chaoticbydesign

Barack Obama is going to be the next President. God help us all.

My little feathered baby, Casanova, is gone. He was just a few months shy of being three years old.

He seemed perfectly fine yesterday, was eating and drinking and talking like normal, but then tonight I find him at the bottom of his cage. I'm really not sure what happened and I can't help but wonder if somehow, I'm to blame.

I know I wasn't the perfect bird mom, but I loved him and I took care of him the best I could.

Goodbye, little sweetheart... I love you and I miss you.

CBS, you suck. First you cancel Moonlight, then you ruin one of my other favorite shows, CSI. I know that every season finale needs to have a monumental moment at the end, but... WARRICK?!? SERIOUSLY?!?!?

I hate you and I'm officially done with CSI. You still have me on CSI: Miami, but even my interest in that has been waning for the past season or so. For me, your only real redeeming quality Numb3rs.

Jenn: I was going to try and write some reply posts tonight for you, but my brain is broken and the creative side of my mind doesn't work when I'm this angry. I'm very sorry. Hopefully tomorrow night will be better.

We took Cameron to see Santa the other day. He didn't really know what was going on or who the strange old man in the red suit was, but the picture still turned out cute.



Christmas in general was wonderful. Good food, good company, good fun and I got lots of neat goodies. Yeah, I'm still a kid at heart when it comes to this holiday.

My husband's cat, Cassie, is very sick. She's stopped eating, lost more than half of her body weight and now is showing signs that her liver and/or kidneys are shutting down. Neither of us want her to suffer, so we've made the hard decision to have her put to sleep. That in and of itself is tough enough, but to add insult to injury, I was told that it's going to cost us around $100 to do so. And that's just for the injection!

We've already spent $300 (money we didn't really have) on Cassie trying to make her well, even though we knew from the beginning that it was probably a losing battle. I didn't mind that so much. She is part of the family and we were willing to make every effort to try and save her. Now, however, she's beyond saving and we're expected to shell out more money we don't have to end her suffering. And we will. I'm not going to let her be miserable just to save a buck. The money isn't really even the point. It's the fact that the vet is profiting on death. It's just... ghoulish.

Most days, I love my vet. She's kind, dedicated and takes extra time with pets and their owners. For that, I'm willing to pay for the high price of vet service. However, it would be nice if vets would give grieving owners a break when it comes to a terminally sick animal. Our hearts are already broken... is it really necessary to break our pocketbook too?

Cameron was only 9 days old on Halloween, but we couldn't resist dressing him up. He was (and is) our little teddy bear.

Cameron Alexander Reach
Born 10-22-2007 at 7:28 pm
8 lbs, 15 oz
20.75 inches.

I'm home, Cameron is home and we're all healthy. I'll post more later, along with pictures, but labor was really rough on me and I can't stay in a sitting position for more than just a few minutes.

I'm eight months pregnant and I'm fairly certain that I've got a cold. At first, I just attributed the sneezing and initial congestion to allergies, but now my whole head is stuffed up and I feel LOUSY. There's a limited list of medications I can take while I'm pregnant and the ones I can take for a cold have never worked worth a damn when I took them in the non-pregnant past. Wonderful. I guess I'll give them another try though. At this point, any amount of relief would be welcome.

Last month, I posted about how it was just a matter of time before my grandmother passed away. Last night was the time. Even when you know something like this is coming, you're never really prepared for it. This morning after I got the call, it was bad until I finally fell back asleep from sheer emotional exhaustion. After I woke up, I just felt kind of numb and that's pretty much how I've spent the rest of my day.

My husband, well meaning and loving as he is, has tried to keep me busy as much as he can, but when he asks me what I want to do, I never really have an answer. It's like I'm almost in a daze and just need someone to point me in the right direction and tell me what to do. I don't know. It's hard to think right now.

My biggest consolation is the fact that my grandmother isn't suffering anymore. She had always been such a strong woman, so to see her in a progressively weaker state was almost an insult to the kind of person she was.

Everyone leaves behind memories in the minds of their loved ones when they die, but only a select few people in this world leave behind what you could call a legacy. My grandmother was one of these latter types. She leaves behind a legacy of strength and love that will never be forgotten.

I went and had a 3D sonogram today and it was absolutely amazing. It was almost like they had a little camera in my belly, taking pictures and video of my baby. He was very active and made lots of faces. I could have watched him all day. Anyway, here he is, my little angel... Cameron Alexander.



Peaceful










Laughing
(I know babies this age don't laugh, but he LOOKS like he is)

Up to now, I've had a really easy pregnancy. No morning sickness or any other of the really unpleasant symptoms that usually go along with carrying a baby... just a bit of fatigue and some minor discomforts now and again. I had hoped that I could get through these last two months with the same amount of ease, but I guess that was too much to hope for. Life is a sadistic bitch that way.

Sunday evening around 5:30, I went to the bathroom. This in and of itself is nothing unusual. Here lately, I can barely get through an hour without having to make a run to the bathroom... it's one of the side effects of having a baby pressing against your bladder. However, on this trip, things went a little different. Imagine my surprise when the toilet paper came back bloody. Not just a couple drops, but a large bright red smear. I'm seven months pregnant and I'm bleeding... yeah, I freaked out.

A call to the on-call nurse at my doctor's office and a ride to the hospital later, I'm sitting in a bed in the labor and delivery wing, dressed in one of those lovely gowns that tends to be really drafty in the back. I've got two monitors strapped to my belly, one that keeps track of the baby's heartbeat and a second that keeps track of any contractions I have. Nurses came to check on me every fifteen minutes or so, on the lookout for more blood, regular contractions or problems with the baby's heart rate. Luckily, they found none of those things and after about two hours, I got to go home.

No one was certain exactly WHY I bled to begin with, but I was assured that it wasn't unusual and that as long as the bleeding didn't continue and wasn't accompanied by contractions, then it probably wasn't anything to worry about. Probably. I don't like that word in a situation where we're talking about the safety and wellbeing of my unborn child. However, seeing as though I have had no problems since then, I'm trying to give the nurses and doctors the benefit of the doubt. I need to believe that they are right about everything being ok... the alternative line of thinking brings stress I neither want or need.

All in all, those two hours were probably the most terrifying I've ever endured. One funny thing did happen though. My son apparently really didn't like the two monitors pressing into my belly. He boxed with them the entire time.

My grandmother is dying. Her health has not been great and she's been in a nursing home for the past couple years, but now the clock is really ticking.

Last week, she fell and shattered her hip... and when I say shattered, I mean COMPLETELY shattered like a pane of glass dropped on concrete. She's not a candidate for surgery, so her walking again was out of the question even in the best case scenario. The best the doctors could hope for was that the bone fragments would knit themselves back together enough that she wouldn't be in so much pain and could function in a wheelchair. Problem is, she's so weak that it doesn't seem like her body can handle the excruciating pain long enough for that healing to take place.

She's on narcotics, but in order to make her comfortable, the amount is so high that the next dose could conceivably kill her. And even with the drugs, she's still in enough pain that they have to keep her sedated most of the time. Her vital signs are strong right now, but she's not eating... at all. A feeding tube is out of the question for medical reasons I won't go into and in the end, all it would do is prolong her suffering. She spent sixteen hours in a coma yesterday... she's getting weaker.

Fragile Health State + Shattered Hip + Excruciating Pain + Dangerously High Levels of Narcotics + Sedatives + No Food = Only a Matter of Time.

I thought I was prepared for this, given her long standing fragile state, but I was wrong. I went to pieces this afternoon when I realized that the likelihood of her still around when my son is born in two and a half months is slim at best. And even if she is still here, she'll be in no condition to enjoy the occasion. That breaks my heart... I know how much seeing him would have meant to her.

God, if you're going to take her anyway, please take her quickly. Don't make her suffer needlessly.

I'm sure every pregnant woman goes through it at least once in their pregnancy... that day where you look in the mirror and instead of seeing the the miracle of carrying a growing child in your belly, you look at yourself and see nothing more than a big fat cow. It's not really rational and unfortunately involves a great deal of self pity, but I would argue that it's probably somewhat understandable under the circumstances, considering the weight gain and hormonal moodiness that pregnancy brings. For me, that day was yesterday, carrying into today to an only slightly lesser degree.

I was no Victoria Secret model before I got pregnant. I was within the 'normal' weight range for someone of my height and bone structure, but I had a little extra 'junk' in a woman's common problem areas and certainly didn't have the muscle tone that I would have liked. I had my insecurities and things I wanted to change, but overall, I was mostly satisfied with the way I looked. Then I got pregnant. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled about having a baby and every time I feel him move, I grin like an idiot. That doesn't, however, mean that I have to like the things that my growing son is doing to my body.

For the most part, I have been able to shrug off the weight gain and body changes as just being a natural part of being pregnant. Yesterday, however, I had a follow up appointment with my doctor and was told that I had gained 8 lbs in the past month, which even for a woman entering her third trimester, is a 'big jump'. My belly measurements are bigger than what they should be at this stage and I was gently admonished to keep a careful eye on what I eat and to start getting more exercise so that my weight gain for the rest of my pregnancy does not get out of control. Good advise... because God knows I'd rather be a COW than a WHALE.

Now, I'm suddenly very self conscious. The idea of getting on the scale again when I go back to the doctor in two weeks makes me sick to my stomach. I look in the mirror and I not only see a bulging pregnant belly, but I also see a sagging butt, big thighs and extra weight in my face and arms that didn't used to be there... and it sucks. I obviously can't and wouldn't diet while pregnant (I'm self conscious, not stupid), so the best I can hope for now is to follow my doctor's advise about my food intake and exercise and hope for the best.

The in-laws started the process of moving in yesterday morning and it's... a challenge. They haven't been given a lot of notice or time before they have to be out of their old house, so there's still things that need to be packed and moved into storage. It's frustrating, it's exhausting and I just want this to be done. At least all the furniture that's coming here is here... all that's left is what my husband calls 'piddly shit'. Hopefully it will be finished today. I don't want to take all weekend for this.

Anyway, I'm sorry I haven't been around. It's just hard to find time to grab a bite to eat, much less do anything else. Then there's the various aches and pains from helping them pack and move, plus the fact that my knee is killing me, so when I do finally have time to sit down and rest, all I want to do is sleep or vegetate in front of the television and pretend I don't hurt as much as I do. I'll be back around when I can.

My mother and father in-law just got evicted and are moving in with us for an undetermined period of time. God help me.

I'm eight weeks pregnant and my husband just lost his job for a bullshit reason that they shouldn't have fired him for. Yeah, my day has gone to shit.