The not-so-happy ending

It pains me to say this, but El Presidente won't become a big brother this year. At a doctor's appointment earlier this week, we found out that we had miscarried. Two medical professionals using three different methods tried five different times to find a heartbeat of yet-to-be-born child, but could not find one. Based on measurements, it appeared to have happened about two weeks ago.

This is our second miscarriage. The first occurred before El Presidente and the lovely wife took it much harder at that point than I did. She was very much ready to have a baby, after two years of trying, where I was not fully aware of my feelings about being a father. To my surprise, I did feel cheated out of being a dad, and that made me angry more than sad. I also found it easier to get over because it was a blighted ovum - basically, a pregnancy happened, but a baby never formed.

Also, having been really excited about finally being pregnant, we had told a lot of people about it. Less than a week later, we had to tell them all that we had miscarried, and that was the most difficult part.

When we were pregnant for El Presidente, we waited until we got past the first trimester, because we didn't want to get people's hopes up. Actually, I was being superstitious and didn't want to jinx it. The first trimester went by, and we started telling family and friends.

This latest pregnancy wasn't exactly planned, but we weren't exactly preventing it from happening. When I found out that the lovely wife was knocked up, I was shocked, but it turned into excitement. Having El Presidente has been the greatest experience ever, and knowing that we might have a repeat of hospital visits didn't discourage me from wanting another child. In fact, having one just over 2 years after our first made me feel optimistic about having even more children.

The lovely wife had a different perspective, and rightfully so. Yes, she wanted more children, and yes, she was happy about having a new baby now, but she was also very nervous and scared about having to care for a 2 and 1/2 year old with special needs and a newborn with unknown needs. Being the principal care giver, she new the challenge before her. She would handle it, but she had anxieties.

It took a couple of weeks before the new baby showed itself on the ultrasound, but once we heard the heartbeat, we both felt relief that we were in the clear. To hear the heartbeat was a comfort that the pregnancy took and was alive and growing and real.

Despite fears of jinxing it, despite our superstitions, we told everybody the good news. And why not? Everybody loves good news.

But this week came as a complete shock. We never thought that we would have lost this baby.

The lovely wife was upset, but I was the one who was really sad. I was the one who was really ready for a child this time around. She has spent more time consoling me than I have had to do for her. I really became attached to the new child and the idea of being the father of CHILDREN. I was looking forward to saying, "These are my kids". El Presidente has brought so much meaning into our lives, how could we not want more?

So it has been sad. I know deep down, whether it be divine will or natural selection, that there was a reason why this pregnancy, this child, would not come to full term. And I'm going to have a hard time letting go of this.

I heard the heartbeat. I saw the pictures. I gave it a nickname. It was real. And now it is gone. And I'm not sure what to do with all of that, other than go through the cycle of grieving.

Whenever we decide we are ready to try again, I wonder if we will end up being more cautious than before? Will we be able to contain our excitement and keep quite, not out of superstitious fear, but out of not wanting to put others through this again?

The ultrasound picture from April 24th still hangs on my office wall. At some point, I'm going to have to take it down. But what do I do with it? How do I get past something that was real but never became reality? How exactly do I mourn for a baby I was never able to hold, but loved nonetheless?

Tattoo

Victoria and Andrew gave El Presidente the gift of tattoos. Specifically, Finding Nemo temporary tattoos. Yesterday, I came home with him sporting one on his hand. The rest of the evening, instead of giving me high five, he insisted on me giving Nemo high five. Which seemed a lot like I was smacking his hand. But he seemed to enjoy it anyway.

Green

The flower beds at Four Square No. 266 are overrun with hostas and lilies. As you may well know, hostas and lilies are the rabbits of the flora kingdom: the reproduce in the blink of an eye. They are great plants for lazy gardeners like myself that doesn't like to do a lot of work, but still wants things to look good.

The lovely wife once told me we needed some color in our flowerbeds. I said, "Green is a color!" I love the color green. It is so lush, so healthy, so alive. It makes me think of rainforests.

While I have convinced the lovely wife that green counts as a color, we have added tulips, gladiolas, black eyed susans, cone plants, and mums to our beds to add OTHER colors. But mostly, the lilies and the hostas, with their big green leafs, rule the joint.

I mentioned last year that they needed thinned out, but wasn't going to get to it. This year, they really need to be thinned out. I'll probably get to it this year.

I think hostas and old neighborhoods go hand in hand. Old neighborhoods are filled with old trees that provide huge canopies. I love the feel of walking around Irvington in the shade with the growing green leaves swaying above my head. The challenge of growing things in the shade becomes an issue. But hostas seem to fit the bill perfectly. You'll find them around trees and all across shady yards all over Irvington.

Thanks to the spring rains, the hostas, trees, lawns, and all other things are particularly green. My neighbors have made me look bad this week, as they mowed their lawns and I have not yet found the opportunity. The grass has been growing like gangbusters, and it is looking really shaggy. I'm hoping that things will be dry enough soon to mow it.

Despite having to mow my green lawn every other day, these rainy spring days are wonderful to have. And they are even more enjoyable when you have another Irvington amenity and tradition: a big front porch with a swing.

About yesterday...

It's my own fault for getting into politics on my blog. I normally stayed clear of it knowing what it does to others and myself. I thought I'd voice my thoughts in a way that prevents the sort of discourse that occurs on political blogs. On previous posts, someone would post why they didn't like Hillary, and whatever. That's fine.

But yesterday, I let things get to me. I wasn't prepared to receive anti-Hillary comments on a post where I compared her to a dead horse. So, I lashed out.

My self control was turned off and, boom, I'm calling people sexist dopes. Not what I was expecting from myself. So I decided to close the comments on that posting. I didn't want to loose further control of comments. But more so, I did not want to loose control of myself.

So I went back and deleted my comments. Because they were ugly. Because they were written out of anger. Because I shouldn't have said anything at all.

That's right, I re-wrote history. It's one of the perks that Hillary supporters receive!

Win, Place, Show

I never watched horse racing as a child. I had heard of the Kentucky Derby, but did not know much about. A few years back, I went to my first horse race and was transformed. Now, I really enjoy watching the Derby and hope to someday soon attend.

Heading into the race on Saturday, there were two horses receiving a lot of media attention. Big Brown (partly owned by UPS) was the early and continued favorite, having won the Florida Derby just weeks before. He had 5-2 odds, but much of the talk focused on his draw into the 20th post, which hasn't seen a winner for about 80 years. Basically, he started in the most outside post and had to quickly make his way inside for a shorter run or go really fast to make up the difference. And he did. It was a spectacular finish.

Another horse receiving a lot of attention was Eight Belles. She was a filly (female) in the 5th post. Her odds were 12-1, but she was seen as a fast horse who could hold her own with the big boys. Only 39 fillies have raced in the Kentucky Derby. Only three had one the Derby, with 1988's Running Colors being the most recent winner. I liked the prospect; I liked the odds. Had I been at an OTB, I'd have put a bet on her to show and would have won money. Only around $6, but still...

So to see the two horses that I had most interest in finishing 1 and 2 in the race was exciting to watch. But then the unthinkable happens. The cameras turn to Eight Belles, who had collapsed around the first turn of the track after the race. And then there were the huge ambulances. And then a couple of minutes later, the track vet was on TV saying that Eight Belles had broken both of her front ankles and was immediately euthanized. What a heart breaking 5 minutes. I was shocked, almost to the point of tears.

Fast forward to a different sort of horse race: the Indiana presidential primary on Tuesday. Polling places are not much different from OTB's. You come in, you place your bets, and you watch the results, hoping to win. I placed my bet on Hillary (who also was a big fan of Eight Belles). I felt that she might, just might, find the mojo to come from behind and win the nomination.

In all honesty, she needed to be within single digits behind Barack in North Carolina and a decisive win in Indiana to really make a good argument for being the party's candidate. When you consider that out of 28 million Democrats voting nationwide, all that separates her and Barack is 500,000, it is definitely something worth fighting for.

Unfortunately, the race is getting away from her. Barack won big in North Carolina. And he kept it really close in Indiana. Superdelegates are jumping off the Hillary bandwagon with increasing frequency. I still contend that Hillary would be better for America and give a better fight against McCain, but there is no way that it will happen. May 6th may not have be the finish line, but it might as well be. She is far too many lengths behind to catch up.

But instead of calling it quits, she is pushing on, hoping beyond hope for a miracle. Because you never know what will happen to the leader.

In the meantime, she is loaning her campaign over $6 million of her own money. It says a lot of people like her and Woody Myers that they are willing to pour so much of their own money into their campaign. But its a risky investment.

She has every right to continue, and that is what she wants to do. But on the line: her own money, her reputation, her legacy. She still has a long career ahead of her as a Senator and a leader in the party. I just hope that she stops before she destroys herself.

Fish and seahorses

When we went to Disney World in 2006, my parents bought El Presidente a plush doll of Nemo. He has latched onto this as his favorite plush doll. It may have something to do with all the fish that he sees during trips to Riley. I don't know. But he calls it "Melmo". Which is also what he calls Elmo from Sesame Street. Apparently, they share a name. It's cute, though.
The lovely wife finds it touching that El Presidente likes Nemo so much, especially when you consider that Nemo is a special needs kid. The story is about a parent who is so over protective and a kid who wants to prove that he can do what ever other kid can do. It's not hard to see why "Finding Nemo" finds a special place in our heart.

I have to admit that me writing that my son is a "special needs kid" is a big break through. I've seen many kids with bigger challenges that those of El Presidente, so I never thought that we should call him a special needs kid because it would be an insult to those that were in dire straits. Or I was just fooling myself, in denial about the whole thing. Probably a bit of both.

Dealing with his needs has been no big deal. The lovely wife and I haven't known any different during the past 21 months. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that it hasn't been without its challenges. Which has caused me to think, "I don't know if we could handle doing this again."

When we first married almost 8 years ago, we thought that we wanted to have a big group of kids. Four kids would have been great. But we wanted time for ourselves. So we waited about five years before we started. Then we found that we were having problems conceiving.

In 2005, we found out we were pregnant. We were so excited that we told everyone right away. Unfortunately, the pregnancy didn't take. Between the two years of trying and a miscarriage, we changed our priorities and thought, "if we could just have one, we'd be happy." Later that year, we were pregnant again. And we waited until the first trimester was over before sharing the news.

Our son was born in 2006, and...well, you know how that went. We are so grateful to have El Presidente. But after a year, we looked at each other and said, "What now?"

We have our son. We are certainly pleased. But our dreams of a bigger family... what happens to that now? With El Presidente requiring extra attention, especially with feeding, having another kid was just out of the question. The amount of work it would take to care for a feeding tube kid and a newborn seemed overwhelming, especially for the lovely wife who has traded in her sanity to take care of our son. But knowing the pregnancy challenges that we would face with every year we aged... simply put, the prospect of having another child, let alone a big family, just doesn't seem likely at all. And that is sad.

Or it was...

Please welcome the Seahorse to Four Square No. 266.

It came as quite a surprise to us last month when we found out. After spending so much time questioning if we would ever feel ready and/or able to try to have another child, an answer was given: We have to be!

We are only seven weeks in. This is the infancy of pregnancy. Before, the superstitious side of me would have said, "Don't post this yet; you'll jinx the whole thing!" To hell with that! This is a moment to be celebrated!

Yes, we worry about how things will turn out, but that's life. We never know how anything will turn out.

El Presidente was due in late July but was born on July 5th, the same day as one of my brothers. He had to come early to time that out. The Seahorse is due on December 12th. Another of my brothers was born on December 18th. So maybe the Seahorse will take his or her time and come late.

However it happens, we are happily and optimistically looking forward to the day that El Presidente becomes a big brother.

Third

Some people believe that things come in three's. My mother is one of those. If you have two bad things happen, she will tell you a third is sure to come. I spoke of our A/C issue on Friday and nails and broken glass on Saturday. Late Sunday night came #3.

My father-in-law apparently opted for a ride on his four wheel ATV Sunday night. And apparently threw himself off of it or rolled it. And apparently made his way home and called my sister-in-law.

I say apparently because he doesn't remember anything about Sunday evening. He doesn't know how he got home. He doesn't recall what happened. And he was surprised that the ATV was back in his garage.

He spent the night at the hospital with a concussion and three broken ribs. His next scheduled day of work is Wednesday. I'm betting he won't be in.

Since my mother-in-law passed away 3 years ago, the lovely wife and her sister have discussed what is to be done with their father. He's a young guy; he's under 60. He can take care of himself. That doesn't keep his daughters from worrying, though. And this latest incident certainly won't help matters.

But it has occurred to me that the lovely wife and I are heading into that phase of life where you begin to look after the needs of your parents. My parents, being good people, have always cared for their parents, as well as siblings at times. They provided a good example to me of how you are suppose to behave when it comes to your elders.

Thankfully, they still have each other, so they can annoy the piss out of each other still instead of me. I'm hoping that will last for years and years!

But I wonder, as time goes on, what will be more stressful: raising your children or caring for your parents?

So last night was a rough one...

The warm spring weather led to even warmer temperatures inside of Four Square No. 266. The lovely wife, being a delicate flower, couldn't stand the heat any longer. She finally had to turn on the A/C yesterday. It seemed to be working fine until about 10pm last night. Lights started flickering. Noises started coming from the side yard. I run outside to find smoke or steam coming from our condensing unit as well as a anti-freeze sort of smell.

Our A/C unit has been the source of annual repairs. Normally, the fan motor seizes up. This was not the case last night. In fact, after I started it back up, I couldn't find anything to explain it. I talked to my neighbors to see if they had any electrical problems last night, but that was not the case. So I'm speculating that the A/C unit was at fault and caused the electrical drains, versus an electrical problem causing the A/C to screw up.

I'm guessing that we'll be using that economic stimulation money to stimulate our HVAC system.

This morning, we received a phone call from a neighbor around the corner. She had been walking her dog past our house and found roofing nails and shattered glass in our driveway. The nails seem to be a monthly occurrence. In fact, I posted about it exactly two months ago. I believe this to be the fourth time this year to have this occur. It is the first time that a shattered beer bottle went along with it. I elected to file a police report. Between the nails, the A/C, and the disappearance of our trash cans in January, so far 2008 has been a strange year at Four Square No. 266.

Marching to the beat of his own drums

El Presidente recently received a hand-me-down drum set from his cousin. They currently reside in the garage. He's doing auditions to form his own garage band.

Right now, he's really into free form/avant-garde jazz drumming.

He went three weeks without puking, which led to some amazing growth. He's around 22 pounds right now and his charted growth is curving upward now.

His no puke record came to an end when allergies followed by a cold created congestion and lots of snot. But he's clearing up and the past two days were really good for him.

The terrible twos are beginning to come in. El Presidente has no patience for people or things that do not fit in with what he wants. Not his fault; its genetic.

Fifteen days

Forty days ago, I wrote that I was supporting Hillary Clinton for President, Jill Long Thompson for Governor, and David Orentlicher for Congress.

With fifteen days left, I still think JLT would make an infinitely better Governor than Jim Schellinger.

David O, the goofy looking white guy with the funny sounding name, still has my support, though I have warmed some to Woody Myers. Just not enough to get my support yet.

And I'm officially on the fence for the presidential contest. What put me there? Barack Obama said this: "You go into these small towns in Pennsylvania and, like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing’s replaced them. And it’s not surprising then [that local residents] get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren’t like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations." Which is as true a statement as I have ever heard from a politician.

But it wasn't his statement that put me in the fence; it was Hillary's response. She said that he is attacking people of faith, which isn't true. In fact, she sounded like a NRA-supporting Republican. Despite the fact that I think she is better prepared and qualified to be president, I think she is losing it. And that concerns me.

There was an earthquake?

The lovely wife and I have been watching Eli Stone, and they recently had a storyline where the Eli saw the future and saw a catastrophic earthquake (the show is based in San Fran, so really, you could predict an earthquake every morning and be 50% accurate).

This got us talking last week about being in middle school when Iben Browning predicted that there would be an earthquake on a certain day in the New Madrid seismic zone. Everybody was freaking out. All the schools had earthquake drills. Insurance companies were selling earthquake insurance like mad. It was like the Y2K crisis, only 10 years earlier.

On the predicted day, something like 20% of the students in my school stayed home because of parents and their fears. And wouldn't you know it: no earthquake (the USGS has a 248 page publication about the whole incident that you can get).

I just find it odd that we were talking about earthquakes and the New Madrid fault just last week, and today we have an earthquake.

So let me talk about me winning the lottery next week...

It was news to me that we had an earthquake. I didn't know until I heard it on the radio this morning. Last night, I was dead to the world. El Presidente has been suffering from seasonal allergies. He has been sneezing and snotty and coughing all night long. Wednesday night, I spent the better part of my night up with him, trying to keep him comfortable.

Last night was the lovely wife's turn, so I crashed hard. If an atom bomb had been dropped in my backyard, I wouldn't have awoken. I'd probably would be dead, actually, but if I could magically survive an atom bomb in my backyard, I would have slept through it last night.

If an atom bomb goes off in my backyard next week, I'll be so pissed. Mostly because that came true, but not the lottery thing.

As seen yesterday...

I was driving home from work yesterday, traveling east on New York. This sign is at the Fellowship Baptist Church, which is located just east of Sherman. I busted out laughing and knew that I had to turn around a get a picture before it was gone.

The sign reads:
Staying in bed
shouting oh God
does not count as
going to church

Which, in my mind, is a nicer was of saying "Stop fucking around and get your ass to church!"

Beautiful!