Whiner

Certainly, by now, most of you will have heard about the woman in California who gave birth to octuplets last week. The mother thought she was "just" carrying seven babies, so the eighth one surprised everyone. (How the word "just" can be used in that sentence is a mystery.)

So, here is my confession.

My first thought when I heard this story was, "Why are you implanting so many embryos?" That fertility doctor needs a Come-to-Jesus meeting.

My second thought was, "HOW, HOW, HOW can she have eight healthy babies, born nine weeks early, all weighing less than 2lbs each, when my one baby, born "only" six weeks early, weighing 6lbs suffered the typical preemie brain injury?"

I know I'm judgmental. Tar me now. It's just not fair.

I try to avoid TLC channel in the evenings because there's bound to be an episode (or ten) of Jon and Kate Plus Eight or The Duggars (although, truth be told, I was quite fascinated by the "Duggar Wedding"). Six preemie babies, all perfectly healthy, walking, running, jumping, talking. Eighteen freakin' kids, all healthy and spry in their jean skirts or khakis.

I don't wish brain-injured children on these parents. Of course not. I just wish life were more fair. (And, as soon as those words are typed out, I realize that half the world looks at my life with envy.) I'd just ask for ONE. One perfectly-abled Ellie.

Boo hoo to me.

Winter Happiness

Stealer

There have been SO MANY times that I've wanted to post links to the blog of my amazing friend, Peitricia Mae, and today, I'm finally officially stealing. I haven't even asked permission.

So, PM, let me know if you're gonna sue.

I just LOVED this one. Peitricia is an absolutely brilliant writer and I agree with every word of this post. There is no way I could have written anything better.

Click here to read it.

Mama!

Ellie was sick with a cold a few weeks ago. That meant that she was stuck at home with Mommy and Daddy for THREE. DAYS. STRAIGHT.

Finally, I succumed and called up Mama. I told Ellie that Mama was coming over and all of a sudden she was zapped with a surge of energy and she zipped her way over to the front door...


"Mama's here! Mama's here!"

"Mama, get here faster!"

And the world is well...

This morning, when I was brushing Ellie's hair, she looked at me and said, "Mommy, me go to Sussern Mama's house. Me see Sussern Mama."

Sussern Mama is Richard's mom: Southern Grandma. Sweet Ellie is waiting to go back and see her.

The girl loves her Grandmas!

Garbuldy Gunk

If you haven't already realized, the journalist in me LOATHES posts that don't have a definitive topic and follow it (rather) concisely.

When I don't have the time or emotional fortitude to oblige my very expensive journalistic training, I appease myself by making lists. For instance, right now I was thinking that I would organize this post by making it a top ten list:

Top Ten Rambling Thoughts Floating Around Chrystie's Brain Today.

I like things organized that way. Some may call it OCD. So, today, I'm buckin' the habit. I'm gonna ride on the wild side and just spew.

I wish there was a blogger icon of puke. I'd post it here. Cuz, you know, I'm spewing.

We go back to Shriner's in three weeks. I'm a bit nervous. I think, perhaps, hope that there will be surgery discussions. One of Ellie's therapists has voiced her concerns over Ellie's hips (her last x-rays revealed that her right hip is slowly coming out of its socket). We think they might suggest hip surgery. Ugh. I've done a little reading on it (not always advised), and although the surgery itself is pretty safe, Ellie would need to be in a weird hip cast for six weeks. The other surgery to discuss is the ole SDR. I kinda hope that they say she's ready for the surgery sometime this year, but it also scares the crud outta me. To be honest, I've put a lot of surgery thoughts on the back burner. Now that this appointment is looming, they're coming back to the forefront and I feel a bit anxious.

I really do love PRESIDENT Obama. I worry a bit that all this hoopla is only setting him up for a fall, since he can't save the world, but what a glorious change in Washington. I know I should probably be respectful of Dubya, but truthfully, he hasn't done anything to earn my respect. I am so very relieved that the Bush years are over. I heard an "Amen!" comment today. Some political commentator was saying that the US hadn't been this unified since 9/11. He then went on to say that after September 11th, most of the world opened its heart and doors to Americans, sharing in our sorrow, but George Bush closed those doors and stomped on those hearts. Obama is ready to ring some doorbells. Thank goodness, because that's exactly what this country, this world, needs.

You know what bugs me? When women gripe about their husbands because they don't "help out around the house". First of all, YOU married him. Second of all, then do something to change it. People have told me that I'm "so lucky" to have Richard, who shares household crap with me 50/50. While I am SO BLESSED to be married to him, without doubt, his attention to his household responsibilities have nothing to do with luck. We discussed marriage roles on our second date. Had we not been on the same page, believing that marriage is about EQUALITY and gender should not dictate roles, we would have broken up. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but THANKFULLY, choosing Richard, choosing someone whose views of marriage aligned with mine, was not one of them.

I'm now on my second round of antibiotics for this stupid strep throat. Grrrr. Strep throat is NASTY. Guess I need to eat my yogurt this week.

The end.

Firsts

I (shockingly!) don't feel like rambling today, so here are some pics for y'all. Five of Ellie's Firsts:


First wagon (August, 2006)


First blow-up swimming pool (May, 2006)


First time we were able to catch her sitting up ALL BY HERSELF long enough to take a picture! (April, 2006)


First 4th of July (2005)



1st Canada Day (2005)

C-eh-N-eh-D-eh

Why, why, why don't I bring my camera everywhere I go? I know *good* bloggers do. Guess I'm not quite there yet.

I had a moment today. And I could have captured a part of it on camera. Only part of it, though. Cuz you can't take pictures of your heart.

I've been sick this week with strep throat (ugh), which has only added to my severe case of the winter blahs. And let me tell you, the winter blahs can be HARDCORE way up here in the Tundra. Seven hours of daylight. Day after day of minus forty degrees. Plugging in cars. Forging through feet upon feet of snow. Fogged-up glasses. Windshield scrapers. It's enough to send a person running to the doctor for some Zoloft.

But, today, in the midst of -40 degrees, my heart melted a bit.

I was in the car with Ellie, driving home from "Heaven on Earth for Parents of a Child With CP"(aka: The Movement Centre), singing along with Ernie and Burt, when I actually LOOKED outside.

White. Sparkling. Pure. Vast. Never-ending prairies. In the ditch beside the highway, the snowmobile tracks glistened in the snow.

Then (and here's the "should have brought my camera moment"), I passed the musher, being pulled at incredible speed by his team of dogs. I honked and waved at the dog sledder and mouthed, "Hi Uncle Frank!", as I drove on by.

I looked down at the thermostat on the car radio dashboard and noticed that it was reading -37.

I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw Ellie, bopping to Elmo, as snug as a bug in a rug in her down parka and pink boots.

Minus 37 never felt so good.

Yes, it's cold here. Yes, some of my crazy family competes in dog sled races. Yes, we have to dress in layers of feathers in order to stay half-way warm. Yes, it's as flat as the opened can of Orange Crush that's been sitting in my fridge for a week. But, today I was reminded that I love it here. Because PEOPLE I love are here. Because this is the soil my grandparents turned. Because it sparkles.

Next time, I'll bring my camera.

The Interview

I was all ready to watch a new episode of Law and Order last night. I had my super-soft pastel throw blanket wrapped around me as I lay on the couch, once again mesmerized by our new REALLY BIG TV, waiting for the “This program is not suitable for children” disclaimer to pop on the screen. I love watching a good Law and Order or CSI before bed.

Fifteen minutes into the show, the NBC cable feed crapped out. NOOOOOO! Just when it was getting intense and the “don’t forget to breathe” shocking twist was about to be revealed. Stupid Minneapolis station.

So, I had to turn the channel to ABC (which, ironically, is a feed coming in from Grand Forks. How on earth does a NORTH DAKOTA channel come in when the Minneapolis one is on crack??). Lo and behold, there was Barbara. And Patrick Swayze.

Now, for those of you who are of my VERY YOUNG generation, I’m sure, like me, you can appreciate a little Patrick Swayze every once and a while. The problem, of course, is that this is no longer the Patrick of Dirty Dancing (which, of course, I had to watch on the sly at a friend’s house, since my “you should only listen to Amy Grant, only watch Disney cartoons, and only read Christy Miller books” mom would have called for an exorcism had she known). This was the 50-year-old, dying from cancer Patrick.

The whole interview centered around his battle with pancreatic cancer. Patrick and his wife were quite open with Barbara, and I found myself nearly forgetting about the botched Law and Order as I continued to listen to the Swayzes.

Then Barbie asked them a question that made my heart stop.

“Years ago, you had talked about your desire to adopt children. Do you regret not doing that?”

I saw that tears well up in both Mr. and Mrs. Swayze’s eyes. Dirty Dancer’s wife replied quietly, “yes”.

And then I thought, “I don’t want that to be ME!”

I don’t want Barbara to ask that exact question when she’s interviewing me in 20 years.

I don’t want to be sitting poolside with my best girlfriends during a weekend away, hear them ask the same question, only to pull a Mrs. Swayze and say, “yes”.

Why does it have to be so complicated and so expensive? You thought I was frustrated over the NBC signal being messed up? That doesn’t even compare to the frustration I feel at a system that seems to WANT babies orphaned and fostered. That doesn’t even compare to the frustration I feel at not knowing what the future holds and wondering how on earth I’d be able to handle mothering another child while helping my daughter recuperate from spine surgery.

Many of you have asked me where we stand on the adoption issue. I’ve purposefully not mentioned it on my blog in a while. Because I don’t know. WE don’t know.

When I see the tears well up in the eyes of regretful “wish I could have been” adoptive parents, I want to start our home study TODAY. When I see the pictures of families whose CHILDREN play together with their new toys on Christmas day, I want to fly to an orphanage TODAY. When I think about my sister and how I’ve really grown to appreciate her and love her in special way, I want to apply for an adoption loan TODAY.

But there are so many other factors to consider. Money. Time. Ability.

I just wish my heart could decide. I wish that Richie and I could put our spiritual feet down and say, “Regis, this is our final answer,” and either move on, or start the paperwork.

I don’t want to regret this decision either way. I don’t want to wish that we gave Ellie a sibling, nor do I want to wish that we had more time and money to concentrate on Ellie’s health and therapy.

I want to answer Barbara with,

“I have no regrets, Ms. Walters.”