Well, it has taken a lot of thinking, a lot of wondering whether this was appropriate to write about. I'm not sure it is or isn't. However it happened, and this is my opportunity to attempt acceptance. I am a very lucky person, I have a great spouse, a great kid, and a pretty cool job. Yet I am devastated. Because tomorrow will be an anniversary for me. As will every Monday, at least for now. In February I got the best news in the world. I was pregnant with my second child. At first, all i could do was panic. I didn't have room for another child in my pitifully tiny home. I didn't have money to afford all the expenses that a new child brings. This wasn't planned, this wasn't on the agenda, and I had no idea what to do. So I did what I always do and went on my regular routine. I did tell people about it, after a month or so. I couldn't keep it to myself. Along the way somewhere, I became excited and happy. I began planning. I began the process of purchasing a bigger home. I budgeted my finances. I began to save for the newest addition to my family. I began to plan my new life. I began to dream and hope and be happy. Even when I was giving my breakfast back to the toilet I was daydreaming about a new baby to love and hold. A new sibling for my little girl. Bringing a special new life into the world to love the way I love my daughter. I thought about the smell of baby powder, the softness of new baby hair. I thought about names, and clothes, and things we could all do as a family. I walked through baby departments and examined possible cribs, high chairs, and little baby socks. I thought about my new life, with a brand new extension to my family. Of course, I was still physically miserable. All the hormonal changes attacked my body like a plague of locusts, ripping from it any ounce of health. My acne flared up, my hair went crazy. I was not the ideal person to pose for the beauty of motherhood. I had to run, often, to make it to the bathroom before giving back my breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I had pain, weakness, and severe headaches. I had to stop all the medications I had been on for the health of my baby. I missed my Mt. Dew something fierce. I didn't do everything perfect. I didn't do everything right. And lord forgive me, I complained. I complained about my aches and pains, and I complained about the stress. I did not show the kind of excitement I should have. I did not thank the lord every day for my blessing. I carried on as I do, and went to my thirteen week check up with the doctor. I waited in the room, chatting with another expectant mother about our kids, our excitement, our weird body changes. I was happy. I went in and they took out a machine to check for my baby's heartbeat. They couldn't find it. I wasn't worried, it had happened before. They would do an ultrasound and find it then. Sure enough, they took me to the ultrasound room. They laid me down and started. Then they called the doctor in. "Is there a problem?" I asked. As the doctor told me that my baby's heart had stopped beating, that my baby had died around 12 weeks, I laid there and allowed the tears to well in my eyes. I let them fall and did not stop them. My baby was dead. And all I could do was hate myself. My doctor began speaking, saying it wasn't my fault it was nothing I did... I wanted to run away. I asked for a moment and I called the people I needed to. My husband cried "No!" He wailed in the phone. Not only was my baby dead, but I had devastated the person I loved. I was a monster. I cried as the doctor explained to me the necessary procedure I would undergo. I cried through booking the appointment. I have cried since then, at least once a day. I prayed it was a dream, I prayed it was a nightmare. I prayed that they were wrong and there would be an answer. But nothing changed. Nothing will. Two weeks ago Monday, the doctor performed what she called a D&C. Evidentally they do that to remove the "tissue" as she called it. They put me under, and I woke up with an empty uterus and an empty heart. It hurts. Their are no words to describe how I feel, truly. I feel guilty, for not doing better, for not being more grateful for what I had, for not being the kind of person who gets to keep their baby. I feel like I'm being ungrateful for the child that I do have. I feel guilt mounted on guilt. I constantly rack my brains for all the things I could have done differently, all the things I should have not said, all the things I should have, for all the different ways in which I could have been BETTER. For all the ways I should be BETTER. I feel guilt for being a failure. I feel guilty for still wanting a baby. I feel guilty for feeling the hurt, the pain, the loss, and even the guilt. I feel guilty for not being stronger. It eats at me, this guilt. And I feel loss. Oh I feel it. I may have never seen my baby, or held my baby in my arms, but it doesn't change the fact that I hurt. It doesn't change the hurt I see in my husband's eyes. It doesn't change the aching in my heart, the massive gnawing in the bottom of my gut. The stinging in my eyes from holding back the tears, day in and out. I am afraid. Afraid that this is just the beginning. Afraid to ever try again. Afraid I will have to live this nightmare again. I have heard the billions of platitudes of "it's all for the best,""it wasn't meant to be,""things happen for a reason." The last one I believe. Things happen for a reason. The reason was that I wasn't good enough. I wasn't grateful enough. I can only hope for a second chance. Hope that I can prove that I will do whatever it takes to be a better mother, a better person.

The Bathing Suit Blues

So it's time to get a bathing suit.
I put it off for three years, but I'm running out of excuses. My little girl really wants to go build a sandcastle. And she is my reason for almost every idiotic thing I do. Wish me luck because it's not going to be fun.

I used to LOVE shopping for bathing suits as a child and teenager. It was a lot of fun, running around trying on different looks, and being allowed to walk around in public with about the same coverage as underwear. I always thought I looked so cute, or sexy as I got older. Frilly little pink one pieces gave way to the hibiscus decorated tankini, and then upon graduation, the slinky little bikini and bottoms that only covered half my rear (which is the only bathing suit I have left, and it says CORONA and there is no way I'm going out in THAT.)

Now I worry about everything- what if people see to much of my rear?... my boobs are not going to fill THAT up, or if they are they will overflow THAT one.. good lord. What if people see my scars? What if I'm the beached whale they make fun of?? Because the good lord knows I've made fun of more fat people in bathing suits than probably anyone else, because when I was a teenager, all 98 lbs of me thought it was a riot! Especially the ones with the audacity to wear thong bikinis and bright yellow apparel. I'm afraid I'm going to get what I dished out. Now I feel guilty and self conscious.

Yet I still can't bring myself to wear the adult one pieces. That to me is worse than being audaciously exposed. Because I feel like, if I put one of those on, I will automatically turn forty, smoke menthols, and gripe about not seeing Days of Our Lives. Plus I really don't think they are very flattering for people with a tummy. After all, if you wear a purple one piece you are drawing attention to the whole package, while if you wear the bikini at least people are only checking out the top and bottom. The middle kind of disappears in the face of such colorful fabric.

What are you wearing this summer? I'm going to look this weekend and any suggestions are welcome...

So yeah...

Sorry it's been a while. I've been dealing with stupid drama, don't ask me about it because I don't want to talk about it.

So elections are over, some of my guys won, some lost, and some are still running. Well the two offices are for sheriff and senator. I'm voting Halter again, and for those of you who don't know, I'm voting for Ledbetter again. So there's my vote, I'm not ashamed.

On another note, I wanted to talk about something that has to deal with my recent drama, but it also has to deal with society.

Sexism.

I used to think sexism didn't exist anymore. That we lived in a country where I was equal to a boy no matter what happened in the past. Unfortunately I found out I was wrong as I got older.

I'm all for being a girl. I don't have a problem letting my kid play princess dress up. I'm not an uber-feminist. I'm not even one to get angry at stuff.

When I was a teenager, I applied for a job at a car dealership. I walked in, and before being asked what I was applying for, I was told that they "didn't have any jobs for girls right now." What they meant was that there were no secretary positions open. After all, a girl can't possibly work in the garage, wash cars, or be a salesman... at least that was their opinion. I went home, livid, and told my parents what had happened. They shrugged it off and told me to let it go, so I did.

Later in life I had a job where my boss told me to dress more provocatively. I just quit. I didn't fight it. I just quit.

Because what's the use?

Today I have to say is a world where men expect women to do everything but don't want to give them any credit for it.

My mom worked, cooked all the meals, and cleaned the house. She even mowed the lawns and tended to all of her children's needs on top of these things.

What did my dad do? He worked.

Not to say that my dad is lazy, but that's society today. The only thing we got from equal rights was more shit to deal with. Now we are expected to work full time and do all the household chores, cooking, and child rearing. It's bullshit.

On top of that, let's look at divorce. You get a divorce as a woman, and you want custody of your kids? You are probably going to get it, but here's the stuff they don't tell you- you fight and win full custody of your child. Well your psychotic ex still gets to see that kid, even if he's behind in child support. It's harder to get child support than it is for him to see his child. He gets the easy way out. He gets none of the responsibility and all of the benefits. What do you get? All the debt it costs to raise a child. All of the responsibility. All of the stuff that makes you a REAL parent. I hate the system. It's unfair and biased towards men. I hate just about everything right now quite honestly. This whole country is crap.

Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. Or maybe I'll move.

My life...

So last night I watched "Motherhood", it was a movie that only a few people went to see in theaters. Technically it was a box office failure. I watched it anyway- I like Uma Thurman and the previews didn't look bad. Well- it wasn't the best film, it wasn't the worst, but all in all I could've lived without ever watching it.

The movie is about a married mother of two, living in big city New York. It is set within the space of a day- she has to live her life, run errands, prepare for her daughter's six birthday, all while competing in a blog contest and running her own blog.

I don't live in New York, so I can't say much about whether or not the movie was realistic. I thought the main character was the most dysfunctional of the lot, spending way too much time complaining. The preview showed it as comical and sardonic. It really fell flat as far as comedy. The only funny part involved urine.

But it wasn't bad, and trust me I have seen some AWFUL films.

On a personal note I interviewed today for a job.
I got my degree in history and I am proud of it, but unfortunately there is not a lot of calling in my area of expertise. So I applied to work at a pharmacy. Part of me is sad about this- because I know it's not what I want to do in life. However, it is a job, could be a career, and there is no harm in learning a new trade. I might actually be good at it. If I train under the pharmacist, I could take a test and get licensed as a pharmacy technician. I hear they make pretty good money.

In a time of economic crisis, I am grateful to even have the ability to apply for a job. So many people are out of work that I have no right to complain about "not following my dreams." Reality tells me that this could be good stable work that will help me provide for my family. Dreams are for children.

Or are they? There's no real reason why I can't continue with what I want, if I only do it in my spare time... I think I used to be really good at writing, so maybe I could work on that. Not in the sense that I write here, but in a bigger sense- like a novel. That could be really neat. I've been working on one as a pet project, but it's kind of stalled out. Maybe being busy with a new job will help me get a fresh perspective.

On a side note, elections are coming up. I'm voting for Chad Jordan for Hot Spring County Judge and Halter for Senate. But who do I want for the other offices?? I don't know much about the candidates in that arena.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed with everything. I don't know who to talk to about it, because I've found that most people are just as overwhelmed and confused as I am. The world is a scary place. I can never take my eyes of my child, or she might be jerked out of a shopping cart while I peruse the sauce shelf. I can't hire a babysitter I haven't known for more than five years. I can't trust in the kindness of strangers- if I have a flat tire, I just need to fix it myself or lock myself in the car. Because a stranded tiny lady is a good target.

But I remember being able to play in my parent's yard without supervision. I remember my mom leaving her car unlocked at the grocery store. I remember my dad picking up people with car trouble just to be nice.

What happened?

Happy Mother's Day

As a mother, I took my day today. I don't feel guilty for being late writing my blog and I don't feel guilty being lazy all day. I did think this was the perfect opportunity to have a post about moms. I am one of the luckiest women in the world. I have a husband who understands that all household duties are not my responsibility. He helps me with my child, he helps me with the housework. I wish all women were that lucky. Quite often men leave the responsibility of child rearing and housework to their wives solely, even if their wife has a full time job as well. It's not right, and it's not fair. But it is common. My mother's job was to cook, clean, and iron. She had to work a full time job and still find time to bathe, groom, and feed her children. She took the time for parent teacher conferences, ballet recitals, and award ceremonies. She found time to teach her girls how to read, write, and apply eyeliner on with perfection. My dad is a good dad, but I don't remember him preparing a meal for us or ironing clothes. He has never changed a diaper in his life. Being a mother is a full time job, and one that often comes with little appreciation and no compensation. This is not to say it's a bad job, because it is in fact on of the greatest jobs in the world. Some people think their mothers are not the best in the world- and some mothers may be awful. But as you take some time today, remember one thing- regardless of how good or bad of a mother you had, you would not be here without her. She gave you life. So every good experience you have, you owe to her. I do not say this from a high horse of experience- my own daughter is only three. But I say it as a kid who was raised by their mother. My mom made some mistakes. I disagree with her more than I agree with her, and she tells me quite often how weird I am. But every good thing I have in my life, big or small, I owe to her. Because she made the decision to stay pregnant for nine miserable months and have a cesarean section. So regardless of what she's done, I owe her my life. It seems like what I give her one day a year is nothing more than a pittance of what she's done for me.

Welfare- The Good, The Bad... The Drug Tested?!

My post tonight, although I made one today already, is about a touchy subject for some and a moot point for others- the subject is welfare.
I thought of it because I came across a facebook page " Drug Tests for Welfare." The site promotes people who are on welfare to be drug tested.

Here are my thoughts on the government welfare and government freebies.

I applied for food stamps in the past, and I received about $250.00 for groceries each month. I know a lot of people are against it, and it IS embarrasing, but I had Kendra to think of. At the time I was a single mom and a college student, struggling to make ends meet. So I swallowed my pride and went through the harrowing ordeal of obtaining aid. It was one of the most embarrasing situations in my life. Not only did I have to undergo the third degree and lose every ounce of self respect, but what's worse is I had to tell my employers and my landlord what I was doing because they were required to fill out forms in order for me to get aid.

Here's the thing that bothered me though- I went through checkpoint after checkpoint- filling out information, sending in documentation, interviewing, having people fill out all these forms. It was just Kendra and I in the house at this point and I made about fifty dollars a week. I couldn't work more due to classes, and as I explained to my case worker, I was going to school so that I would NEVER have to go to their office after graduation. I was going to school to provide a better and more stable life for me and my child. That same office gave a single, healthy, middle aged man a brief glance, a smidgen of paperwork and he received $1200.00 a month from the government. He had no kids, and no obligations. He wasn't laid off and he could have found a job. I see him at a local diner quite often. I sacrificed my self respect for $250.00 a month to feed my kid, and he gets a month's salary plus his electricity bill covered.

Why?

I still don't know. But I just am not sure that's how the system is supposed to work.

A lot of people told me it was my fault that I was on food stamps anyway. I shouldn't have had a child if I couldn't afford it. In the truth, they are right in my case, but not in others. I personally have no problem taking birth control, and I'm a pro-choice girl. Keeping Kendra was my decision. However, there are people out there who have an ethical belief that birth control and abortions are wrong. Many of these same people do not believe that a wife has a right to deny her husband his fun. I do not believe that those people should be punished because of their beliefs. But by the same token, if these people are not having a child because of their ethical beliefs, it is their responsibility. Like in my case. I made the choice and I stand by it. I do not regret the choice that I made, but I also don't expect my government to be responsible for it. At the same time, I don't mind taking a helping hand when it's offered. I don't ask for charity, but if it's handed to me, I'm not going to turn it down. Because when it comes down to the line, you are taking that away from your child, not yourself. I could live on ramen noodles, but my little girl couldn't. And while I would love to have another child, I know I am not financially able to right now. Now that I know the costs of having a child, I am taking a little responsibility and making the decision to wait. If an accident occurs, so be it, I will love the next child as much as the first, but I'm not going to TRY to have another baby.

But I digress... the facebook page I found promotes drug testing for welfare people. I support that. I don't think you should be allowed to have welfare if you are on illegal drugs, but by the same token I don't think you should get to keep your kids if you are on it either. Many companies drug test you before you are allowed to make the money, so the welfare folks should have to take a test before they are allowed to get the money. I am so sick and tired of seeing doped up moms dragging their unwashed child through the grocery store, and walking out with a case of beer, a pack of cigarettes, and a case of spagghetios. It's just not right.

One of the arguments against drug testing people who receive welfare is that the cost would outweigh the benefit. I disagree. If we can keep one parent from being on drugs so that they can feed their kid, then the benefit is definitely greater. And you know what?? They are going to need workers to do all that drug testing... do I hear the sound of new jobs echoing in the distance?!?! Sure it will be a low paying job, because you would work for the government, but that's better than the amount you are making today if you are unemployed like most of us.

Many people blame society today. I don't. I blame those women. PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY. They choose to put themselves before their kids. They choose to do drugs. Let them deal with the consequences. I miss being a party girl sometimes. It was fun. But I had a child and that's all there is too it. I can miss it all I want, but I'll never do it again. I have someone else to think about besides myself.

I'm happy in Arkansas

When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to leave Arkansas and go to big places with big cities, traffic, and noise. I thought that everything that was worth seeing had to be away from where I was. Now that I have a child of my own, I am starting to realize how stupid I was.
I remember when they put a stoplight in our town. It is still the only stoplight we have, and one of the main ways in which to give directions around here. “When you get to THE stoplight, turn left.” “You know where the stoplight is? Well it’s a quarter of a mile past the stoplight.” Before there was a stoplight, there was a yellow blinking light that told people it was a four-way intersection.
I remember that when I was a child, I knew that anyone I saw in the bait and tackle store would probably know my mom and dad. Everyone greeted my parents, or my parents greeted them. “Hey Mark, how ya been?” “Hey feller, whatcha know good?” I grew up surrounded by extended kinfolk as well as my nuclear family. My mom didn’t really need me to hold her hand in the store, or for me to be in sight at all times. When I was growing up, I didn’t know a thing about kids being snatched away from their parents in public places. Because in almost every public place I went, everyone knew who I was. It was the same for other children. My kindergarten classmates where referred to as “So and so’s young ‘un.”
I spent my early childhood in a small house with a yard, surrounded by woods. Getting to our house meant going down a dirt road. My nightlight was a jar of lightning bugs I had caught earlier that evening, and I cherished it. Because I knew in the morning my mother would make me let them go and I’d have to catch a whole new set the following evening. I chased frogs and lizards around the porch, and explored the nearby woods. My sister showed me a creek that, to us, was a hidden oasis unveiled before our eyes. My home was a fairy tale land, full of unspoiled natural adventures.
When I stepped away from the front door of my parent’s home, I was a Choctaw warrior, living off the land. I made forts and planted seeds. I drank the sweet nectar of honeysuckle, and ate the blackberries straight from the briar. I engineered spindly little bows and bent arrows from sticks and grass. I danced in the summer rain. And if I was wearing Oshkosh overalls and jelly sandals, it was inconsequential to me. I remember the mimosa trees, and how they looked like deep jungle palms to me, especially when their feathery pink flowers were in bloom. I remember the azaleas I referred to as the Hawaiian flowers, because they looked like the pretty flowers you always saw behind the ears of Hawaiian girls in movies. I remember waiting for the jonquils to spring into bloom for Easter bouquets that would be handled till wilting.
I grew up on a diet of green beans, fried potatoes, pork chops, and iced teas. I shelled purple hull peas with my grandmother, and delighted in the violet shade my fingers carried for hours afterward. I found that shucking corn was not nearly as fun. I spent more than one day barefoot in dry dirt gardens picking squash and cucumber with my grandmother. I always thought her hands were beautiful. My parents took me to the lake during the summer, and I found a pirate’s treasure in tiny clam shells on Lake DeGray. My father would take me to the river to look for arrowheads, and when I caught my first sun perch I was the proudest little girl to walk the earth. My great grandfather would take me on walks, and I would pick every wild flower I could find. My mother called them weeds, but I assured her they were not, because they were pretty. There was an abandoned house full of foxes, and my grandmother would take my sister and I on bicycle rides so we could try and see them peeking out. My great grandmother would make chocolate pie and that was everyone’s favorite. No one could ever make a pie as good as she did.
I had an immense rock collection which I found in my own backyard, which was mainly made up of different types of quartz crystals. Living in Arkansas I saw so many types of lizards, snakes, and frogs, that when my mother bought a book to identify them, it became my own personal guide for entertainment. I would find a frog and put it in a jar until I was sure what kind of frog it was. Then I would let it go and search for something else.
I’m sure that people who’ve grown up in a big city know a lot more than me about some things- for instance, I never learned how to parallel park. But living in my small rural town, I gathered an interest in biology, geology, archeology, and an appreciation of history that I might not have found otherwise. I learned basic survival skills, like what natural plants are edible, what reptiles and plants are poisonous, and how to fish with a piece of Arkansas bamboo cane as well as a fishing rod. I used my imagination and played in the sun and rain, instead of playing gameboy ds. I learned kindness to strangers, instead of fear and cynicism for others.
How could I ask for more for my child?