Such a Deal

Today I stopped at Target on my way home. In fact I stopped at 2 different Targets, both of which are different from the Target I stopped at yesterday. Yesterday I discovered that "my" Target had their dollar stuff at 50% off. They didn't have much that I was interested in but I got a couple of stocking stuffer type things. And I found two 18 ounce jars of Skippy PB for 44 cents each! Today I had to check out the other 2 in case they had different stuff on sale, but I didn't find much in the dollar section. I did buy a nice little table reduced from $20 to $5. About a month ago, Target had their dollar stuff at 75% off and I bought a bunch of Brio compatible wooden train tracks... and that was a good deal. I love Brio. I can't wait to have grandkids to build train tracks with. Bill says if I had as good an instinct for stocks as I do for mundane household items on sale, we'd be rich. But I don't. Oh yeah, almost forgot to mention my other bargin. I bought a package of 20 "Happy 60th Birthday" napkins for 48 cents. I'll need those in about a month - for me!! And they're not even black!!

Boston to Dallas by way of San Francisco!

Ahhh, the joys of flying standby! To begin - I did finally make it to New Hampshire. It was way too short a trip, but I am so happy that I was able to be there, if only for a day and a half. On Friday, a week ago, I packed my bag and went to school. I drove straight to the airport from school, parked in long-term parking and stood by for the last three flights to Boston. Of course, I got on the last flight and it got in at 1 AM. But my wonderful brother Steve picked me up and drove me to NH in his Miata, in the wee hours of the morning, in the pouring rain. We got there at about 330 AM. My sister, Susan, had arrived Friday evening. The next morning Susan and I went out in the canoe. We paddled down to the museum and back. In the afternoon we drove to The Old Print Barn, an art gallery near Meredith. The drive was beautiful. I think the leaves were about at peak. Then that evening our mother took us out to eat at the Woodshed and it was lovely. Susan left Saturday evening. She had a rehersal for the orchestra for Rigoletto on Sunday and she needed to practice the cello solo. Steve and I watched the Red Sox game at camp Saturday evening. It's fun to watch baseball with a real fan - especially when your team wins! So having gotten into the mode, I have actually watched the first 2 World Series games. GO Red Sox!!! But I digress. On Sunday morning I just hung out at camp with Steve. He worked on the Young Lady (the boat) which was having mechanical problems so we couldn't take it out. They took the Four Winns out of the water after I no-showed 2 weeks ago. But at least I got out in the canoe. Too cold for swimming! We had lunch at my mom's and drove back to Boston that afternoon, getting to Logan in time for me to stand by for the 4 o'clock flight. Which I did not get on. Nor did I get on the 5:25 flight; nor did any of the 20 plus standbys, of which I was number 16. The last flight was at 8:20 and was sold out. I was checking out the obvious alternatives, like going via Chicago, New York or Washington, but they all looked just as bad for standing by. So, here is where we get to the title of my post. I walked by a gate and noticed only one name on the standby screen so I looked at where it was going - San Francisco. I called and checked the schedules and availability from SFO to DFW and found there was a 12:45 AM flight that actually had open seats. So I asked to be transferred to the standby list for the SFO flight, got on it, made the connection and arrived at DFW at 6 AM monday morning! By the time I got to my car and got on the road, it was too late to go home, so I went straight to school (and changed clothes there). I was glad not to miss a day of work, since I will be asking for time off in January. Anyhow, I was glad to make it to New Hampshire and glad for the chance to see my mother, sister and brother. Too bad my brother Rollin didn't fly in from Alaska. Then all four siblings would have been there!

I really need to get a camera, so I can post more pictures... but here are some photos of camp, taken last June by Rene. The first is the view out the front door and the second is the view of the side as you drive up to the camp.

My Boring Life

So there is nothing exciting to blog about. Friday I thought about trying to get to New England again, but it didn't happen. I realized that we had signed up to feed the Elders, so I stayed home and we fed them pizza and a salad with ice cream for dessert - how creative. Afterwards Bill and I went shopping - for a shower curtain - how exciting. Saturday I slept in. That felt good. Then I went out to Seconds and Surplus and bought a bathroom cabinet for our downstairs bathroom. We'll see how long it takes Bill to put it together and install it. Saturday evening we did our usual temple shift. I was glad I didn't bail out on that as they were somewhat short handed. And today I went to church, came home and made dinner, took a nap and watched Mystery! So yes, this is my boring life. I will try again to get to NE on Friday next. I made a reservation for a car. We'll see how standby goes.

Emergency Contacts

Nearly every week there is a sick child in the clinic who needs to go home but for whom we have no current contact. Today was heartbreaking. A small boy cried in the clinic for an hour. He was in pain and his fever crept up to over 103 degrees. We called his dad but he was at work and "on the road" and said he was unable to come. We could not reach the mother. It could have been appendicitis so we called 911. Another child came to us with a temperature of 99.9. Same story except that he was not in acute pain. No one would or could come to get him and we couldn't reach the mom. At the end of the day we sent him home with a fever of 102.9. We are not allowed to give any medication that is not prescribed by a doctor, so all we could do is try to make the children as comfortable as possible.

I am trying to figure out attachments...

The following is an essay I wrote for an English class about 4 years ago. We were supposed to write about a person who influenced our life. It's rather long for a blog entry and I wanted to do it as an attachment, but I couldn't figure out how. So here it is:

What I learned From Joseph

Although I never knew him, I learned a lot from Joseph. I thought I was invincible; I learned that I am not. I had taken credit for and pride in some things that were really beyond my control. I learned humility. I had felt far removed from the troubles of others. Other people’s babies might die, but not mine, never mine. I learned to empathize. I learned that search as you may, sometimes there are just no answers. Sometimes faith and acceptance, though difficult, are required. I learned how peaceful a cemetery can be.

I was forty-three years old and pregnant. When I got married at 30, I knew I wanted children. Bill did too, so we didn’t wait. Sarah was born 9 ½ months after our wedding. She was followed by James, Stephen and Emma, all bright healthy children. I was used to having relatively uneventful pregnancies. I always gained a lot of weight and all of my babies had been late. Labor and delivery were always hard but there were never complications. This pregnancy did not seem different. I went to the hospital in labor, six days after my due date, one day after my last visit to the doctor. There was no heartbeat.

The next few hours were a nightmare. It is difficult to describe how I felt. I don’t think I fully understood that my baby was dead. It hardly seemed real. I was still pregnant; I still had to go through labor and delivery. Joseph was born in the morning. I looked into his perfect, still white face with eyes that would never open. I think that is when I realized that my son and all the hopes and dreams we had for him were gone.

That afternoon my mother called from Massachusetts. I really don’t remember what she said. I remember what I said. “Don’t come,” I sobbed. “There’s nothing to come for. There’s no baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Of course she came. My father came too. They knew that I needed them more to support me in my grief than I ever had needed them to share in my joy.

Afterwards, I wanted to know why. I wanted to second-guess the past. “What if” and “Why” became my favorite questions. Why was the baby so big? Why didn’t the doctor know I was carrying nearly 12 pounds of baby? What were all of those silly tummy measurements for if he didn’t know? Sonograms were fairly common at the time. Why did I never have one? I was 43 years old. Why was this not treated as a high-risk pregnancy? How on earth can there be knots in the umbilical cord? Would they have shown on a sonogram? When did the knot form? Why did it have to pull tight when it did? What if he had been alive? Would I have survived or would he have survived a natural delivery? He was so big. Would there have been complications? Perhaps an emergency C-section? So many questions.

I found myself haunting bookstores and libraries. Many times I wound up sitting on the floor reading from one book, then another. Pregnancy, Complications of Childbirth, High Birth Weight and Stillbirth, are some of the topics I looked for. I learned that high birth weight is associated with gestational diabetes. Mothers with gestational diabetes have a higher instance of stillbirths. Did I have that? Maybe. I found that I matched on three or four of the risk factors. I also found that the symptoms go away after birth. So I will never know for sure.

Sometimes I thought I would go mad. One day I was standing in line at the grocery store. I had just a few items. I looked around and saw people going about their lives as if everything were normal. Didn’t they know that the whole world was different now? How could they just buy their groceries as if everything was the same? I felt like walls were closing in on me. I was fighting tears. I did not want to break down in public. I abandoned my groceries and fled to my car where I could grieve in private.


“Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the woods… you are not alone. No one is alone.”
Quote from Into the Woods

Knowing that you are not alone is helpful. I went to support groups a few times, but they seemed somewhat structured and artificial. It seemed to me that you were expected to grieve according to formula and express yourself according to an unspoken standard. There were three things that helped me more than support groups. The first was the one on one, volunteered support from women who had also lost children. Several friends and acquaintances came forth with their own stories of loss. I never knew… it is not something that is talked about often. I never even knew that my own mother had had a miscarriage until I lost Joseph. I found a book on neonatal death at the library. It was written by a psychologist and had case histories of many different women from many walks of life who had lost babies both before and after birth. Their stories also helped me to realize that I am not alone. The third thing was and is the cemetery. Joseph is buried in “Babyland 5,” a section of Restland Cemetery where babies and children are buried. There are hundreds of little graves with inscriptions like “Our Little Angel” or “Playing in God’s Garden.” Some have flowers or little teddy bears. You can tell which ones were stillborn; they have only one date. When I visit Joseph’s grave, I think of all the other mothers who have stood in this place and grieved for their children. I know I am not alone.

My whole attitude toward pregnancy and childbirth changed. I think every woman who has ever born a child knows what it is like to be in a group of mothers and mothers-to-be and compare experiences. The chatter is lively and happy. Some seem to exaggerate their hardships and there always seems to be a bit of one-upmanship. But if you have a healthy baby to show for your efforts, the hardship is secondary. Now I am reluctant to join in. I know that things can go terribly wrong. I am afraid I might say something to put a damper on their high spirits.

On the other hand, I am more sensitive to those who have experienced the loss of a child. Before, I might have held back, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Now I know that it is better to say something than nothing at all. It is better to offer support, to reminisce, to listen. I learned that tragedy and death touches everyone. I think I took my first four children for granted. I gave myself all the credit for being a good mother. I realize now how blessed I am.

Joseph was the son I never knew. I have four bright, healthy children who have taught me many things. I learned a lot from Joseph, too.

I am still in Dallas

And that just about says it all. We were at the airport yesterday from 5:50 AM until nearly 2 PM and were not able to get on a flight, even as D-1 standbys. At 2 we were rolled over to the 6:35 PM flight and came home, but did not go back for it because we could not get another rental car - and we might not have been able to get on that flight either. I did not know it was Columbus Day weekend or that there was a big Red Sox game. Besides that, there were revenue standbys from misconnects on Thursday and a cancellation to NYC early Friday. I guess that's what standby is all about, but I cannot express how disappointed I am. My brother and sister are both there - because they thought I would be. And my mother was going to take us to the Woodshed - a very nice restaurant - tonight. She made blueberry pie. I was supposed to pick one of the two afgans she just finished for a houswarming present for Sarah. Susan brought some slacks she thought Sarah might like. And so on. And to add to my misery, a mosquito has been buzzing around my ankles as I type and has bitten me 4 or 5 times. - - - I just looked down to assess the damage and I have 7 bites on my left leg and 6 on my right.

Home Remedies 2

I am finally feeling better. Maybe it was the lemon juice and honey tea with cayenne pepper and vinegar. Maybe it was the raw garlic. Or maybe it was time. I got it from Bill and now Stephen is starting to get a sore throat. I hope his doesn't get as bad as mine. He is taking vitamin C. In case anyone wants to try the curative tea, I made it like so:

1/4 cup water
juice of 1 lemon
1 T honey
2 t apple cider vinegar
1/8 - 1/4 t cayenne pepper

I heated the water and lemon juice in the microwave, added everything else and sipped it slowly. I did this eight times over 2 days; that's how many lemons I had. It did seem to make my throat feel better.

I also ate a few cloves of raw garlic. I felt like the characters from the comic strip Rose is Rose with skulls hovering over my head. Garlic is strong stuff!!! It burned my mouth and throat going down, but the burning sensation didn't last long... and maybe it burned off some of the bad stuff in the process.

About 10 years ago Bill and I saw the play "Having Our Say" about the 100 year old Delany sisters at the Dallas Theater Center. Later I read their book. They were remarkable women. One thing I remember is that they attributed their long life and good health to eating garlic every day. I was never sick enough or brave enough to try that until this week. And I have survived to tell the tale!!

Things that haven't happened and things that are about to:

I never made it to New Hampshire in August. They called me about my job that week and it seemed more important to start getting a paycheck. Steve never made it to Utah in September. He is dragging his feet. BUT. This coming weekend is a 3 day weekend for me and Bill and I will fly to NH on Friday. I considered leaving Thursday evening, but I would miss both my Spanish class and my Indian cooking class, so we'll leave early Friday. Besides, then we can drive from Boston in the daylight and stop at the LL Bean Store in Concord. I hope we will see some fall color. My sister Susan and my brother Steve will be there as well as my mother. And I will finally meet my brother's girlfriend. I'll be the last in the family to meet her. As for Stephen, he is a self-described swivel chair potato. He is slowly making progress on tying up his "loose ends" when he isn’t website and blog browsing and watching videos online. I hope to see him off to Utah in the next week or two.

"The most civilized countries are the coldest ones," he told us many times. "too much heat addles the brain."

It's a quote from a book I read once because it was on a 10th grade summer reading list for Stephen. It was called "Dreaming in Cuban" and I enjoyed most of it, but there were parts that I thought inappropriate for a 14 year old boy. So I suggested that he choose something else from the list. This came to mind when I discovered that this week is banned books week. I subtly censored Stephen’s reading back then. While freedom of expression is essential, discretion in what you consume is also important. Steve will probably read this blog entry and go check it out of the library now. That’s ok – he’s 22. The kids were always supposed to choose quotes from the books to discuss later. This one would have been mine. I am still waiting for fall to come to Dallas.

But back to books. When my kids were in high school, I read many of the books that they were assigned to read, especially if they were unfamiliar to me. I wanted to know what they were being taught and to be able to discuss the books with them. I discovered some new favorites this way, like “The Mists of Avalon” by Marion Zimmer Bradley, “Something Wicked This Way Comes” by Ray Bradbury and “The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. I had a look at the list of 100 most frequently challenged books of 1990-2000 here and discovered that I have read at least 30-35 of them. Some of them are among the books I read aloud to my kids when they were younger. I always enjoyed reading to my kids. Sometimes I wish they were small again – those were some good times. My husband usually falls asleep when I try to read to him. I was in London once and bought a copy of Little Black Sambo. I remembered it from my long ago childhood and I knew I would never be able to find it here! If I can manage the time, I’ll stop by my library to see whether they are celebrating banned books. Maybe I’ll even pick one up to read.