I’m Good, How are You?

I’m Good, How are You?

It is something we all say every day. Someone asks, “how are you doing?” And I almost always say, “I’m good, how are you?” And as those words are coming out of my mouth I always think to myself, why are you saying this. You aren’t good, you’re a wreck. You hurt ALL the time, the medicine sucks, you want to do things that you can’t, you’re down on yourself because of that, you don’t sleep good, you’re just plain out not good.howudoing


So why do we ask people? Why do we take their reply of “good” as truth? Most of the time the questioner already knows you are involved in some type of battle if you indeed are. But when we say we are good the conversation moves on. Or if it is brief in nature a simple “good, so nice seeing you”. And you both move on.


Sometimes I change my reply up because I am simply sick of telling people that I am fine when I am NOT.  Let me tell you when you unload all of the details of why you’re not fine the look on the other persons face is always like a deer in the headlights. The result of this is that we feel like raging idiots for having just dropped all of that out of our mouths.


I think we need to try to get out of our feelings one minute and the next I want to shout it from the highest building. Silent sufferers be silent no more. Enough is enough, ROAR!!! We should do that but we don’t.


painInstead, we turn to WordPress or the like and become avid writers in hopes to get some things off of our chest. We also want to search for someone else who is suffering the same way that you are. We want validation that we aren’t crazy. This is another side effect of disease or medications.

I think it is a great way to do this. But even then, times get low. Your readers aren’t reading, you have no new followers, you aren’t even interesting anymore. -Maybe. Or maybe life just gets in the way.

This past week has been filled with life getting in the way of writing. Work, being Mom and caring for my son who has injured his arm. He pulled his UCL. It is torn slap in two.


As of now, he won’t require surgery. They say that because he isn’t a pitcher or a quarterback, he won’t need his UCL. He is going to do rehab to learn to use the other muscles to compensate for the broken ligament.


I understand what they are saying. I realize surgery usually causes more damage in the long run. I have had ligaments repaired myself. I don’t wish that pain on anyone, especially my son. But don’t tell me that because he isn’t the QB or a pitcher he doesn’t need it.


He needs the dang ligament or it wouldn’t be there, thank you very much. And he isn’t less important because of the position he does or doesn’t play on a football field. He is one of the most important people to ME!  He may not be using that arm to toss balls around, but he has already signed with the Army. I am pretty sure his service there will be more beneficial to everyone than throwing a darn ball around would.wolffelling


So this is the rant I have for the week. I am dealing with a ton more pain than usual as well. Swelling everywhere, pain everywhere. And toughening up my outside so that I can hide this pain like a champ and not unload on anyone who asks me “how are you doing”. The art of hiding this is a job in itself.

But I’m doing good, how are you?




Bleacher Butt

footballmomAs I posted last week, and a lot of you may know, FOOTBALL SEASON IS HERE! Our 3rd game is tomorrow. I have searched every nook and cranny of the world wide web for the perfect bleacher seat and I am at a loss. The ones that look appealing also look far too heavy to haul around from car to field. I have already dropped the purse. It was just too much to carry around and no matter how much I would try to lighten the load, random, heavy, usually of no use to me, items kept collecting in it.


I guess a case of bleacher butt is something I will soon miss. My boys are growing up so fast. I know it beats the alternative, but it is sad.  I can remember not so long ago when all of my elders would tell me to enjoy them while they’re little. They grow up way too fast they would say. I would uncontrollably roll my eyes.


I thought I was miserable. I thought they needed to hurry up and grow up and get out. I thought my elders didn’t know what they were talking about. I thought I was a terrible mom for thinking this. I thought and I thought and I thought WRONG. They’re not even gone yet and I already miss them. I miss the time that they actually liked me. I miss the sweet hugs and the freak out now, laugh later accidents they would make. Be it their pants or a spill. I miss it all. How am I going to feel when they are gone?


littleParenting is a roller coaster of feelings. Sometimes there are days that I am so ticked off at my kids. There are days that I just wish they would give me a rest. There are days when I feel sorry for them because I remember how hard being a teenager was.  Thinking you knew and could do anything in the world, not wise enough to realize that Mom and Dad are right. Not knowing if what you wear will cause people to look at you differently or thinking that name brands were all that is important and feeling sorry for yourself because you didn’t have as much as the next kid, only growing up to find out how ridiculous that was and feeling bad for putting your parents through all of that wasted money.


I get it. I just don’t want my kids to already be going through it. I want them little. I want to preserve them that way. I want this, but I won’t get it and that is a good thing. I just hope that one day these little boys understand how much I do love them even though we seem to argue daily. I know they will because for the most part, hopefully, I am raising them right and they will have values when they are fully grown. Fully grown is something I am likely to never consider them being, I must admit.


So with that, I guess I just want to say, to any of you young parents, enjoy them while they’re little. Let them be little. I know it sucks sometimes. But It is seriously going to be gone very soon. Even if you can’t see it. From one eye rolling parent to the other, ENJOY it. Laugh at the accidents. Love on them and steal hugs excessively. They won’t make up for the ones you aren’t going to receive in just a few years, but at least you will know you tried.

It’s Football Season Ya’ll

lovebamaMy favorite time of year is finally here. I have to admit, I hibernated at the end of last years football season.  I take Alabama football seriously.  And by seriously I mean, insanely so.  I have a selection of lucky shirts, socks, pants, blanket, underwear, and even where I choose to sit and in what position is of great significance to whether The Crimson Tide wins or loses.  If the combination of attire and position isn’t working and we are doing badly in a game I have to change something, if not everything. I get mad at anyone else who isn’t playing along with my mind games too. Alabama performed badly for an entire half of one game last year and ya’ll, it was entirely my husband’s fault. He wore the wrong hat.

tidecomingI am fully aware that all of these shenanigans are insane. I don’t care. It is something that I have done for as long as I can remember.  And I know I’m not the only one who does this stupid stuff. I mean one of the things that my husband and I really hit it off on when we first started dating was Alabama football and our silly rituals. One of us got stuck watching the remainder of a game in the bathroom.

So, this year I am in the market for a new “lucky” Alabama shirt. I am guessing the luck wore off of all of the other ones in the final game of the year last season. The national championship game. The cause of my hibernation for a little while. I guess I am a sore loser. Alabama fans, myself included, have become spoiled. God bless Nick Saban. I don’t know what we will do if he decides to retire anytime soon. Being a hard core Bama fan has had it’s up’s and downs. Prior to Nick, we had several Mikes to enter and be ran out of the Alabama family. None of them would ever add up to Bear Bryant.  We had some good coaches and we came through every now and then, but not enough to make National Championship t-shirts and memorabilia expire.  Our 1992 National Championship car decals and shirts were good for 17 years. (mine weren’t due to size issues)bamacrew

If you are a football fan then you either love Alabama or you love to hate Alabama. That is part of the deal that comes with being legendary. I am good with it. What I am not good with is losing and knowing we should have, could have, would have won a game that we lost. The BIG game. The one that determines who is the best.  It was decided last year that Alabama was not the best. And that chip on the shoulder of those big boys will shine this year. It won’t (I hope) happen again! But I must do my part. I must find the winning combination attire.

alabamaweekAlabama football is not the only favorite of mine. My Choctaws started their season with a win Friday.  My teenage boys both play. They didn’t play this game. The youngest is having to pay his dues as a youngster on the Varsity team and the oldest hurt his shoulder in a scrimmage game week before last. He is okay, he will play this week. So, I have a dilemma… Alabama’s first game is against FSU. FSU and my Choctaws have the same tomahawk chop and chant. I know that if I partake in this Friday night, my luck significantly changes for Saturday night.  OH MY GOODNESS, I AM CRAZY!

flareflareIn other news, I feel like crap. T-Total, poo. I guess I am having a flare. The pain associated with these abbreviations is constant. It’s hard to tell if the pain is just getting on my nerves or if I am having a flare which is more painful than the constant pain I experience. Last night, winter came. I have been waiting on winter for 7 seasons now. It finally came, and now we have to wait an entire season to see what else winter does.  And guess what fellow Game of Thrones fans. Now that winter is here and leaving us hanging for an entire season, we now know that the next season will be the last. What the what? I realize the budget for a show such as this can get pricey. I realize the actors now demand better pay. I understand every drawback HBO seems to have. But what I don’t understand is the business decision to end the best show HBO has ever produced. I guarantee they have gained more subscriptions solely because of this show. I know that HBO is NOT cheap. I know they’re making money and significantly more because of GOT!

Last night, winter came. I have been waiting on winter for 7 seasons even though the raven and John Snow can go back and forth from Winterfell in one episode. It finally came, and now we have to wait an entire season to see what else the slow walking, dead winter does.  And guess what fellow Game of Thrones fans. Now that winter is here and leaving us hanging for an entire season, we now know that the next season will be the last. What THE wha—-at?

I realize the budget for a show such as this can get pricey. I realize the actors now demand better pay. I understand every drawback HBO seems to have. But what I don’t understand is the business decision to end the best show HBO has ever produced. I guarantee they have gained more subscriptions solely because of this show. I know that HBO is NOT cheap. I know they’re making money and significantly more because of GOT!

They better have some huge, expensive tricks up their sleeves to appease the humongous fan base for their final season. HBO, you have been warned. got

No Fountain of Youth at the Beach

I have a public service announcement: THERE IS NO FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH IN PANAMA CITY BEACH, FL! At least, not that I found over the course of a week. Truth be told, this trip made me feel old. Older than I actually am. I spent 8 nights and days there and guess how many times my faulty body let me actually go down to the beach. 2 (two) visits to the sugar white sand. And two was all I could muster.

The first trip was during the day. I had no umbrella or pop up tent to block the rays from burning my pasty white skin. Mixed connective tissue disease means stay out of the sun. The medications I take for this disease all have warnings about sun exposure meaning stay out at ALL cost. So I loaded down with SPF 100 cream and I went for about one hour to the beach. I watched from afar as my 6-year-old and 37-year-old husband/kids played. Doing things I can not do any longer even though I really want to.
When you go on a trip like this, something we used to do all of the time with no problems what-so-ever, that whole spoon theory really comes into play.

My 6-year-old doesn’t understand it and I don’t expect him to. I don’t even want him to.  He persistently begged me to go to the beach with them every single day. He persistently begged me to go fishing at night at the beach with him every single night. My rationing of spoons told me that if I gave in and went to the beach tonight, I wouldn’t be able to move the next morning. Alternately, they told me that were I to go to the beach today, I won’t be worth a thing when we returned.


I felt like I was letting my son and my husband down. I felt like I was making my husband mad. I don’t know why I felt this way because he never made me feel like he was mad or anything. On the way down there we found this awesome radio station. It was a great mix of older country music and really old country music. Mostly, the music I grew up with. I am a music lover and I love all music. Rap, pop, rock, country, classic rock, punk, heavy metal, you name it, I love it. On the way down the song, “Different” by Kenny Chesney came on. It caught me off guard. I can’t begin to explain why, but it made me cry. And cry…and cry…

There I was, staring out of the window, hoping no one else realized I was balling crying. I couldn’t hide it well. My husband asked me “are you crying?” “What are you crying for?” I told him that I had no idea. And this did make him mad. But I still don’t know what made me cry like that.

Something about being told you have an incurable disease that may eventually lead to your early death makes you see your entire life different. It makes you see your entire future different for sure. It leaves you on an emotional roller coaster ride that you can’t get off of. I have always had a quirky reply to my kids when they say “that’s not fair”. I have always told them that the fair only comes once a year. You buy your tickets, you ride your rides, and that’s all the fair you’re going to get in this life.

Now, I’m getting my moneys worth out of this ticket to this lifelong roller coaster ride.  The highs are rare, the lows are frequent, the upside-down and twisting is constant. My roller coaster ride doesn’t have an attendant. There is no way to turn it off or make the ride end. The person in control of it is in God’s hands. It’s up to Him, me, doctors, and support. IMG_3737

One of the days we were down there my husband talked me into going to play putt putt golf. Side note: I despise putt putt golf. But we went and I have to admit I had a blast. When we got there I quickly realized we were into way more than I originally thought. This place had an arcade, two Farris wheels, bumper cars, bumper boats, and a crazy house, among other things. The golf was inside in black lights. I didn’t win, but I did in my heart. I was having fun. Fun is something that seems hard to attain when you’re in constant pain.  We had a blast. But the trip was much longer than I thought it would be. And my body started to fail me towards the end. My son wanted to ride the bumper boats one more time before we left. I had just started to dry out from the first ride, but you only live once. Something that is much more apparent to me these days.IMG_3745

He also had to go turn his tickets in for a prize at the arcade. I asked my husband if I could ride the roller coaster while they went and did that.  So I did. I rode that roller coaster by myself. And I felt so alive. I felt so free. I felt so content. The ride was fast and short, and rickety. I don’t know why this one ride made me worry I may get sick and lose my cotton candy. Another childish thing I had done that day. I haven’t eaten cotton candy in forever.  It was so good!

My take away from the beach is this: Live every day like you are a kid again if you are able. I’m not, so this rare day wore me out. I didn’t find my fountain of youth, but maybe I did find a sprinkle of it.

I was ready to come home and see my doggies. They missed me as much as I missed them. I felt so bad for leaving them. They don’t understand. But they’ve already forgiven me.  I wish I could forgive myself as quickly as they can.

How To Begin a Work-From-Home Search

workathomeAs many of you know, I have been on a mission to find work from home to support my family and medical bills. I have been at my wit’s end with it and I have searched for what feels like years. In reality, I have only been hard at it for about 3 months. But still, 3 months is 3 months. Because I now have some knowledge of the many different opportunities out there, I felt a need to write about it in hopes to help someone else out.


Now I’m not getting rich over here. Not in the least. But, I am making an okay hourly rate doing a job that isn’t very challenging. And the best part –I do it in my pajama’s while watching TV.  After a little time of vigorously looking for reputable work-from-home opportunities, I felt defeated. I had applied for so many, and I would get accepted to some only to find out the pay wasn’t worth the time.  I have come across so many scams that I can’t list them all. Some of these scams seem so legit until all of the sudden it’s so apparent that they’re not, that you feel like a royal idiot.

ratraceFinally, last month I was reading comments on a post that showed up in my newsfeed on Facebook. The original post was, indeed, another scam. I learned very quickly to read the comments on listings such as this before gullibly trusting the pitch. I found a couple of posts that talked about one website they had found to be the best, scam free, work from home portal. That site is www.ratracerebellion.com. You can thank me later. Go ahead and sign up for e-mail notifications with them. They’ll send you daily e-mails on the newest, best listings. Some of these fill up fast so you will want to stay on top of them. I made it a job to find a job.  I was finally getting somewhere when I started to apply for these jobs. I was taking tests left and right and I was finally hired by a company called Appen. Now, this company isn’t the greatest in the world, but it does pay. The testing for the jobs they offer is long and a little confusing.


I worked for them for about two weeks until I found another, better paying job. Here is another little nugget that offers hundreds of work-from-home opportunities. This is the one I am currently using to pay the bills: www.upwork.com

When you sign up with Upwork there will be some tests you can take to help kick-start your profile. Don’t worry, if you don’t make a good score on a test you don’t have to include it in your profile.  You will also want to fill out your work history and write a small bio about yourself. Upload a picture. You don’t HAVE to have a picture, but when you are working for people you will never meet in person, they want to be able to put a face to your name.

I have been scammed once on Upwork. I got an invitation from a company who wanted to hire me and they wanted to talk to me on Google Hangouts about the job. The pay started to sound too good to be true and my guard went up. Then the so-called employer told me that they wold be sending me a computer and a check to have the software installed on the computer. They said I was to take the check to the bank and deposit it and send them a picture of my deposit slip once I had. DING! DING! DING! DING! This round was over for me! The next day I received a check by FedEx for $4,500.00. The guy who I had spoken with about this job the day before was now calling me repeatedly. I told him that I would deposit the check once I received the laptop from them. That only made sense to me. I also told him that I would not, under any circumstances, send a copy of my deposit slip to him or anyone else. That check is still collecting dust somewhere. So the takeaway from this for me was to make sure that whoever you are dealing with on Upwork has verified payment and has actually already paid some other people within the Upwork community.


To get work through Upwork you have to send the employers proposals. Some jobs are for a flat rate fee and some are for hourly work. You will see how much they have budgeted for the jobs. Keep in mind that Upwork makes a percentage of what you make and it will be deducted out of your pay once the work is completed. This may scare a lot of people off, but I look at it this way… I would rather give my banking information to one company with a more reputable name than to hundreds of different companies any day. The fee’s that they take are as follows:

  • 20% for the first $500 you bill a client across all contracts with them
  • 10% for total billings with a client between $500.01 and $10,000
  • 5% for total billings with a client that exceed $10,000

This sounds like an awful lot, I know. But if you factor this into your proposals you defeat the problem before it ever becomes a problem.  Also, you can renegotiate pay while working for a client. There is a plethora of help to be found from the Upwork community as well.

If you are beginning your journey to find work-from-home jobs, I hope my approach will help you find your way. A lot of really great jobs require you to have worked from home before. This seems to be the best way to get that experience added to your resume’ that I have found.

I have also been using a lot of different reputable sites to do survey’s and coupon type apps. Again, here you will find a lot of sites are scams. I won’t delve too much into this in this article because that may get lengthy, but I will leave the ones I use to make the most here. Please use these links I have listed because with the majority of these companies, you make money from referrals. Also, the people you refer get a nice starting bonus.


Pinecone Research




Vindale Research

Inbox Dollars


Panel App


I will update this list because there are more. Happy money maker hunting!


Am I a TV-aholic?

tvIn this day in age, we are all connected. Connected to social media and thus the world, connected to our phones which house multiple ways to connect, which are then connected to the world wide web where all of these connections are housed. To further matters we have now started to connect our phones to devices we wear to track or productive we are each day. Or to a watch that does everything your phone does, but in a more convenient size.

These wearable devices have never been of any desire to me. I don’t need my phone to tell me how unfit I am, nor my bracelet. But let’s talk just a minute about the advancements that have been made in getting our televisions connected. Or maybe I should just say our program viewing connected and therefore hugely broadened. We can now go online with our TV. I know what you’re thinking, this is no new news. I am fully aware of that, but it is fairly new to me.

countryroadLet Me Explain:

See, until a little over a year ago I lived in the country.  Living in the country is great. You could yell and not worry about your neighbors hearing you, you could allow your kids to pee outside and no one would see. You could go a little extra time between cutting your grass and no one would care. You never had to worry about any drop-by company because nobody was ever in the area so letting the household chores go a little was okay too. In October in this small town, the kids roll yards for fun. Most parents are okay with it and I am too. But let me tell you when we lived in the country we NEVER had to worry about getting rolled. Nobody was coming all the way out there to do it.  Continue reading

A Labor of Love and Pain

Jun. 5, 2017DeliveryDay
Well, it is once again that time of year. The time when I become even older than the ancient age I already feel. Respectfully, 37 is not that old unless you’re a teenager looking up. With the coming of my birthday comes other dates of remembrance. My first born son and I nearly share a birthday. His is on the 12th. Mine is the 11th. I will never forget my 22nd birthday. I was the most nervous human being on the planet. Suffice it to say I didn’t exactly enjoy that birthday. I was to be induced at 5 am the following day. So there wasn’t a doubt in my mind about what was to unfold that next day at the crack of dawn. I couldn’t eat past 8:00 pm so my birthday dinner was put off until 7:30ish and I scarfed down a big juicy steak, baked potato, and macaroni and cheese which I would later regret. You see, being 21 or 22 years old makes you think you know everything, but you learn the hard way that you most certainly do not. 
I had failed to ask important questions prior to the delivery date. Questions I assumed were givens. Ones like:
1. Will you be giving me an episiotomy?
2. Will I poop on myself?
3. What steps will you take to ensure that I won’t poop on myself? 
4. How long will I have to push?
5.  At what point do you decide I have tried to push too long?  
6. How do you ensure the placenta has been delivered entirely?
Let me explain:

1. I had read about the episiotomy and to me, it seemed pretty cut and dry, pun intended. An episiotomy is an incision made so that your nether region doesn’t rip to shreds when pushing an entire human being out of your who-ha.  From all of the literature I had read, it was apparent to me that this would be done and was routinely done in this day in time. I was wrong. Apparently, I got an old school doctor. 

2. I had also read that it was normal for people to have a bowel movement during delivery and not even know they had done so. I further read that this would cause no harm to the baby and other than embarrassment from the father of the child knowing this had taken place there should be no worries. In this aspect, my doctor was not so old school. The first thing I was instructed to do at 4:30 am after a late steak dinner the night before was to administer myself an enema.  Let’s just say that an enema at the crack of dawn following a birthday steak dinner and accompanied by severely rumbled nerves is nothing anyone wants to be part of. 

3. See number 2, and no, I didn’t poop on self after #2, again, pun intended.

4. I am aware that no two deliveries are the same. Some women barely make it to the hospital on time before they’re spitting their babies out. Some women have already decided ahead of time that they are going to have a c-section. Me? I just wing it. My mother had assured me that once I start pushing it goes fast. She had ensured me that it only takes about 15 minutes to push before I would see my handsome little man. She had also told me that I would only feel the first few contractions and that wasn’t the case at all either. As soon as they started my IV Pitocin and got me hooked up the all of the leads that would record my contractions the pain started. And I had sent my son’s father back to the hotel room while I dealt with my enema ordeal. I didn’t feel the need for an audience for that. So once I had supposedly been squared away my mom trekked back to the room to retrieve my father and son to be’s, father. She hadn’t made it very far down the hall before I was frantically attempting to call her back. I guess I was very close to going into labor all on my own without the help of the Pitocin and those contractions HURT! I had yet to be given any pain medication and as is usually the case, the nurse didn’t believe I was really in pain yet. It was that sort of pain where you’re not sure if you should just try to be real still or move around a lot in hopes to ward it off. 
Finally, they brought some pain medication in and not long after this young man came in the give me my epidural. He was accompanied by an instructor who was trying to explain to him exactly where the needle should go. This made me feel uneasy and then the little guy asked me if this was my first epidural. I told him yes, yes it is my first to which he replied, “mine too”. I sat straight up and turned around and looked at him and his instructor and said, “I’m sorry, but no it’s NOT!” “NOT TODAY!” I hate I cut into his learning time, but that just wasn’t an area of my body that I felt comfortable being practiced on.
I was having contractions in my groin area but those weren’t as painful as the ones in my stomach. After the epidural, I was much more comfortable. Once I was dilated enough the doctor made his appearance and told me I was ready to push. He then pinched me on either side of my private area and asked me if I could feel it. I told him yes, you pinched my left side, and then yes you pinched my right side. He looked dumbfounded and called for a second injection of something in my epidural. He performed his pinch test one more time which I still felt. He then called for more pain meds in my IV. By this time I was as high as a Georgia Pine. I began pushing. 20 minutes later I growled to my mother “I THOUGHT YOU SAID 15 MINUTES, I THOUGHT THE WORST WAS OVER?” I sounded like something off of “The Exorcist” movie. At about the one hour point the doctor told me I was almost there. In my head, this meant the head was out and one or two more pushes and wa-la, a baby would be here. I quickly discovered that I could see everything that was going on down there in the reflection of the television on the wall. No body part what-so-ever was out. At this point, I was beginning to pop blood vessels in my eyes and forehead from pushing so hard for so long. Three (3) hours and forty-seven (47) minutes later I finally had my baby boy. I was shaking so bad that I couldn’t even hold him. My teeth look like I am wearing braces in all of the pictures because they were chattering so fastly.brandnewbrady

5. So, at this point, I was fairly mad at the doctor. I had never heard of anyone pushing for nearly 4 hours. I thought I had prepared myself for the worst pain imaginable, but I had not. I haven’t mentioned it yet but the pain medication and the epidural never worked for anything below the belt. It was as if there was some nerve being blocked and the medication wasn’t able to pass to that area. I told the doctor this repeatedly. Also, that episiotomy thing I thought was a given was never done. I could feel it slowly ripping throughout this entire elongated process. Also, when you have just spent so much of your energy trying to push a human out there is very little left to then deliver a placenta. I tried. I gave forth everything else I had and delivered it. Or so I thought. Aside from a scene off of “The Nutty Professor” which I will not explain because I have already gotten personal enough here, all was well with baby and momma. We went home after the normal 3-day stent.
And this is the point in the story where things really start to get scary.

Home with baby and feeding around the clock as normal. He really was a good baby although I wouldn’t realize how good until the birth of my youngest child. But something still wasn’t right with me. Initially, I blamed it on the pain medicine and lack of sleep. I have always been a fair skinned person. But this was taking pale to a whole new level. I was ghost white. And I was bleeding and passing blood clots the size of tennis balls. A week later I went to the ER and was admitted for 4 days. I was never given a reason for the blood passing other than that a little bit of placenta may or may not have been left. I was sent home and given instructions to wear these huge pads and take these pills made by Satan himself. These pills caused me to have contractions. I wasn’t explained this before leaving the hospital. The contractions were in hopes of expressing this bit of placenta and putting an end to this perpetual bleeding to death. They did not work. A week later I was in the bathtub and it quickly turned red and I nearly passed out. My aunt, who was a nurse and lived next door, instructed me to lay down in the bathroom with my feet elevated over my head until the ambulance got there. So I did. I laid butt naked on the floor of my tiny single wide trailer until they arrived. It was so embarrassing. This time my aunt went to the hospital and spoke with the head nurse to see what the doctor’s plans were this time for me. He wanted to admit me and watch and wait again. My aunt, who til this day doesn’t know how truthfully thankful I am of her for this and other things, told that nurse that she needed to speak to her supervisor and then told them that enough was enough. She told them I was not leaving here without a D&C. She further went on to ask why this doctor didn’t seem to give two flips about this and wanted to continuously send me home. She told my aunt that he just hasn’t been the same since his daughter was killed in that car wreck last year. Umm…excuse me… I’m real sorry for your loss and all, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to kill me too. If you can’t accurately treat your patients without dang near killing them then you probably should take some time off. NOW. Because to me, this alone was the reason for ALL of the hardships I had encountered. This was why I had nutty professor lips and no episiotomy. This is why I was allowed to push for nearly 4 hours. This was why I hadn’t yet gotten to truly enjoy the gift of motherhood. But once this was done, I got to love my baby with no interruptions. And I thoroughly loved and still love being a Mom!
So to sum this post up, this is our birth week. It is my birth week because I celebrate the day of my birth and also the day I first gave birth. And it is his birthday also. Which will always trump mine and cause mine the be somewhat overlooked, but that’s okay.
It is also the Month of the one year anniversary of my grandmother’s passing. It doesn’t seem like it has already been a year. Putting that one year mark on things seems to insinuate that enough time has passed for the pain to no longer be new. But the pain is still new and it still hurts. I don’t think it will every feel any less significant.

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