I cannot wait for all of this to be over, really.  Unlike some people, I am perfectly content on delivering at 37 weeks.  Chris was born at 37 weeks and he was a happy healthy baby!  Andrew however was born at 35 weeks and 5 days, and that ended up being a disaster, mostly my fault though.  My c-section is scheduled for 39 weeks, but that is only because Oakwood doesn’t allow c-sections before then unless there is a medical reason, otherwise the doctor said they’d take me at 38 weeks.  I cannot help to think that my cold symptoms are being made worse by all these preggo hormones running through me.

I’ve had two NST’s already, and it shows I am having regular mild contractions, nothing that is changing me down there though.  I had to have an ultrasound today though because her heart rate dipped to below 120 twice and that got them concerned.  I learned she is 4lbs and 1oz, has a puff of hair on the back of her head, is still definitely a GIRL, and is now head down.

Of course, oddball me almost passes out and dies on the ultrasound table.  I was laying there fine and dandy staring at the ceiling (I couldn’t see the monitor)… and all of a sudden it felt like my world was closing in.  It was the same feeling you get when you are about to go under for surgery.  I had to think about it for a second, my brain wasn’t computing so quickly that it wasn’t right, the way I was feeling.  At some point I hurried up and told the ultrasound tech I was about to pass out, and she frantically told me to turn on my left side.  All pregnant people know we are not supposed to lay on our backs in the 3rd trimester (most of all the 3rd) because there is a major artery that runs behind the uterus, and when you lay on your back, the baby’s weight is put on that artery and cuts off blood circulation to your brain.  Well that is what happend to me.  I couldn’t prevent it though… it was an ultrasound, you have to be on your back.  It was an awfully hard table though.  I don’t have this problem when I’m laying in bed, thankfully.

I also got some medicine from the docs today for my horrible chest cough.  We have like a super-virus running through our house.  It starts off as pinkeye, and morphs itself into a nasty bug.  Right now, Matt is suffering with a mild cough, swelling in his nasal passages, pinkeye, and that’s it.  I am suffering with a horrible cough, bad nasal drainage, and chest pain.  I have avoided the pinkeye miraculously.  Chris and Andrew both have pinkeye, and they are both getting the snooshies.  They prescribed me some nasty robitussin with codeine and pseudoephedrine.  So far i’ve had 3 doses and it hasn’t helped.  I also bought a new vaporizer because ours magically disappeared, and that isn’t doing much except making me blazing hot.

So anyway, Christmas was good this year.  Santa brought the kids everything they asked for pretty much.  I love watching the excitement as they open their presents. Andrew is in Transformer heaven, Chris is in Tank heaven (he got 2 r/c tanks!) and they have kept themselves occupied for hours on end.  Yesterday I cooked a couple of side dishes to go along with the Honeybaked Ham (compliments of MGM Grand) and had that for dinner.  My brother as usual decided to not be involved with family for the holidays, and slept in the basement while his child ate dinner with us, and we watched her open her presents.  He couldn’t even show up in the living room to watch his own child open her presents… talk about love.  Instead, we took his place by setting her toys up, and showing her how to use the presents she got.  I wonder if he even spent a minute of his time with her.

I did have a tough night last night… reflecting on last Christmas a lot.  Last Christmas is the last time we all got together with my dad.  He came over, brought me various food items and we walked them down to my deep freezer.  He had gone to Gordon Food Service and used his food card to buy us various appetizers, cheeses, and bags of chicken wings.  They are still down in my freezer because I can’t get rid of them.  I can’t eat them either.  The bag of chicken wings he got is still in there and I look at them every time I open my freezer.  The brick of gouda cheese is still in my freezer upstairs, and I stare at it every time I open my freezer up here.   That Christmas he walked in, brought Chris a robotic dinosaur, Andrew got a 3 headed monster, and Rachel got a toy cell phone.  He sat on my couch wearing his hat and his brown leather coat, dressed as he usually does.  You could still see the side effects of the October stroke, but he was definitely better.  Had I only known then that he was destroying himself even more, living in pure filth, and whatever, maybe there is some sort of intervention that could have happened.  I blame a lot of it on Henry Ford health system, and our own social services programs.  He had no money, no insurance, nothing, but you would think there would be a program out there to at least help him out, or at the very least send someone by to check on him at home once and a while.

I still have the Christmas card my grandma sent me that Christmas.  We used to communicate a lot by mail… but that last year communications got less and less, but I attributed it to old age.  It was a shock when I found out she died in April.  I can’t deal with death as is.  I had a lot of regrets…. they moved to New Mexico when we were little, and I was feeling so guilty we didn’t see them more, or they chose not to see us more, I didn’t know which.  A lot of questions ran through my head in the days following that.  My dad always told us they moved away because they didn’t like the “family” thing and wanted to be alone.  My grandma here kind of referred to it the same way.  It sucks when you have family that doesn’t really want to be close.  I always asked my dad to take us to New Mexico to see them, but he never did.  Them my own grandparents here took us to New Mexico, and when we had the opportunity to visit them (after we hadn’t seen them in years), they couldn’t make 5 minutes to say hello.  Needless to say, I struggle with a lot of questions.  I knew when my grandma died that my dad would be adversely affected, they were close, very close…even if on the phone.   He had just returned from New Mexico like 3 weeks previous, when my grandma was doing well and expected to recover.  I was talking to my dad on the phone a week before he died, and he was talking about how he was going to move down there, to get better medical help and to be with his parents.   He didn’t know when he was going because he said it was up to his parents when.

Now I even question whether or not they even wanted him down there.  My grandpa was ready to cut off funding to my dad at the worst possible moment just days after my grandma died – like ridding himself of a “problem”.  That angered me the most.  Cut him off sure, but give him some notice, some time, at least wait until he’s out of the hospital recovering from the stroke for gosh sakes.  I honestly don’t know how true that actually was, or whether or not my grandpa was in his right mind.  He just lost his wife of several decades.  Who knows.

What am I left with ending in 2008…. a lot of not knowing.  Nobody has talked to me, nobody has communicated.  Hell, I don’t even know if my own grandpa is still alive.  The last I heard from my aunt was she’ll keep in touch and visit with my family… that was 7 months ago.  A lot of things have happened since then, such as a new baby on the way… no congrats… nada.  I have sent notes, letters, cards, to other members of my dad’s family that we know even less, and nothing back at all.&nb
sp; It’s like, well my grandma and dad are gone, let’s forget about Paul and Jen.

I just don’t care anymore.  I am at peace with myself, thankful that I got a few months in with my dad before he died.  I buried his ashes in his favorite place, Hoeft State Park near Rogers City, MI… right on the beach.   I might not have been the greatest daughter, and he wasn’t the greatest dad in the world, but we made do.  I regret not visiting him in the hospital those last few days, but that was because they assured me he was going to recover, and he was also very volatile because of the strokes… I’m glad I didn’t see him that way.  The last thing I would want is for his conscious moments to be remembered calling me names and yelling.  That’s what he did to my brother anyway.  My mom visited with him for a brief few right before he died, that made me happy in a way.

Needless to say I am still struggling with it.  When 2008 opened, I promised myself that this would be the greatest year ever.  Instead it started off with a miscarriage, then death after death.  I will not wish for the best year in 2009, I will just hope it’s a good year.  I pray that my baby Caitlyn is born happy and healthy and that nobody dies in 2009.  My grandma just turned 90, I have no idea how much time we have left with her, but I hope she can enjoy Caitlyn to the most before she passes.  I know how much she loves her great grandkids, and they keep her going day to day.  Rachel isn’t necessarily close to her, and that is partially my grandma’s fault, but a lot has to do with her parents as well.  I hope that Caitlyn can keep her going at least another year, or more.  She keeps getting sick and we are just standing by waiting for the next hospital visit / nursing home stay.  It’s sad to know that Caitlyn will not grow up with the grandma I had, because in some way, my grandma shaped who I am today.  I am a lot like her.  She’ll have my mom, who is not exactly grandma-like yet… give her another 20 years.    I just hope I can raise her right and do a good job at it.

I have a lot to accomplish in 2009.  We all do… I just hope that it will be a much better year than 2008.