thrust a telephone at me. "It's Dr. Eichenlaub," she said and flew from the room again. And I was not surprised at all to hear the words we dreaded, that our baby had died. His frustration was evident as he told me, "Alison, this just happened. Your baby stopped developing at 9 weeks, 2 days." Chad cried as his face was against my shoulder. My crisis instincts took over and I solemnly made plans for surgery the next morning. And then I had to drive home by myself.
The next few days went so fast. We made all of the calls to family. They came over and helped us cope. They cried with us and for us. And somehow we carried on. We still had to take care of Mia, and Chad was just about to start a new job. Life went on, and this little baby became a memory. We had to stop talking about it to others because it soon becomes clear that people expect you to get over it and stop discussing such a sad topic. And I thought I had flown through recovery.
"Let it be, Let it be, Let it be, oh let it be..."
In January it hit me like a ton of bricks, possibly because it was time to start trying again. That is when I think I started working on my true feelings now that the numbness had worn off. The feelings were raw and full of anger, often directed towards God. And that is when I started this blog, which never turns out exactly the way I had planned. I found a community of women on the internet who have helped me because they too have felt all of these feelings and allow me to feel them.
And here we are, a year later expecting our third child. I never take the pregnancy or my family for granted because I have seen something very precious be taken away from me in an instant. I know what it is like to feel so out of control, yet pulled to lay it at someone else's feet. And while I will not relax until this baby is in my arms, I feel like everything we have gone through in the past year has helped me get to here.
Let it be.
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