Shake-a Shake-a Boom

We have developed a little problem around here that I can't quite shake (please note there is a pun there, and you will get it in a moment).  It has started to hinder our lives a bit, and really hinder my ability to sleep.  Neither of which is good.  The Big One has developed a serious fear of earth quakes.
Having never been in a real one, I'm scared of them too, but the vast majority of time,it never enters my mind.  Her problem is that it is always on her mind.
I think the recent quake in VA set it off.  I had started using the news as a tactic to keep the kids from watching TV with me.  IT stopped working at some point in time, and The Big One came in and watched a lot of the quake coverage on TV.  IT wasn't a bad one, but because it was so uncommon in that part of the US, it got a ton of coverage.  Hence it seems much bigger than what it was.
Now, she is absolutely, completely, terrified of them, and sure that one will strike at any moment.
Saturday night, she was supposed to spend the night with a friend.  This is a friend she has had since Kindergarten, and it was the first time they had spent the night together, just the two of them with out their Girl Scout troop, or any other friends.  They were ridiculously excited.
Then, about 11pm that night, I got a phone call.  The Big One was in tears and wouldn't calm down.  She wanted to come home.  After I went to get her, we started talking about what scared her.  Her Friend had fallen asleep, and The Big One was left laying in the little girl's room, thinking about things.  The girl has bunk beds, and The Big One was terrified that there would be an earthquake, and the top portion of the bed would fall down on her and crush her.  I suppose a valid concern in some regard, but I would venture that the beds were well constructed enough to handle all the torture and extreme stress brought on by younger children, and they would probably survive the kind of small quakes we get frequently around here.  Regardless, she wasn't about to be there any longer, and I had to get her.
I'm really surprised by this sudden onset of earthquake fear.  While she wasn't born here, The Big One has been raised in CA pretty much most of her life.  We moved here when she was 15 months old.  I had always thought that kids who were raised here would develop some sort of environmental immunity to the fear of earthquakes.  They happen so much, that they should be routine.  I may have miscalculated that.  The Big Little One hasn't gotten scared.  Perhaps you need an actual CA birth certificate to get that immunity.  I'm not sure.  Maybe there is an earthquake immunity booster shot of some sort that I can give her.
I realize that a little bit of fear is actually healthy.  We need to be aware that quakes are real, and serious, and respect that their potential power enough to always be cautious, but there is a line you have to draw in being scared.  Too much fear is a bad thing.  I'm really just hoping this will pass and she will get back to her normal self soon.  I don't want any of us to miss out on life because of fear.

Trying to Keep My Heart In Line With My Head

My head is trying to think logically, reasonably, but my heart is a little sad tonight.  I'm trying to convince my heart to believe my head, but it just isn't working.

Today was another of my OB Dr appointments.  This one wasn't my favorite.

Before I go any further, I need to insert a little back story for those who don't know.  When it comes to pregnancies, I am anything but normal now.  I don't think I ever was, having a bad history with pregnancies in general, but my last one ended very badly with the delivery.  Instead of doing a normal c-section, the Dr, aka the Butcher in my house, decided to do an incision that starts at my belly button and goes about 4 or so inches up.  Yes, up.  From that, I developed a massive hernia, and all of my organs had to be held in place with a piece of mesh about the size of a sheet of notebook paper and 10 staples going around my abdomen.  While that is still in place, I have lots of problems with it.  Then, because my abdominal muscle where was so strained, the site of my first c-section ripped open.  That is still open.  I was supposed to have this massive, nasty surgery, where the Dr was going to "remove the mesh from my tissues" debreed the opening (cut off all the dead parts of muscle to make it smooth), then sew me up from bottom to top of my abdomen.  That would cause some pulling with the muscle being more narrow, and so she was going to have to slit the side muscles of my abdomen all the way down on both sides to make more room.  Sounds nice, huh?

Instead of doing all that, I got pregnant.

Oops.

The first appointment I had was a little scary.  There were maybes thrown back and forth.  However, by the second appointment, we had a hope.  They might be able to do a simple c-section, closing up the opening that is already ripped open, and just leave the rest for a while, so that I can at least care for my baby the first few months.  Eventually I would have to go back for the big nasty revision, but it could wait.

Today, the Dr just started rain on my parade a little.

To begin with, we don't have my records from the last c-section, and they can't plan anything for sure without them.  This is a must have, and 10 weeks later, no records from the previous hospital.  Now, I have to physically go down there, something I really will HATE doing, and get them myself.

Next, the Dr decided I have to go see a surgeon.  This is starting down a path I had really hopped to avoid.  I don't want to have the big nasty surgery when they take the baby, but it might have to happen.  The surgeon will be the one who really would look at everything, and make that decision.  It doesn't mean that it will happen, this just means that we are on the path to having that be an option.  I am trying to tell my self that this is just being prepared.  My OB also said that they don't deal with hernias, especially something so complicated and rare as mine is.  He wants someone who specialize in this, and would be more equipped to fix it once they got in there just in case.  Again, I have to tell myself this is all just good, practical planning.

Unfortunately, all of myself can't quite see it that way.  I want what is best for all of us, and if that means something that my heart really doesn't want, my head may just have to work double time to convince it.

Just to throw a little bit of salt in the wound, I had to get a tetanus and whooping cough shot today, because apparently whooping cough is back big time, and horrible for pregnant women.

Then, I had to have blood drawn for a standard gestational test, and the tech was terrible. He complained that my name was too long (I have both married and maiden last names along with a long first name).  I told him he should be glad he doesn't have to write it every day then.  When I found my focus spot on the wall, and started deep breathing, he ask how I was doing .  I returned the question, noting how he was doing was much more important than me at that point.  He thought he was being cute by telling me he was terrible, devastated, and piss off all at once.  I dismissed him.  Unfortunately, there was no one else there.  So, he took the blood, made it hurt, and left me with a big knot beside the vein he drew from.

Now, I'm upset with a very sore left arm in two spots.

This sucks, to say the least.

If there is any positive, its that we got to hear the baby's heart beat, and that always makes my day.  Even if The Littlest One is kicking away, hearing a heart beat always warms my own heart.  I am thankful that we are half way there, and pretty soon, I won't have to wait to feel the kicks inside anymore.  No matter how we get her, I can't wait to get her.

When Your Children Hurt

The one thing in life that is always constant is change.
Sometimes that change is good, and sometimes that change is not.
Now, my girls and I are going through what I expect to be the biggest change of their lives and it is not a good change.

The change hurts me. Each day is a struggle, but I will make it. I will put one foot in front of the other and I will keep walking. I will walk until I can run again and I will be ok one day. I know I will be ok, but I also know that my pain is immense right now.

Their pain, though, is in calculable to me. It hurts more because I see them hurting, and I know there is nothing I can do.

I watch The Big One cry and I see the scars forming on her heart, and as her mother, my heart breaks even more than it already is. I wish I could grab her, and pull her to me, and make it all go away. I would rock her until all the pain was gone, and kiss her until it all felt better. But I can't. This kind of pain doesn't go away like that. No matter what I do, I can't keep her from hurting again and again. I can't keep the change that she had nothing to do with from knocking her down.

The Little One is younger, and fares much better because of her age. She doesn't understand the change going on. She doesn't quite get it, and can roll with the punches more. She is the lucky on, in all of this, to be so young, and not understand it. She is the one that I can hold until she feels better, and then watch her happily go play with someone else. She will adapt faster and better, and will come out of this with much less scaring than her big sister, but she will still scar from this change.

Change can be hard. Watching your children hurt is the hardest thing of all. I am angry that my children have to hurt, and I would do anything, and have tried everything, to keep them from hurting like this, but sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we just can't protect them from everything. Sometimes, we as parents are even the cause of it.

I know that children will adapt, and I am sure mine will too, but in the mean time, we have a difficult path ahead of us, full of so much more heart ache and heart break. I can only hope that I can be the best parent that I can for them both, and do everything I can to make this as easy for them as possible. In time, I hope this makes us all stronger, and better, having learned much from the hardest of situations.

Most importantly, I just hope that soon, very soon, The Big One will feel better inside.

Worse than the Boogie Man

I have a huge fear right now.

I am afraid to go to my mail box.

I don't want to do it. I'm scared of what will be in there.

Actually, I suppose I am afraid of what won't be in there.

Last week, our school systems mailed letters to parents who applied to their choice program to switch schools for their child. Given the time frame that they were mailed in, I would say today is the last day to get your acceptance letter.

So far, though I applied on time, I haven't gotten a letter.

If one doesn't come today, I will have to call the office and find out what is going on.

I am really, really scared to go look. If my child did not get into a different school, I am not sure what I will do. In case I haven't posted this enough, I do not like her current school. In fact, saying I don't like it in no way adequately describe the negative wash of feelings that I have for that particular school.
I absolutely do not want here there next year. Aside from the academic failures, which are great themselves, I don't even feel that she is safe in that school. After being followed off campus in a case of mistaken identity by a parent who wanted to get into a fight, and having the school fail to address the situation at all, I just about cry every time I leave her there.
In fact, I would do just about anything to get her out of that school. I would even consider homeschooling, even though I think neither of us would survive it.

So, there is a great amount of dread lodged in my heart at the moment. I know that when I go to the mail box, if there is no letter, a battle will ensue. I don't want to do it, but I will. I will get all momma bear on whom ever I need to, and it won't be fun, nice, or pretty, but it will be necessary.

Let us all hope that there is no need for all of this worry, and that a big ole letter from the school system will jump out and bite me the moment I open the box.