april: 2009 vs. 2012

I was looking back through pictures, seeing if anything would inspire a Way Back When-sday post today. That's when I happened upon April 2009 (because I organize my photos by year/month). The pictures started dredging up some old memories, so I cross-referenced with my blogs from April 2009. And then I very quickly realized-- even though so far this April is pretty lame (hemorrhagic cyst and a week of bedrest, anyone? Fourth consecutive April of wanting and not having a baby? Pick your reason that this April is lame)...it definitely kicks April '09's ass.

Because in April '09, we were buying a house. This house, actually. And it was terrible. And it reminds me of why I'm SO GLAD I BLOG HONESTLY: so that I don't remember things incorrectly and make stupid mistakes, like thinking about ever moving and buying another house. I had almost forgotten how awful homebuying was. My memory has started to gloss over the stress and the agony of it all, and I just have a vague remembrance of signing lots of forms and then owning a house that needed a LOT of work to become habitable. I had almost forgotten the misery of it all.  

And misery it was. In April 2009, I was stressed. I was over it. And I was being stalked by people in San Antonio.

And so even though April 2012 hasn't really been anything worth writing home about so far, I am now simply content to know that it could be way worse. It could still be April 2009. Or something like it. And it's also nice sitting here knowing that it worked out. The stresses of April '09? They resolved. We got the house. It all got figured out. And so what seemed like a hot and never-ending mess in 2009 has now faded to a dim memory a mere 3 years later, as I lay in the house I fought for and stressed over. And somehow this gives me hope that one day I will be able to look back at all of this-- the struggles of this day/era-- and maybe the pain will have faded, the struggles will all be counted as 'worth it', and I'll be thankful for old pictures and blogs to remind me of what I've come through. Because right now I can't really imagine a time where the sadness and hurt of infertility won't permeate every minute of every day. But back then, I felt the same way about buying a house. And even though it's not the same thing...it still gives me hope. 

And now I'm about to go REALLY cheesy on you and drop a QUOTE out-- but seriously, I don't even have to look this one up. It's a quote my friend James (husband of Kristina) used to say/write all the time, and he wrote it on the mat of our engagement photo that people signed at our rehearsal dinner, which is hanging on the wall of my room...so I read it frequently. The quote comes from The Shawshank Redemption, and I'm not bothering to go look it up, so if I'm slightly off then you'll just have to forgive me.

Hope is a good thing, maybe one of the best things. And no good thing ever dies.

new life

I know-- that's probably the corniest, most cliche day-after-Easter blog title ever. Unless you happen to be announcing a pregnancy, of course. Which I am not. But anyway-- it's appropriate, trust me.

Easter-- despite insisting that we pose in the flower bed next to a rose bush, my mother managed to capture NO flowers...but it's the best shot we got, so whatev. :) Enjoy my fantastic siding (sarcasm) as a backdrop instead!

So I'm finally feeling a lot better. Not 100%, but not like death, either, which is a vast improvement over last week. My week of bedrest was rather boring, although I tried to think of useful things to do with my time that did not involve moving (much). Like rereading the Hunger Games trilogy...and learning new technology! I got a Kindle! Unfortunately, I have no desire to read anything other than HG, so the Kindle isn't much use to me (since my HG books are in paper-book-form) yet...but I downloaded a bunch of stuff anyway, just in case my mood ever changes.

Also, they released Instagram for Android!! Woohoo! This was very exciting because I feel like I've been missing out on something big, but now I don't have to. So that is why you should follow me and let me follow you or whatever we do there...I'm ErikaB543. Look me up, yo. I promise to try to take pictures of things other than my dog and my flowers...someday.

SPEAKING of my flowers...

So I suck at bedrest. God help me if I'm ever on it FOR REAL, like the life of my unborn child(ren) depend on it...I will try to suck at it less than I did last week. I got SO TIRED of just laying there! But I really had nothing to do and nowhere to go, so there wasn't even much point in getting up-- not to mention the excruciating pain that came whenever I attempted walking. That was a downer. But anyway, every few hours I wanted to "check" and see if I was getting better, so I would make a lap around the outside of the house, monitoring all my precious babies (aka plants/flowers). And I swear-- it was the best week EVER for doing this every-few-hours-monitoring, because honest to God, something changed like every time I went out. The crazy things are growing/blooming so fast you can notice progress throughout the course of the day!! So that was very exciting for me and gave me good excuses to man up the pain and walk around outside. Also, on more than one occasion I simply sat on the porch glider and stared at flowers, wondering if I could actually SEE them growing if I stared long enough. Apparently pain medication makes you think weird things. And you can't, by the way. See flowers growing. 

Anyway, wanna admire some of the beauty I'm obsessing over? If not, then I would like to suggest that you look at these in the spirit of "she's a barren, miserable, childless woman who pours her heart and soul into her flowers and anthropomorphizes them and actually believes they are her children" and pretend this is my "here's all the cute things we did/wore for Easter" post and respond accordingly (ie: "your azaleas are sooooo cute in pink!!!"). And also remember that I'm trying to figure out my Big Girl Camera still, and am pretty proud of the fact that these were all shot in semi-manual (aperture setting)!!

 You can go ahead and color me OBSESSED with my phlox (above and below)-- they are SO PRETTY!!! Each one is different and perfect and they look fabulous in a vase! LOVE THEM!!!

  
Look, a baby lima bean is sprouting! What a cutie!

  
Variegated weigela:

Knock-out roses:

 Azaleas WITH the morning dew still on them, thankyouverymuch...

 OK, that's all I'll torture you with for now. But don't worry!! Even though I've gone back to work this week, I'm making my morning, afternoon, and evening rounds to make sure I know the minute anything changes on the flower front, so I'll be sure to keep you posted!
 

the old man

Today is Matt's 29th birthday! Hooray for him catching up in numbers with me!

I don't have any cute baby pictures of him to share, but I can assure you that he was a cute baby. And he's a really cute grown man. :)

In case I don't brag on him enough, let me do it for just a minute right now: Matt is the bomb. If you think your husband is the best, then you are wrong- unless you are also secretly married to Matt, in which case we have a big problem and I retract my previous claim.

These past few days Mattie has been a champ as I've been a worthless, whiney lump under the weather. Even in the hospital-- not a place he's a fan of, given his irrational fear of band-aids and all-- he was constantly by my side, at my beck and call, making 1am phone calls to our parents at my request (not his idea of fun)...he was the best. He is the best. And I'm sorry that I'm not feeling MY best to help him celebrate his day, but such is life.

I feel like I should say more, but my brain is foggy right now and I'm not sure that I can make things make sense. If you need a little more Mattie in your day, then I recommend you read (or re-read) his interview from last summer-- chock full of all the questions, answers, and pictures your heart is desiring!

Happy birthday, Mattie!

heavy baby

First of all- thanks for your prayers and support over the past few days! I was feeling a bit better yesterday, but last night had some pretty horrible sudden pain during the night- possibly one of those masses rupturing?...so today I'm experiencing a little setback/good bit of pain. Which leaves me stuck on the couch again, with nothing to do but blog...


Today's story comes to you in the spirit of Way Back When-sday. I can only say "in the spirit" because it's just a story-- no pictures. Well, there may be pictures somewhere (like at my parents' house), but I don't have them. Therefore I will do my best to paint a picture with my words.


I thought of this story yesterday when Allison and I were discussing the possibility of her mailing her annoying dog to me and how much that would torture the postal service workers that would have to listen to him whine from Texas to Georgia. This is a story that has absolutely nothing to do with me, as it is actually about my sister when she was a toddler. But it's a story my parents love to tell and I love to hear it-- hopefully you'll get a kick out of it, too.


So back in the late 80s, my sister was a wee little 2 or 3 year old and was absolutely obsessed with baby dolls. Now don't get me wrong- this obsession continued until she was at least in high school. But at the age of 2 or 3, when this story takes place, her obsession was considered age-appropriate, cute, and catered to by every present-buying person who knew her. She had a lot of 'babies.'


For one holiday or another, my Nana and Poppie presented Sarah with that ultimate gift of all gifts: a talking doll. (Note: I DID do a quick Google image search to see if I could find a picture of this doll. Go Google "1980s talking dolls" and see if you can sleep tonight. I dare you.) This doll was a large plastic thing that required something like 8 D batteries to help her do her thing. Therefore this doll was named "Heavy Baby" by my sister, for obvious reasons. It probably outweighed her.


Heavy Baby wasn't particularly cute, being entirely made of hard plastic, but boy did she talk. And talk. And talk. I'm not sure if Heavy Babies had some kind of sensor that let them know when it was a good time to chat it up or not, but our Heavy Baby was definitely an oversharing talk-a-holic. Her tinny voice could apparently be heard throughout our house at all hours of the day and night, and no one but Sarah could appreciate it.


But oh, how she appreciated it. Sweet little blonde Sarah just loved her Heavy Baby. She took her everywhere. She could not be bribed away to play with her other pretty (quiet) dolls. She only loved Heavy Baby. Which left my parents in a real conundrum, because Heavy Baby was annoying the CRAP out of them.


And then it happened. One day, Heavy Baby just stopped talking. Stopped! Fell silent. And Sarah was horrified. And my parents were thrilled. Secretly, of course. Because D batteries can only last for so long, and then there is blessed silence. We're so sorry, Sarah...but Heavy Baby is broken. You can still play with her and love on her, though! She just can't talk anymore. You see, Sarah didn't have much concept of batteries or what-not. She really thought Heavy Baby was broken. And my parents (justifiably so, in my opinion) just let her believe that. She had TONS of babies. She would get over Heavy Baby's vow of silence quickly, or just move on to another doll.


But get over it she could not. And eventually, my sweet grandparents heard about the demise of Heavy Baby-- from Sarah. That the beloved Heavy Baby was broken and could no longer speak. And about how Sarah's life had basically ended.


Infuriated,-- don't they make things that last anymore???--my grandfather did what any grandfather would do: immediately ran out and purchased a new Heavy Baby for his beloved granddaughter and shipped it. They live in Texas, you see...and we were all the way out in Georgia. 


My parents, however, did not know about Poppie's purchase. They only knew that one evening the doorbell rang and it was the UPS guy. Upon opening the door, they found a very agitated UPS guy. Not very friendly. Definitely on edge of-- shall we say-- going postal?


"Here!!" he rudely exclaimed as he shoved a large box at my dad.


"Ohh? Um, thanks..." my parents were puzzled, as they had not ordered anything lately and were not expecting any shipments.


"That...that thing...whatever is in that box...it has been making noise CONSTANTLY since I picked up this load in Atlanta. I hope that whatever it is, you know how to get it to stop."


And then my parents knew. Heavy Baby the Second, on their very doorstep.


A sinking feeling set in on their hearts as they knew what they were in for. 


But Sarah?? She couldn't have been any happier. She now had TWO Heavy Babies to lug around. And I guess my parents learned an important lesson about underestimating the resourcefulness of their kids. I'm guessing that the next time Heavy Baby's batteries died, they either told the truth or replaced them. No need to further torture the UPS guy.


The end.