I was tagged by one of my favorite friends, Angie, to play along and list 7 weird/random things about myself. Boy, I really have to rack my brain to come up with weird things about myself.
Here goes:
I fear hair. I have an actual phobia. I really, really, really hate loose hairs of all kinds. The shower can be a very scary place for me. Philip has to do a sweep of the entire shower area before I can go in and take a shower or bath. I’ve apparently passed this on to G, as well. I’m so proud!
I dread going through check-out lines, because I hate knowing the cashier is seeing everything I buy. I just know s/he is making fun of me. I know this because I know I would make fun of people’s purchases if I were in that position! LOL! I love that Wal-mart has self-checkouts now, and I use them every chance I get.
I hug trees. I really do.
Growing up, I always had a crush on the curly-haired mustached guy, e.g. Kotter from “Welcome Back Kotter”, John Oates of Hall & Oates, that curly-haired mustached guy from The Oak Ridge Boys, etc.
I love the Eagles, but I will NOT listen to the song “Hotel California”. I always liked the song, but during the summer of 1989 (when I was 16), I listened to it in the car, and then when I got home, I found out our cat had just been run over & killed. Then, a week or so later, I listened to it in the car with my brother, and when we got home, we found out our grandmother had died. For some reason I put those two experiences together and remembered that I’d listened to “Hotel California” right before finding out about each of their deaths, and I became afraid to listen to the song because I feared that as soon as I did, someone else I loved would die. So—18 years later—I’ve yet to listen to that song that I used to love. To this day, I’ll skip it on my Eagles CDs, and if I hear it on the radio, I turn it away instantly!
I’m a granny driver. I especially hate to drive at night. My night vision is really bad—I misinterpret distance and get terribly confused, which is scary! When we’re on a 2-lane highway at night (Philip is driving, of course), I constantly think that the oncoming traffic is in our lane. I’ve been known to scream and panic, thinking that we’re about to be in a head-on collision. G learned very early on to just ignore me; of course now he just laughs at me, along with Philip.
I have an incredibly detailed memory. I can not only remember just about everything that happens, but I can take any random memory and I’ll be able to remember the actual date that it happened, the day of the week, etc.
That’s seven things! Anyone else who wants to play along, please do & please let me know. I won’t tag anyone specifically, because I don’t think anyone actually reads my blog anymore! LOL!
One year ago today is when I miscarried our baby that was not meant to be (or was it?). I was 11 weeks pregnant. I still have the baby & its placenta stored in the freezer, and I probably will keep it indefinitely. I’m not sure why I never have been able to bury it; the best I can come up with is that its presence in the house has always brought me some sort of peace with what happened. Maybe this spring, when we bury Desmond’s placenta, I’ll bury the baby along with it…and we’ll plant a tree for both of them.
During the sad days after the miscarriage, I listened to Natalie Merchant’s “King of May” a lot. The lyrics are beautiful, and they were so appropriate for how I felt that day. I couldn’t keep that baby, no matter how badly I wished I could. We had to let him go. The song will forever remind me of my lost baby, the one who was supposed to be born in May, but who instead came to us in November. He was our “King of May”. (I’ve always thought he was a boy. Maybe because I’m a “boy” mom, maybe because G has always referred to him as a boy, maybe because of this song…but I just feel like he was a boy.)
Here is the song, and the lyrics follow. I only posted the lyrics that apply, though; I left some out.
farewell today
travel on now
be on your way
go safely there
never worry
never care
beyond this day
farewell tonight
to all joy and to all delight
go well and go peacefully
we can’t keep your majesty
be on your way
farewell today
travel on now
be on your way
can’t bear the very thought
that we could keep your majesty
be on your way
I can’t believe it’s been a year. I wonder who he would be now, had he been born in May. At the same time, I’m so thankful for Desmond and can’t imagine things being any different than the way they’ve happened. Miscarriage is so confusing for a mom. So many emotions, and they often contradict each other. So many conflicting loyalties. Nevertheless, I’m thankful today for my 7-week old son who IS here with me. But at the same time, I’m remembering the little one I lost.
Today I went to see Jenny for my 6 week postpartum checkup. Nothing too interesting about that, except for the coincidence. Which is that today also happened to be one year ago that I also went to see Jenny, that time for what was supposed to be my 10-week prenatal visit. But instead, it was the day I found out my baby had died.
One year ago today, I lay staring at the ultrasound screen that showed one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever seen: a motionless blob lying at the bottom of the gestational sac. I’ll never forget it, nor the silence in the room, broken by Jenny saying, “I’m sorry Cam, I don’t see a heartbeat,” as she put her hand on me. I’ll never forget the ride home that day one year ago, the numbness I felt, nor the tears that I tried to hide so that I wouldn’t upset G.
What a coincidence—or, I should say, what a blessing—that today, one year later, I went in to see Jenny for a postpartum visit, bringing along with me my beautiful, healthy baby boy. When I left her office today, I went home with a baby snoozing in the back seat. I can’t help but thank God for the way he always brings everything around to something good.
7 weird/random things about me
I’ll never forget it, nor the silence in the room, broken by Jenny saying, “I’m sorry Cam, I don’t see a heartbeat,” as she put her hand on me. I’ll never forget the ride home that day one year ago, the numbness I felt, nor the tears that I tried to hide so that I wouldn’t upset G.