Oh, football cards.

I have no where to vent... and so since I only have one follower, I'm taking advantage of this while I can.

My husband has a football card obsession. At first, I would have classically described it as a collection, however lately... it's far more than that. Working a miner's shiftwork, he just rolled off nights. Me being anxious to spend time with my husband, I was antsy to wake him at 3pm. And it seems that today, just like every other day recently, has been spent in front of his computer, watching football card box breaks. Basically, to explain to those of you who aren't familiar (I wasn't until recently...) insane people buy these extremely overpriced boxes of packages of cards which hold a ridiculous resale value, put up a bid online for a "buy in" and those people pick teams and pay, say... $3/team they want cards from. And my husband has had me check the mail every day since Tuesday to check for packages of those cards he's "won" from those card breaks. I'm about to lose my mind. And the reason I'm about to lose my mind, is because I'm anxiously awaiting time to be spent with ME. But even as I sit here and type, it being almost 2:15am... the TV is on and his computer is open and he's watching a football card box break with some southern redneck babbling about his first Tim Tebow card, like I'm supposed to listen and care. I try, but it's getting really old... really quick. No longer does he have the attention for me. We started Avatar at about 9pm... he paused it to go to the bathroom where he took advantage of watching a box break... and upon returning to the couch... that's where he's stayed. Computer open, random box break babblers talking away in their football gibberish... not really talking but to extend what sounds to me like a pity "I love you" from down the hall. With Avatar still paused.

Yay for being married to a football card junkie.

How It Is, And How It's Obviously Gonna Be.

Not sure who thought it was a great idea, but the cemetery, it's in the middle of town. It's the only cemetery in this town... and it's smack dab, right in the freakin middle. Right behind a park, next to the Family Dollar... In the middle of town. I haven't been there since the day after Father's Day. I mean, I say hi to him from the street... without turning up the road, heading into the actual cemetery itself... But making that trip UP THERE... brings it all back. And last time I was there, I cried. Part of me wants that part of my life to be over. Sometimes I think that if I was just to let him and the memory of him go, that I might be able to live a semi normal life. Instead of always knowing that I have a deceased child laying in a cemetery... It's just hard to go and sit there... staring at his little name plate (headstone hasn't been ordered. Why are those damn things so expensive?!) with nothing more on it but "Joseph Arley Blatz"... "2011". It's not like I have anything to say to him. He was a fish in my belly for 19 weeks and 6 days. I never felt him kick. And after he was born, I never looked at his face and never touched him. And I'm starting to regret it... but it's over. There's nothing I can do. I just hope that when I meet him face to face, that he's not mad at me for it. It's not that I didn't love him, I just wanted to love the memory of him... not what he looked like half developed. I actually didn't start to regret not looking at him until I accidentally stumbled upon videos on YouTube of people who had taken pictures of their baby about the same distance along in their pregnancy who had gone through the same thing I did. But I think that people all handle things differently. And I wouldn't have handled that well at all. I guess, I just felt we didn't have much of a connection other than the obvious and that I have nothing to say. Because if Heaven is anything like I think it is, then he can see me and he knows what I'm doing. I just hope that God's covering his eyes during the naughty parts of my life. Poor kid.

Softball

So I started playing softball with people from my husbands work about a week ago. Last night was our 4th practice and "T" took my car to work, so I caught a ride with my friend Jess. And we were LATE. So we get to the park and finally find the team and get ready to go in the field. There's a couple new people and one pops around the corner and introduces herself to me. Her name is Miranda and she says I look familiar. I knew who she was as she walked around the corner. She was the only nurse that had ANY positivity in ER when I was there that first night everything happened. She's one hell of an awesome lady. And she's married to one of the guys that work with "T". I couldn't believe it! I believe people are put in our paths for a reason. I'm just wondering what she's here for. Again :)

5 Week Follow Up.

So, my appointment was at 3:50 yesterday, and I waited for him longer than I saw him.

He's decided that we're going to skip the other tests to rule out any of the other things he thought it might have been that my water broke... Which is good. It makes me feel that I did my research well enough to prove that it WASN'T anything else. I'm confident it's an incompetent cervix and nothing else. We talked briefly about the cerclage's that can be put in place [[my husband and I had already done our research and were beating him to the info; it was awesome :)]] and whatnot. I was "released" to do whatever I wanted. His words were "Whatever, whenever. Anything and everything." He DID tell us to wait at least 2 months before trying again. Which is fine with us because we just started playing softball with "T's" work so we'll be pretty busy with practice and games and whatnot. That, and "T" would like me to find a job, us get some money saved up so that we can start a family and be financially prepared. Now comes the fun part. Finding a job in a new place that doesn't have me doing crazy stuff that will be something I can do once we DO get pregnant again.

The only down side to the appointment yesterday was that I left kinda sad. Sad for 2 reasons. I got the vitals done and sat in a room and waited for my doctor to come in only to look for my baby and he ACTUALLY ASKED US... where our baby was. I was kinda pissed. Who the heck does that? But I have to take into account that my appointment was originally scheduled for the morning, only to get there and check in to find that my doctor was at the hospital taking care of someone who's water broke at 25 weeks. Poor gal. At least her baby is viable and she can be transported to Denver. I never stood a chance :( And the other reason I was sad was because "T" announced THEN that he didn't want to try again any time soon. And, I'm kind of in the same boat. As excited as I am to start trying again, and to have another baby, I'm scared shitless that the same thing will happen again, despite what we'll do. I'm completely terrified. I hope that with these next 6 months, I'll become more confident that the cerclage will protect my baby and keep it on the inside. Because I'm not sure I could do this again and experience the same broken heart. I think I would die.

However, to close this on a positive note, we've got to remember what the symptoms were of an incompetent cervix, and remember how it happened [[as much as I DON'T wanna remember]], and know that that procedure WILL indeed work. We have to stay positive. Right? <3

Dealing.

It's funny how there's a list of things that we'll go through as we're grieving for our loss. Shock, Denial, Anger, Guilt... But where's the one about sweeping it under the rug to not have to face it? Where's the one that says it's okay to put the problem out of sight and out of mind until it's a convenient time to "deal" with it? Because I'm definitely a person that sweeps things under the rug to not have to deal with it today.

I can safely say that the "shocked" section of it took place for the first 5 minutes after my doctor checked me only to discover a foot after a day and a half... almost 2 days, actually... of things looking SOOO incredibly positive. I had 5 minutes to "digest" the fact that it was over. And that moment came when there was no heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor and only my sons head left in my uterus. I had to act fast because it was happening whether I wanted it to or not.

Guilt is DEFINITELY something I've faced. It's unofficial, but I've Google diagnosed myself with an incompetent cervix. Especially the way things just "happened" without any sort of signs-no pain, no contractions for the dilated cervix... The day that I could have kicked myself was the day that I called to see if the pathology report had come back on the placenta they'd sent off. My favorite nurse, Crystal, told me there was nothing wrong with any of it. I had a premature placenta, the cord was perfect... there was nothing abnormal that gave them any signs for the premature birth. That was more or less a slap in the face. There was nothing wrong with my child. It was my body that couldn't hold it together. The fact that I lost my husbands son, the one that would pass along the family name. I did that. There was nothing wrong with my baby. Not a damn thing.

I think Anger went hand in hand with Guilt. I was and still am angry at the fact that it happened.  I was mean to my husband. I snapped at people for no reason. Someone that I knew even deleted their Facebook after a tangent. All because he said "everything happens for a reason..." and that "God needed him". How could God need him when He JUST had my son? You can't say everything happens for a reason to a woman who just lost her child. That's like asking to be punched in the face. And it REALLY bothered me that a man could say that to me. That a man, not having to change their diet and exercise routines, having to watch how much weight they pick up, making sure there was no smoke blowing in their face, could say those things like he knew where I was coming from. My husband wouldn't ever say that to me. That man didn't have to carry that fetus inside of them, and dream of the day it would be born and who that baby would be in 20 years. Only to have those dreams shatter within 15 minutes. Maybe I over reacted, I'm still waiting on my heart to make up its mind. Maybe things do happen for a reason, but that still doesn't make it okay to say.

Maybe the whole "sweeping" thing is part of denial. Because if you hide from it, then it never happened. Right? Because sometimes I'd like to think that that's easier. That hiding from my problems would make them go away. That the visions I replay of that "funeral" service we had, all those flowers and the cute little bear... and the little paper mache' box with the green bow on it never happened. Or my water breaking, and being in the ER for 3 hours with negative people surrounding me, and then a whole day and a half [[total positive time]] thinking things were looking up, only to have everything shatter never really happened. That they are all a figment of my imagination. Like they came from a movie, or someone else's life. And that seeing my 14 week old fetus floating around inside of my belly was someone else's. Because if it never happened, then it can't hurt, right? Perhaps I'll never know how to sweep everything under that big rug, but I'll keep trying until that dust pops back out. Because today isn't looking very good to stop and think about it, and neither is tomorrow. And tomorrow never comes in my book... It'll happen someday. Or it may never happen.

Talking with a friend who lost her baby at 32 weeks, she told me that part of her healing was getting pregnant again. My husband is on the fence about it now. At first he was fine and dandy with the idea of trying for another baby. I went as far as to sit next to my Josephs name plate and talk to him, even though he probably couldn't hear or understand me if he was a baby, and I told him and reassured him that if there was another baby that there was no way he would ever be replaced. I wanted to make sure he knew that I loved him with my whole heart, that there was a piece that was missing that I could never get back, and that this other baby wouldn't be able to fill that void, just mend it for a while. Because a piece of me feels jipped. Like my maternal rights were revoked before I had a chance to vouch for myself. I'd like to think I'd be a good mother. That I could raise a child. But how can I prove that to myself and the world if my counterpart is still "on the fence" about it. I'm sure he's scared of going through this again. I'm not sure that I'd be a sane person if this happened again. The saying "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is as much full of shit as saying "Everything happens for a reason". Just because it doesn't kill you now, doesn't mean it won't kill you if it happens again. And I think I deserve a chance. So I'll give him some more time. What else can I do? Steal it from him? ^_^

Post Partum?

So, it hit me like a ton of bricks about a week ago. I was sitting on the couch, listening to music on YouTube... and I started crying for, what seemed to me, no reason. After talking with a couple friends, maybe my heart isn't healed... or maybe my heart is healed but my brain isn't. That just didn't make any sense. But as I Googled "Postpartum Depression", I had 8 of the 9 symptoms that WebMD had to offer. All... but suicide. Which is good. I'm not complaining about that part. I PROMISE.

Then the next day, little things set me off to make me cry. Little things like my husband calling from work, wanting to go to lunch and then him showing up 5 minutes later wanting to leave and me being FAR from ready to go. Or a friend who might not actually be a friend chewing my ass for something I didn't intend to do (Don't lie or hide stupid things from your husbands/wives. It's baddddd when someone tells them before you...). Or having to give false apologies to save face with the husbands best friend. Just a bunch of stupid stuff. Evidently that's all normal too.

And then as fast as it showed up, it was gone again. I'm still super spacey and can't focus on a lot of things... and my "bubbly" nature hasn't resurfaced. And I feel super angry and bitter sometimes too. It's just irritating. It seemed like spending 5 days with my husband on his days off really seemed to help. I think it's losing Joseph, living in a small town where I have no one but my husband and having nothing to do that spiked the depression. I like the fact that it's gone [[for now]] and that I'm feeling better about everything. I met a new friend, so I'm hoping that makes the difference too.

June 4th-7th, 2011

June 4th, we had gotten up early to do some yard saling. We came home a few hours later after raking in our treasures and I'd helped move a camper shell. We had a friends son's birthday party to head out to at 2pm, so I ran back in the house to go to the bathroom and get cleaned up before heading out to play some video games and eat pizza. TMI-While using the bathroom, I felt this weird bulge... I tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a muscle freaking out. When it did it again, lower... I got weirded out. When I touched it, it popped and water gushed everywhere. It started out clear, then went pink. We went to ER, the birthday present in the backseat [[just in case]]. I feared it was the amniotic sac, but some research said that it could have been a couple other things that wouldn't have been so bad. After laying in ER for 3 hours, and being told that if my baby was born alive they'd sit "it" somewhere to let it die because it wasn't between 20 and 24 weeks and wasn't viable [[meaning baby wouldn't have been able to survive as baby's lungs weren't developed]]. Laying in the same blood and junk for 3 hours. Laying in a bed, not being told ANYTHING positive, they finally moved me to the OB floor. No cramping, no fever, no anything. Baby still had a strong heartbeat but not a lot of fluid. I received an IV with an antibiotic every 6hrs to prevent infection. They listened to his heartbeat a couple times and carted me off to ultrasound once. It was reassuring to know that the Hulk baby wasn't giving up so easily. June 5th came and went without any pain, cramping or pressure. I thought things were finally looking up. And I was just waiting for more good news. What I honestly wanted to hear was that the amniotic sac had repaired itself, fluid was regaining and that things would be fine. Nothing happening to me was giving me hope that everything was fine. My doctor popped in to see how things were and to make sure I was doing good. He said that if there was no progress one way or the other by Monday, that I could go home. June 6th came with breakfast and lunch. A few of my favorite nurses were there that day that had been there Saturday night when I was admitted to their floor. They left my door open, wandered in and out to say hi or check on me. Leaving the door open, I saw new babies being transported to their awaiting parents and it didn't bother me. It was heart warming, knowing that there was a new baby, happy and healthy, being taken to their parents. I was still hopeful. About 5pm, supper came. 5:15pm brought slight cramping and 5:30pm brought my doctor who was all smiles, telling me I could go home. Until I told him that I was cramping and not feeling so well. He checked my cervix, to see if I was dilated and found a foot. When he checked my uterus via ultrasound, the baby's head was the only thing left inside and he told me there was no heartbeat. Before I could even accept what was happening, it was basically over. I delivered a breech baby boy at 6pm whom we named Joseph Arley Blatz. "T" watched the whole thing as his "closure". The placenta wouldn't detach so between the doctor and a nurse, they put a total of 8 little pills inside to get it to release. In the middle of feeling like I was dying from the intense cramps, my favorite nurse Mary left me. She had helped me deliver Joseph and was the mother I needed and didn't have available. When she left, "T" had been gone for about a half hour to let our dogs out and to breathe. A lot had just happened. He needed his time too. So I was left by myself, feeling like I was bleeding to death, like my heart had just been ripped out. I started bawling. I couldn't help myself. It was the worst thing I'd ever been through, and now I was alone to focus on it. All I wanted was the placenta to detach so that I could go home and cry in private. Nurses kept coming in and I didn't want to visit. "T" finally came back and cried and hugged on him for as long as I could stand. I hadn't realized how much I needed him until then. Monica was actually the nurse that told me that I could bury Joseph. I had no idea. At only 19w6d, he wasn't much more than a fish, and since it was before 20 weeks, I was told that I had no responsibility to him, as far as burying him went. Monica put me in touch with people to release his little body to a funeral home and get all the information to bury him. I was released the morning of the 7th. A sore, tired lady missing a piece of her heart.

I got in contact with the funeral home and we arranged for a small service to be held that Friday the 10th. As much as I wanted my family to be there, I needed to get it over with. My heart hurt sooo bad. And I thought burying Joseph would bring my own closure. So, at 3:30pm that Friday, an LDS bishop said a prayer and we entered our son into the earth.

"T" and I took an adventure to South Dakota just to get out of town. We started out in Deadwood, SD and gambled and goofed off. "T" won $550 which paid for most of our adventure. The next day, we did some sight seeing around town and then headed up to Mt Rushmore, which was smaller than I expected but still completely awesome. We closed up the evening getting some old time pictures done and then eating dinner. It was pouring rain so we headed 20 miles into Rapid City, SD where we stayed the night. The next morning, we had breakfast, wandered around the mall and then headed home. It was a remarkable weekend. I honestly feel like it was what we needed.

Post Number 1: Bringing you up to Speed.

I met my [[now]] husband in a bar October 2nd, 2010. I had met his sister a week or so prior at a friends house when she came to pick up her 2 boys. At the bar that night, she commented on my shirt and then talked to me for a bit then went back to conversation with her friends. A little while later, she was coming up to me to introduce her brother-a handsome man with brown hair and an auburn goatee, the same color as my hair [[should have been before dying it darker]] and the most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen. At that point in time, I had no idea that he'd be the person that would steal my heart. He bought me a beer, put his arm around me and from that day forward, showed me how to appreciate life through little things, and never left my side. I made the leap to move in with him November 14th, 2010-We borrowed my step dads truck and we followed my mom to Boise, ID where we met up with my brother, his girlfriend, my sister and her 9mo old son and packed and moved everything from the house I lived in with roommates into the truck. That was when everything got real.

We got the first positive pregnancy test January 7th, 2011... we were getting ready to go out to see our favorite local band play when the test came up positive. Talk about a shock. I couldn't even breathe at first. I never thought it would happen. Reason being, "T" had thyroid cancer as a child and went through surgery and radiation to have it removed. There should have been a slim to none chance of us getting pregnant. Talk about defying odds! We told the parents and were going to wait to start telling friends. It got leaked to FaceBook within 24hrs. So, there it was... broadcasted we were pregnant to the public. I had to go to Challis, ID to house sit for my mom while they went out of town for doctor appointments that week. I went bowling for women's league with my mom Thursday, the night before I was to head back to Idaho Falls. I woke up from taking a nap, and started spotting. Didn't really think much of it until the bleeding got worse on Friday. I booked it back to Idaho Falls, and waited until 6pm when "T" got off from work. We went to ER and were told it was a miscarriage. January 14th, the bleeding got remarkably worse, cramps started... and "being pregnant" was over.

Little did we know, 11 days later we were pregnant again. Before we "found out"... "T" lost his job, had a phone interview for Cummins Rocky Mountain in Wyoming on my birthday [[beginning of Feb]] and next thing we knew we were headed out to Wyoming to check out the area. The job was basically in the bag before we left Wyoming, but it was "unofficial"... We got back to Idaho, "T" and I packed up our entire house [[by ourselves]], moved our stuff to storage [[by ourselves]] and then headed to Challis and Boise to spend the last few weeks with family and friends before making the voyage out of state.  The "offer letter" came in the mail that said his start date was March 28th, 2011. The last Monday that we were in Idaho, we went to the court house to make "us" "official". March 21st, I because a Mrs :)  March 22nd, we picked up our stuff, went back to Idaho Falls with our doggies and loaded our storage unit into a Uhaul, ate dinner and left for Dillon, MT where we stayed the night. Now, during this "move"... I slipped and fell on the ice HARD, twisted my ankle, lifted FAR MORE than 30lbs... We fondly called our baby "Hulk"-because once we found out we WERE pregnant, we'd experienced more than that baby deserved to withstand.

"T's" insurance started April 1st. Our first baby appointment was April 27th to confirm. The second appointment was May 29th, which told us we were a whopping 14w3d pregnant and we got our first and only set of pictures of our Hulk baby. Our third appointment was set for June 17th, which was when we were supposed to find out what the baby was. But we found out wayyy before hand.