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I finished another sweater for Daughter. Upon its completion I held it up for Hub to admire and said, "I probably need to get a life." And he said, "no! I love seeing her in all the cute little things you make for her!"
That was the right answer. He is a good man, indeed.
Pattern: Top-down raglan cardigan from Knitting Pure and Simple, 18-month sizeYarn: Lion Brand Cotton Ease in Banana Cream, about 1.5 skeinsNeedles: US 7 and 8Mods: I knit the bands in seed stitch instead of k1, p1 rib because I like how it looks and I thought it might hold up better in cotton - I feared everything would stretch out and sag otherwise. Also, I used size 7 needles rather than 6 (as the pattern calls for) on the bands and cuffs. I think size 6 needles make everything pull in too much. I suppose it depends on your tension and yarn choice, but that's what works for me. Other than that I knit it as written. I have made this sweater about 5 or 6 times now and love it. KP&S patterns are wonderful.
As you can see, it has no buttons. I am rather stumped as to what kind of buttons would look nice on a banana yellow sweater.
Here's the "watching TV in a shaft of sunlight" shot. The color is more true here. It's really banana-ey.
I have 1.5 skeins of this yarn left over (I originally bought the last 3 the store had when it was discontinued). Does anyone want/need them to finish a project or anything? I'd be happy to trade for something else. It's 50% cotton, 50% acrylic. The yardage is 207 yards per skein, and this is about 1.5 skeins. It knits up roughly to a worsted weight gauge (again, depending on the knitter).
***
There were a couple questions about patterns from my last post about sewing. The curtain was made from the Roommates Sunny Outlook pattern (#0054), by Donna Babylon and Victoria Waller. The website on the pattern is www.MoreSplashThanCash.com.
The quilt and pillow were made from Michelle's Designs Chantilly Lace Ensemble, by Michelle Griffith. The website for her designs is www.michelles-designs.com. I would warn you that it is a pattern designed for machine embroidery (mine was modified to use focus fabrics instead) and there are a couple of errors in it that are easily fixable if you use your brain and measure everything carefully before cutting. Also, it is way expensive because it includes a CD of embroidery designs.
added later: Someone also asked about the pattern I used to make the pumpkin hat - it is by Ann Norling, and I got it at my local yarn shop. Chances are good that if you go into a yarn shop and say you want to make a fruit hat, they will point you in the direction of the Ann Norling pattern!
Well, that's enough yakking - Daughter is out like a light and I have sewing to do.
Sorry this blog is looking rather odd today as to font, duplicate posting, etc. It's not my fault - Blogger is being impudent. I absolutely cannot get the fonts fixed on that last post.
Finally! Here's the sewing I've been working on. Neat projects, really bad photos. I am blaming that on the light being wrong - it's really bright outside so everything looks all washed out.
Quilt top and pillow - your eyes do not deceive you, those are ruffles. The pattern calls for gathered strips to be incorporated into both the quilt and the pillow, and they have been the bane of my existence for lo these many days...I mean really, do you know how hard it is to maintain precise 1/4" seams with a big ol' ruffle?? IT'S REALLY HARD. Other than that, these were no biggie. Simple piecing, easy peasy.
Coordinating window treatment - please imagine this hanging in a window rather than chucked on my family room floor. It is supposed to be anchored to decorative "medallions" by the ties, and of course it would require some zhoozhing* to hang properly. Essentially they are 2 giant rectangles of fabric that are sewn together with fabric ties inserted at each end, but on opposite sides of the rectangles - that way when it is hung, you tie up one side, then pull up the other tie and get the twist. Like magic!
There are 2 of these to go with the quilt and pillow. And I am so happy they are DONE!! Now I will get some money** to buy Christmas presents, hooray!
That's not where the work ends, however. I also have 2 oak leaf applique wallhangings to make for the shop but I think I deserve a break to work on personal projects. I have denim for a little fall jumper for Daughter, and some baby gift stuff to complete. There will also be knitting to show very soon, as I've been working on a cotton cardigan for Daughter. Knitting with the cotton hurts my hands and wrists, though, so it's slow going. Stay tuned.
And just because she's so darned cute, here's a photo of Daughter from our trip to the park this morning:
*You know, zhoozh. Like how the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy people adjust sleeves and stuff, to make them look right.
**For those who don't know, I used to work at a Bernina dealership/quilt shop, and now I sew store and class samples at home.
I'm so glad you all love Mr. Rogers as much as we do. Did you watch him today? I was wondering the whole time if that yellow cable sweater he was wearing was knit by his mother. She knitted a sweater a month, apparently. Here is a great bio if you want to read more about Mr. Rogers.
Well, I definitely do not knit a sweater a month, but I have been makin' stuff.
Ann Norling "fruit" hat pattern - pumpkin hat for Daughter.
Yarn: leftovers, yeah! Most of a skein of Knitpicks Wool of the Andes in carrot, and leftover WotA in Fern from Daughter's Secret Garden sweater. I think these are really good pumpkin colors (despite one being called carrot).
I think it goes nicely with the purple blanket sleeper, don't you?
I was going to share some sewing progress today but I'm almost done with one of the projects (a pillow) that completes the quilt/pillow/window treatment combo, so I will wait until tomorrow.
I'm so glad you liked those blogs I wrote about the other day. Their lives look so pretty, don't you think? It's like reading Better Homes & Gardens magazine. You know there are dirty dishes in the sink and bills stacked up on the counters, but they hide it well, don't they?
On my own home front, we're officially into that early fall weather pattern where it's 70 during the day but in the 40s at night. It occurred to me yesterday that all of Daughter's hats from last year will most likely be too small to fit her this winter. So of course, I had to rectify the situation.
There she goes...
Well, that's a little better...
Sorry, neither of those is remotely clear. The child does not stop moving long enough to get a photo these days. We spent so much time encouraging her to walk and now we can't get her to sit down.
Anyway, it's a basic hat, knitted in the round. The specs:
Yarn: Sensations Bellezza Collection "Tesoro" in cream (100% wool), 1 ball + a few yards of another ball
Needles: US 7 circular and dpns
Pattern: My own - cast on 88 stitches, join, knit. I decreased based on how it looked on her head. Nothing too sophisticated about it.
I still have to weave the ends in, but she won't take it off. I can't blame her - this is some of the softest yarn I've ever worked with.
I call it the Mr. Rogers hat because I cast on yesterday during Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, and finished today while watching it again. Yes, I am a fool for nostalgia and I make my kid watch Mr. Rogers with me on a daily basis. I love that man.
I've been sewing like a nut (paid projects) and will be back to show you all of it in a few days. Have a nice weekend!
...it's such a good feeling, to know you're alive
it's such a happy feeling, you're growing inside
and when you wake up ready to say, "I think I'll make a snappy new day"
it's such a good feeling, a very good feeling, the feeling you know
that I'll be back, when the day is new
and I'll have more ideas for you
and you'll have things you'll want to talk about
I will too...
Well. I feel awfully naked after that last one. I don't even have an appropriate response to the kind comments and emails I've received, so I won't try. I just thank you for reading it and sharing in my experience. It wasn't my intention to upset anyone - I know there are people who have gone through the same or a similar experience. And I know the tone I used might not reverberate with everybody out there. But it's how I have to speak (or write) about it to get the words out. In fact, I find that blunt honesty is my best way to communicate my feelings these days. Once people hear what happened, they feel really bad and also awkward, because they don't know what to say or how to express their feelings toward me and my family. So when they ask how I feel I just tell them. I say, "it sucks...it's the worst." And people visibly relax, because there it is. It sucks, they know it, I know it, we all know it.
I don't know what else to say about it right now, and I don't really feel it's appropriate to launch into yapping about my projects after what I've just said, so instead I'd like to give you something else that's nice to read and look at. I love these girls because they calm me and inspire me. Their blogs are well written, filled with joy and heartache (but mostly joy) and the photography is stunning.
Knitting Iris - fantastic photos. She blows my mind every day with what she sees through the lens. She also does beautiful knitting and crafts with her adorable kids.
Soule Mama - if you don't read her, you totally should. She captures the best pictures and stories about her three beautiful children, and her crafting is wild.
Wee Wonderfuls - I just came upon this a week or so ago. Beautiful everything at this site. It knocks me out and makes me want to craft till my fingers fall off.
Posie Gets Cozy - just go there and look. Amazing. Inspiring. Beautiful.
Hook & Needles - If you sew, this blog will wow you.
Yarnstorm - again with the beautiful photos. Jane knits and quilts and bakes and paints her house in fantastic colors. She also keeps hens in her garden. I think that's neat.
Please note these are just a few of the bazillion blogs I read each day. There are many, many more and they are all wonderful, but these really stand out for me and reading them has helped brighten my days in the last few weeks. If you don't already visit them, you might want to.
Interestingly, these are not the people who "know" me. I figure all you sweet people who come here and comment have probably already checked each other out. You know who you are and you know that I read you. The links above are outside my "circle" of blog "friends," if you know what I mean. I just lurk around them because I like what they make and do.
I'm off to the sewing machine. Lots to do.
Well, since you all have pretty much given me permission to say what I want, I guess I will.***
This week I would have been 36 weeks pregnant. I know this because I wrote the week count in my datebook on every Wednesday, stopping at 38 weeks. Daughter was born at 38 weeks, so I thought it reasonable that this child might come early as well. The October page still has "due date" written in, and "BABY!" written across the top. What do you do with that sort of thing? Cross it out? That doesn't seem right. So I've left it alone, and maybe I just won't look at my datebook for the month of October.
At this point, 4 weeks before my due date, I was planning to pack my bag. Again, because our first child was early, and also because one of the side effects of the medication I took during the first 5 months of the pregnancy is pre-term labor. I figured I should be ready, just in case.
***
During what was to become the final week of my pregnancy, I thought it seemed the baby was moving less. Yes, really, this is not just a hindsight thing, I really thought it. But I figured, no way, everything is fine, we've made it through so much already...my little trooper and I were just fine. I was having what I now understand were early contractions, which made me keep thinking she was moving in there. I'd feel a lump under my ribs and assume it was her little foot, or hand, or head. It was, but not because of a kick or a movement. Just a contraction moving my body around hers.
For some reason, all that week, I pestered my husband to take Friday and Monday off. I thought a long weekend would be fun, and the weather was supposed to be fantastic. I wanted him to go to the doctor with me, and then we could have some family bonding time.
Friday, August 11, was a beautiful day. We got snagged in some construction - and there was also an accident right in the construction zone - so we were a little late to my 10:45 appointment. I apologized to the nurse who took me in, and we chatted about dumb stuff. She asked me for a urine sample, weighed me, took my blood pressure. She asked about the baby's movement. I explained that I thought she was moving a little less, and more deliberately, probably due to her size. She must be getting bigger, I said, at 31 weeks it must be getting tight in there. She agreed and took me to a room, and brought my husband and daughter in.
The doctor came in and asked how I was feeling. We chatted, and bantered about guessing the weight of the baby. I seemed bigger this time, I said, so how big did he think the baby would be? Haha, we laughed, and he squirted that goop on the heartbeat monitor. I laid back, and he started to listen for her heartbeat. Hmmmm. Couldn't find it. We were still in good humor. Where was she hiding? Let's try higher. Now lower. Maybe over here. The doctor felt my belly to figure out where the baby was positioned. When he turned the monitor back on we heard a fast heartbeat - but it was mine. My pulse was through the roof because suddenly, I knew things were very bad. The doctor said, ok, let's get you over in the sonogram room. We'll check things out.
We had to go hang in the waiting room until the sonogram machine was available. There were 3 other pregnant women sitting out there.
A few minutes later we were called in. There were 2 nurses in the room with the doctor. What?
I laid down again. He squirted the stuff, turned on the machine. I felt sick. I knew.
"I'm sorry," he said.
***
If you are me, here is how it goes from that point:
You stagger from the doctor's office in disbelief. Your baby is dead. It is all you can think as you try to walk. You have been told to go straight to the hospital, where labor will be induced. You cannot believe you have to go through labor and delivery now. NOW. RIGHT NOW.
You call your parents, who are at that moment driving from Chicago to Des Moines for a wedding. You have cursed cell phones in the past, but are so thankful for them at that moment. You half-sob, half-scream the news to your mom, who for one horrifying moment thinks you are telling her you are having the baby right now, and then finally understands that's not quite the case. No mom, no. There is no more baby. The baby died. Please come home.
You drop off your daughter at your in-laws and head downtown. Somehow, your husband is driving, crying, and trying to comfort you at the same time. You arrive at the hospital, and stagger in, red-faced, crying, shaking. It is broad daylight and people are everywhere. You don't care, and vaguely realize this must be what "being in shock" feels like.
The hospital staff is expecting you. They have you sign 2 forms and quickly usher you to room 6, at the end of the hallway. You think things will happen right away. You are wrong.
Everyone is so gentle with you. The nurses get you set up with a gown and help you into bed. You are sobbing uncontrollably.
A resident comes in to do a scan, just to confirm. Maybe there is a mistake! You know there is not, but you hope for a few minutes. He squirts the stuff, turns on the machine. No, there is no mistake.
"I'm sorry," he says.
For the next 5 hours you are visited by many well-meaning people. You wish they would all go away and just let the doctors get the induction started already. First the nurse assigned to you sits with you and s l o w l y goes over everything that will happen. They will give you a suppository that makes the cervix dilate. You will wait 4-6 hours, and they will check your progress. Some people need one dose, some need up to four. It could take up to 20 hours for things to get going. Then maybe you will need pitocin to make your uterus contract. We'll see.
The nurse tells you all this, then leaves you alone to be with your thoughts.
You are visited by the hospital chaplain, with whom you sit in a lot of uncomfortable silence. He prays with you and for you, and assures you that the baby can - and will - be baptized right there at the hospital.
You are visited by a bereavement nurse. She is so kind it makes you cry even harder. She explains what will happen again, and you want to tell her that quite frankly, you understand. You just want to get it over with now. But she is so gentle and sweet that you just cry and nod as she talks. She explains the bereavement program and brings you literature. She also brings in several lovely handpainted boxes for you to choose from, to hold your memories. Then she presents you with a choice of burial gowns and bonnets, booties and blankets. From these you are invited to choose the first and last outfit your baby will ever wear.
Everyone keeps asking if you have a name picked out for the baby. You make the decision you'd been waiting to make until you saw her, and suddenly she is named.
Your original nurse comes back in and apologetically asks you to sign paperwork authorizing an autopsy. She asks you about burial. Burial? Oh sweet Jesus. Burial??
Throughout this, your husband sits by your side and hands you tissues. He is in shock too. He fields the phone calls from your parents as they try desperately to get from the middle of the highway in Iowa to an airplane that will bring them home.
Finally, 5 hours after your arrival, a resident comes in to give you the medication that will make everything happen. You are then hooked up to that uncomfortable contraction monitor around the belly. You notice the silence. There are supposed to be 2 belts, one for contractions and one for the baby's heartbeat. You wear only one.
To everyone's surprise but your own, contractions start in earnest. You understand this is because your baby has been dead for days, and your body knew it. Fast forward several hours, and your body is doing everything on its own after only one dose of medication...it knows what to do.
You are given an epidural quite early. There is no reason not to have it. The doctor who gives it to you really stinks at it and it hurts. He gives you way too much and your chest becomes numb. You shake uncontrollably and struggle for air. You vomit, but can't really control the sensations that make you vomit because you are numb almost to the neck. The epidural is turned down and you can breathe again. They give you more fluids and you stop feeling nauseous.
You start to think that this really must be a nightmare. It cannot really be happening.
Your parents arrive. It is the middle of the night and everyone is exhausted. You, your husband, and your parents all try to sleep a little while you wait. A resident comes in to check you. 4 centimeters. This is taking forever. You are so sad you think you might just die. For real.
Within moments of this last check, your body apparently goes into overdrive. You feel a popping sensation and pain. You holler, and tell your husband to get someone. The resident and your overnight nurse come in and discover you are delivering your baby. Your parents leave the room, and a bevy of nurses come in. You are scared and crying uncontrollably. Your husband holds your hand and tries to get you to look at his face, but you can't. You just keep crying, "no, no, no" as your tiny, tiny baby slips from your body. It is 3:30 a.m. The nurse says, "your baby is here." You say, "no...now it has to be real. Now it has to be real."
Your baby is cleaned off and brought to you, wrapped in a blanket, wearing a hat. She is so perfect and so beautiful that for a moment you forget she is not alive. You will her to breathe as your tears fall onto her tiny face. She has one eye open and you know it is so she can see you, so she can get a good look at her mama. No, she is not breathing, she is not alive, but it isn't creepy and it isn't weird. She is your baby. That's all there is.
You kiss her over and over, and tell her all about the life she would have had. You tell her about her big sister, her grandmas and grandpas, her aunts and uncles. You tell her how much you love her, again and again, so she will know. The nurses are crying. Your parents come in and see her. They sob and sob. You realize you are sweating, soaking wet under your hospital gown, where you are clutching her tiny body.
You don't know how long you sit there with her. You are told you can have all the time you need. But how much time is enough time? You need her forever.
Finally, you hand her to the nurse. She gently, carefully unwraps your precious baby and places her on the scale. She speaks to her softly, lovingly. You notice and are so thankful.
They take the baby away and your parents go home. You and your husband fall into fitful sleep. Finally, he goes home to try and get some rest, and you sleep a little too.
When you wake up the sun is shining, the room is bright. You look around you in numb disbelief. The monitors are off, the IV is disconnected. It's over.
***
The day after, the baby is brought back and she is baptized. You sit in your bed wearing a hospital gown, holding your sweet child. Your husband is there next to you. A nurse and hospital chaplain are there. If you are me, your dad is there too. When it is finished, you kiss her one last time, tell her how much you love her, and then she is gone.
You go home. The nurse wheels you out in a wheelchair. You have a pretty box on your lap that holds baby clothes - to be given to the funeral home so they can dress the baby - and a set of footprints. The last thing you hear as you are wheeled down the hall is the sound of mothers in labor behind the other closed doors.
***
Your milk comes in. It hurts. A lot.
There is no relief. You just have to wait for it to go away.
***
The funeral is on Tuesday. You get up, get dressed, bathe your child, dress her, and get in the car. You drive to the church and see all the people standing outside, all family and friends. You don't want to talk to any of them. Your husband parks the car and you practically run into the church, alone, and stand sobbing over the tiny white casket. Later you find out all your husband's co-workers were already sitting in the church. Oops.
The mass is beautiful. The priest, the man who married you and baptized your first child, performs the service with tears in his eyes. He clutches a handkerchief and speaks from his heart. You are so grateful to him for this.
At the cemetary your mom has to practically lift you out of the car, because your baby is in a little box and your brain will not accept that. You make it to the side of the grave and stare at the casket as the prayers are said. Then you rise, turn, and walk away, leaving part of yourself behind.
***
When you give birth to a stillborn child, it is like someone walks up to you, rips your heart out, stomps all over it, shoves it back in, and says, "there you go. Carry on." At first you just stand there, shocked, not believing it could happen to you. But sooner or later the pain starts seeping from your heart to the rest of your body and mind. It is pain like you've never known.
Is there medicine for this pain? Sure. But it's not something someone can prescribe for you. It doesn't come off a shelf. The only way to get it is to make it yourself, from the things in your life.
For me, the "medicine" is made up of the people and things and activities that I love. A huge part of me is missing, and I have to make it up, rebuild it. I don't know what I would do without Daughter, who knew something was amiss and offered up a million kisses in the days following the funeral. She took off walking on the 17th, and I felt such joy at her accomplishment - more joy than I might have felt otherwise, because my heart needed to feel happiness so very badly. And my husband, with whom I disagree on a somewhat regular basis, and who doesn't mow the lawn as often as I think he should, and who tends to make a mess in the bathroom right after I clean it...well, I thank God for him too, because he is the kindest man I have ever known. His love and support were (and are) the biggest part of my healing process. We mourn together, and we find hope together.
And though it sounds dorky, I knit and I sew to help me heal as well. Actually, I guess it doesn't sound dorky. It's just another form of therapy. I have been doing both for over 20 years, and it feels normal and right to sit at the sewing machine or to have knitting needles in my hands. Making stuff is a part of who I am. Why else would my daughter, at barely 17 months, know exactly what to do with knitting needles?
In the first few days I couldn't knit, couldn't concentrate on a pattern, couldn't make my hands work together. Of course, I could barely sit up straight and really couldn't even speak without starting to cry, so I probably expected too much of myself if I thought I could knit. At first this scared me, because I thought, it's second nature to me...what do I do if I can't even do this? But it slowly came back to me, and the result is what probably looked like a frenzy to all of you, but really was just a report on all I'd been doing over several weeks.
So. I don't know what else to say. I hesitate to push "publish" on this one because it is DEEPLY personal and was so hard to write. You should see the pile of tissues here on the couch next to me. But I have spoken (written?) my heart, and there you have it.
Thanks for the nice comments about my cutie-patootie child. Yes, I predict she will be knitting as soon as we can make her understand that the pointy ends don't go in your eyes...or anywhere near the face for that matter. Also, yes, she is getting big. So big. She is turning into a real "kid" now and leaving babyhood behind.
Some of you have also commented and emailed checking on me and my emotional state. Welp, this is a tough week. All the stuff on tv about 9/11 is so sad, and of course Tuesday marked one month since baby Beth was born. That's hard...very hard. I also finally spoke to a bereavement nurse from the hospital (they have called several times to check on us and I keep missing the calls), and she told me the baby's photos and plaster foot impressions are in. So in a couple weeks we are going to get those. That will be tough too. Nothing about this situation is easy, but please know I am doing ok. Not great, but ok. Your comments, emails, and prayers are still (and always) appreciated. It is so comforting to know that people are thinking of us.
My old boss came through with work for me, and I am now buried under a mountain of sewing. Not that I mind - it keeps me quite busy and will result in a nice paycheck.
I do have lots of thoughts rattling around in my head, but don't want to constantly hit all you nice people with a barrage of sad/bitter/unpleasant stuff. You've been so nice and I don't want to wear out my welcome. I'll probably be away for a few more days what with all the work I have to do, so that will give me time to gather myself together and return with something that makes sense.
I hope I can get this scarf done before the weather turns cold.
Just one more row before breakfast, ok Mom?
*disclaimer: no, I do not usually let my child play with knitting needles. please do not call cps.
World's most beautiful child.
Wearing world's ugliest necktie.
This cold is kicking my butt. I'm pretty sure I haven't been sick since Daughter was born, and apparently there is a virus exacting sweet, sweet revenge on my body. It's really putting me in quite a mood (see: yesterday).
I'm kind of dragging myself around, but mustered up enough energy to finish some projects.
The wee baby dress is done.
The back.
Closeup of the back. The knitting looks all crookedy here, but in real life it is not.
Specs:
Pattern: Leisure Arts "Special Baby Outfits" leaflet #2329
Yarn: Stylecraft WonderSoft Baby 4 Ply
Needles: US sizes 2 and 3
Mods: I had to hand sew twill tape into the hem part of the dress because it was curling up quite badly. It still doesn't lay as flat as I would like, but I suppose it will do. It will be packed away for quite some time anyway, so it will have time to flatten out.
Wee flannel pants. These are so flipping adorable I want to eat them. The pink ones were finished over the weekend so Daughter has already worn them. She really has enough winter clothes for this year, but I want to make more of these - they are so ridiculously easy and fast. I think they each took 45 minutes start to finish. And at 5/8 yard they are CHEAP! I love thriftiness, especially for kid clothes that are just going to get beat up anyway.
Specs:
Pattern: New Look "easy" #6175
Fabric: Flannel from Joann Fabrics
Mods: None, really. I made the largest size but put in a deep hem because my kid is petite. I probably could have gotten away with the medium. Also, I serged the heck out of every raw edge because this is cheap flannel and it frays a lot.
As I mentioned the other day, I have another 5/8 yard (at least) of the pink flannel left. If you want it, email me and let me know. I can send you a better picture if you'd like.
Methinks the wee child has awakened from her nap. Guess crafting/blogging time is over for today.
It was sort of a rough weekend. Hub and Daughter were fighting colds, so no one was in a particularly good mood. It was also rainy and gray outside so that didn't help. Now I have the cold and they are getting better.
My emotions have been running high (or low, depending on how you look at it), and I found myself crying in bed for the past few nights. I feel so...untethered, I guess. Like I'm casting about for something to hold onto, to cement me to the everyday. It's an uncomfortable feeling, this flailing around. I guess that's why I am crafting like a maniac. It's not so I can't grieve, because believe me, I am doing that. I spend more time than I've admitted just lying in a crumpled, sniveling heap on my bed with a pile of tissues beside me. I cry in the shower, in the car at red lights, in the parking lot at Target, even right here in front of the computer screen. I try to keep it from Daughter because it freaks her out to see me in tears. Anyway, I create with my hands so there is concrete evidence of time passing. So I can look at the stuff I've made and say, oh yes, I remember. That's what I did for the past X hours, days, weeks. I've started a daily 'Journal of Daughter' as well, for the same reasons. I need to write down all the things we do each day so I will remember the positive things that are happening even while I am so sad.
I sort of knew it would happen, but it still burns me a little how everyone else can just kind of let this drift out of their minds. Everyone else can go on with their lives and pretty much forget what has happened. But I can't. I never, ever will be able to just forget and go on with my life as if there was never a baby Elizabeth.
I find myself thanking God for Daughter about ten thousand times a day. Here are a couple reasons why:
One of these things is not like the other...one of these things just doesn't belong...
Do you see it?
Let's see...Beaker, coupla' Eeyores, dolly, blanket...wait. What's that?
Yep, that's the 2 skeins of sock yarn I blogged about the other day. Daughter has been hauling them around all afternoon, and I guess she thought they might like to rest in the crib with her stuffies. Cracked me up when I found them.
Also, I don't know if you're all aware of this, but oven mitts are on ALL the runways this fall. This is the stained floral version from that most famous house of fashion, Tar-zhay, being modeled by my wee child. She found this and wore it around all yesterday afternoon. I laughed and laughed. And took photos to embarrass her when she is older.
We went to the beach this morning with some friends. They are charter members of the Early Risers Club, and we are so not, but we still managed to meet them at about 9:00. The cool thing about a beach at 9:00 am on a not-so-warm day? NOBODY THERE. I have never seen a completely deserted beach in my life. It was pretty awesome. Very peaceful.
So those are the little joys in my life today. Unfortunately Hub and Daughter seem to have colds right now, so I spent a lot of today chasing my poor kid around with a tissue. This is her first cold, believe it or not. Over 16 months with no illness! And it's going to pour rain all weekend and only be 60 degrees...since they're both sick it sounds like excellent family bonding/sleeping in/napping/crafting time to me. I think I'll spend tomorrow in my pajamas.
Gotta run - since none of you showed up with any casseroles this week* I have to make some dinner.
*haha, no, I didn't really expect anyone to bring me a casserole.
