Oh, wait, I forgot to breathe!

Here's to one hell of a month that I managed to survive. In the last 26 days, I've called an ambulance, made friends with the neighbors, lived 11 days with my mom in the same house, thrown a birthday party, pulled together Christmas, started back to school, thrown Christmas together, made a huge meal from scratch, and actually managed to have the house spotless TWO times. Oh yeah, I went grocery shopping twice this month, too. I must be some sort of amazing mix of superwomen and Martha freaking Stewart. I'd be slightly impressed if I didn't feel the need to run down the street screaming bloody murder.

On a lighter note, my mind has been wondering what I'll put on my ridiculous list of New Year's resolutions this year. So far, I've come up with quite the list (that I'll be posting in a few days). It's a laugh. Meanwhile, at this exact time 3 months ago, I was laying in a hospital bed, weathering contractions from hell and wishing that my sweet baby boy would make his way through my birth canal just a TEENSE faster. My sweet baby girl is 5 years old now (gulp). And my sweet little man is still as sweet as ever (despite the fact that he's discovered the wonderful world of tantrums). I'll post more later. I think I'll go run down the street now. ;)

Hi, My name is.....

Back when Oprah was on the air, every once in a while you would hear her make a comment about the reason she's never wanted to get married. She says she was always afraid of getting married because she was scared she would lose herself. For the longest time, I never knew what she meant. Then I got married and had kids.

Now, keep in mind I got married at 18. Maybe this applies more to me because I got married so young. It seems like as soon as I figured out who "Cara" was, I became Dayton's wife, then ZoeJane's mom, then Michael's, and now Phoenix's. It's a struggle to remember to do a little something for myself every now and then. I'm too busy being wrapped up in things Dayton needs done and taking care of babies. By the time all that's done, there's the house...and then I'm too tired to even give a second thought of what I can do for myself.  Within a few weeks, I'll be adding school back to the list. It's exhausting.

A couple of weeks ago I made a point to buy myself some girly body wash. It wasn't generic. I didn't have a coupon (well, I did...but I forgot it at home). And still, I made a point to buy it. Just because I wanted it (I'm still dealing with a little bit of guilt seeing as this pretty smelling body wash benefits no one but me). Just because it smelled pretty. It was a first step back to taking care of myself. It sounds stupid, but it's the little things. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don't even recognize myself. My identity seems to be lost in the pile of never ending to-do's. On top of that, with everything that's happened in the last couple of years (if you know me well, you know what I'm talking about), I feel even more lost. I've weathered things that I always told myself I never would. Is that because I don't even remember who I am? I have no idea. I really don't.

So for all the wives and mommies, how do you keep from losing yourself? Or better yet, how do you find yourself again once you realize you're lost?

P.S. This week I think I'll splurge on the hot pink razors I love. Is it sad that I'm excited?

I have no idea what I'm doing. I have no idea how to get over all the shit that I need to put behind me. I don't know how to let it go. It's becoming an issue. I feel like it makes me hypersensitive to everything that's going on. Everything makes me think of it. It seems impossible to let go. Is that supposed to be a sign that I wasn't supposed to let it go in the first place?

Happy Birthday, Phoenix!

On Sunday, the 25th, I woke up around 8am with the typical aches and pains that go along with being 39 weeks pregnant. Dayton and I were planning to spend the week getting everything ready for Phoenix, as I was scheduled for an induction at 5am Thursday morning. Yeah, we didn't make it to Thursday.

It didn't take me long to realize after I woke up, that it was quite possible that my water had broken. You would think with this being my third pregnancy, I would definitely know if my water had broken. Not the case. I wasn't having contractions, so I decided to get up and shower and get me and the kids ready, just in case my water HAD broken and we had to make a mad dash to the hospital if killer contractions became an issue. We also put a call in to the sister in law so she could come watch the kids...just in case.

I took a shower. Nothing. I gave ZoeJane a bath. Nothing. I did my hair. Nothing. I got the kids dressed. Nothing. I ate lunch. Nada. Around lunch time I decided that my water hadn't broken and I gave up on waiting for contractions. Around 3pm, I laid down for a nap. I slept for about two hours (this turned out to be a good thing), and when I woke up, Brittany (sister in law) was on her way. At about 6:30pm, I decided to clean a little...hoping that I was initially wrong and I was in labor. I figured the activity would maybe help start some regular contractions. I was able to unload and reload the dishwasher before my back started hurting like hell. I had Dayton walk outside with me so I could get some fresh air and relax a little, as I was more nervous at this point than I was the first time I gave birth (Scary ultrasounds, confusing measurements, and a scare with brain ventricles tend to do that to you).

Brittany got to our house at about 7pm, and was ready to roll. I had expected that she would want to stay at our house with ZoeJane and Michael to save herself the hassle of trying to wrangle them in a hospital waiting room...but she was too excited to stay, so we all loaded up and headed out. I rode with Brittany and the kids and we stopped by Taco Bell on the way. I got food for Dayton and the kids. I decided to skip in case I was in labor. I didn't think eating right before would go over too well. We pulled into the parking garage and everybody ate. I called my sister to let her know what was going on.

We got Brittany settled in the play area with ZoeJane and Michael. I left my phone with her in case she needed anything, she could call Dayton's phone. Dayton and I headed up to the 3rd floor and checked into labor and delivery. Surprisingly, they got us right back to a triage room, hooked Phoenix and I up to all kinds of monitors, and did the test. The first test to check for amniotic fluid came back negative. I still wasn't having regular contractions, but the labor and delivery nurse (who must know how exhausting it is to be 39 weeks pregnant with two small kids at home. Bless her relentless heart.) said she wanted to do a second, more accurate test just to be safe. Okay, whatever. Dayton was bummed, as he had gotten all hyped up for what he thought was labor. I was bummed that he was bummed (though slightly relieved, as I had been terrified and dreading labor since the initial scare with the ventricles), and I was then focusing on the fact that it was about 7:45pm and ZoeJane was supposed to be in bed at 8pm so she could wake up the next morning for school. The nurse did the test, and told us it would take 10 minutes to get the results. She also mentioned that if the test came back positive before then, she'd be right in to let us know. The whole 10 minutes passed, so I was sure we were going home. Right around the time I realized that 10 minutes had passed, she popped her head back into our room "Yep! You're ruptured! You're not going home". I must have looked at her with the most insane look on my face, and all I could get out was "Are you sure?". She was excited for us. Dayton was stoked. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Since my water had been broken for about 12 hours now, they moved really fast. She immediately checked to see how far dilated I was. 3 centimeters. I sent Dayton down to the waiting room so I could see ZoeJane and Michael before Brittany took them back home. While he was gone, I put my hand on my belly..knowing that I would only be able to feel Phoenix's kicks for a few more hours and had a pep talk with him. I told him how much I loved him and that I needed him to be strong. I asked him not to be too difficult, lol. The nurse came in and told me that they would need to start an IV right away so that they could start pitocin to get him out because my water had been broken so long. They would also need to start me on antibiotics within the next few hours to counteract any possible infection that had started due to my water being broken for so long. Great. So much for all natural. The kids came back in with Dayton and Brittany and I was able to see them for a split second before the nurse came in to start my IV. I had Brittany take the kids back out because I knew Michael would be upset if he saw them put the IV in. He's my little worry wart. This is where the sweet stuff started.

When I was in labor with Michael, Dayton was pretty much comatose for the whole event, as he had been making a 2 hour commute each way, five days a week, for months at that point. He missed the IV the last time..and I hate that part the most. So, once the kids were out of the room, he came over to the bed and stood on the opposite side from the nurse. He held my hand and laid over me so I wouldn't have to see the needle (the last nurse scarred me when she told me that the IV's they use for labor and delivery are much bigger than normal IV needles). He told me to squeeze his hand if I needed to. The first vein blew....on to the other wrist. It hurt like hell, but at the same time, I was completely focused on how sweet it was of him to help me through it, it was hard to notice. After I was all set up, the kids came back in and we were off to the labor room. While we were walking, ZoeJane asked me what was in my arm, and if it hurt. She sounded worried, until I told her that it didn't hurt and that it was just something mommy's get when they're having babies. That seemed to do the trick.

The room was huge, and surprisingly pretty and cozy considering the things that were bound to take place in there. The view was of the parking garage, which was actually pretty comforting for me because it meant I could focus on the cars coming and going if I got nervous. I got settled in the bed and Dayton had to go back to the house with Brittany, as he had left (and locked) the keys in the house. He also had to go over all the rules and routine info with Brittany. We didn't do it earlier because I was so sure it was another false alarm. I begged him to hurry, since I knew that this being my third baby...I could go from zero to GO in about 15 minutes. I was so scared for him to leave. I got hugs and kisses from my babies and they were off. Not long after he left, my midwife came in and we chatted about everything they were going to need to do (pitocin, antibiotics, blood work for Phoenix right after birth, etc.), then we moved on to small talk (like the fact that my other midwife, who is her daughter in law, is expecting a baby in about 2 months..a little girl) and she eased my mind. I begged her not to start the pitocin until Dayton was back, but she assured me that I had plenty of time and we needed to go ahead and get it started to reduce the risk of infection. Of course, Phoenix's needs came first...so we started it. About the time she walked out, I looked out to the parking garage and realized that I had been looking at Dayton's truck. He was gone, but I knew I'd be able to see when he got back. I stared at the window until my nurse came back in. In the few minutes she had distracted me, he was back. By then, the contractions were already noticeable. It was such a relief to look over and know that he was back and would be in the room within minutes. For some reason, just knowing he was back made me feel safe.

He walked in, armed with two cans of Monster. He had already taken a 5 hour energy shot. He knew how important it was to me for him to be involved this time. He came back prepared for the long haul. When he came in, he knew that I was already feeling the contractions. We sat and talked for a few minutes. He tried his best to calm my nerves. We were all settled in by around 9pm. By 10:45pm, the contractions were a steady 2 minutes apart, and after a couple of hours of hard contactions, I decided to take pain meds. They kicked in pretty fast, and initially, they didn't really help the pain...but I didn't care about it nearly as much. After a while, I didn't even feel them (whether this was due to me being high as a kite or the pain medication actually working is TBD). Dayton pulled the chair up beside my bed where he could read the monitors and talk me through the contractions as they came and went, and he started Jewel's lullaby CD on his computer that I had asked him to download for Phoenix a few weeks before. It didn't take me long to relax enough to fall asleep for a few minutes. When I woke up, he was still beside me. Unfortunately, the pain meds wore off after about an hour. By then, I was shaking uncontrollably due to the saline, antibiotics, and pitocin being pumped into me. At about 1:30am, the nurse came in to check me and I had only made a little progress...I was only at 4cm. I finally broke down and asked for the epidural. I still feel like a puss.

Dayton kept trying to make me feel better about taking it, as I had really wanted to go natural this time. The anesthesiologist came in and set up. He was friendly, which always makes things easier and less stuffy. They positioned me with my legs hanging off the bed. Dayton came and stood in front of me, talking me through the contractions I was having. The dr kept trying to tell me that there would be a little stick to numb the area, and that would be the worst part. All I kept thinking was "Blah, blah, blah! I've done this a time or two before, kid!". I kept looking at Dayton. For some reason, eye contact with him is enough to calm my nerves. And it did. His eyes started watering right before the doctor started. I asked him what was wrong, and he said he hated seeing me in pain. I knew if I saw him cry, I'd lose it. So I just rested my head on his chest. The doctor numbed the area. No biggie. I mean, really. I had a baby working his way to my birth canal. I didn't expect a needle to be too bad. Then he told me to hold still because he was about to insert the tube. It didn't hurt, but it was enough pressure to make me jump. Dayton tried to hold me still. I must have apologized to the doctor about 50 times, as everyone knows that the #1 rule of getting an epidural is DO NOT MOVE. He was nice and kept telling me it was okay and that he was sorry. Poor Dayton had to sit through my death grip after that. It took a while for the epidural to REALLY kick in. It didn't work as well as the first epidural I had with ZoeJane, but at that point...I was taking what I could get.

After it finally kicked in, I tried to rest, but the adrenaline was pumping hard. Well, adrenaline and about 52 other things like...pitocin, antibiotics, saline, and whatever that beautiful liquid that runs through the epidural tube is. A little while after I took the epidural, my midwife came back in to check me. 6 centimeters. This was moving MUCH slower than I had expected. It must have been about 4am when I suddenly perked up and felt a lot of pressure. Dayton went and got the nurse for me. This wouldn't seem like a big deal to most people....but it was huge to me. He's not the type to hunt down a nurse and ask for her to come check his wife. He's not even the type to push the little call button and ask someone that way. It was a big deal. She came in and checked me. I almost fell off the bed when she said I was only at 8cm. I was terrified. If it was that uncomfortable at 8cm WITH an epidural, how bad were those last 2cm (not to mention the actual pushing stage) going to be?! She told me I could take an extra dose of the epidural, but it may make the pushing stage harder, as I wouldn't be able to feel anything. I decided to try and tough it out. She left the room and probably got all of about 3 steps out of the door when all of a sudden, it felt like he was coming right then. It scared the hell out of me, and Dayton went back out for her. I thought I was going crazy, as there was no way I could have progressed that fast. She came back (probably cussing me out in her mind), and said "You're at 10! You're ready to push!". Cue exercises to counteract a panic attack.

At 4:44am, I started pushing. Maybe twice. Only my nurse was in the room. I'm not sure why, but she stepped away from the bed and started doing something with the monitor. Another nurse came in and my midwife came back. Peggy (midwife) is so laid back. She's probably in her 60's and I imagine it would be nearly impossible for this woman to panic. The nurses are rushing around getting the warmer and bassinet ready. They're setting up the instruments and turning the lights on. I don't care how many kids you have...it never gets comfortable to have a room full of people starting at your lady parts with giant, bright lights shining down. Luckily for me, my sweet husband was nice enough to stay at the head of the bed and spare me at least a little embarrassment. Peggy comes into it all and says "Oh! Are we ready to push?". She slips on a gown and comes up to me. I remember telling her that my hands were suddenly tingling. She smiled at me and said, "You're okay. You're hyperventilating a little. But everything is fine. We're good.". Instant calm. The 4am news was on the tv behind Peggy. Dayton asked if I wanted him to turn it off. I told him no, because it was giving me something to focus on. I specifically remember David Chandley reporting a high of 84 degrees for the next day. Peggy sat down at the end of the bed. My nurse stood beside her. The new nurse was beside me, and Dayton was on the other side. He wanted to hold my hand, but the nurse had him hold my leg, lol. I hated it. I remember thinking my thighs were huge. I don't remember ever being so tired from pushing with either of our other two kids. Dayton kept kissing my head in between pushes and whispering "You're doing great, baby". It was so calming.

I decided ahead of time that I wanted a mirror since I had never seen one of my babies be born, and I didn't want to miss that, since Phoenix would be our last. They were surprised that I had asked, but happy to set one up. Peggy told me to look when she saw Phoenix's head, and I just stared in the mirror saying "Where?". I felt like a moron, but it didn't look anything like I had expected. It didn't take me long to look away from the mirror. That was one thing that didn't make me feel sentimental. At 4:52am, Phoenix Kole made his way out with his umbilical cord around his neck (one more scare for mommy!). He came into the world screaming his little head off, but it was the sweetest screaming I had ever heard. I've never felt such relief in my life. I looked at Dayton and had the most overwhelming feeling of "We did it!". I didn't say anything to him, but I think he felt the same. Dayton got a picture of me holding Phoenix literally RIGHT after he was born. It was the first time I'd let him take pictures like that. They got a picture of Dayton cutting the cord. We had never gotten one of those. They took Phoenix to the bassinet and cleaned him up. They weighed him and took a little blood to make sure he didn't have an infection. He cried for everything except having his blood drawn. He calmed down as soon as he heard his daddy's voice.

They brought him right back to me as soon as they were done. Dayton and I sat staring at him for a few minutes. The nurses checked me. I barely noticed. As soon as all the excitement died down, I asked Dayton to go find me food. My nurse brought me some peanut butter and graham crackers and some juice. I hadn't eaten since lunch time the day before. I was starving. I asked for a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit. It took him a little longer than I expected, but when he came back...he had waffle house food. Who can complain about that? We sat together in the hospital bed and ate breakfast together. Phoenix was asleep and it was a sweet few minutes to ourselves. Not long after I ate, I started feeling really sick. I was nauseous and having heart flutters. Can you believe after almost 7 years together, that was the first time he's ever held my hair? And I didn't even end up getting sick. He stayed with me until I was settled in the postpartum room. He made sure I was okay and waited until after the pediatrician checked on Phoenix. After that, I asked him to go get the kids. We decided to let ZoeJane stay home that day so she could come to the hospital and meet her brother.

As soon as they walked in, I heard a loud "Mommy!" from Michael, and before I could turn around good, he was climbing up on the bed with me. ZoeJane was more interested in seeing the baby than she was about seeing me. She asked to hold him as soon as she walked in. It didn't take long for me to have both older kids in the bed with me with their baby brother in the middle, on my lap. At that point, neither one of us had had any decent amount of sleep, but Dayton still stayed with me. Even after I told him to go home and rest, he stayed.

It turned out that because my water had been broken for so long, Phoenix and I had to stay an additional 24 hours. It sucked, but at the same time, I decided to soak it in...because this would be the last time I'd be in the hospital because I had had a baby. This was the last time I'd be in the hospital and be able to look over and see a baby in a bassinet beside my bed. It was the last time I'd be able to do all the newborn stuff alone with Dayton. The worst part was having to be away from my other babies for so long. The best part came on Tuesday night. Dayton had gone home earlier in the day to get some rest. It was silly that I had missed him so much for those few hours, but I did. When he came back, we settled in and watched some tv together. He logged onto babycenter for me and posted a birth announcement. He read my messages to me. Even though I had the chance, I couldn't wind down enough to rest. So finally, he grabbed his computer and came over to the bed and snuggled up with me. He pulled up the newest episode of Jerseylicious that I had missed since I had been in labor the night it was on. We munched on graham crackers and cranberry grape juice. It was the simplest night. But aside from the night I spent laboring, it was the most special night we had had in a long time. I'm not sure that anything could have made it better.

Phoenix Kole was born on Monday, September 26th at 4:52am. He was 7 lbs 4.4 oz and 18.5 inches long. Surprisingly, he had more hair than his brother and sister had at birth, combined. He came in completely healthy and beautiful. He was my earliest baby at 39 weeks, 2 days pregnant. He taught me that one pound doesn't make a difference during labor--it will still hurt. I had never gone into a labor experience as scared as I did this time, but fortunately, Dayton was by my side the whole time and did every single thing he could to make it easier on me. I couldn't have asked for a better birth experience, or a better husband. The whole experience brought us closer, and it made me appreciate him even more (I love you, Dayton! <3)

Happy birthday, Phoenix! Here we go, baby boy! <3

So much to process!

So, it's been almost two months since my last post, and there is a crap ton to update. Over the last seven weeks or so, we've been on a complete roller coaster of events.

Back at my 35 week check up, we found out that Phoenix's measurements were off. His head was measuring ahead at 38 weeks, and his abdomen was measuring behind at 33 weeks. We were referred to the same specialist that we saw when my measurements looked funny with ZoeJane. A few days later when we went to see him, we were told that Phoenix's brain ventricles were enlarged as well. We were sent home and scheduled for a follow up two weeks later. I made the mistake of googling. We were looking at the possibility of ventromegaly, which is a problem that can lead to hydrocephalus. Two weeks later, his ventricles were bigger and his measurements were still funny. My amniotic fluid was also low, and I was put on bed rest (leave it to me to make it through two full pregnancies and 37 weeks of a third and end up on bed rest). We were referred to Children's Healthcare of Atlanta for a fetal MRI. Anyone who knows me well knows how much research I've done on fetal anomalies....so I was terrified. To top it off, they decided to send Dayton back to Jacksonville the following week.

Luckily, we arranged for our sister in law, Brittany, to come hang out with me while Dayton was gone just in case I went into labor. Dayton was scheduled to leave the afternoon of our third follow up with the specialist. We were hoping they would have the MRI results, but we left the office that morning without them. I was so upset at the idea of having to receive what could have been terrible news alone, while Dayton was gone. He left around lunch time and about an hour later my phone rang. It was the specialist's office. Apparently, the receptionist knew how upset I was about not having the results and how worried I had been, so after we left the office, she called the hospital and tracked down our results. The lady told me she'd give me the short version of the MRI report....it reported normal ventricles, no brain abnormalities, a slight amount of fluid in pockets (but nothing considered abnormal), and the radiologist suggested we follow up with an MRI after Phoenix was born. RELIEF!!! Though, after such a scare, it was almost impossible to relax for the rest of the pregnancy. I was constantly worried that something would be wrong when he was born.

Dayton got home safe and sound from Jacksonville, and luckily there were no trips to labor and delivery while he was gone.

Fast forward to 39 weeks. I was scheduled for an induction on Thursday, September 29th. We scheduled it just because we needed to have someone set up to take care of the kiddo's while I was in labor. On Sunday, the 25th, I woke up and realized (well, thought) that my water had broken. Keep in mind, my water has never broken on its own with my first two pregnancies. I got up and got ZoeJane and I showered and dressed, just in case we had to dash to the hospital. After that, I rested and waited for the hard contractions to start. They never did, but Dayton was freaked enough to call Brittany back so we could go to the hospital. While we waited on her, I decided to clean a little to see if the activity would start my contractions. I emptied and refilled the dishwasher before I started getting noticeably uncomfortable. Brittany got to our house about 6pm. We finally got to labor and delivery at around 7:45pm. Cliff's notes version : We didn't make it to our Thursday morning induction. I'll post a more detailed birth story later.

It didn't make me any less stressed to hear that the Monday before Phoenix was born, a friend of mine lost her baby only 9 hours after birth. Granted, the baby had problems that had been diagnosed, but the things she died from were not detected before birth. That really hit close to home with Dayton and I. We were both completely wrapped up in every moment we spent at the hospital, just because we knew how lucky we were to be taking our baby home.

I'll update more later...

In Albuquerque, NM, there is a doctor who is one of only a handful (we're talking 3 who are "open" about their profession) who provides late term abortions. Southwestern Women's Options is the office of Dr. Curtis Boyd. He performs abortions up to 24 weeks (appx. the 6th month of pregnancy). I've never done much research on him (compared to the amount I've done on Dr. Tiller), but of what I have read...one thing always stands out to me. His openness, his honesty, and his refusal to offer an apology for the work he does. In one interview, he says "Am I killing? Yes. I know that". His honesty is almost bone chilling, while at the same time...refreshing (Don't get your panties in a wad. I'm not saying that late term abortions are refreshing. I'm simply referring to the man's brutal honesty). In the same interview, he states that he is also an ordained Baptist minister. Shocker. He goes on to say that he prays about the abortions he does, and asks that God accepts them back with love and understanding. And finally, he says that due to terrible circumstances, he has had to do abortions on girls as young as 9 and 10 years old. Unnerving, but a brutal reality of the world we live in. It goes without saying that the man is a main target of the pro-life movement and has received more death threats than he has time to sit down and count.

This man is probably the only minister you will find that admits to not only supporting abortions, but also performs them. This thought of this alone astounds me. Who knew that one could believe in and love God, but also support abortion? Did you ever think you'd live to see such a thing? If you ask me, I say we could use more with a mind as open as his. The man is willing to say things out loud that many don't even have the guts to admit to themselves. What if we all lived with such honesty? What if we were all willing to speak up about what we really believe in...and not just go along with what we were taught? What if we were all willing to defy our traditions? Oh, what a world we would live in.

Stress, contractions, and "The plan"

We (well, I) have a plan. You know, like a "life plan". There are things I want to accomplish for my children, and for me. The plan isn't going so well these days. First, my school screwed me over (again...way to go), but this time...we did a little digging. Turns out, they've been taking money off of my financial aid. There are small amounts missing here and there, and then larger amounts...$300 here...another $100 there. So, of course, my financial aid hasn't been covering my tuition. This has resulted in them blocking me from classes (online classes). I'm in the process of trying to transfer, but it is just that: a process. As if I wasn't far enough behind (about 3 terms) from the separation in 2009...this is just peachy. That's stress enough in itself.

And as usual, bills are biting us in the ass. We've been down sizing and though it's helping...there are things we CAN'T really downsize on (I'm not up for being Amish). It seems like no matter what we do, we just can't get ahead.

And then there's Phoenix's grand arrival. Don't get me wrong...I can't wait to get my hands on this sweet boy. I'm even more excited to introduce him to his big sister and big brother. BUT, I'm getting so stressed about the labor. I'm worried that we're not going to make it to the hospital in time between him being #3 and us having to get the kids somewhere. I'm worried the labor isn't going to go the way I want it to (or even close to how I want it to). I'm worried about the drama that will ensue because people are going to end up disappointed. It is impossible. No matter how I work the details, someone will be pissed. I think I've already made it MORE than clear that Dayton will be the only one in the room. There is always drama about that one--regardless of how "clear" I make it. Now, I'm pretty sure there will be drama as to how I handle the older kids this time. For example, ZoeJane will not be leaving town to stay with anyone, as she'll be in school. As if pregnancy, labor and delivery isn't stressful enough....there's always someone there to kill it.

On top of all of this nonsense, I've been having braxton hicks like a biotch lately. Last night they lasted a good 2 hours. They eventually let up, but now they're back at it again....I'm assuming as a result of me trying desperately to keep my mind off things by keeping busy. Yay.

Summer of Mercy 2.0, Update

Unfortunately, I can't find a whole lot of news outlets that are reporting on this. I realize abortion is a touchy subject for both sides, but I hate the idea that that keeps the news from covering it. It is such a big issue in our country.

Anyway, the second Summer of Mercy (deemed Summer of Mercy, 2.0) has been going on outside of Leroy Carhart's clinic in Germantown, Maryland. Before it started, Dr. Carhart decided it was best to close the clinic during the protests. You can't really blame him when you consider patient privacy and safety. HOWEVER, it looks as though Operation Rescue has decided to extend their "events" because Carhart has kept the clinic closed for the week. I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Dr. Carhart is letting them win in a way. While I certainly understand the concerns of keeping the clinic open during the protest, Operation Rescue doesn't seem to care why it's being shut down...as long as the doors are closed.

It's sad, really. You would think in the year 2011, with all the awful things going on in the world, we could look past our differences and hear each other out on this issue. Abortion really isn't a black and white issue, regardless of what side of the fence you're on. I've said it once and I'll say it again---no woman WANTS to have an abortion. No woman plans on it. But as we all know, life happens. This is when it's the most important for all of us to let our guards down and just LISTEN. Besides, if you're a Christian...judgement and hate isn't on your agenda, right?

It's not secret that my children are my life. It's been that way since the day we found out ZoeJane was on her way. I always felt so lucky to be carrying a little life inside of me. Three pregnancies later, it still feels that way.

We were not planning to start our family so soon after we got married. We had been married for 5 months when I found out I was pregnant with ZoeJane. Even when I went and bought the test and took it, I was still surprised to get a positive result. See, I was the type that was always paranoid about being pregnant. It was like a bi-monthly thing. I had gone grocery shopping and bought one, just to make sure. It wasn't an immediate result. In fact, I was just thinking to myself "I can't believe I keep wasting money on these things". I had picked it up to toss it in the trash when I noticed a faint second line had shown itself. Needless to say, I didn't put the rest of the groceries away. I jumped in the car, test in hand, and drove across base (as slowly and calmly as I could considering their strict speed limits) to tell Dayton. I walked in, signed in (while the guy at the desk was giving me crap and telling me I looked like I had just seen a ghost...) and walked back to his office. I opened the door and looked at his desk--of course he wasn't there. About the time I wanted to start freaking out, he came around the corner, spit cup in hand. I didn't say anything. "Hey! What's up? What are you doing here?".....I still couldn't say anything. I'm pretty sure that by then, my eyes were as big as melons. He stood there staring at me, waiting for me to say something. Finally I managed to nod my head. He started nodding back with a "?" on his face...then he started nodding a little faster. "Yeah? YEAH? Are you sure?"...It was at that point I managed a "yeah". He left work early and came home to be with me. We were ecstatic, shocked, and a little nervous. We cuddled for the rest of the afternoon.

With Michael, we started trying on the night of ZoeJane's second birthday. I was sad every month after when I realized I wasn't pregnant. Finally, we decided to take one of our sporadic trips to Michigan (with a stop in Kentucky to see Dayton's little brother graduate from boot camp). I had been thinking that maybe this was the month. So after the graduation and a family lunch, we made a stop at a local Walmart (in BFE Kentucky..) and I ran in to grab a magazine for the trip, some snacks, and a pregnancy test. There was no waiting until we got to Michigan. I took the test in the Walmart bathroom. The result was pretty immediate, and I had to fight the urge to hug the little old lady that was standing at the sink and tell her my good news. Somehow, I managed to pull it together and tuck the test back in the bag. I stepped outside and Dayton pulled up the front door to get me. I got in as calmly as I could (I think I played it pretty well) and told him I got him something. He asked what it was, I took out the test, and laid it on the console. It was a movie moment. Anyone who knows my husband knows how standoffish he can be...how unenthusiastic and tough he can seem. He melted. He had the biggest smile and gave me the biggest hug. We both even managed to shed a few tears over it.

Finally, with Phoenix...we were actually planning to NOT have a baby until I was done with school (another two years). With a looming medical discharge, school, and two small kids at home...we thought another two years would be the perfect timing to add the finishing touch to our little family. But no. Phoenix Cole decided he didn't want to wait that long. I wasn't really worried until I went to put on a loose t-shirt and almost jumped out of my skin (gotta love first trimester boob pain). I got a test a few days later. I was a little nervous before I took it, as this was SO not the plan. But we went out to eat, then went to Target. I got a 12 pk of coke and a test. On my way out, I found another 12 pk of Mountain Dew that had been left on the bottom of a cart. I should have known right then. It was such a random, "out there" thing...I should have known that a surprise pregnancy would present itself that day, lol. I might add that since I figured this may be the last test I ever took...I splurged and bought the two pack of the fancy digital tests. Yeah, because I'm a nerd. So we come home, get the kids settled and Dayton hops on his computer while I go take the test. I'm pretty sure he thought I was just being paranoid. So, the little hour glass that flashes on the digital screen flashed twice before it came back with "pregnant". I sat there for a good couple of minutes before I called him into the bathroom. I was freaked. Happy, of course. But this wasn't the plan...and I am such a plan-oriented person, it was enough to have me spooked. When he came in the bathroom, I handed him the test. He says "Cool!" and then couldn't figure out why I was so freaked. It didn't take long for the shock to wear off before I started wrapping my head around the fact that we were about to add to our little brood.

Each pregnancy has been so special in it's own little way. With ZoeJane, it was so exciting because here we were, just a couple of kids (really, like going on 19 and 21) who were about to start their family--their legacy. With Michael, it was the conscious choice for us to keep building on that little foundation. It was everything we went through during the pregnancy thought brought us closer together. And with Phoenix, it's making the choice to complete our little family. It's the idea that the Kline family is going to be complete, with Dayton and I, a beautiful little girl and two sweet little boys. It's so exciting to think about. Each one has been a blessing of epic proportions. Each baby has reflected something different, a different stage in our lives and our marriage. And now here we are, with a little girl who is about to start school. And she's so smart, it's scary. I see a lot of my attitude in her, and it's a battle deciding whether to laugh at it or be annoyed. She's also taken on my caretaker complex. She's the little mom. She wants to take care of Michael. She'll want to take care of Phoenix too. There isn't a day that goes by that she doesn't love on her mommy and daddy and let us know how much she loves us. She makes our days brighter. Michael, is our little love bug. He's got such a soft heart and worries so much if he thinks something isn't right. He'll cuddle for hours, for no reason at all. And oh my goodness, the performers that we have! They are both so big on entertaining. Michael is so funny, while ZoeJane has a strong flair for the dramatics. I'm so excited to meet Phoenix and learn his little personality.

Each pregnancy has had it's own challenges, it's own scares. Each one has been special in a way that I cannot put into words. And there has always been something special about how things are between Dayton and I when we're expecting a baby, that ends up leaving us a little stronger than we were before.

Mommyhood isn't something I would trade for anything in the world. And while I fully intend on embarking on a career outside of the home within the next few years, I think the time I've spent with my babies will make a difference. I know it has for me. <3

Summer of Mercy...2.0

Back when I was big into the pro-life movement, I read about the Summer of Mercy in the early 90's and thought that it was great. Now, I look back and think "What was the point?". It wasn't peaceful. It was chaos. Can you imagine how those poor women must have felt? I can only imagine the weight of the world on my shoulders as I was about to make such a heart wrenching decision...much less with thousands of people pointing their fingers and judging me...publicly, on top of it. And on top of that, hundreds of pro lifers were arrested.

Now, Operation Rescue is at it again. Only this time, instead of holding their "peaceful" protest in Wichita, it's being held in Germantown, Maryland...right outside of Leroy Carhart's clinic. Leroy Carhart now performs late term abortions in his Germantown clinic, though the majority of his work is done early in pregnancy. The protest is scheduled to last for one week. Already, Carhart's clinic is scheduled to be closed for the week, in an effort to save the women undergoing abortion procedures from being humiliated, harassed, and possibly hurt. As soon as I read this, I understood that it was for the privacy (As if there really is any when you're a patient of this clinic, as Operation Rescue has an office directly across the street now. You better believe they're working those side walks on a daily basis.) and safety of the patients...but I automatically thought "What about the women who are at the limit?". I can't help but wonder about those women who are at the legal limit to receive an abortion as a result of a fetal abnormality. As if it wouldn't be bad enough to be in the situation to have to make that decision...what if you were doomed to bring a suffering child into the world, just because these people are so intent on judging others?

Don't get me wrong. I fully believe that everyone has the right to PEACEFULLY protest their beliefs. But I don't believe this is peaceful. I don't think this comes from a good place. I think these people are more interested in judging, more interested in being "better". I can understand one's reasoning for being pro life. If you're a regular reader, you know that I used to be one of them. Now, I consider myself lucky to understand both sides.

Please keep all involved in your thoughts and prayers this week. Please pray for the Operation Rescue people...that they carry on their protest with goodness in their hearts. Please pray for the women who are carrying babies doomed to suffering. Please pray for the women who are terminating their pregnancies, for whatever reason. Whether it be fetal abnormality, bad timing, or they just don't want a baby...pray for them. Pray for them because you want them to change their minds. Pray for them because you know they must be in a rough spot. Just pray for them. Pray for the unborn babies who are (whether you're on the pro life side of the pro choice side) in fact, losing their lives to abortion...for whatever reason. And finally, pray for all the workers who are in the reproductive field (again, whether you're praying they stop, or praying for their well being).

Really, Troy Newman?

In a recent article published by The Washington Post, Operation Rescue top dog Troy Newman was quoted as saying (in regard to late term abortion procedures), "There is no moral distinction. Ninety-eight percent are simply elective procedures for mothers who want to have dead children". Really, Troy? Because so many women wake up and say "Hey, I think I'll get knocked up today, so I can abort and have a dead baby to my name". Jackass. Without even knowing who said this, it's obvious that it was said by someone who has never had the misfortune of having a child diagnosed with a fatal abnormality. I hope he is able to remain in his ignorance induced state of bliss.

Why is it that our society has become so judgmental? So quick to dismiss a family's misfortune? So quick to point their finger? I think it all boils down to the simple fact that as humans, we are made to fear what we do not know. It's the simple fear of the unknown. Of course abortion is a tragedy of epic proportions. It goes without saying. There is not a single abortion case that is not devastating, in one way or another. Whether it's a case of a single girl who's birth control failed and she's not in the position to carry a pregnancy or have a child, or the the married woman who's planned pregnancy turned out to be doomed with a suffering child who would only take a handful of breaths outside of it's mother's womb. Abortion is a sad thing. No one here is saying otherwise. But why aren't we, as a society, acknowledging that? We're so quick to point the finger, without knowing what lies behind the decision. So many of us forget (and so many Christians, at that), that we are not the ones to judge. It is not our job. It is not a choice we were given. It is not a burden that was laid upon us. We are not to judge. Do I respect ones right to stand outside of an abortion clinic and CALMLY and nicely try to talk to the women going in? Sure. Do I respect ones right to oppose abortion? Of course. I use to. But it's just not our job to be judgmental. It's not our job to hate. And honestly, it's not our business. If  a woman chooses to abort, you can bet there is a reason behind it. And it's importance is not our business to sort it out.

Pro-choice mother?

A lot of the arguments that I get from pro-lifers involve them mentioning, at some point, that I am a mother. And since I have carried a child, how could I possibly still think that it's acceptable for a woman to abort a baby. This  is the argument that I have the most trouble with, especially considering how I feel about being pregnant. I always feel that special connection. So...there's a question to ponder. How can a woman, who has felt such strong connections with her own pregnancies, support a woman's right to choose?

First of all, I can honestly say, that unless there was a severe case of fetal anomaly, I wouldn't be able to even consider terminate a pregnancy. The only reason I would be able to do it then is because the idea of my baby suffering would tear me up...and I would worry how losing a sibling to watching a sibling struggle so much would effect my older two kids. Of course it would not be an easy decision (I don't think any woman in any situation ever has an easy time making the decision to terminate a pregnancy).

With that being said, I can understand why a girl who is raped would not only not bond with a pregnancy, but want to terminate it. And in that case, you can't really say "Well, she was irresponsible and got pregnant...now she has to deal with it". And let's be realistic...there are times when birth control fails and a pregnancy (and a baby) just aren't possible. So, for those who like to complain about dead beats running our welfare system dry, how can you when you expect women who are plain broke to carry pregnancies to term? Unfortunately, not every situation pans out perfectly.

I'm not saying that abortion isn't sad...in every single case. It is sad. It's the loss of a life. Every one knows that, no matter what side of the fence they're on. But life is sad. It's complicated, it's messy. It's not perfect 100% of the time for anyone. It doesn't work out every single time. Unfortunate, but realistic.

Back to reality.

Home from vacation. I feel like I need a vacation to recover from the vacation. But I guess that's how it works with kiddo's. Meanwhile, it's definitely back to business as usual.

I'm really starting to wrap my head around the idea that some people will never outgrow the jr. high phase of  their lives, and I don't know whether to feel bad for them or laugh. I mean, you know you've got an issue when you're married, expecting your second child, and still so hung up on your ex, that you feel the need to name your daughter after his daughter...and then pass the message down through the grapevine to his wife. I mean, really? Really, people? Aside from the obvious lack of creativity...are we really that immature? Who is willing to name their child based on getting back at someone?

On another note, it feels like people like this are always going to play a part in our lives and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. That hopeless feeling does nothing but piss me off and make me feel like a monumental idiot for ever dealing with it in the first place...especially considering the lack of support I have FOR dealing with it. And maybe I am. Shit. It's just one thing after another. At what point is it not worth dealing with anymore? At what point do you say "Okay, my brain is running out of room for the good memories because instead, it's stuck with all the bad ones...and that's no good"? At what point do you start discussing a lobotomy with your family physician....? Well, that's something new to ponder...

Hello, third trimester!

When I think of how far along I am now, it feels like it's flown by. When I think of how much longer I've got, it feels like forever. Last week, we were able to go have a 3D/4D ultrasound done (the first time we've been able to do it with any of our babies). It was amazing. It's one thing to see your baby moving in black and white on a normal ultrasound and feeling him at the same time. It's completely different to see him in there, playing with his feet, sucking his fingers, yawning, and stretching and feeling him at the same time. It's completely surreal to know exactly what he's doing in there when you can feel it at the same time. He is beautiful. He's got my fingers, and maybe my lips (I'm not sure if they're my lips or they're just not filled out yet). It was a little bittersweet. Don't get me wrong...it was amazing. But while watching him, it hit me that this is the last time we'll do these things. Our last ultrasound will be our last. This is the last time I'll fill out a registry. This will be the last time I have the honor of bringing another little life into the world. Our family is complete. It may just be the hormones...but it's a tough pill to swallow (as I write this, I'm thinking back to an hour ago when ZoeJane dumped a frosty on her head. On.Her.Head. Maybe it's not THAT tough of a pill to swallow...). 

Of course, there is a downside. The downside is the same as it has been with the last two births. The downside is that there is not allowed to be a baby born into this family without drama present. It's particularly ironic this time. No one in my family has been particularly excited to hear that Phoenix is on his way. It's just Cara and Dayton having another one. And yet...now that the time is rolling around for his arrival, the drama is brewing, just as it has with ZoeJane and Michael and my sister's two kids. There is no way around it...it has to be dealt with head on. But knowing that doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't make it any less shitty to know that so much fighting has to be done just to get that one special, peaceful moment. Even the plans I've made seem to be falling apart. Regardless, one thing is for sure: there is no way in hell that I am handing over this last special moment of the sort to pure drama. It's not happening. Phoenix is coming into the world surrounded by people who are excited to meet him, people who aren't there just to make it all about them. 

Rant over. 

Not guilty?

We're all thinking it. Even people who have thought she was innocent all along were surprised. I swear, you could have heard a pin drop across the whole country as the verdict was read. I was tuned into CNN, as I've been following this case since Caylee was "missing" and had gotten very invested in the case, emotionally. Now, chalk it up to pregnancy hormones...but it shocked me enough to make me cry. However, once the shock wears off and you really give it some thought...it boils down to a lack of evidence...the fact that they couldn't give a definitive cause of death. It sucks, but it's the truth.

I don't for one second think that Casey Anthony was molested by her dad and brother. I don't think that she suffers from a mental illness. I think it boils down to a lack of moral compass, selfishness, and a total lack of interest in anyone but herself (as well as maternal instinct). It's sad, but true. I don't think that this is all some big cover up. I don't think that Caylee died by accident.

The bottom line is that it's over. The sad part is that it's over, and still no one is being held accountable. The only thing that can be done now is to keep Caylee's memory alive, which I'm sure her grandparents will do.

I cant help but wonder how different things might have have been by now if I never would have asked that one question on that one night. Though I already knew the answer, hearing it is a completely different ballpark. I sometimes wonder if I shoulid have just let it linger in my mind without that final confirmation. When you don't have that confirmation, you can hang onto that hope that maybe you're wrong, you know? I've always been a believer in the old saying "ignorance is bliss"....but I guess I'll never really know.

You think you want to know? You're mistaken.

I tend to be one of those people that needs all the details. I need answers to my questions. I need to be completely clear on what exactly happened.

So it takes forever to get the answers that you need, you finally start getting them bit by bit...and it's just too much. And suddenly it hits you "What the hell was I thinking? Why did I want to know this, again?"...

You're damned if you do, you're damned if you don't.

The truth is...

...some hurts you just have to live with. And Bob Marley wasn't shitting you when he said "Everyone is going to hurt you. You just have to find the ones worth hurting for". True story.

Pro-choice, yet compassionate? YES, it is possible.

Lots of people are surprised that I am pro-choice. Mostly because I was so adamantly pro-life just a couple of years ago. But the new people I meet, that only know me as pro-choice, seem surprised that I can support abortion rights, and still be compassionate to the babies being aborted. As a mother, how could I not be?

There are plenty of women (mothers, included) who see an unborn baby as nothing more than an embryo, or a fetus. I don't feel that way. I feel that an unborn baby is just that-an unborn BABY. However, I also see abortion as a sad thing. Sometimes necessary, but always sad. Regardless of why a woman needs an abortion, the situation is always unfortunate. For example, if a young girl is raped and gets pregnant as a result...that is awful. It's particularly nightmarish if the girl is say, 9 or 10 years old. The pregnancy alone could seriously damage her body. If a married couple conceives a much wanted baby and they find out that their baby has some horrible, painful, incurable disease and they decide to terminate...there is nothing about that situation that is good. If a teenage girl's birth control fails and she becomes pregnant, sure...she has the right to seek an abortion. But that doesn't make it any less sad that an unborn baby is being aborted.

While of course we know that a 10 week old baby cannot survive outside of his or her mother's womb, it doesn't erase the fact that this is the POTENTIAL for life. And it's a sad thing when that potential is terminated, for whatever reason. I have said over and over, I do not particularly support abortions just because the mother decides she doesn't want a baby. I certainly do not support late term abortions because a woman takes 24 weeks to decide she doesn't want to be a mother. Personally, I think late term abortions should be for medical reasons ONLY. But I do support abortions for other reasons. I can understand a woman in a bad relationship getting one. I can understand a rape and/or incest victim getting one...especially a very young girl. I can understand terminating a pregnancy because your baby is suffering for one reason or another. And because of that, I don't feel like I have the right to be a bitch about abortions for any other reason. If they're legal for these reasons, they need to be legal for any reason (up to a certain point). Because let's be honest...if abortions are made illegal, the only thing that will change is that more women will die. We will go to back alley abortions. A mother who already has 5 kids at home to take care of is at a higher risk of leaving those kids motherless by going to a strange, unlicensed person for an abortion. And I just can't justify that in my mind. I feel that God gave us the benefit of science for a reason. I really do. I think that the choice to have an abortion takes a lot of soul searching.

Can you be a compassionate pro-choicer? I believe so. Can you be a compassionate pro-lifer? I think so. I also believe there can be mindless idiots on both sides of the fence. But the truth is, none of us are anyone to judge. If you are pro-life because of your religious beliefs, you should know this more than anyone. But regardless of where you stand or why, I am grateful that I am compassionate to both sides. I'm grateful that I've been on both sides of the fence (being pro-life and now pro-choice). I'm grateful for the open mind and the understanding.

The stay at home mom vs. The working mom

Regardless of what side you're on in this debate, it's likely that you feel like you're missing out on something. Stay at home moms tend to have the nagging "not contributing to the family" issue, working moms tend to feel like they're missing out on watching their kids grow. Sometimes it seems to be a no win, no matter which route you decide to take.

For me, while I've worked for a period since I've been a mom, I've been a stay at home mom for the majority of the time. It's not something that I ever really planned on, but once ZoeJane was born, we decided it was best for her to stay at home with me for a while, then it just stuck (we had one car). I worked for a while while I was pregnant with Michael and for about 4 months after, and I loved it. I loved the adult conversation and having a little bit of time away. However, my two favorite things were giving my husband the chance to miss me and making my own money. For the first time in our marriage, I didn't feel like everything was his. I felt like I had an equal say. And it's nice to be missed sometimes. In fact, it's damn near incredible. I assume that lots of stay at home moms don't have these feelings of inequality. I also assume it's probably because they have a perfect (or damn near perfect) marriage...or the most appreciative husbands imaginable. But that's just me. I loathe the feeling of having nothing of my own...nothing with my name on it. It doesn't matter what he says about it, I still feel that way regardless. But hey, sometimes, you've got to do what you've got to do. Hence, the degree. At least once I graduate, the money that I am making while spending time away from the kids will be better than the money I'd be making now, without a degree.

My biggest problem with working is that I'm a worrier. It was the first time since she had been born that I had really left ZoeJane for a long period of time. So there were always lots of phone calls to check in. It didn't matter that she was with Dayton or my family--I hated the idea that I wasn't the one supervising and taking care of her. If there was a way to make good money and stay at home at the same time, I'd be on it.

By the time I'm done with my degree, there's a good chance that Dayton won't be working (he's getting a medical discharge), so the roles will be completely reversed. And once I start working full time, I imagine that I'll enjoy the adult interaction, but knowing me, I'll probably be jealous that he's the one that gets to spend all the time with the kids.

I guess it's a never ending struggle with moms. Since the beginning of time, we've been programmed to stay home and take care of the house, the kids, and the husband. Of course times have changed...but that doesn't make the internal struggle any less difficult.

Question of the day:

If someone does something to hurt you, yet they don't care that they've hurt you, or care to help make it better....are they really worth hurting over?

This has been replaying over and over and over in my head today and so far, I'm coming up empty.

We are meant to handle some things on our own. I find that most issues this true for most issues that I encounter. Whether it be a family issue, a marital issue, or whatever else is going on in my head. One in particular is what happened almost two years ago. I should have my head wrapped around this by now, but I don't. In fact, it seems harder as we're coming up on the two year mark than it did last year when we hit the one year mark. I can't help but wonder if the hurt I felt over it when I found out (when I was pregnant with Michael) and the hurt I feel over it now (while I'm pregnant with Phoenix) only hurts so much because I'm pregnant. Don't get me wrong...it still hurt like hell in between the pregnancies, but lately, if it so much as crosses my mind in the wrong way, I'm in tears. For this reason, I must be meant to deal with this alone. I do not talk to my family about any marital issues, as I know they will offer nothing but negativity. Hell, I don't talk to my family about much at all anymore. I don't talk to Dayton about this issue because I know he's over it. He is past it, and offers nothing in the way of support when I mention it. Now that he's over it, his idea of helping me cope is to sit in complete silence when I try and talk about it (side note darling, it is not considered "listening" when 5 minutes of silence has passed as I'm waiting for you to respond). This seems to make the issue worse for me, as it was the opposite when we first got back together and it was still fresh for him. And worst of all, I feel ridiculous for discussing it with friends because I feel like I'm beating a dead horse...there is nothing they can say to make it hurt any less either. Like I said...we are meant to deal with some things alone, and this is one of my things. 

To be honest, even I don't know how to handle it anymore. I am beyond words. I have lost whatever little courage I may have ever had to ask her my questions directly. There is nothing that I can say about it that hasn't already been said. There is nothing that he can say or do to make it better. What's done is done and my logical mind knows that. I know that no matter what I think I want from him now, nothing will make it any better. I find myself being a bitch to deal. He understood that mechanism in the beginning, but I can't blame him for being pissed that I still use it to cope. 

I've written letters to both of them. Letters that I know I'll never send. But even if I did, it wouldn't be enough. There are not enough words in my vocabulary to explain the damage that their one night together has caused. The questions alone are enough to eat me alive. I have so many questions. I'm beyond moving past this for my marriage. I have to move past this for my own good, but how the HELL is that supposed to happen? Would I feel better if I confronted her? I'm pretty sure I'd feel better if I slashed her tires...but the goal is to feel better while staying out of jail. I can think of about a million and two ILLEGAL ways to feel better. Damn the legal system. Part of me thinks I would probably feel better if he would just still feeling SOMETHING about it. But he's been able to completely sweep it under the rug. I hate that. It's stupid and selfish and hormonal and bitchy...but a little part of me feels like if I'm still hurting over it, he should too. That seems fair, doesn't it? All is fair in love and war in the mind of a pregnant woman...or at least that's what I'm telling myself to get through the day.

So if you go waaaay back in the history, you'll see that there is a reason behind the name, The Souvenir. It was never about abortion, women's rights, religious views, politics or anything of the sort. But about the scars we accumulate throughout our lives. Our souvenirs.

Aside from the fact that I'm in the midst of pregnancy hormones, my mind has been racing lately because we're rapidly approaching the 2 year anniversary of when Dayton and I got back together. This also means we are rapidly approaching the 2 year anniversary of when he slept with another woman. Regardless of the hormones, this kind of thing is bound to hurt. Well, it's bound to hurt me. I'm sure lots of girls would be over it by now...if they ever had a problem with it to begin with. It's certainly not that I try to dwell on these things, but my mind tends to store dates. It was hard a year ago when the one year mark rolled around. I figured it would be easier by now, but it isn't. That hurt just doesn't go away. The feelings of betrayal and humiliation still lingers. And frankly, there are so many questions that I still need answers to, it feels like it's impossible to move on.

I came back into this marriage with a full understanding that it would take much longer than the 3 months it took for all this damage to occur, to heal the hurt and move on. I wanted to be the woman who could take such a blow and move on gracefully. I wanted to be the woman who knew it had nothing to do with her. I wanted to tell myself that it meant nothing, that it was just a drunken encounter with a trashy woman at a bar. But I haven't moved on gracefully. I don't know that it had nothing to do with me. I don't know what all happened, and I don't know that it meant nothing. I'm not so sure that she's the low life that I like to think she is.

I've always said that it can take 10x's as long to fix damage than it does to cause it...though I didn't think that it would apply here. I know how sorry Dayton is. I know that he completely lost himself and found his way back. I know that he loves me. But that doesn't answer any of the questions I have. That doesn't automatically take the hurt away. It doesn't keep my mind from wandering not only to that night, but to earlier happenings in our relationship. It doesn't make it any easier.

I wish I could be a bitch about it. I wish I could just be mad. I wish that I could confront her and ask my questions, but I know that nothing good would come from it. I secretly hope that we'll run into her one day while we're together...but I know that would probably effect me more than it would her. I find myself hoping that she's miserable, even though I know that's wrong of me. I like to think I'm better than her, but I know that I'm not.

They're called scars for a reason. They're permanent. Nothing makes them go away.

So, we haven't even hit the official start of summer yet, and a 5 month old has already been killed by being left in a hot car for FIVE hours.

I get that parents get busy and forget things...but your baby? And for five hours, at that? When I'm not with my kids, I'm thinking about them constantly. How is it that in 5 hours, you don't think of your baby and remember "Oh shit! I left my baby in the backseat!". And at that, how is it that no one noticed a baby in a carseat in a closed car? Not once in 5 hours...

These hot Georgia summers mixed with stupid parents tend to produce probably a dozen of these deaths a year. It's awful. I wonder if harsher punishments for these parents would remind them to check their backseats before they get out of the car....

Breastfeeding in public

Okay, so here in Atlanta, a woman is outraged that a community has banned public breastfeeding after the child is 2 years old. Two years old, as in...24 months. Yeah. Okay. She's convinced that if they're putting an age limit of two years on it, they'll continue to make it younger and younger until eventually, she is no longer able to breastfeed in public. This trips me out for about 12 different reasons.

First of all, this woman's baby is only 4 months old. Was she really planning to breastfeed until the kid is 2?! Teeth, honey. They have teeth by 2. Not to mention, how discreet do you think you can be with a two year old child hanging off your boob? I don't know...maybe you could carry around a quilt to drape over the kid.

Now personally, I am most certainly not opposed to breastfeeding. By all means, it's cheap, it's healthier for your baby, and it's beneficial to mom (Hey, burning an extra 500 calories a day? I'll take it!). But I never breastfed in public. I would make bottles before I left the house, and if I ran out, I would go to the bathroom. The whole throwing a blanket over the baby just didn't cut it for me. Come on--it's not any less obvious. And really, I don't think I'd want something draped over me and my food while I was trying to eat...but that's just me. Personally, I don't have a problem with moms who breastfeed in public AS LONG as they're not flaunting their boobs. There was this one night that I was in Walmart while I was pregnant with ZoeJane and this REALLY classy (notice how loosely I used that one?) woman comes down the same aisle as me with her 4 kids, one openly attached to her boob. By "openly attached", I mean, she had no bra on, her t-shirt was pulled up, the kid wasn't attached, and her boob was literally FLOPPING. It seriously tested my gag reflex.

So, I hate to burst any bubbles out there, but I think if I saw a woman nursing her two year old, it would have the same effect on me.

Some girls just don't know when to stop. They don't know when to give up. They don't know when to grow up and move on. And it's a sad thing that a grown woman would be so immature that she would endlessly pursue a high school boyfriend when it means tearing his family apart, as well as her own (well, what's left of it).

Some girls are in-escapable.

The Curse of the Kennedy Women

So, by now everyone has heard about the troubles brewing between Maria Shriver and the ex-governator of California. But tonight on the news, they mentioned something I thought was worth pondering. "The Curse of the Kennedy Women"....for those of you who don't know, Maria Shriver is a cousin of the Kennedy's or something along those lines, and of course, we all know about the infamous affairs carried on by the Kennedy men (i.e, Marilyn and JFK ring a bell?).

The situation between JFK, Jackie, and Marilyn is interesting to me. I mean, the whole country knew something was going on, do you really think that that poor woman was clueless? Hell no, she wasn't. There is a shit ton of evidence to suggest that Jackie knew all along, some even say that she had confronted Marilyn. And as much as I'd like to, I'd like to call Marilyn out for the homewrecker that she seemed to be. BUT, there's just about the same amount of evidence to suggest that not only was she severely mentally disturbed, but that JFK was quite the charmer. I can't help but wonder if he continuously led her on. But let's get back to Jackie.

Does the fact that she stayed with John Kennedy make her "a strong woman"? Does her staying demonstrate the ultimate commitment to marriage? Was she just trying to hold down the image? Keep things stable for her kids? Does it make her strong, committed, a good mother---or just stupid? I'm not sure I'm convinced either way.

So tomorrow, we'll hit 21 weeks and I'm already experiencing all the joys of pregnancy. Insomnia, check. Achy back, check. Hip pains, double check. Now...add onto that the fact that my 18 month old isn't sleeping for crap (c'mon dude, you were on such a roll!), and you've got one tired mama. On top of that, I'm trying desperately not to put on too much weight because I randomly gained so much right before I found out I was pregnant. I'm not trying to give myself an extra 50 lbs to lose once the baby is here. Now...please, someone explain to me how in the world to keep your weight the same while you're cooking a baby. Even better, how do you keep from gaining weight when you're too exhausted to move? Ha!

When I really have time to sit and think about it (which is all the time lately when you consider the amount of sleep that I'm not getting), it amazes me how insane my life has been in the last few years. It seems that it's gone from one extreme to another. There has been no constant. It's been hard to feel "safe" with things constantly changing, whether they're changed for the better or worse. There are still things that I look back on and I immediately feel sick. There are things I'm still coming to terms with, two years later. There are still about a million and two things on my list of things I need to let go of.

It also amazes me to think how much my little ones have grown. It seems like last week that I found out I was pregnant with ZoeJane, and here it is, a few months before she starts Pre-K.

Its scary to think how quickly our lives can change (and how quickly they WILL). All you can do is take comfort in knowing that right now...in this VERY moment, you're okay.

The Wichita Divide: The murder of Dr. George Tiller and the Battle Over Abortion.

Once I started getting interested on the topic of late term abortion, I googled books about George Tiller. I thought that as controversial as he was, surely there would be a book about him somewhere. The result I got was for The Wichita Divide. Unfortunately, I had to wait a few months for its release. Finally the day came and I bought my copy. It seemed like it took forever, but finally I received it and jumped right in.

First, let me say that I looked the author, Stephen Singular, up on facebook and added him just for shits and giggles (never in a million years thinking that 1, he even ran his own facebook page or 2, that if he did that he would ever confirm me as a friend). I was wrong. About 10 minutes later, I got a notice that he had confirmed me as a friend. Not long after that, he commented on the status I had posted about finally receiving my new book. I found this extremely gracious of him, and it made me even more anxious to read the book.

Now, as most of you know, the topic of late term abortion (particularly those done by George Tiller) has been of particular interest to me in the last year. I find his entire career fascinating for a number of reasons, and his untimely death devastating. But I had no idea how deep his political and legal issues ran.  I can only imagine what must have been going through his mind most of the time. Anyway, the book paints a graphic picture. Not only of George Tiller's murder, but of the obviously disturbed mind of Scott Roeder.

Don't get me wrong, I always knew that abortion (particularly late term abortion) was a hot button issues among the political heads...but I guess I didn't realize just how corrupt some of these people are when it comes to looking out for their own beliefs, regardless of laws and evidence.

Regardless of your beliefs on abortion, I think this is one worth reading. Even my conservative pro-life mother couldn't help but pick it up a few times the last time she was here to visit.

Sometimes it hits me just how much Dayton and I have been through in our (almost) 6 year marriage. It's almost scary to think about. Sometimes I wonder why I stuck around during some of the times that I did. And I'm sure he asks himself the same thing. It makes me wonder what kind of person I really am.

You would think that after so long, it would stop hurting. But I don't think it ever really goes away. I've always thought that a few months worth of damage can take twice as many years to fix...I guess I wasn't that far off.

It's a....

.....BABY!

No, really...So, Dayton and I went to the ultrasound and the baby is so low and so curled up, the tech decides she needs to do a vaginal ultrasound (Yay, me!...not). For a few minutes, I was sure that we wouldn't be able to find out the sex. The baby just did NOT want to move. But lo and behold, we caught a glimpse of the goodies. It's a BOY! Dayton and I both started laughing. I swear I almost fell off the ultrasound table. I would have bet money that this one was a girl. We were both so sure. But there it was...the unmistakable "turtle".

Lord help me. I'm going to need all the help I can get.

Last night I asked my mother if she would have let me get an abortion if I were raped and impregnated around 15 or 16 (if my body was physically capable of carrying a pregnancy, but I didn't want to carry it). She said she didn't know. She said if her  or 10 year old daughter was raped and impregnated it wouldn't be a question (as it would destroy her body)...but if her daughter were 15 or 16, while she could understand why she'd want one...she doesn't know if she'd allow it because she thinks it's "just wrong". Okay, her opinion. Got it.

But this is what baffles me: Before I was born, my mom got pregnant (she was 30-something), and started bleeding. By the time she got to the hospital, she was bleeding profusely. Ectopic. She had to have surgery right away. Problem: The baby was still alive. Of course, there is 0% chance of a baby surviving an ectopic pregnancy...and if left untreated, it can easily kill the mother too. Of course she had to terminate, have surgery, and have the bleeding stopped. I mean, geez, she had 3 of her own kids to think about, plus my dad's four from a previous marriage. It was a no brainer.

What I don't understand is how someone can so strongly oppose abortion, even in the most extreme cases. Rape, incest, ectopic, fetal abnormalities...especially when they've had one themselves for one of the same reasons.

Imaginary Miscarriage

Many people have stories of friends or acquaintances who have faked a pregnancy for one reason or another...and then (considering they're NOT pregnant), they kill off their imaginary babies in a "miscarriage". In my 24 years, I've come across a few of these girls. I've always found it slightly amusing and a little pathetic, all at the same time. Now that I am a mother, and know so many women who have actually HAD miscarriages, I find it offensive.

The oddest of all, is when a women who already HAS a child pulls this stunt. I knew one. And she achieved her overall goal : Get the guy. They were divorced a year later. Another interesting thing to consider is the girls who actually get so wrapped up in playing the devastated "mother", they actually start to feel as if they've really experienced a loss. Uh, therapy anyone?

Women do it for all sorts of reasons. But usually, it's in order to keep a guy (because we all know that men these days will automatically stay with you and turn into your knight in shining armor if he knocks you up). I find this appalling. Is there really a man, SO worth your time, that he is worth mocking a real woman's pain? I mean, really?

God forbid these women actually get pregnant and lose a child.

Victory!!!

Almost 10 years ago, we watched in horror as our country was attacked. We watched towers burn, people jumping, and a whole city come to a stand still. Our country came together on September 11, 2001 to mourn.  Tonight, we come together again to celebrate. Osama Bin Laden is dead. The man who single handedly brought a nation to its knees has been killed. We have his body, along with DNA confirmation.

Apparently he was killed inside a mansion in Pakistan. At this point, we are unsure of how he was killed. The United States has his body, DNA from his sister's brain tissue has confirmed that it is in fact, the sorry bastard we've been hunting.

May God have mercy on his soul, if he even has one...

This is who pro-lifers have on their side?

Neal Horsely.

If you haven't heard the name before, you're going to want to google it after this. I think that people like him are the reason that most people who have neither strong pro-life or pro-choice views end up leaning towards the pro-choice side.

Neal Horsely lives in Carrollton, Georgia. At first glance, he looks like a wooly booger mountain man...but not one that you would be immediately wary of. If you google his name, all sorts of things come up. Most notoriously, he's known for creating the Nuremburg files, an online "hit list" of abortion providers. It has been modified a great deal since it was originally created. A few years ago, you could go online and view the list...it had the names and contact information of abortion providers. When one was taken out, a line would be drawn through the name. Creepy. It was shut down for a while, but through an appeal process was allowed to go back up, under freedom of speech. You may also come across the story of Horsely being arrested for making terroristic threats against Elton John. Yeah. Random. He has also publicly admitted (as in, on FOX NEWS) that as a youngster, he dabbled in a bit of bestiality. Classy.

As if all that weren't enough to give the pro-life movement a bad name, the man works TIRELESSLY on the issue. Which, to be honest, most of the typical pro-lifers do not do. He's even gone so far as to make a pathetic attempt at running for governor (also stating that he would kill his own son, who is a SGT. in the army, if he came to Ga and tried to prevent Neal from being elected...why that would happen is beyond me). He has a YouTube channel that includes a collection of his usually nonsensical rantings (along with a phone number hanging up in the background above him, so that you can call and make a non-tax deductible donation to his cause, or call and discuss the issues with him). Let's just put it this way, if I ever had the chance to interview this guy (which in all honesty, I would love to do just to witness this stuff face to face), I would definitely take precautions. On his facebook page, he says he's fluent in all sorts of Biblical languages. And while he has over 1,000 friends, he seems to comment and interact with them on a regular basis. Most of which, is scripture he's quoting to them regarding the "slavery of abortion" and whatnot.

Now, you also have pro-lifers who have made an impact that seem like honest to God GOOD people. People that you wouldn't mind having lunch with. People like, Operation Rescue's president, Troy Newman. Do I agree with some of his ideas? No. Do I think we could probably sit down and have an intelligent, calm conversation about our differences? Absolutely. I think he's made big changes within Operation Rescue since the days that Randall Terry was it's leader (a whole different blog entry). He's definitely given the pro-life movement a more positive, less fanatical name.

I suppose there are people on both sides of the fence that could scare an unsure person into choosing a side. Randall Terry was enough to make me rethink my pro-life stance. And I'm sure idiots like Kermit Gosnell make people on the pro-choice side rethink their views too (though I think anyone on EITHER side of the debate wouldn't mind seeing him fry). The best part is, it's all up for debate (in a civil, mature, open minded way...we can all live without the narrow minded bs, I think).

Abortion and Morals

Many women say that they could never choose abortion for themselves. Many say that no woman ever should choose abortion for any reason whatsoever. Even more men say the same. However, until you are actually in the position to consider it for medical, financial, or emotional reasons...you will never know. How can I say that? Because I've been in the position to consider it. And I was as hardcore pro-life as they come. Needless to say, I didn't go through with it, nor do I think I ever could. It's a choice that I support, but it's a choice that isn't for me.

But here is the bigger issue in my mind. Many women say that it's wrong morally. That you're taking a life, playing God, causing an innocent child needless pain. Okay, let's look at this. No matter what side of the fence you're on, it's pretty obvious to everyone that abortion is, in fact, the taking of a life, or at least the potential for life. We all know it.

Some will say that by terminating a pregnancy, you are playing God. I can see how someone could think that. I understand it. But maybe that's not the way to look at it. After all, God is the one who has given us the technology to monitor our pregnancies, the freedom of choice to make the best decisions we can, and the science to do such procedures. And if this is the stance you're taking, wouldn't the same logic apply to taking a brain dead patient off of life support? Wouldn't that be considered playing God, as well?

And finally, it's painful for the child. Well, anyone in the medical field will tell you that in order for an unborn child to feel pain, a number of things need to be in order. For example, the brain has to be fully functional. The neuro system has to be developed enough to identify pain and send the signals to the brain. That isn't happening at 8 weeks pregnant. Do I think that at some point an unborn child can feel pain? Absolutely. Now, what if your child is already suffering? For example, I came across a story of a couple who were pregnant with a MUCH wanted baby, only to find out in the third trimester that their child had brittle bone disease. He already had broken bones all throughout his little body. If she would have delivered him vaginally, he would have been literally crushed to death in the birth canal. And a c-section was out of the question because she had a bad case of pre-eclampsia. The only option they had was to have an injection of potassium inserted into the baby's heart to stop it and induce labor. The baby was already suffering immensely. How painful is one broken bone to a grown man (not to mention, without pain medication)? Can you imagine a baby having bones broken all throughout its body with no pain medication? Sometimes it really is a no win situation.

My point is, no girl grows up looking forward to the day that she can terminate a pregnancy. No woman thinks "Hey, I think I'll wait until the 7th month to terminate this pregnancy". Who wants to go through that? No one. I read a quote from some pro-choice activist/abortionist once (I can't remember her name) that said "Women have abortions because they want to be good mothers", and for the most part...I believe that to be true.

When it's time to let go...

How do you let go of something that's hurt you for so long? How do you put aside any hurt or anger that's left over? When you're tired of dealing with it, and ready to get past it, how do you take those first few steps?

For me, it was deleting the "stalker account" I had on facebook to check out "the other woman". After a year, I never had the answers I needed. I was no closer to getting the guts to ask her my questions. And frankly, it was killing me. I don't know if I'll ever have the answers that I want so badly. I don't know if I'll ever be completely over it. But at this point, I've got to try. If not, it will eventually eat me alive.

So when was it time for you to let go? What did you do to make those first few steps?

As if a miscarriage isn't traumatic enough for a woman...

Let's start investigating every single woman in Georgia who has a miscarriage outside of a medical facility (because so many miscarriages just happen to occur while you're sitting at the doctor's office). Let's investigate her, the pregnancy, and the miscarriage to make sure that she didn't induce an abortion. Some idiot (House Republican Bobby Franklin) is trying to pass a bill (HB 1) that requires all miscarriages to be investigated by authorities. It would require all miscarriages that occur outside of the presence of medical staff to be investigated. Though the bill does give you the opportunity to pass the baby at home or wherever you are, and then RUSH to the hospital (if it's determined that you waited, boy are you in trouble...). ARE YOU KIDDING ME? First of all, women have always been able to choose whether or not to pass a lost baby naturally or by D&C (surgical removal). This would pretty much eliminate a mother's right to choose to keep this private matter at home. I'd like to mention, many women who choose to pass the babies at home are pro-life and prefer the baby be passed naturally than having it torn from her womb via D&C. So basically Bobby, you're screwing part of the movement that you feel so strongly about--the pro-life movement.

So now, not only is a woman's right to choose abortion a crime in the eyes of pro-life politicians, but apparently, a miscarriage as well? Nice.

Marriage: What does it mean to you?

This is a question that I find interesting. Marriage means so many different things to different people. Before I was married, when I thought about it, my idea of "marriage" was partnership. It meant never having to feel alone, work through things alone, or take care of things alone. It meant...togetherness. It meant never having to worry about your partner tearing you down, or trying to make your accomplishments seem like nothing. Obviously, different people have different ideas on what marriage should be.

Over the years, with friends getting married and coming across different couples from all walks of life...it's obvious the the idea sits on a wiiiiiiide range. For instance, it has amazed me that some people find it perfectly acceptable to keep up with their, ahem, "extra curricular" activities. Or, that some men are still so stuck in 1952, that they expect their wives to handle the household duties and children on their own, while still managing to look nice and wait on them hand and foot. Helloooo, June Cleaver called. She wants her home life back. Annnnd, you can have it, June.

I think when it comes down to it, the varying ideas of marriage are what leads to so many divorces. I mean, who goes into a marriage thinking "Man! I can't wait to get divorced!"? No one that I know. I just think that so many couples abandon this vital question before taking the plunge. Result? Unhappy marriage. Eventual divorce. No fun for anyone.

So what does marriage mean to you? If you're married, are you and your spouse on the same page? If you're not married, is not finding someone who shares your idea keeping you from taking the plunge?

The "other" woman (or man)

Typical story. Spouse cheats. Spouse finds out. Eruption. Steps of acceptance. And often these days, reconciliation. Every person in the world will tell you "If my husband/wife ever cheated on me, I'd be gone in a second". It's bullshit. Nobody knows what they'll do until they're in the position to have to handle it.

The question (or questions) is: For the spouses who choose to stay, how do you move on? Is it consuming? Was it easy to forgive and forget? Did you meet the other person? How has it played out for you?

From what I've gathered, most spouses who have chosen to stay, don't regret it. Many are able to pick up the pieces and move on. Some, of course, stick to their guns and are out the door the second they hear the words. Personally, I actually know of more who have stayed. But, to each their own.

Um, excuse me Mother Nature...I'm supposed to be GLOWING...

Yeah, right. Here I am, 16 weeks into my third pregnancy. Not only do I feel like a big ball of hormones, but nothing about my body is cute right now. The only "glow" I've got is the glare from the light shining off my pregnancy acne. That adorable baby belly that I had with Michael? Ha. I've transitioned to fat cow with this pregnancy. And what the hell is up with getting a new beauty mark on my boobs with every pregnancy? Could someone explain that to me please? With my first pregnancy (ZoeJane), I didn't have a single ache or pain until after 8 months. With the second (Michael), it started feeling like I had a broken pelvis at around six months. I could barely walk. This time, my lower back is killing me. The hip widening has started WAY early. And frankly, I can barely keep my eyes open. I feel confident in saying that I would not survive a fourth pregnancy. 

Let's just hope this doesn't get any uglier...

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus

This statement has been ringing true more and more lately. Particularly when it comes to dealing with all the emotions that this little 2 year "anniversary" has brought up. For example, I write a long novel of a note explaining how I feel and why I'm hormonal...my husband never acknowledges it and eventually chooses the movie Hall Pass for our nightly "adult time". Yes. I'm devastated about a separation/one night stand and you want to watch a movie about men taking a week off of marriage to bang anything with a vagina. That's a hell of a way to deal with your feelings (wait, are you sure you've got any of those?!). Women cry. Men choose inappropriate movies at the worst possible time and can't figure out why we're not into them. Yeah, that makes sense.

It's no secret that men deal with their emotions (even with the same situations we're emotional about) seriously differently...but do you ever wonder if they're really just dealing differently as opposed to just not giving a shit? I can't say this thought hasn't crossed my mind, oh, every other day. But my logical side keeps saying "he just deals differently!". Funny. That's what he says too. And I refuse to believe that my husband is my logical side. Unacceptable.

So what is it that your husband or boyfriend does to make you wonder if there really is life on other planets (and if you're significant other truly is one of these unearthly creatures)?? Let's hear it!

2 years and counting...

Anyone who is friends with Dayton or me knows what happened in 2009. It was traumatic, to say the least. And yet, here we are, two years later doing better than ever. See, we knew going into this marriage that it would be hard. At 18 and 20, we had everyone and their uncles telling us not to do it. Once, I even had a nurse tell me all about her horrible first marriage once she found out I was getting married. Needless to say, we got married anyway.

What happened two years ago surprised me. In fact, it felt like I was having the world ripped out from underneath me. Good things came of it...but it was hard. I couldn't begin to fathom how I was going to take care of a 2 year old, carry a healthy pregnancy to term (and take care of another baby), work, and finish school all on my own. I managed. I managed to be a good mom to ZoeJane, take care of the pregnancy that I was carrying, stay in school, and find a job. All of that with a broken heart was not easy. In fact, it became easier to be angry than to be hurt. I didn't have time for hurt. I didn't have the patience for hurt. I didn't want the hurt. In all honesty, I still carry a little bit of that anger and a lot of that hurt. It's hard not to. I suppose it's inevitable. You pick up these little lessons throughout life, many of which come with the hurt or the anger (usually both), and while those lessons change you...it seems a lot of the hurt and the anger become part of you too. It's a vicious cycle.

I'm pretty sure I'll spend the next few years trying to rid myself of it completely.

Assisted Suicide

Not too long ago, I came across a documentary on HBO (Call me a nerd, I love them). The documentary, Kevorkian, got me thinking. It was a detailed account of the case of Dr. Kevorkian and the whole idea of assisted suicide. Where do you stand on this issue? I cannot honestly think of one reason that a competent, suffering adult should not be able to make this choice. Who would want to suffer pointlessly? And why shouldn't we give them the choice to end their suffering if there's no hope anyway? The thing that bothers me the most about this issue is that we will euthanize our pets to put them out of their misery and end their suffering, but we don't extend that same courtesy to our neighbors, family members, and friends?

Let me be really clear on this issue, though. I do think that there should be rules in place for these circumstances. I do not think that children should be able to make this decision. Nor do I think anyone suffering from mental issues along with their disease should be able to make this decision. Often, a disease can affect the mind causing a person to be unstable, and therefore, unable to make such a decision. Finally, I do not think that assisted suicide should be an option available to anyone that has the slightest chance of recovery.

Here's a look at the current assisted suicide laws by state:

• Currently, 34 states have laws in place that criminalize assisted suicide. My home state, Georgia, being one of them. In fact, there's been a case involving members of the Final Exit Network assisting in a suicide here for the last couple of years. The case seems to be going nowhere fast. 
• Nine states have criminalized assisted suicide through common law.
• Three states have abolished the common law of crimes and do not have statues criminalizing assisted suicide.
• Ohio's state supreme court ruled that assisted suicide was not a crime in 1996.
• Virginia has no real clear law concerning assisted suicide.
• Oregon and Washington are the only states that allow physician-assisted suicide. 

What are your thoughts on this issue? I think this might have a better chance of striking a chord with you if you've had to watch someone you love suffer. However, some people's moral beliefs rule their thoughts on this issue. Regardless, it's definitely something to think about.

Like The Souvenir on Facebook!

The Souvenir is now on Facebook! Very exciting. You can like us here or look us up on Facebook. By all means, share with your friends! I'll be posting updates on facebook, as I update the blog. Blog topics, comments, polls, etc can be seen there. It should be fun!