t-minus 8 days...

With my surgery in just eight short days, I have spent the time since scheduling it already realizing the differences and similarities to the last surgery.

The main difference is simply the lead up to this time around. March was an emergency surgery that I expected to schedule for many weeks later in a life or death situation.
But now, it is a scheduled time and place. So, I have much more time to think about the possibilities. And that's a very emotional thing to do. I wonder about stupid things like, "Does the food really taste as bad as I remember? Will I have to have those puffer fish contraptions on my legs that blow up every few minutes and hiss all night? Will they make me use the exhaling "torture" device?"
The fact is, this time is a little less severe so I have time to obsess and wonder about those silly things. Does it matter? No. But I'm wondering.

So needless to say, its been a stressful tone around here. We have talked about it endlessly and now it is just easier to distract ourselves.

And today was pretty successful at that. It was a nice day with my husband.
We started by sleeping in and then going downtown. I needed to pick up my paycheck and so we had brunch at a restaurant down there too. We went to an Irish pub where I had AMAZING corn beef hash and we shared a fantastic Guiness cheese soup.
While at brunch, we talked about starting a project today and Pete suggested we go thrifting. Yes please!
But we didn't know where to go close to downtown and ended up at this store that USED to be a goodwill. It is now an antique, vintage and homemade consignment shop.
It was so fun to walk around in. We found a bunch of super cool stuff. We had a ton of fun walking around and admiring things, but didn't find anything we really wanted to bring home.
So we moved on with our day. And Pete drove around a sorta back way so I got to look around at all the cool old houses and point out for sale signs.
But that wasn't all! We washed the car and then stopped at the sporting goods store to look at a couple things Pete has been eyeing. Since we were at the mall anyway, we ventured around for coffee. I had a vanilla latte, my favorite.
And we were heading toward the exit when I saw that the winter socks on display were BOGO!!!

One of the things I remember most vividly about my last hospital stay is that my feet were FREEZING. And pete just kept putting socks on me... And all the ones he had grabbed from the house had holes in them!!!

So I've been asking for fuzzy socks or slippers... And today was the day. I got these

They look AWESOME.

The afternoon was filled with a football game while I cleaned and crafted. And then dinner with the parents.
Kind of the perfect day. Definitely the perfect day to not think about surgery.

I've got 7 more days and 5 more work shifts before this all goes down. I'm looking forward to relieving the pain and issues I've been having the last few weeks, though of course I'm nervous too.

Ah well, its all in the works now!!!!

And the verdict is:

So, after five doctors appointments over the past two months, it is in process.

I will be having an abdominal myomectomy on November 14.

They will be doing a full abdominal incision, I'll be disemboweled for a second time this year, they will remove as much of the fibroid ridden tissue as they can, and then stitch me back up and I will be back to the healing process I underwent in March following my cesarean.

The idea is that, most importantly, they will be able to remove the three biggest fibroids that are 5cm, 8 cm, and 5 cm in diameter, stretching my uterus to a sizes three times the considered normal of most women. Then, hopefully I will be able to go back to living a pain free life.

There are risks of course. And benefits. And we can only hope that the benefits will far outweigh the risks.

My most entertaining moment was when the doctor said, "But, lets get back to bad news dr. K..." Atleast he knows what we call him behind his back, haha.

So, we shall see. In its worst, I will at least still be rid of the huge discomfort and pain. And that is enough to try and be excited about the process.

But let's fact it, I'm psyched about being cut open again.

So this is what we do....

Its been a busy few weeks here around the Hall house. We have been working, playing, working....
Oh, and I've been going to the doctor. Tomorrow will be the fourth appointment in five weeks.

This is a good thing because my pain level has... skyrocketed. A good day is a pain level of 3-4. When I finally decide to take Ibuprofin (about 4 times a week), 6-7... A couple of times, Pete has come around the corner to find me having dropped to the floor in the fetal position.

So, it was a wise wonderful coincidence that I started seeking the advise of a more specialized doctor just before this began. That was what my husband pointed out so wisely yesterday. Because when I first called for an appointment, I was mildly uncomfortable. And now look at me, having nightly dates with my heating pad.

Its been a longer and more intense process then what my original doctor had said the surgical process would entail. But I have been thankful for that because I know that this doctor's decision on where we should go from here will be based on the most information possible.

And, tomorrow is finally the official surgical consult to discuss my options, what a procedure would entail, and what happens next.

Nothing about this has been easy. Or wonderful. Or... well, it sucks all around. I hate that my life has suddenly been planned around my pain level. That multiple people in my life say on a regular basis, "You shouldn't be doing that." I hate not being able to physically exert myself.

So my wonderful other half reminds me that will end soon. That I will be better.

And so I turn my bitterness to the fact that I have to have a pretty major surgery to live a normal life. That, this surgery may only temporarily help and eventually, I'll have another surgery. That I have to plan my vacation time around medical procedures.

And then I spent some time on pinterest today. Pinterest is my latest addiction. Holy crap, I never thought I could spend hours online until I was told about this site. And I found this wall hanging of a Nelson Mandela quote:

Well thanks Mr. Mandela for a little perspective. While I may want to curl up and stay in bed, avoiding it all... that is so much less than I am capable of. So tomorrow morning, I will get up and have breakfast with Pete. I will be very quiet and contemplative, tired from having trouble sleeping. He will ask me how I feel. I will remind him how I hate doctors, am scared of another surgery and HATE this whole process even if it will make me better.

But then,
We will bundle up (because its getting to be sweater weather!!!), head out to the car and drive to the doctors office. Where we will take in all the facts and make the best decision for our family no matter how hard of a decision it is....
and we will keep on going.

But in the way of wise words, I also like this... Between figuring out my new position at work and figuring out my health issues, its definitely how I have felt the last couple of months:

So, 1, 2, 3, here we gooooo.....

I went and got myself a new blog.

Hello hello my loyal fans.

I am writing today to let you know that I have decided to compartmentalize my blog writings a little bit. I've started a new blog to feature all my creative and DIY pursuits. You can find it at:
www.prettypracticalthings.blogspot.com
I am going to try and write weekly but no promises... afterall, there are some weeks where my most creative pursuit is to control what I really want to say to a customer who may.... or may not be as right as they think. And THAT will never be a topic for the blog-o-verse....

In the meantime, this one will continue to be about whatever life seems to throw at us. Follow one, both, none and just use facebook links.... it is up to you! But I thought I would let you know, the project posts will be less on here so check out that area to see where creativity is taking me lately!

Its all the things I don't want to talk about

So, perhaps my avoidance of actually writing a blog rather than just opening up the page are because life has been pretty full of things that I don't really want to talk about.... 

I work, but I don't want to / feel like I shouldn't talk about that.

I have a medical condition and am working with a doctor to fix it. But I have not the energy or expertise to write about reproductive endocrinology. Nor am I inclined to believe people have any interest in reading my perspective.

Carter continues to be only remains on our mantle and that hurts and has impacted life in ways we wouldn't have imagined, but I don't have the heart to put you through another one of THOSE posts.

Life still holds small moments of joy though. 

Like a week and a half ago when we went to the mountains simply to cook breakfast outside. Yes, I'll pause for a moment so you can re-read that line. 

We went up a mountain road just to have a brunch cookout and enjoy the fall color. 

Pretty autumn mountain pictures to follow. And by follow, I mean in another post, because my camera is with Pete in another state.

I went and enjoyed having a silly girl night with a friend and saw "What's your number?" Ridiculous, hilarious time. 

And this week, I've been enjoying a little time with just me and the dog as Pete is in San Diego. He got the opportunity to spend a week with the Navy SEALS in the pistol section of their weapons training program. Its a military thing, so I am sure there is some acronym I am supposed to be using to describe all this, but I don't know of it. Nor would anyone understand me if I spoke in all those acronyms... It isn't horrible having alone time but Pete and I have been going through such phases where I schedules either mesh well and we see each other all the time, or they don't at all and we will go a couple weeks without spending any real time together at all. So, its been a few weeks of having dinner together five nights ish a week, getting at least one day off together.... downright weird at times, not going to lie. But its nice. 

I had big plans to be so productive while he was gone. 

But the rocks in my belly state otherwise. So instead, a lot of time on the heating pad.

And hope that tomorrow will be better and I can at least tidy the house before he gets home on Friday...

Oh hey...

Hey there,
How is it going? What have you been up to?

I feel like we haven't seen each other in while. I mean, its been almost exactly a month since I wrote my last blog. I guess I was just so impressed with myself that I developed writer's block: a little worry that I couldn't write as well as I did last time.

Well, its not that exactly. I just really have not had the... focus to write about a topic... any topic.

I know, you've missed me. Well, I've missed you too. No. Really. I have opened up blogger to write a new post, I don't know how many times. But I've let you down.

So, here I am, at your feet, asking for your forgiveness. With a promise that I will write a real blog tomorrow.

No, seriously friends, I promise. Tomorrow.

And I don't just mean tomorrow because Wednesday starts in one minute for me. I mean tomorrow because as I write this, the sleep that has been avoiding me is suddenly slipping back heavier and heavier.

So I am headed to cuddle with the heating pad and the dog and I will be with you tomorrow, I promise.

Good Night,
Lia

One for the hubby

On the way home from work tonight, I heard this song by Weezer. Its been on the radio nonstop but it was a quiet moment in my thoughts and I actually listened to some of the lyrics. It is a pop-py song called "I want you to."
"The moon was shining on the lake at night,
Your Slayer t-shirt fit the scene just right.
With smeared mascara,
I looked into your eyes, I saw a light.

You told me stories about your chickadees,
They didn’t like BB guns or stupid archery.
The jumbo lifeguard, he let them use the pool all day for free.

Then the conversation stopped,
And I looked down at my feet.
I was next to you and you were right there next to me

Then I said, “Girl!
If you’re wondering if I want you to,
I want you to!
So make a move!
Cause I ain’t got all night!"

I giggle at this chorus because when it came to Pete and I, I made the first move.

Oooh, scandalous, you are thinking. You are wondering if you should keep on reading... Most of my followers are parents and grandparents (and I do mean MY OWN parents and grandparents)... I assure you that this will remain as PG rated as always.

It was a dark night on I-25 headed back from a forensics meet in Denver. Pete was sitting one seat in front of me. And after a full day of flirting (days, weeks, months, who knows where we were at this point), I whispered something in his ear (I don't remember what, but I would be willing to bet it was pretty G rated) and grabbed his hand. And we held hands the whole way back home. 

"Nothing" came of our high school friendship as we moved on in various ways and lost touch until Pete randomly emailed me in November of 2005. I had tried to think nothing of this car ride for years as I figured it was just a silly adolescence thing until one of the emails from Pete included this, "but i do seem to remember a long drive back from a forensics competition, holding hands and awkward silences. and then thats it, thats the last time i remember you. i dont really know what happened but it has stuck in my mind for a long time. maybe you can fill me in. pete"

Pete moved back from Germany, we began dating, he went to Iraq, came home, I was still faithfully his and suddenly we were engaged.

"The rest of the summer was the best we ever had.

We watched Titanic and it didn’t make us sad.
I took you to Best Buy,
You took me home to meet your mom and dad.

Your mom cooked meatloaf even though I don’t eat meat,
I dug you so much, I took some for the team.
Your dad was silent,
His eyes were fixed to what was on TV.

Then the conversation stopped and I looked down at the ring,
Your folks were next to you,
And you were right there next to me.

Then I said, “Girl!
If you’re wondering if I want you to,
I want you to!
I swear it’s true!
Without you, my heart is blue.

Girl! If you’re wondering if I want you to,
I want you to!
So make a move!
‘Cause I ain’t got all night!"

We will call Pete's aunt Amy the first to know about our engagement as we ran into her around town the FIRST DAY I was wearing my ring and she immediately spied it. We all kept close lipped until announcing to the parents a few days later, but I saw the look she gave me after seeing the new ring on my left hand...

"So much pain may come my way,

There may come a day when we have nothing left to say!

When the conversation stops,
And we’re facing our defeat.
I’ll be next to you,
And you’ll be right there next to me.

Then I said, “Girl!
If you’re wondering if I want you to,
I want you to!
I swear it’s true!
Without you, my heart is blue.

Girl! If you’re wondering if I want you to,
I want you to!
So make a move!
‘Cause I ain’t got all night!"

Through everything, Pete gets it. Or he doesn't. But even on the days he doesn't, he is still the closest to it. He gets me. And he keeps me sane, puts my head back on straight, holds me while I cry, rolls his eyes at pregnant people with me, and so many more things. 

So, even during those times when it really feels like its me against the world, I just try and remind myself that it is we against the world (yes, I know that isn't grammatically correct, try and stop me)...

And I sure am glad I made that first move.

So its my birthday...

On Thursday, September 9, 2010... I turned 25 years old.
I had the day off work. It began a little crazy because the night before our car broke down in a liquor store parking lot on the way home from work. We ended up at John and Heidi's most of the day waiting to find out that we were spending a paycheck on the jeep. I went to work the following day and had many staff members tell me happy birthday. My parents and parents in law took me out for Japanese (YUM).

Something about 25 conveyed this... hope. This true, "finally an adult" feeling. I never had that at 18 or 21. But, it felt like, at 25... life was suddenly going to be a big deal.

Well!!! 25 was a big deal. Here is a brief summary.
Since turning 25, I have:
Ridden my bike to work (not every day, I just remember that being a thing of note last fall)
Had a belated birthday celebration with all the women in the family (aka: received MORE gifts)
Blogged
Ridden the rampart reservoir trail for the first time after years of talking about it
Found out I was pregnant
Went to Keystone for a weekend of fun to celebrate Pete and I's third anniversary
Found out I had softball sized fibroids (benign uterine tumors) and therefore a HIGH risk pregnancy.
Enjoyed my first ever paid time off from work. Which afforded me the ability to be at ALL the family holiday celebrations including day early Thanksgiving, Traditional Sunday nutcracker matinee performance, lil yuleaftin (still don't know how to spell after 4 years of marriage to the East's), Christmas Eve slumber party at Grandmas, etc.
Became pretty decided that Baby would be named Carter, girl or boy
Had the most memorable first morning sickness experience ever, sprinting to the bathroom mid manager meeting... good thing I told my bosses early!!
Had my first ER visit ever
Went camping
Ran a restaurant despite debilitating morning sickness
Made a bedskirt on my new sewing machine (christmas present)
Worked a closing shift new Year's Eve and laughed at all the nearly naked girls running around between bars in -15 degrees
Moved in with parents in law
Showed up at super bowl with a growler... of rootbeer (and vanilla ice cream)
Felt baby kick for the first time (post rootbeer float, coincidence, I think not!)
Had my second ER visit ever
Found out baby was a girl!
Had amniocentesis
Rolled my eyes at the suggestion of bed rest
Made fabulous soft, cuddly baby blanket
Registered for Baby gifts
Had my first ambulance ride ever
Hospitalized for 4 days
Nearly died with brain swelling, and kidney failure due to pre-eclampsia
Had major surgery
Carter Marie born nearly 15 weeks early at 1lb 4 oz.
Carter Marie died at 40 hours old due to severe stroke
Took 8 weeks off
Learned the joy of second ever Paid time off by receiving a paycheck for far more than I worked of the month of March
Only on blood pressure medication for 1 week of the estimated 2-6 weeks
Sewed my brains out
Cleaned out baby stuff from Carter's Closet
Remade Carter's closet into fabulous Kitchen island
Cooked
Cleaned
Read
Used lots of kleenex
Journaled
Visited a swanky resort in Tempe, AZ. Sat by pool for four days. Ate Fish tacos. Rolled eyes at the pool bartender hitting me: and introduced him to my mother in law. HA!
Returned to work
Rode my bike again for the first time in months
Planted tomotoes, peppers, and strawberries in topsy turvy planters. Also planted flowers (they died) and herbs (they took over the flowers) Planted pumpkins, but they were eaten by squirrels or birds almost immediately
Paid medical bills
Made birthday gifts
Found out our GM was leaving to run another restaurant in the company
Got Carter's footprints tattooed on my foot
Worked a lot
My brother visited!!
Went to the boat on Lake Pueblo
Spent time with Nephews 1, 2 and 3 while they visited for three weeks
Went camping
Refinished sewing table
Participated in the first annual CASA bike ride for Hope
Brewed beer
Reconnected with an old friend also suffering the trauma of pregnancy gone wrong
Saddened to hear about the death of one of my OG Carlsbad friends due to leukemia
Pete got promoted
Cut off all my hair
Got promoted to General Manager
Got new glasses
Hit the six month marker of our baby being gone. Realized she had been gone longer than we had even known she existed: did not make it easier
Worked 8 days in a row while transitioning to my new "GM" schedule.


And that is 25... in a nutshell.

I find myself looking back on that and hoping that 26 is better. Then, acknowledging that, despite all the pain, 25 was not HORRIBLE. So then I just hope that 26 is not any worse. I've thought maybe, 26 won't be so eventful... and that would be good. But that is probably an unrealistic expectation. A lot can happen in a year.

So.... I'm just left with what sounds like a toast to my passing age:
"Here is to you, 25... a year I can only hope contained my worst day ever. A year that provided joy, pain, tears, laughter, hope, excitement, fear, strength, worry, friends, family, and a whole lot of other things. I thank you for the good and happily let go of you because of the bad. I will not say 'good riddance' because I would hate for that to come back at me... but well, frankly, I'm thinking it.
And to 26. Let's be friends. I'll take whatever you got... but please don't hurt too bad."

facebook makes serious things totally dumb

Yesterday, I checked facebook to find that an old acquantaince from college had posted, "I'm 18 weeks and craving twizzlers."
I looked at her page, her pics, her updates to see nothing about pregnancy. What a strange way to announce your pregnancy I thought to myself. I posted a quick comment, "congrats?" and went about life.


Today, I had a message from this friend.
"Pass this along: Ok pretty ladies, it's that time of year again, in support of breast cancer awareness!! Remember last year so many people took part that it made national news and, the constant updating of status reminded everyone why we're doing this and helped raise awareness!! Do NOT tell any males what the status' mean, keep them guessing!! And please copy and paste (in a message )this to all your female friends to see if we can make a bigger fuss this year than last year!!! I did my part... now YOUR turn! The idea is to choose the month you were born and the day you were born. Pass this on to the girls only and lets see how far it reaches around. The last one about the bra went round allovr the world. So you'll write... I'm (your birth month) weeks and I'm craving (your birth date)!!! as your status. 

Example: Feb 14th = I'm 2 weeks and craving Choclolate mints!!

January-1 week
Febuary-2 weeks
March-3 weeks
April-4 weeks
May-6 weeks
June-8 weeks
July-10 weeks
August-12 weeks
September-13 weeks
October-14 weeks
November-16 weeks
December-18 weeks

Days of the month:
1-Skittles
2-Starburst
3-Kit-Kat
4-M&M's
5-Galaxy
6-Crunchie
7-Dairy Milk
8-Lollipop
9-Peanut Butter Cups
10-Meat Balls
11-Twizzlers
12-Bubble Gum
13-Hershey's Kisses
14-Chocolate Mints
15-Twix
16-Resse's Fastbreak
17-Fudge
18-Cherry Jello
19-Milkyway
20-Pickels
21-Creme Eggs
22-Skittles
23-Gummy Bears
24-Gummy Worms
25-Strawberry Pop Tarts
26-Starburst
27-Mini Eggs
28-Kit-Kat Chunkie
29-Double Chocolate Chip Chrunchy Cookies
30-Smarties
31-Chocolate Cake"

I already facebook posted a 150 character response to this stupidity, but I'm in the mood to rant more so here goes.

point number 1: W.T.F does a fake pregnancy post about craving candy have anything to do with breast cancer. Atleast the original one (bra color) had something to do with boobies, which is what awareness is trying to save I thought... But faking all your friends out to pregnancy? dumb.... 

point number 2: If your post has nothing to do with breast cancer, or breasts in general even, how are we supposed to know that you are supporting breast cancer awareness? and itsn't the point of social media to spread the word and get everyone on board? Well if no one knows what you are talking about, how are you being effective? To illustrate my point, I am going to quote all the comments following my friends post yesterday, names removed:

• What?!?!?!

  Friday at 5:00pm · 
• Congrats?

  Friday at 5:37pm · 
• Whaaaaa??

  Friday at 6:46pm · 
• 
  

  Whaaaaat? Congrats girl.

  Friday at 8:12pm · 
• Details, please..
  
  
  So... I'm annoyed. You already get that. (I'm also annoyed that by copy and pasting from facebook, my text formatting is all curfuffled... but I will get over that.)
  But here we are at point number 3, with a... footnote:
  
  Footnote:
  I am a baby loss mama. I understand that this aforementioned title makes me sensitive about things that other people are not sensitive about, sometimes offended for things I would not have been offended about a year ago, etc. There are people that may think that this rant is solely because I have just recently tragically lost my child after a... rough go with the reproductive world.
  And I will admit that this is... partly that.
  
  Point number 3: This post is COMPLETELY insensitive. Facebook is already... quite frankly, a hard place after infant loss. In online support groups I have seen it over and over again. Sometimes being so easily in touch with people I would have fallen out of touch with years ago is painful as they go through healthy pregnancy, perfect babies and what... seems like to me, a happy perfect world while "growing their family." I have only stayed because... because as snobby as this may seem, I follow friends and acquaintances pregnancies to ensure they don't go through anything like I did. Most of the pregnancies I have kept up on and commented or checked in on frequently have been my women friends experiencing trouble. Everything from my friend whose morning sickness wouldn't let up to my friend who just developed pre-eclampsia at 27 weeks and had an emergency c section (this situation was like deja vu, though I am happy to report Alex is doing well and almost a week old, though those of you who pray, keep praying because 1lb 6oz babies have much to overcome.)
  Experiencing loss like this is something you cannot imagine until you are living it. Its horrible and painful and continues to be no matter how much of your life moves on. It does change you. It does make you sensitive to people posting about pregnancies they AREN'T ACTUALLY EXPERIENCING.
  But here is a fact I have to tell myself regularly when I start to feel alone in my situation. ONE IN FOUR PREGNANCIES ENDS IN A LOSS DURING THE PREGNANCY OR EARLY INFANCY. 
  ONE IN FOUR PREGNANCIES...That does not even account for the innumerous (I could probably find the statistic if I wanted) women who experience years of infertility, often unexplained infertility. That means... that if you are of "child rearing age" (this is a vague age group I know, but I bet you can inspect the demographic of your friends and have an idea if you fit into this category), its not a small estimate to suggest that 30% of your female facebook friends are hurting from infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss. So then there are countless posts about, "I'm ____ weeks and craving ____" Well, one sixth (assuming your facebook friends are 50/50 split between genders) of your friends are thinking about how nice it would be to be craving ANYTHING because they were ANY weeks along, just being able to shout it out on facebook without worrying whether they would have to later announce their loss just as publicly.
  
  
  Don't get me wrong. I get the point. Let's raise awareness. But let's do it in a way that is easily relatable to breast cancer, people understand what is going on,  and can support the mission without being offended.
  Personally, I don't think that is so much to ask.
  
  I haven't scripted an exact facebook plan just yet... but since "breast cancer awareness month" is OCTOBER, I figure I have 26 more days to figure it out and start announcing.  If you have any ideas, let me know... I think the person behind the "bra color" status update got to be on the today show or something. That could be fun...
  
  How is this for awareness:
  

  Lia Hall

  Ten months ago, I was 13 weeks and craving ("peanut butter cups"). More realistically, I was craving buttered noodles and saltines because I was throwing up all the time. 

  

  But, by saying "13 weeks" and "peanut butter cups", and having received the "code reader" email, you've now been reminded my birthday is on Friday. Please plan accordingly.

   ·  · 59 minutes ago

Dearest Daughter

I wrote this in my journal a while ago but wanted to share because...
because I think this is the easiest way to summarize the basic thoughts that are ALWAYS going through my head.
"Dear Carter,
I spend every day hoping you know how much mommy and daddy love you. Because one of the emptiest feelings is thinking that without you here to hold, kiss, snuggle, and show off... there is just no way to express how much we love you.

I hope you get to play with Jay and Liam and all those other babies whose time on earth was too short.

I hope that children in heaven are not mean to each other like children on earth: that you are not teased about anything because you are perfect.

I hope there are parties in heaven: extra special, extra perfect days full of cake and presents and people telling you how wonderful you are. But maybe every day in heaven in like that. And that's okay too.

I hope you've met the wonderful man we named you after. I hope he introduced himself as Uncle Josh... because if you were both here on earth, that is the title we would have given him.

I hope the great grandmothers we thought you wouldn't get to meet are there to love you every day. I hope they hug and kiss you and tell great stories like they did for daddy and I.

Maybe you have met some of daddy's other friends too. I hope they tell you only of the good times: terrorism and war deserve no place in heaven.

I hope that our sadness doesn't contaminate your heaven. We are trying so hard to get along here without you, but some days it is much harder than others. I hope, if you feel our sadness, you know that it is just because we miss you even when we know you are fine. I hope, that if you must feel our sadness, then you get to feel our happiness and love too.

I hope that you know you will never be out of our hearts, our thoughts, or memories. I hope you know we will cherish ever moment we had with you... even the scary ones, the sad ones, the vomit-y ones. We will constantly wish that every moment with you had totaled many many more, but accept that cannot happen.

But mostly, I just hope you know how much we love you.
Love,
Mommy

Tales from a bike ride through the dark

"Peter!!! Pete!" I yell, a mouth full of ice cream, (probably some dripping down my white shirt), one hand holding a waffle cone, one hand on the bike handlebars, as I dodge strollers and pedestrians and people dancing in the street in front of a huge stage.
"I think..."
"What?" Pete asks, sounding a bit impatient... though really he is just 100 feet ahead of me, trying to pull off the same prowess.
"I think we are downtownies... living in the 'burbs... I think that is our only problem."


Sunday evening was the festival downtown to welcome the US Pro Cycling challenge into town. There were vendor booths, live music, awesome people watching, and the usual liveliness of downtown. 
To thoroughly enjoy this festival, we opted out of trying to find a parking place in the area and instead rode our bikes down the greenway that goes right into our humble downtown.


We ended up being able to have a nice dinner with Pete's parents and grandparents. And then we toured the fest, and stopped by the ice cream shop just around the corner from work. 
But... all this fun meant that we headed home in growing darkness. And its a good hour ride from downtown to where we parked our car.


I'm afraid of what can't be seen. We all are in some extent. Especially on those pessimistic days. The fear of the unknown in front of us can be overwhelming in both a physical and mental sense. But it has always been a huge thing for me. I remember trying to explain this in a writing assignment in middle school. My teacher responded with, "So you are afraid of the dark?" Well, no... because my vision is bad enough that take my glasses away and I cannot see in the most perfect of light. But yes, because most often when things really sneak up on you unforeseen: is in the dark. 
And to be completely honest, I still leave the light on if I go to sleep before Pete comes home. He thinks that its just because I fall asleep so fast that I do not get a chance to turn off the light. And sometimes it is. But most of the time, it is just because I do not want to wake up and wonder if the person walking into my bedroom whom I cannot see AT ALL (no glasses and dark? not a chance) is really Peter. 
So, I wasn't completely psyched to be riding home in the darkness. Especially since I couldn't find my bike headlight OR headlamp. And Pete has a flashing taillight in front of me which, with my night vision (or lack thereof), just further obscures everything else.
But I embraced it. And I found it to be rather peaceful. Especially in the darkest parts of the green way. There is so little distraction. Its kind of like in one of those athlete based movies, where the pivotal moment comes and the sound goes completely silent except for the persons breathing and heart rate...
I haven't left myself alone with my thoughts much in the most recent months. Because, well, frankly... they aren't pretty. But, on the bike... it was serene. It really did seem like the worst thing in our lives was that we live too far out "in the burbs." Everything felt momentarily okay.


But there was still this tightness in my chest. This wondering if we would have to find out that the zombie apocolalypse had started between the time we had ridden south on the trail in the light to when we were riding north on the trail in the dark. And as Peter's tail light fell off his bike and we momentarily stopped to fix it, it did seem like the opening moments of a horror movie. 


But it was fine. Well, I mean, we arrived home completely unscathed. There was another moment when we briefly stopped that we heard something LARGE tromping through the woods just ahead of us. And then, a huge dog appeared at the side of the trail. It had to be a dog. To huge for a coyote, too small for a bear, and too completely uninterested in us to be a mountain lion.
But there was this moment of tension as I was leaning over my bag when this happened and Peter whispered, "Whatever happens, don't move." and I heard the snap on his holster... (the dog is fine, it wandered away and we moved right along... and with a little more pep than we had before)


People talk about how those missing a sense (sight, hearing...) just end up with better abilities with the other four senses. But. This was different than that. It was too dark for sight. So quiet for sound. So still (except for the air rushing past you as you pedaled) for touch. 
So you are left with smell and thoughts. And somehow, this made the world seem so much brighter, more peaceful, loving. 


I can only declare that this perception is because for the briefest point in time (a whole hour out of a whole lifetime), we OPTED to not be able to see in front of us. And it did not slow us down. It did not hurt. It was not frightful. It was not unfortunate.
IT WAS NOT BAD.


I don't know what is in front of the Hall family at this point. And I've finally accepted that, my wildest guess, dream, hope, fear... will not ever be exactly what we end up with. I would say that I cannot see very far in front of me at all. 
But that doesn't have to slow me down, hurt me, scare me, or be bad.


It just has to be accepted. 

Prologue

I'm not exactly sitting to write now... but I will in the next few days. I have an interesting topic (er, stream of consciousness) to put into the world.
But here is a teaser:

"Peter!!! Pete!" I yell, a mouth full of ice cream, (probably some dripping down my white shirt), one hand holding a waffle cone, one hand on the bike handlebars, as I dodge strollers and pedestrians and people dancing in the street in front of a huge stage.
"I think..."
"What?" Pete asks, sounding a bit impatient... though really he is just 100 feet ahead of me, trying to pull of the same prowess.
"I think we are downtownies... living in the 'burbs... I think that is our only problem."

Holy cow, two posts in one day!!!

It has been a while since I posted a food obsessed blog. 

And since I named this blog "foodie-talk" back in the day, I figured it was time. 

Tonight, I had a wonderful dinner planned. But I spaced out and started way late. So I was suddenly rushing to finish it up in time for Pete to eat before heading off to his half night shift.

It still turned out great. I was so worried the pork would turn out too tough since i rushed it (I think I set a world record for fastest fully cooked pork that was edible) but it was all great. 

The best part was the sweet potatoes. 

We made a hashbrowns type of dish with sweet potatoes instead. So awesome. Here is a... recipe ish...

2 sweet potatoes

1 apple

1/2 large onion

1 clove garlic

salt and pepper to taste

2 tbsp canola oil

4 tbsp butter

We used a cheese grater to grate up the sweet potatoes. Then we julienned (cut into small strips) the apple and onion and minced the garlic. We put all that in hot saute pan coated with the oil / butter mix.

Cook over medium heat for 3-5 minutes at a time, before flipping.

It was so delicious!!! What a great way to change up the sweet potato side dish. 

Cheers, LiA

Well, I have been doing some stuff.

Okay, its been weeks since I have written a blog, so this will be long but pictured filled.

When you last left the crazy world of Lia and Pete, we were about to embark on a 40 mile bike ride "for a good cause..."

It was a beautiful sweltering day even in the mountains. And Pete had just finished a graveyard shift. We made it 15 miles... and then it wasn't fun anymore. So we turned around... rode 15 more miles DOWNHILL at speeds near 30 miles an hour, had a nice lunch with the parents, and went to bed at 5pm. CASA raised over $13000 with this ride so thank you all for your support. We may take it on next year, but only if we are more prepared...

I finished remaking my sewing table into something a little more beautiful, instead of just practical.

You probably remember the before photos:

But after posting these, I found this label on the bottom:

"Carefully packed and inspected by Kent 5 11 '76"

HA!!! I knew it was dated, but yeesh!

So here is what I turned it into:

I love it!!! However, I have not really gotten around to using it since finishing. I'm way overdue for a sewing project...

In other news, we bottled our beer.

I love this picture of Pete. He looks dead asleep. I promise he is not. but its just funny how it turned out because his eyes are closed. He says I always take unflattering photos of him. I guess this is proof.

Oh, PS: beer should be done Sunday. Our first recipe, a honey brown ale. We haven't started another yet, but should soon...

Also, I cut off all my hair. I like it a ton. I was momentarily regretful when the buzzer touched my neck. But it feels nice and is super low maintenance (and we all know that is my priority beauty wise). I would have a picture, but I'm still in my pajamas with major bedhead (that is the thing with short hair).

Pete has taken on more of a managerial role at work, and is working DAYS for the first time in a year and a half!!! 

I will be starting my promotion officially the first part of September... until then, it is a huge learning curve to master. Not huge. But, there is a list of stuff to figure out. I have a bunch of different shifts than I have ever had before and am gradually taking on more and more responsibility. 

As my dad said so poetically last night, It is nice to see good things start to happen after going through hell.

And it is. Some days still feel like everyone has moved on but us. But for the most part, we seem to be succeeding at continuing on.

"And also in first place..."

    It was late in my generation that the concept of "every kid is a winner" really gained strength. I think I can best describe this... campaign by telling you about my life growing up in the ATA.
    I first joined the American Taekwondo Association as a second grader. I was about seven. My mom herded all three of us kids into the studio at first: my younger brother, Ben about 4 at the time, and my older brother, Josh... 14ish. We all got started, excitedly joining the ranks of the many other students at this particular taekwondo studio in our small southern California town.
   Ben only lasted a couple of weeks before the instructors and my mom decided he wasn't quite ready: lacking in coordination, and / or attention span in order to fully participate. So he was out.
   Josh and I started our Taekwondo careers together. It wasn't super eventful right away.
  So, enter Ben, about a year later. He eagerly joins classes. But, during his year of waiting to "mature" enough to participate, the ATA created a program called "tiny tigers" specially formulated for 3-6 year olds. So, he particpates, but is definitely not the youngest.
  We entered tournaments. And... we always got trophies. There was always a 1st, 2nd and 3rd place for each category of competition. But beyond that, everyone else received a 4th place trophy. (Over the years, I collected MANY of these.)
   By the time I received the rank necessary to judge in tournaments, the "tiny tigers" program had grown into quite a beast. As a young black belt of about 12... I judged in these rings most often. And... they all got "FIRST" place trophies. While it was sweet to really drive home that, "every kid is a winner" crap, it definitely felt like selling out to announce, "And in first place for best sportsmanship.... and in first place for strongest technique.... and in first place for loudest kiyapp...." And then we would set loose 14 "first place" four year olds running about whatever gym the tournament had rented.

All this nonsensical reminiscence is just to explain that... I know what it means to get an award just for the sake of getting an award. While I participated in a ton of various activities over my school years, I mostly have a ton of "participant" ribbons, "runner up" awards... and "fourth place" trophies (one I was awarded at the Las Vegas nationals for sparring... I was competing well. But locked feet with my opponent and sprained my ankle. Later on, I dropped the trophy and... its foot broke off. To this day, this trophy [one of the smallest] is my favorite.)

Sometimes, with an experience of intense grief and pain, everything good that happens to you... just feels like a fourth place trophy. I am having one of those days today. I just got amazing news of an excellent opportunity that I absolutely deserve....

But there is still a little voice in my head that says, "You know this never would have happened if Carter hadn't died."

In the most recent case, this unfortunately is completely true. I don't say that to be crass or cruel. But we are talking about a great career opportunity. And, if I had left work in early March to be hospitalized for as long as possible before having a baby who was in the NICU for months and a high needs child due to prematurity for quite some time... yeah, what is on the table today, would not be on the table.

I can't give a lot of details as to this most recent "thing" yet, so I will go back to the last time I was really feeling this way.

In early April, I took a vacation. You may remember. I went to a fancy resort outside of phoenix, AZ and laid by the pool... The pool bartender flirted with me despite my constant reminders that I was married. I took lots of pictures of random things. I geocached in a cemetary.

What I never spoke of, is the breakdown I had the night before leaving. It was my first vacation I had taken by myself (mostly by myself, Heidi and I shared a hotel room, but she was working 95% of the time), leaving Peter behind to work. I remember crying to him... as if I was being given a death sentence. He assured me it would be okay. I SHOULD have fun. And I remember telling him, "But this is just a consolation prize. I am not supposed to be going on a vacation to lay by a pool. I am supposed to be pregnant. And if not that, then I am supposed to be camping outside the NICU for every bit of news to receive about our daughter."
"I am NOT supposed to be getting vacation right now."

But that's the sad thing about Infant loss no one can adequately describe. You grieve the loss of your child. But just as much (and on some days, more so), you grieve the loss of the future you had planned with them. You feel awkward not following the restrictive pregnancy rules; you remember that at Christmas, you won't have a _________ old baby, you will have an extra stocking. You realize you will never shop for the things you thought you would, talk amongst other parents about milestones, research safety ratings, shop for houses based on school districts, and so on and so forth.

I didn't mean to react to this fabulous moment in our lives today as if it was a fourth place trophy. I was trying to be thankful. But being thankful for the opportunity, led me to the same thinking... "This never would have happened if I had a new baby. I would just be getting back from maternity leave in order to hear this announcement"

And remembering that... just led me to realize that, since what I really want is to be a mom.... to a live child, that a new title or salary or whatever... it is great. But it is not what I had in the plans for this year. It wasn't even in the BACKUP plan!

So, there is this little dark voice, in the back of my head that renames one of the most wonderful things that has happened to me as "just a consolation prize." Do I deserve it? yes. Did I work hard for it? yes. But did I think, a few months ago that it was even a possibility? no. And if, the future I expected as of six months ago had come to pass, would this have ever occurred? no.

But.... that is another funny thing. Life continues.In the words of a song I have always loved, "I thought of you,  and where you'd gone, let the world spin madly on. And everything that I said I'd do, make the world brand new, take the time for you... and the world spins madly on." (the weepies)
I CANNOT STOP the world from happening. And... for the most part: I don't want to. The thought crosses my mind on occasion. I still have those, "Hey wait, my baby just died!" moments. But, for the most part, the world has to continue spinning. I find myself not wanting to wish this pain on anybody. But not really wanting to be witness to all the happy endings either. Today, I found out that one of my bussers and Pete's partner's girlfriend are both pregnant.
Part of me is so bitter and angry. "Of course THEY are pregnant!" my subconscious exclaims... as if "they" are less deserving. But... here is what I have learned being an unfortunate case of baby loss mama: 1 in 4 pregnancies doesn't lead to a healthy child: defects, born to soon, miscarriage... And I would say that statistic holds true as I have been watching dozens of friends pregnancies progress this year. So... while I am so hopelessly jealous of every moment of these women's pregnancies... I find myself just holding my breath for when bad news strikes. Its not being pessimistic, its being realistic. As a fellow BLM said when discussing our shared pregnant friend now hospitalized, "it doesn't surprise me. I saw this coming. And I continue to hope for the best. but I know the odds."
Grief is a funny thing. You never know when it is going to strike... or what it will get you for. But it is always there. Waiting for the moments you are weakest.

And sometimes being a baby loss mama feels like being back in a tiny tigers ring. Because, somehow, you are provided (in the moments of deepest despair) with women who aspire to be as "amazing" as you. "And in first place for most creative use of grief filled hyperactive energy: _______... and in first place for most likely to succeed beyond this: __________... and in first place for best fake smile when someone asks if you have kids: ________... and in first place for most likely to refrain from punching inadequate parents: ________..." And that is what makes the life of a baby loss mama so lonely. All those first place trophies. Some days... it is like competing to win an Oscar. But because there isn't a high budget film about this subject, one just has to quietly go about their business, trying not to make the rest of the world feel awkward about dead babies and other such horrific acts of... life.

Maybe not the best idea...

We will start with a picture from a lifetime ago.

Maybe not a LIFETIME... but man does it sure feel that way sometimes.

For a few years after college, I didn't even ride my bike. I cried when I sold it before we moved to California, but I hadn't put any miles on it in years.
So, when my birthday present last year turned out to be that Pete and I found a DEAL on barely used mountain bikes at a local shop, I was PSYCHED!!! We had been talking about me getting back to riding for our entire marriage but I had always copped out... because if I wanted to spend my day doing something, I wanted it to be with Pete and Ursa, so we hiked, and climbed and camped, and geocached... but no biking. UNTIL! Last August when we got our new old bikes.
Every moment off the rest of the summer and into winter we were on them. We rode downtown. We rode in a nearby traily park. We rode to work.

Skip forward a bit and cue... dramatic complicated pregnancy, near death experience, death of a child.

I was SOOOO excited at my two week appointment when the doc said I could start SLOWLY doing LIGHT workouts. I really felt like I had to be moving to start feeling like a normal person again... especially after months of restricted activity, doctors, ER visits, etc. Then she clarified by asking my workout of choice. "I like to ride bikes..." I said casually.
She cringed. "Yeah, you could ride... a stationary bike in the gym... slowly. But you can't do hills yet and its going to be a while before bumps are comfortable."

AND THEN!! I got permission to return to normal activity at 61/2 weeks post deathbed. (I don't know that the doctor would have granted it had he any idea what MY definition of normal activity is) But he did. And I ran with it. Literally.... I think I was on the treadmill that very night.
I went back to work, we did light rides on the greenways. I would enjoy them but realize that... unfortunately, I still feel like I just had major surgery at times.

But, a month ago... I saw a sign near the elevators in the parking garage. It was a poster advertising the "ride for hope" benefiting CASA. Already intrigued as I am familiar with CASA and the amazing work they do, I read more thoroughly. And then I saw the route: Gold camp road.

Gold camp is Pete and I's go to for anything recreational. We've camped, climbed, geocached, photographed, dogwalked, biked, searched for water, grilled, had campfires, and dreamed of further adventures along many different parts of this historic road leading from Colorado Springs to the old gold mining area in Victor, CO.

So, I do what many wives do when they want to get an idea in their husband's head without truly... proposing it. I hinted... coyly... "So, last night in the elevators I saw a sign for a charity ride to benefit CASA. And guess what the route was: super cool idea... Gold camp. From bear creek park to victor."

I didn't expect such immediate, definitive response. "Let's do it. That will be awesome."

So, in a few short hours, we will be embarking on a 38.8 mile uphill journey via bicycle. I'm pretty sure its longer than I've ever gone before. And while not technical at all, I know its the least amount of downhill relaxing time I've every had.

And to think, just 5 months ago, I was nearly dead.
I don't think I'll be back at that point tomorrow.... but I do assure you... I am riding for completion, not speed. I have figured out just how many miles I HAVE to go per hour in order to finish before they clear the course (and its not fast, so I'm confident I can at least finish).

I was never the most impressive or competitive on the cycling team... but I was there. And I did finish every race I started (including Albuquerque, where I cracked three ribs on the course practicing the night before). But this... this will be a feat to brag about. Maybe not in the accomplished cyclists list, but most definitely in mine.

Wish us luck, and I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow!!!

...and for you... a footspa!

This line has been a long standing joke towards rewarding anyone who has done anything slightly awesome.

You see, the story goes, that while living in England, Pete and his mom used to listen to a radio programme (it was England afterall) on the way to school each morning. Each day, the hosts would ask a trivia question or hold some various contest.
Upon having a caller correctly answer the trivia, they would win a fabulous prize! A footspa!!!!

So... as I said, anytime someone has done anything awesome, we say to each other, and for you... a footspa!!

Skip forward to tonight. I was having an immature moment complaining about how we have to do everything the hard way... whine whine whine, etc.
So Peter tries his hardest to calm me down, aka shut me up. He first suggests that I sit down in my jammies and do Rosetta Stone. Great idea... except I just had an epic day at work. And I am not up for learning Spanish right this moment.
But then!!! He comes up with a most excellent idea.
He suggests I take a hot shower, paint my toenails and have a little pampering evening. Now there is a fabulous idea.
So I ran some hot water in the laundry sink with some bath salts, soaked my feet... used the manicure supplies Heidi bought me while I was in the hospital... put a mask on my face....
Ahhhhh.... it was delightful.

It is easy to get all wound up into a horrible place about all that has happened. As Peter admitted mid "cheer up Lia" session... we have been "kicked in the balls a few times."
So now, as the hospital bills loom and the car approaches 200k miles... AND needs new tires. And I spend time with my husband one night every two weeks because of how our work schedules coincide... and....
oh it doesn't matter.
Maybe we really do live some life where we have to do everything the hard way. Maybe. BUT!!!! That is probably an exageration.
And even if its not, lying down in defeat will not help anything.
So we will get up again tomorrow and do some more. Easy, hard, medium... however it comes at us.

And when it starts to feel a little too hard, there is always the footspa.

Why I have nothing to say

"if you don't have anything nice to say... don't say anything at all."

What a nice little lesson from Bambi.

So while I feel compelled to write this evening, I'm shutting down blogger and turning to my good old fashioned journal. Because that is a safe place for the vile, bitter things I am thinking right now. Spew it all out without thinking about how it will make the web world feel.

So good night web world. I hope you are all safe and warm and cuddly on this beautiful evening.

And in the words of Garrison Keillor, "Be well, do good work, and keep in touch."

For my friend...

So I had this friend in college. She was my RA freshman year, we remained friends... since she was older she went off and got married, and while still in town, we grew apart. And then I ran off and got married... and moved away. And apparently she moved too. Our friendship was such a... fleeting moment in time that I can't find a picture of the two of us... I know they exist, but on a disc somewhere in a box somewhere... I found this one that I stole from Lindsey's facebook. Thanks Lindsey!!!

And then she had a baby. At 27 weeks... due to pre-eclampsia. And I saw the... mayhem via facebook. The NICU, the prayers, the struggles, the day that the little one went home from the hospital. 

So when my post... that fateful early march day to the facebook world included that I was in the in the hospital with pre-eclampsia, she was all over it. She called, she emailed, she facebooked... trying to get in touch with me. She did a darn good job... I just had constant visitors so I declined the call from an unknown number. Now I know better.

She blogged about how she needed everyone she knew to pray for me. She emailed me every day.

And when I sent that sad news email to the world... she kept praying. She kept in touch. She told me how much she admired my strength and assured me I was doing well... that she couldn't imagine my pain.

So... skip ahead a few weeks and she announces... they are expecting their second child!!! Very exciting!!!

And then, one month ago today, she nearly died due to severe complications... and her son, was born still. 

I've been thinking of her all today. Remembering what that first month marker was like. I looked back and noticed I didn't post much. I held back, kept it... short.

It was a hard one. It was the first afterall. And it was just near the point where I came out of the fog of "what just happened?"... that shock phase of grief. And in shaking off shock, the anger and fear and bitterness came rushing in. I remember throwing a tantrum about nothing. No seriously.... NOTHING. It started because I wanted a bagel sandwich, but could not properly direct Pete on where to go in order to get a bagel sandwich. And suddenly, I'm sobbing uncontrollably in the car.

He started to get frustrated with me. But... in a moment of the most pure form of grace, he pulled the car over and he just looked at me quietly for a moment. And then, as soon as he could fit it in between my tears, he asked ever so gently, "Is this really about the bagel sandwich?" And I pretty much yelled, "NO!" sob sob sob... "This is because its the sixth of the month, and what could possibly go right today????" 

He took me home, fixed me breakfast... and I went back to bed. At some point, I felt nice enough to post the blog you can look up from April 6th. I assure you. It says nothing. It was a pleasant mask to cover the most unpleasant of feelings.

I post this because.... well because I feel compelled to truly share that month marker. My friend's own trauma is what brings on the desire. I cannot be sure what her own experiences are... but this is what I know. It doesn't get better by the end of that first month. I will not even speak very highly of month two. In fact, (and I hate to bring this up, knowing my friend is probably reading).... month two... is probably the worst. Because there is no more shock. You can sorta get by on your own physically. And people... its perfectly human and acceptable... people who aren't experiencing what you have: they start to move on. And in the moment that happens, you want to scream at the world, "HEY!!! WAIT!!! My baby just died!!!" But you don't. Mostly out of fear that the world will scream back, "No she didn't... that was a whole month ago. Move on..." 

YEESH! I started this blog to bring truth to that month marker. And here I am blabbing on about how the month marker isn't even the worst. (So let me back track to remind you that the markers are never as bad as the day it all actually happened)

But here is where it goes... in not that long...

In some ways, not a lot has changed. I still have moments where the anger and bitterness rushes in. There are still times where sadness and tears threaten to suffocate me. I still have the occasional, "Tantrum"

BUT!!!! These moments are farther between. For the most part, I can save these moments for quiet time rather than breaking down unexpectedly in public. I can see people with babies. I can walk past baby stuff in the store. The callous is building up. Things still get to me but not as often or as sharply as before.

Hang in there friend. Don't focus on the fact that people seem to be getting back to life as before... remember that they still love you immensely, they think about you often and cannot imagine your pain... but continue praying for you all the same. 

It does get better. Its gets better in spurts and then there is a bad moment or day... but every day you get up is a day you are moving forward whether it feels like it or not.

This is not an experience where you can eventually go back to the way things were. But you can... embrace where you are in grief and let it mold you. You are strong... and faithful... and life will go on. And you will function at continually higher ability all the while knowing of the hole in your heart from your loved little boy. 

And I'm here when you are ready. But until then... I will just continue blogging about the few things I know to be true.