Pete Ashdown and Six Tablespoons of Blood

Pete Ashdown

The other day a friend of ours noticed the Pete Ashdown sign in our yard. (Pete Ashdown is running against Orrin Hatch here in Utah in this year’s race for the US Senate, by the way).

Ashdown doesn’t stand a chance in hell of winning? You know that all these silly Democrats are really fooling themselves if they really think that he does.

Whether he does or he doesn’t stand a chance in hell, don’t you think it is important for someone out there to at least try to break the Orrin Hatch Dynasty? Wouldn’t it suck if everyone just sat on their asses and complacently accepted the status quo? Don’t you think it is important to at least have hope, hope that someday, someone, like Pete Ashdown, may actually defeat Orrin Hatch?

Thankfully, our friend is not someone who takes things sitting down. Instead, he is a person who actually knows how to make change and knows how to get my goat. Nevertheless, his Pete Ashdown vs. Orrin Hatch comments got me thinking. . .

And thinking is all l I have been doing since I saw the empty embryonic sac on my ultra-sound.

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Goodbye SpongeBob

And this is how we start to heal . . .

Easy E

It was late in the afternoon last Friday. I was tired, and tired of being in bed. I had passed more blood than I thought one person should pass. I was crampy, hazy and getting tired of the nothing that was on television. I was sick of sleeping and my head hurt too much to read, so I did what any person might do, I started organizing the stored shows on my TIVO (DVR). As I scrolled down, I realized that we would never ever finish watching Nick Nolte in the fabulous 1979 hit, North Dallas Forty, and it was time to say goodbye. I scrolled to the right spot, pressed “enter,” and when I was asked if I really wanted to “delete this selection,” I selected “yes,” and with one click, the movie was gone. I continued scrolling through our many randomly saved shows until I noticed a recording from several months back. It was a Coldplay performance on Austin City Limits. With Chris Martin and Fix You fresh on my brain, I decided I must take a look. I listened for a few seconds and then began fast-forwarding through their set until I saw Michael Stipe. I couldn’t remember what he and Chris Martin were singing together from the last time I watched. Obviously, I had to know, so I stopped fast-forwarding. Immediately, as I pushed “play,” I recognized the song. It is one of my favorites: Joseph Arthur’s In the Sun.

. . . Don’t know anymore
What it’s for
I’m not even sure
If there is anyone who is in the sun
Will you help me to understand
Cause I been caught in between all I wish for and all I need
Maybe you’re not even sure what it’s for
Any more than me

May god’s love be with you
Always
May god’s love be with you . . .

If you haven’t noticed, and what I too am learning about myself, is that I seem to be somewhat of a lyrical healer. I don’t quite understand why, but words in a song often squeeze their way right into the locked-down places of my heart. It is weird.

So this Michael Stipe and Chris Martin rendition of In the Sun has been playing in my head all week long. I keep hearing, “May God’s love be with you always, always . . .” It probably goes without saying, but whether you believe in God or think I am a nut for believing in something so intangible really isn’t the point. You see, as I listen to these words, I keep thinking how nice it is to feel like there is something out there greater than myself; maybe even something or someone, who actually knows my heart and knows my pain. Religion and politics aside, these healing thoughts are a tiny bit of what is helping me through.

Tangent done and back on my bed: I kept fast-forwarding through Coldplay’s set and land on their song, Fix You. Of course I listen. I listened and then I pushed “pause.” I hadn’t spent any time with the boys all day. My mom was doing a fantastic job of keeping them occupied and preventing them from jumping on my jumbled up uterus. I was missing them terribly.

Another Tangent: What I did not mention the other day is that when Eli grows up he wants to be a rock-star scientist. (Do you think he is trying to channel Buckaroo Banzai?) To help him achieve at least half of his career goals and when I just can’t handle listening to another kid’s CD, I will switch on some Mommy Music. Not so oddly enough, the boys have taken a liking to bands like Coldplay. Often when Fix You comes on Eli says,

“Now Mom, you are the drummer. I am the Katar (guitar) player and Kyle, you are the singer.”

We take our respective rock-star-buckled-safely-into-our-seats positions and usually end up singing our guts out. Literally my favorite part of our driving-rock-star-band is watching Eli from my rear-view mirror. I watch him as he intently listens for the guitar parts and strums along at just the right moment on his Electric Air Guitar. Nothing makes me happier then playing my Air Drums and singing my heart out in Eli’s rock and roll band, (even when both boys remind me to “stop singing” because I am the drummer and Kyle is actually the singer).

Back to Friday afternoon. Because I was missing the boys and because I knew they would recognize Fix You as soon as they heard the very first chord, I asked them to come see me. As Kyle walked into my room, he turned his head toward the television, looked up at the screen and giggled.

“Why is Daddy on the t.v.?”

We couldn’t stop laughing as Kyle realized that the man on the television set wasn’t actually Daddy, but a man who as Kyle said, “just looks like Daddy” (Chris Martin). (Oh, if I only looked like Gwyneth!)

I pushed “play,” and the boys both jumped on my bed, onto their feet and into their very best ROCK-STAR positions. The music starts and we all sing as we play our Air Instruments. This moment was absolutely, without question, the best part of the day; the day I had a miscarriage . . .

My week has been the craziest Roller Coaster ride of emotions. I think my personal emotional roller coaster ride is something akin to the Incredible Hulk. I have had great moments of hope and terrible hours of sadness. I am always surprised by the moments I cry and have been blown away by the support I have received here. I have sought solace in your words and am incredibly grateful for you. My friend Trace (who I met over the internet, by the way), just wrote about how the internet has become her social network and I am beginning to agree.

What I am learning is that miscarriage is kind of a black hole. So many women have them and even my own doctor says there has not been adequate research in finding out why. Because there are so many miscarriages that should happen (because of genetic problems, etc.), there is not enough research into the ones that should not happen. I am honestly not sure whether my miscarriage fits in the should or in the should not have happened category.

I am still so sad and confused, but just yesterday I was reading an article about miscarriage. I was reminded that before I move on, I need to see this little baby as a child that I was not able to have. I need to not only grieve my failed pregnancy, but I need to grieve this baby. Because miscarriage can be so abstract I have had a hard time seeing this for what it is: We lost a child, maybe a child that was not supposed to live, nevertheless, we lost him or her.

And then it occurred to me. With every pregnancy, we have given each baby a code-name (Dave is from the software industry, after all). Kyle’s was Seymour (I can’t even remember why we came up with Seymour, except that it was a funny name and people actually thought we were going to name Kyle Seymour), Eli’s was Elmo (to help Kyle connect with his new little brother — He was into Elmo at the time) and just last week Dave said,

“I think this baby is ready for his code-name. Kyle and Eli had one. I think we should call him SpongeBob,” (after Kyle and Eli’s favorite show, cartoon character, etc).

And so it was. Jut a few days before we found out about losing the pregnancy we started calling our baby SpongeBob.

So yesterday after reading the article about miscarriage, I decided I needed to really acknowledge not what I lost, but who I lost. I thought about it for a long time, took a deep breath and finally said out loud,

“Goodbye SpongeBob. Even though we really didn’t have a lot of time to get to know you, we would have loved having you in our family. Hey, and every time we look at pictures from our trip to Capitol Reef, we will always remember that you were there with us. We are still so sad that you couldn’t continue to be a part of our family. Eli tearfully told me how sad he is that he isn’t going to be a big brother and then Kyle joined in and told me how sad he is that he isn’t going to be a double big brother. We will all will miss you. We will always have the picture our friend took on the 4th of July. You can actually see my pregnant belly. When I look at that picture, I will always think of you. Goodbye little buddy. You will always be our SpongeBob.”

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ALWAYS, ALWAYS BACK UP YOUR COMPUTER!

The Boys Reston Town Center, VA

And this is why I have not been posting . . .

I am sitting hear in the kitchen amidst the strewn carnage of what was once my laptop. I can see the innards and I tell you what, they aren’t pretty.

You see, a few long days ago, my computer started acting funny. (Right now I am using Dave’s computer to write this.)

We thought it was my hard drive and because I have not backed it up in a long time, I thought that I had lost many of your emails and many of my photos. Dave spent two days trying to connect to my computer. Last night we threw our hands in the air and drove over to CompUSA and bought a new hard drive. Dave spent a few more hours taking apart my computer and installing the new hard drive.

Oh, did I mention that yesterday was our EIGHT YEAR ANNIVERSARY? We were too distracted to really care. He bought me flowers and I bought him new cereal bowls. Woo-hoo! I love you Dave. Instead, in celebrating, he was installing and I was staying out of his way. I felt so bad.

Finally, he came into our room and said,

“The NEW hard drive doesn’t work. The good news is that it is not your hard drive. We will eventually be able to get your pictures and email. The bad news is that your computer is hosed. I think it is your mother board.”

With that, I encouraged him to come watch a movie with me and celebrate our eight years together [wink, wink] and so we did.

If I owe you an email and I know that I owe many of them, now it is going to take even longer. I am praying that we can recover everything. I guess it just makes sense, my camera is already in the shop, so what’s losing the other most important gadget in my life?

P.S. I just had an idea. If you need to get ahold of me, post a comment.

Central Utah: We survived the blood-sucking, biting flies

We just got back from Capitol Reef/Boulder/Torrey, Utah. We had a great long weekend away. It is late and I need to get my body in bed. Until tomorrow please enjoy some pictures I took with our our Old School First Generation Pentax Optio-S point-and-shoot Digital Camera. Yes, my D70 is in the shop again. And I tell you what — it is a crazy day when my old Optio (with its dinosaur burst rate) focuses and takes a comparable picture to my newer and much more expensive Nikon D70.

Easy E. and our new friends, the Harley Riders: The Anasazi Museum, Boulder, Utah. Thank God we walked the tiny museum together. I felt like we were traveling with our very own crew from Mystery Science Theater 3000.

Here is a self-portrait of me kissing my new friend, Horse-Horse. We met and named Horse-Horse at the awesome lodge where we stayed our first night.

Dave, Eli and Kyle. Torrey, Utah.


If there is a Narnia on Earth, I think we found it here in Fruita, Utah (the edge of Capitol Reef National Park). We stood and watched as the deer watched us as all of us (the deer, Dave, me and the boys) ate the crazy purple berries off of the trees.

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Adams Family Dilemma #437

Easy E

Kyle has been downstairs for a few minutes while Dave is downstairs on a scary business call. I go downstairs and find the basement incredibly quiet. I look and look and finally see a little light coming from the basement bathroom. I find Kyle. He is pooping. (um, I know some of you out there don’t care much for poop stories, but I promise this one is clean — wink).

Hey buddy, I was wondering what you were doing?

Mom, I am pooping. Will you stay down here and keep me company?

(As the words left Kyle’s sweet lips, I was thinking to myself about the fact that I really needed to run upstairs to the other bathroom so I could do what he was doing.)

Kyle, I really need to go and check on Eli. Here is some toilet paper. It’s just the right amount.

(You see, Kyle gets nervous about plugging the toilet due to the one time he did after using up a roll of toilet paper in one sitting. Argh! Where were his parents?)

Mom, there are ten squares. Is ten squares the right amount?

Yep, you will be good.

Great! Thanks Mom.

The millisecond I know Kyle is all right, I sprint upstairs towards the other bathroom where I am met by Eli.

Mom.

Yes Eli?

I really need to poop.

And this is what I, as the mother, do when both boys need to poop: I wait.

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Two Pink Lines: The Beginning

Two Pink Lines
Two Pink Lines

Where do I begin?

I guess it was about a month ago. I was headed over with a requested (by Carol’s husband, Chris) a home-made vegetable cake for Carol’s birthday. This day is significant because according to my typical cycle, it was perfect timing for my period to start. I had my usual awful cramps and thought nothing of them. I almost stayed home, but instead, took a bunch of Advil, sucked it up and went over to celebrate my friend’s big day. Now looking back, I am guessing that these cramps were probably Implantation Cramps. Ah-ha!

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