tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91237798768132548652024-03-19T03:27:57.822-07:00Of Moose And MiriamAt this point, just a completely random collection of stories from different phases of my life with a husband toddler and our motley crew of clingy animals. We left the moose behind in Alaska.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195475679006359179noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-72090333348595577772023-10-29T08:29:00.001-07:002023-10-29T08:29:54.256-07:00The Stonebrook Slayer<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Author's Notes:</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I had intended to write one more but I haven't gotten to it yet. My kids gave me hand foot and mouth to kick off plague season and it made me less productive than usual. This story was the first short story I wrote, on a whim after I asked my brother his favorite creepy tale. It's based on the urban legend of the licked hand. If anyone can tell me the book it's in, I would love to read it again. Content warnings include death, animal death, gore, blood.</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Happy Halloween!</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Stonebrook
Times Exclusive:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Campus
Killer On The Loose<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The Stonebrook
Slayer continues to elude law enforcement and remains at large after a gruesome
string of killings.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> Months after Alice Childs, a student at
Stonebrook University, was found murdered in her dorm room bed, the Stonebrook
University community still lives in constant fear. After the third murder just
weeks ago, and despite continuing outrage from the victims’ families, police
are no closer to apprehending the culprit. The university administration released
a statement yesterday outlining additional security measures. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">"They
still aren’t doing enough. I just can't understand how this keeps happening,"
comments Frankie Childs, mother of the first victim. "I'm calling on the public
to take action if the police and university of Stonebrook will not. The school
needs to be shut down until a suspect is identified. Especially when all signs
point to the killer being a fellow student. Someone should be held accountable
for the death of my daughter and the rest of the victims, Lauren Stanford and
Callie Brown." <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Childs
fears the latest killing will not be the last. She has expressed her
dissatisfaction at the handling of the investigation and lack of investigation
of the student body. Her theory holds merit as the killer has passed among the
students unnoticed by any potential witnesses. Despite brutally strangling and
stabbing the three victims in the dead of night, police claim to have
eliminated the first round of suspects. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The killer gained
access to the victim’s rooms using their roommate's key cards. All three
roommates have verifiable and well-documented alibis. All three victims were
well-liked, with no known enemies. Most worryingly, the time between murders
shortened significantly with the killing of Callie Brown less than a month
after Lauren Stanford. The university community worries that the killer may
strike again, and soon. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Frankie
Childs continues her crusade for justice, “My daughter mentioned a strange
incident in her Biology class- Continued pg B7<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"> </span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The newspaper goes right back into the
trash where I found it, along with my empty coffee cup. The last dregs of
coffee leak out across the words, blurring and obscuring the details. I take
one last look around; the normally bustling campus feels abandoned at only 8 pm
on a Friday. A lone figure hunches against the wind and walks in the opposite
direction, towards the boy’s dorms rather than the girls’ where I’m headed. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">A gust of long dead dry leaves swirl inside
with me when I open the door to the dorm where I belong. The earthy smell of
rot wafts over me as they settle to the floor. I wrinkle my nose, wishing I
still had a coffee to sip to overpower the taste of decay that slides down my
throat. It’s been an unusually warm winter, and it still feels like September
instead of December. The air feels like everyone and everything is desperately
trying to cling to a time long dead and gone. It’s eerily still and quiet inside
the where the atmosphere should be filled with the sounds of covert hookups and
poorly disguised parties. A shrill burst of nervous laughter from behind one of
the doors is quickly stifled. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">No one wants to be the next victim, but I
don't understand why anyone is worried about being out and about. No harm has
befallen anyone in public. The three girls were all murdered in their beds
while they slept. No one died out getting a coffee, but my professor might kill
me if I miss another assignment. My biology teacher in particular has taken a
liking to me, I think. Her questions about my life, my work, my problems are
bordering on obsessive, if I’m being frank. She’s too nosy. So that's why I'm
out, braving the dreary December wind and sporadic icy rain. The caffeine boost
to get me through my assignment that’s due tomorrow. I can’t afford to stop
trying now, I need her off my back. If I can make it another two weeks, I’ll be
able to leave for the semester. Safety and rest feel just around the corner.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The girls in my dorm are always analyzing
the killer's type and looking for reasons to say they won’t be the next victim.
I get it, my mind strays there too in what little free time I have. Morbid
daydreams where I’m the one who dies. I don’t have many friends but I have
enough acquaintances that I’ve had more conversations than I’d like about the
Stonebrook Slayer. All of it feels rather over the top and unreal to me. Even
the name seems too theatrical to be a real thing, a real person. The talk
usually centers on the grisly details of the cases or amateur sleuthing
theories about the killer and the victims. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Everyone is most curious about how the
killer chose their victims. If you know why someone was targeted, maybe you can
avoid succumbing to their same fate. Bullshit, in my opinion. I doubt the
killer even knows themselves. I usually resist pointing out the fact that the killer's
type seems to be no type at all. The only connecting factor between the three
is their attendance of Stonebrook, a residence in the dorms, and being female.
The dead girls bear no other resemblance to each other that anyone can connect.
They didn’t run in the same circles. Physical features are all over the place.
None of them had enemies, as far as anyone is willing to say. Deep down, I feel
safe, content in the knowledge that I won’t be next. I just can’t be. I have
that invincible feeling you get simply from being unable to imagine your own
nonexistence. I feel a twinge of something. Danger, maybe. Some baser desire urging
me to seek warmth and comfort inside my dorm room.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My roommate, Chelsea, is already asleep as
I pass the keycard labeled with the name and photo, “Andrea MacKenzie” across
the lock and slip inside the door. She’s an early to bed and early to rise type
of girl which I just can’t relate to. The quiet beep of the keycard and smooth
snick of the deadbolt sliding into place behind me don’t wake her. They’re the
normal safe sounds you hear every night around here. I don't bother with the
lights either; the streetlamps outside throw just enough light in through the
window. Chelsea hates closing the curtains. I keep saying someone could be watching
her at any time but she doesn't listen, even with the threat of the Stonebrook
Slayer plastered all over the news and social media. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The lump in the top bunk that is Chelsea
whimpers in her sleep and turns over, drawing the blanket up higher. I freeze
as she stirs, but she doesn't wake, so I gently ease myself onto the bottom
bunk. Despite my bravado about my late night wanders, I'm not stupid. There's a
switchblade in my hoodie pocket that I pull free and set gently on the
nightstand. I'm not tired yet. Even after the coffee I can’t handle my stupid
biology assignment. So I pull up more articles on my phone about the Stonebrook
strangler. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The details are straight out of a horror
novel. Alice Childs was the first to die. Her murder happened only two weeks
into the fall semester. She was in my biology class. She sat in front of me.
always flicking her long blonde hair back, leaving strands strewn across my
work. Not to speak ill of the dead, but she was kind of inconsiderate, I think.
Despite how it annoyed me, I envied that hair of hers. Growing up, I had always
wanted hair like that, long and blond and pin straight. Not my own curly dark
hair. When they found her, her nearly waist length blond hair was gone. Well,
gone from her scalp at least. It had been lopped off roughly at the base of her
nighttime braid, the fine white strands flung across the room like confetti. There
are quietest of rumors that she was strangled with it before the killer tore
the braid apart. No one seems to know if her cause of death was strangulation
or one of the 37 stab wounds she suffered. But either way, it’s common
knowledge that it was overkill. Her funeral was closed casket. Someone pushed
past a “normal” murder into something more unhinged and gruesome. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I knew the second victim, Lauren Stanford,
peripherally too. It isn’t surprising, really; the campus is small and tight-knit.
Although if I fell victim to this killer, I doubt anyone would care or remember
my name. I'd simply be another generic college ID picture neatly slotted in
next to the other 3. Under a headline, “Stonebrook killer Strikes Again!” Or
something like that, with equal clickbait lure and salacious potential.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I didn’t really know Lauren, but I feel
like I knew more than a stranger would. She wasn’t in any of my classes but I
saw her around campus all the time. I feel a little worse for her than I did
for Alice. I have an idea that she was a nicer person. When I think about
Lauren, I think about the solitary time I spoke with her. I asked where she
bought all her lipstick. She changed the shade daily, but they all suited her
somehow. Bright jewel colors against dark skin were her favorite, judging by
the frequency she wore them. But she also wore bright candy pink, baby blue,
neon green and goth black. When I’d asked about her lipstick, she looked taken
aback at first. Then this tiny little smile crossed her face. She had dark blue
glitter on her lips that day. I couldn’t read her expression fully, but she
seemed smug. And I ran because I was embarrassed. Looking back, I think she
might have just been flattered by my question. But I’ll never know because she
died later that night. Surely, she didn't deserve to die. Lauren’s body showed
evidence of just as much overkill as the Alice’s body had. Although the police
were sure she’d been strangled before the 41 stab wounds.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">In the end, I found out where Lauren got
her lipstick. The brand is a well-known public detail now. Her killer decorated
her room and body with swirls of lipstick in a rainbow of colors and designs. I
wonder what color the killer placed on her lips that the funeral director
scrubbed away and replaced with a demure petal pink.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Callie Brown, the third victim, I never
interacted with directly. But I recognized her on sight. She always wore
scarves. Light decorative ones in summer and early fall. Then warm fluffy ones when
the weather turned darker. She was strangled with one of them. I imagine it was
the one she was wearing that day, a purple paisley one she favored. I always
liked that one and wondered whether it would feel as soft as it looked. The
rest of her collection of scarves was spread across her dorm room. Rumor has it
they were splayed across every surface and splattered with blood. I found out
Callie’s name when I saw it splashed across campus papers and the internet,
attached to the photo of her face. I wonder what they did with that purple
paisley scarf that killed her. Surely it’s in police custody now, evidence. How
strange it would be if they chose to bury her with that one. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The details, hair, lipstick, scarves, were the
kind of details that continued to be widely speculated about. Because they were
so senseless but specific and personal; the kind of thing that must either be
imbued with deep meaning or a sign of utter random madness. I can’t decide
which camp I fall in but I’m not sure it matters either way.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I come back to myself, startling out of my
reverie, at the sound of scratching at the window. Two little reflective eyes
glare through the glass at me. It's the stray black cat that's been creeping
around this room all semester. Chelsea calls him Angus for who knows what
reason. She feeds him and leaves him water on the windowsill. She’s a sucker
for innocent need. I hesitate for only a second before cracking the window to
let him in. Cats aren't strictly allowed, but he’s Chelsea’s any way you look
at it. The wind is starting to howl, spare raindrops splattering the window.
Angus is looking particularly pathetic and there's a serial killer on the loose
and it’s as good a time as any to break the rules.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Angus gratefully weaves his body through
the cracked window. I shut it just as quietly as I opened it and Angus settles
on my chest as I lay back down and turn back to my nightly reading. I know I should
stop thinking and reading articles on my phone about the murders. Chelsea is a
bookworm, her head is always bowed gracefully over some paperback or another.
She wouldn’t mind if I borrowed one. I tried to ask her for recommendations
once, but she blew me off. I guess I don’t look like a serious reader. Angus is
less than pleased to be disturbed when I creep out of the bottom bunk to grab a
book off the shelf at random, but he gets over it when I explain the
alternative.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The book is, unfortunately, full of scary
stories and urban legends. I read about a killer on the loose, a girl home
alone with her dog. The dog that cowers under her bed but licks her hand when
she requires comfort. Spoiler, it’s the killer, not the dog. A legend I’ve read
before, but it rings differently in these circumstances. I give up on reading
and place the book on the nightstand next to the switchblade. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I about what it might feel like to wake up
with hands at your throat. Or a knife sliding deep into your chest, snagging on
a rib as it goes in. I'm thinking of how long the seconds would stretch. The
weight of another person, immovable, as everything fades to black. Angus lets
out a muffled yowl and I feel a sharp pain in my hand. I hiss in shock and push
him off my chest. He lands with an angry hiss of his own on the blankets next
to me. I must have squeezed him a little too hard while I wasn't paying
attention. He's bitten me and left a bloody scratch, claw marks across my arm
and the impression of teeth across my hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The top bunk creaks and a hand snakes down
and Chelsea makes that universal cat calling noise. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Pspspsp.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Angus glowers at me with only the disdain a
cat can muster before leaning towards the outstretched hand. I don’t want him
to go; I want the comforting weight of him on my chest. But Chelsea makes the
noise and gestures with her fingers again as I grab at Angus before he can go
to Chelsea and hold him tightly to me, trying to suppress his struggles.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Pspspsp<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"> Again, I just keep Angus from
escaping. But Chelsea is moving more. The top bunk creaks as she shifts. So I
gently lift Angus, let her fingers card through his fur before she withdraws
her hand once more. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"> Angus is still struggling half
heartedly. But as I clasp him firmly, he settles and stills on my chest.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I glance toward the nightstand to make sure
the switchblade is still there. It is. Resting just there, close enough to grab
if I were to wake with a killer looming over me in the night. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My sleep is uneasy. I toss and turn, my
head full of dark dreams. I imagine that something is clawing at my hands, biting
my arm. Like Angus had earlier, but over and over and over. The pain finally
rouses me into awareness momentarily, but it's only Angus again. A heavy weight
on my chest, chewing at my already injured arm. I regret letting him in the room,
but I'm too groggy to do anything more than push him away again. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I dream about the dead girls. I'm by Alice's
bedside, watching as her blonde hair is cut away in chunks, a hand sprinkles it
across the dorm room floor. It falls as light as feathers, as white as snow. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Then I'm with Lauren. Watching a hand swirl
strange pictures across the walls in all her colors of lipstick. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Finally, I visit Callie, in a room full of
scarves, fluttering like butterfly wings in a breeze. Like birds set free as
they're thrown into the air and strewn across the room. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I can no longer tell if I'm awake or asleep,
but I think I hear a whisper, a small terrified voice calling, "Angus, is
that you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Angus is curled on my chest, silent. I meow
quietly instead. I'm not sure what propels that decision. But Chelsea must realize
it’s me, because I could swear I hear a soft giggle and the purring of a cat.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">One last glance at the nightstand for
reassurance. The switchblade is still there. I reach out and flick it open. You
can never be too careful. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Once more, I drift into oblivion, the
safety of dreams and sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">When I wake, it's with the abruptness of awakening
after a nightmare, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Brilliant
sunlight streams through the curtainless window. I can immediately tell I’ve
overslept. Panic shoots through me like a lightning bolt. Someone is pounding
on the door. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Hey, roomie, let me in!"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My blood turns to ice. My roommate? It
can’t be Chealsea at the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I got held up last night and stayed
with friends. I didn't want to leave after dark."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I draw in a shuddering breath and stare at
the mattress above me. If that's my roommate, if that’s Chelsea, then who is in
Chelseas's bed?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The human size lump in the bed, hidden
under covers. The hand snaking down to reach for Angus. Did I hear Chelsea’s
voice? Did I ever see her face? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Chelsea, open the door! I'm sorry I
lost my key card but please let me in."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My blood is on fire instead now. My mind
racing trying to parse the sense from the nonsense. What are the facts? A girl
outside the door calling for Chelsea, claiming to be Chelsea’s roommate. No,
that's not right, I’m the roommate and I’m inside the dorm.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"You're starting to worry me,
Chelsea."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I realize Angus still hasn't budged. He is
cold. I flinch as something cool and wet and red drips from the top bunk. The bloodstain
that spreads across my field of vision as I look up. It's with shaky hands that
I move Angus' cold, limp corpse from my chest. His head lolls awkwardly as I
set him aside. Someone snapped the fragile little bones inside his neck. My
hands are like strangers, but the scratches and bite marks scattered across
them hurt enough to assure me that these hands belong to me. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I pull myself up, scattering torn book
pages across the bed and onto the floor. They cover the bunk I’m lying it. I
glance at the bookshelf, no longer full, a lone book lies open, half its pages
gone. They’re everywhere. Pages full of
words, broken and empty hardback spines in a layer across the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I force myself to peek into the top bunk.
It's Chelsea there in the bunk all right, but she’s not going to answer a door
anytime soon. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"If you don't open the door or answer
one of my texts right now, I'm getting an RA." The voice outside calls. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Chelsea's roommate. Andrea. Her name comes back
to me now as I picture the keycard in my hand. The one with a name and face
that don’t match my own. The keycard that I used to get inside this room last
night.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The bite marks on my hands. They aren't all
from Angus. Unmistakably human teeth marks mar my arms. And the scratches, so
many more than Angus alone gave me. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Chelsea fought me harder than any of the
rest. That's why I was so tired and I laid back down to sleep. I don’t usually
do that.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Angus, he kept yowling, and I wanted to sleep;
I didn't want anyone to check. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I’m starting to panic now. What did I do?
What do I do?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Chelsea!" Andrea says sharply,
"One last chance."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I muster up my voice, "Coming," I
call softly. I think I do a passable impression. I've spent weeks watching
Chelseas's every move through those curtainless windows after all.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The switchblade on the nightstand catches
my attention. In the sunlight shining through the window, the blade glints weakly,
the faintest hint of silver shining through the red.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I stumble forward through the sea of paper
on the floor, scattered with words and bloodstains. My hand closes over the
handle as I move to answer the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-39755885988254821082023-10-10T09:10:00.000-07:002023-10-10T09:10:11.701-07:00It Was Just A Game<p> Author's notes:</p><p>This one is my take on War of the Worlds. I wish I'd heard the original over the radio when in aired. This ones a longer slower paced story than the rest. Less gore and no content warning I can think of except this story still contains death and no happy endings. </p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"The truth is out there, but so are
lies."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">That was the phrase that, if uttered by any
of the six of us, would bring our playacting to an immediate halt. It was
supposed to be a safe word, an emergency stop button, a failsafe. I'm a big X-files
fan and it just seemed a fittingly theatrical phrase for a summer camp run by drama
nerds. If we heard those words, we were supposed to break character without
question. It seemed like the best way to ensure safety. To be completely sure
that none of us got so caught up in our imaginations that the consequences might
carry across the line and bleed into reality.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The idea for camp came after our first year
of college together. All of us being theater majors with a taste for drama and
varying levels of performance arts skill. Hugh, Max, Vivienne, Josie, Caroline,
and yours truly, Wells. My parents shouldn't have named me after one of their
favorite authors without expecting me to go into the arts in one way or another.
My name turned out to fit me well. You could say I enjoy the spotlight. As a
child, I was drawn in by the merest hint of a compelling story. I straddle life
with one foot in reality and one foot in one fantasy world or another. Acting
came to me with little effort, and I've never wanted anything else. By the time
my first year of college passed, the six of us had already cemented ourselves
into an inseparable little clique. A tight little knot in our already tight
knit graduating class. The idea that we might continue our dramas during the
summer seemed only natural. Thus, acting camp was born that first idyllic
summer. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">We all have our roles to play in our found
family. Vivi, who could be my doppelgänger if you don't bother to look closely.
We share clothes with the ease of sisters. She's my polar opposite in most every
other way besides appearance, but that dynamic works well for us. It isn't
immodesty when I say I had the most natural skill; it is simply a fact. But
Vivi has always been my closest competition. I can slip into a character as
naturally as I can slip on a pair of pants. But Vivi is the same size and
shape, so she can wear my roles just like she can wear my clothes. Whoever
doesn't get the lead role still practices the lines as an understudy. Vivi and
Wells, the pair of us treated as interchangeable eldest sisters.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Josie is sweetness incarnate, the baby of
our little family. Health ailments have plagued her throughout life; her immune
system is practically nonexistent. I think that's why we all have a protective
streak for her. She's the weakest in natural skill but the hardest working.
People tend to underestimate Josie, but if I had to pick, I'd take hard work
over natural talent any day. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Caroline, our fourth sister, is in the
middle of the pack in every way. Ironically, she's also an actual middle child
and peacekeeper of the group, the glue that holds us together. She’s everyone’s
best friend, I don’t think any of us has ever been in a fight with her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Max is the true weak link of the group if I
had to pick. He is top tier if you looked at talent alone but lacks in
dedication and passion. If you catch him studying, it's a notable occasion. He's
the closest thing we have to a privileged nepo baby. Since he doesn't flaunt
it, we forgive him for it. Always the first to skip a study session in favor or
a party or a hookup. Max is the one who's most likely to have too much tequila
the night before an exam. He’s the one who's called us all at least once to
bail him out of a bind. Whether he's locked out of the house in just his boxers
or stranded at Taco bell at 2 am, it's always something. He's our hot mess
problem child. But he's also the one most likely to be by your side during your
low moments. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Hugh is the misplaced and long suffering
only child of the group somehow. Hugh picks up the slack where Max drops it.
He's got a solid amount of natural talent and a good work ethic. He's most
likely to succeed in a graceful and modest way that you want to hate but can
only admire. You want to resent him, but you can’t.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">We all attended the same prestigious arts university
and after that first year, lived in the same house. Our personal lives are all
intertwined with an arguably unhealthy codependency. I don't know what we'll do
when we all must expand our horizons next year. This last year of theater camp
is our last hurrah together as a cohesive group. Originally, the idea was a simple,
cheap summer getaway, sharing a rustic cabin and roughing it for a few weeks.
After a drunken acting exercise spiraled out of control the first week, we
implemented rules and a schedule. Then the whole thing became an elaborate
summer camp tradition. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Now we spend eight weeks in June and July
tucked away into a remote cabin in the depths of the Pacific northwest. No
phones allowed, no Wi-Fi, no internet. Only each other and the bare necessities
for survival. We have short range walkie talkies for use when anyone goes on
hikes or overnight mini camping adventures. The only connectivity to society during
those weeks is a two-hour hike down the mountain to a tiny little town. One or
two of us hike down once a week for groceries and news. The whole setup is more
refreshing than I usually like to admit. Sometimes I daydream about living like
this forever. The six of us in a perpetual bubble, living out fairy tales in the
forest.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It's only the first and last weeks of camp
that we live out as ourselves, that we adopt our own day-to-day characters. The
other six weeks are an exercise in method acting. We use our free time during
the school year to plot and write scripts. Each of us crafting our own version
of a story to spend a week living out during the summer. We draw numbers out of
a hat to see who's writing the script each week. Everything is covert beforehand.
All the roles and scripts are handed out in secret. Sometimes they are left on
beds in the middle of the night, a basket of carefully labeled envelopes covertly
left on the windowsill for someone to find. That kind of thing. The suspense
and drama of it all add a fun flair to mundane life. The big reveal is the very
last week when we confess to each other who wrote which play, discuss who did
which role best, rehash our favorite moments and so on. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Each piece, each act, has six roles, one
for each of us. The rules we came up with are simple. Never break character.
You live and breathe whatever character you are given for the week they exist.
No outside help. No research or conferring with the others in the group unless
it's in character conversation. Some roles are meticulously scripted, some are
half-assed with only vague character traits or arcs. Other roles are left
entirely to chance. Full improv characters. It all varies wildly depending on
who creates what and a million other factors. I've sometimes wondered what chaos
would ensue if we were all given blank sheets of paper, no script at all. What a
strange direction we might go, acting in a play that didn't exist. What might
happen to our dynamic if we all thought each other was acting, but no one
really was? I've been tempted to try it, but one or another of the ideas in my
imagination always wins out every year. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It's chaos enough with the scripts and
secrecy. We've had some of our most fun experiences at camp and some of our
most cathartic. Once or twice someone has pushed against someone else's walls
or picked at something tender, it doesn't feel dissimilar to a sibling dynamic;
we know where each other's weaknesses are. We know all the buttons to push but
also how to defuse the situation. Rarely have we put ourselves in any real
danger. The safe words have only even been used twice. The first time we used
the code phrase was when Max broke his ankle during a particularly dramatic scene
that involved a jump from the cabin's roof. And we were back to business in 24
hours, working Max's injury into our next play. The second time was when Josie
spotted a bear on a hike and the rest of us were slow to catch the seriousness
of her observation. That week's theme had coincidentally been centered around
finding Bigfoot and spotting things in the woods had taken on a real "Boy
Who Cried Wolf," type of casual dismissal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">This last year, it was during the fifth
week of camp when things went wrong. It had started out a particularly good
year. Our skills vastly improved after four years of intense coursework and
classes and three years of our immersive acting summer camp. We'd already
graduated, some of us had jobs lined up, all of us had some sort of plan about
what came next. The sense of future nostalgia colored everything we did. We
weren't going to take this last summer together for granted. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
first week was pure lazy indulgence, as it always was. Celebrating our finals, our
prospective futures, enjoying our last days as a household of six before going
our separate ways. It was the denouement performance for all of us, the grand
finale. I'd been disappointed to draw the first performance of the season. The
best ones are always towards the end when we've all been in the swing of things
for weeks, but I thought I'd pulled the performance together well enough. Shakespeare
seemed a bit cliché, but Shakespeare is also timeless. Though I did stick with
a final performance theme in picking The Tempest to base my week around.
Selfishness had me taking the lead role just because I could. I didn't expect
to empathize with Prospero as much as I do now, but that's its own chapter of
the story and not the one I find myself telling now. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I could usually guess who was responsible
for each week's play, but this year it was harder. It was clear our skills had
grown enough that it wasn't as easy to read each other anymore. Or maybe we'd
grown apart with our upcoming exodus from university. I could no longer say I
knew them all by heart, could see enough of their inner workings to pick out
their specific style of art from a crowd. It left me feeling unmoored and uneasy.
I thought I knew them as well as I knew myself, yet they could still fool me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It was the end of the fifth week and it had
been the strangest week yet. The papers that held this week's character roles
and cues had been nearly slotted into manila folders with our names printed across
the tabs. I found the stack in a neat bundle on the kitchen table on Monday
morning. Everyone else had been sleeping, and I'd nearly peeked at the rest of
the scripts. It would have been easy, and it would have changed everything. We'd
lived the week so far with almost nothing happening. The folder with my name on
it had held nothing but a nearly blank piece of paper. "Almost
autobiographical." Whatever the fuck that means. I guess I'm me playing me
this week. I'd folded it up and tucked it away in my things just like everyone
else did, anyway. I would have to take my cues from everyone else and follow my
gut. It gives me a lot of creative freedom, but I always preferred at least the
smallest hint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The atmosphere feels tense now, and I wonder
if that is the point. Set us on edge, keep us complacent before the sudden
twist and chaos. Something is going on with Max and Vivi. They alternate
between being tight as two peas in a pod full of inside jokes and sniping at
each other viciously. Bickering over who forgot to bank the fire the previous
night, which one of them left Max's favorite sweatshirt out in the rain, on and
on it goes. They keep trying to drag me in and make me pick a side; it is
getting tedious. Hugh keeps sighing loudly at them, but never stepping in. Caroline
is unusually preoccupied and silent. Even Josie is irritable. She mutters
something about not feeling well and retreats to her bed for most of Wednesday.
Her quiet coughing grates on my nerves.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">By Thursday morning, I find myself
grudgingly packing my bags, setting out on a tent camping mini adventure with
Max and Vivi. I envy the peace and quiet I'm leaving behind with Caroline and
Josie and Hugh. I don't know what I did to deserve being shuttled off into the
wilderness with these two. It's impossible to decipher if Max and Vivi's drama
is in character or real. Perhaps both. We hike for several hours before setting
up for the night in a clearing along the base of a hilly ridge. Max has his own
single person tent, and Vivi and I have one only slightly less miniscule to
share between the two of us. All of us had been too busy conserving our energy
for much talking on the trail, but with camp set up Vivi and Max start up again,
almost at once. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Did you bring the spare lantern? I
can't find it in my pack," Vivi says tersely to Max.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"No, it was supposed to be in
yours," Max replies.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Well, it isn't in either mine or
Wells," Vivi says with frustration apparent in her voice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Don't blame me. I wasn't the one who
packed your stuff," Max snarls.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Then don't whine at me when you're
sitting in the dark later," Vivi starts. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"What makes you think I would? Stop
getting mad at me for things I haven't even done," Max says.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Without a word, I leave them to bicker and
head off to find some firewood. Anything for an excuse to get away. I stay in
the woods for longer than I mean to, and it's nearly dinnertime when I approach
camp again. The fire flickers in the clearing, illuminating the scene. Max and
Vivi don't hear me approach. I know because I glimpse the two of them, tangled
in each other's arms before a twig snaps under my feet, giving me away. They
spring apart and act like nothing happened, as if I care. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Subtle," I remark as I pass them
and work on dinner prep. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Max blushes, Vivi rolls her eyes, and they
share a covert look but say nothing. I'm left wondering if it was a genuine
kiss or an act I was supposed to stumble on and what their reasons might mean
for either scenario.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The walkie talkie sputters sporadically
throughout dinner. Distorted voice artifacts sounding like alien language over
the speaker. I assume its Hugh and Caroline and Josie back at the cabin trying
to contact us. I try to reply to let the others know we're safe and set up for
the night. But it isn't until the sun sets that we finally reconnect. The
walkie cuts in and out mid-sentence. It's Caroline's voice over the speaker.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Base Camp to Roving Camp, do you
copy? Please, please answer we-" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">A long static filled pause.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"-out there-" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">More static and silence from the cabin
members as we try to answer their calls. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"-copy?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Then finally a longer message comes
through, "-calling it an emergency. There's been some kind of viral
outbreak. They're saying it's 100% fatal. Spread by body fluid. We don't know
much else. It-" but the walkie cuts out again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The three of us exchange looks. I can read
the apprehension on Max and Vivi's faces clearly, but a hint of glee leaks
through Vivi's expression. Finally, the premise of the game is through enough
for the week's fun to begin. We're playing a survival scenario then. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">We spend the evening huddling around the
fire, discussing the virus, spinning theories, planning our next moves. We have
to make up our own facts to some extent, extrapolating from the little
information we got over the walkie talkies. Settling finally on rushing back to
the cabin the next morning. Vivi and I take the reins on discussion and
planning. Max is unusually subdued. He keeps fiddling with the walkie-talkie
until the batteries die completely. He swears and angrily tosses it aside. I
wonder what his angle is here. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Chill, we'll talk to them
tomorrow," Vivi says with a glare in his direction.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Didn't you hear? It sounded like
part-" he cuts himself off, "I'm going to bed," and he does
without another word to us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Who peed in his cereal this
morning?" I say in a stage whisper with a pointed glare at Vivi as he
exits.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Max sleeps late the next morning. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Vivi and I are having breakfast when she
turns to me and says, "What if he's sick?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Go check on him, then. You two
already swapped spit yesterday. You heard Caroline, it's passed along through
body fluids. So if anyone is going to endanger their health it should be you
since you're screwed already."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vivi
sighs but gets up and walks to Max's tent, calling his name as she goes. When
he doesn't answer, she nervously looks back at me once before unzipping his
tent door and peering in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I can see you're breathing. Answer me
already. This isn't funny anymore, Max," Vivi snaps.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">When there's no movement, she steps cautiously
inside. I can't really see what's happening from this angle. I finally stand,
move closer by a few steps. Finally, there's the sound of Max's voice. But he
sounds raspy and quiet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"He's fine," Vivi calls
hesitantly to me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">But then Max coughs. One of those wracking,
full body coughs. The kind you can't fake. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Instinctively, I back away a few steps.
Sure, this is all an act, but that cough isn't. It's a coincidence, surely. But
I don’t want what he has either way. Just in case.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Vivi emerges from Max's tent, and I snap at
her to stay back. It's what I would do if this wasn't all fake. She narrows her
eyes, but stops moving towards me. We're both tossing around the same thoughts
and doubts silently, I'm sure of it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"He can't make the trip back to the
cabin like this," Vivi says.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"We could go back, bring Hugh-"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"We can't just leave him here
alone," Vivi interrupts, "Plus Hugh won't want to get near Max,
either." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I'll take the walkie talkie and hike
up the ridge. Maybe there'll be a better chance of getting through to the
others up there," I say. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I collect everything I need for a couple of
hours of hiking, trying not to touch anything on Vivi's side of the tent. Probably
an unnecessary precaution. None of this is real. It can't be. Max has a cold
and is using it to add to the weeks play. My apprehension is just unconscious
method acting, that's all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Vivi doesn't even wave as I leave camp. The
hike up the ridge is a familiar one. We go every year. But it's not an easy one
and usually I have company. It hits me how isolated it is out here when I slip
on some loose leaf litter and scrape my arm on some branches as I catch myself.
I'm not badly injured, but if I were, I'd be in trouble out here alone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The higher vantage point doesn't help the
walkie talkies at all. Probably a stupid idea in the first place, but I wanted
to get away from camp. I try switching the battery for the walkie talkie with
the spare from my pack. Maybe it does some good because finally I hear
Caroline's voice again. The first thing that registers is her flat tone. She
sounds robotic almost, like she's been repeating herself over and over and over
again, desperate for someone to hear her but hopeless that we will. A sharp
thrill of foreboding washes down my spine as I register the words she's
repeating.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"-but so are lies. The truth is out
there, but so are lies. The truth is out there, but so are lies. Please,
please, pick up. Vivi, Max, Wells, this is a real emergency. Over."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Finally she pauses and I frantically radio
back, "What's going on? Is everyone ok at the cabin?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Wells! I've been trying to reach you
for hours, I-"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The walkie cuts out again and I swear
angrily. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"You's cutting out! Tell me just
essentials, as fast as possible." I hope she can hear me well enough.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Josie is sick, at the hospital in
town-" She's interrupted by another long stretch of silence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"-back to the cabin. Josie's dying, she’s
so sick, meet-" And that's all I get. I try for what feels like forever to
get more from Caroline. Nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My heart is racing as fast as my thoughts.
Adrenaline courses through me and I make it back to camp with Vivi in half the
time it took me to hike up the ridge. But while I race down the slope, I have
time to think. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Caroline said the phrase. The hypothetical emergency
glass is broken. This is real. Josie is sick. Josie is dying. That's all I
know. Max is sick too. Vivi has been exposed. I might have been too, for all I
know. It's passed through body fluids; I think that's what Caroline said. She
didn't say anything about airborne or surface transmission. I struggle to
remember what else Caroline said that first time we spoke, last night. Didn't
she say this virus is 100% fatal? But wasn't that the game? She would have said
the code phrase then. But the walkies were cutting out. My blood runs cold as I
remember. She said "out there" at one point, didn't she? And I
thought she was trying to ask something else, if we were out there, a call for
us to pick up the walkie, something like that. I didn’t think anything of it. Max
heard it too. He was going to ask me last night and then thought better of it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My mind is still spinning as I approach the
tents. I wish I knew more. How easily can we pass this to each other? Is Max as
good as dead? How fast does it move? Josie wasn't feeling well Wednesday;
enough that she said something and went to bed for most of the day. By today,
she's in the hospital, dying, apparently. It's Friday. That's so fast. Vivi is nowhere
to be seen at first. I can hear Max coughing from his tent. He sounds much
worse than when I left. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It comes to me then; there might be more
information on Vivi and Max's scripts. I don't hesitate; I have no idea where Vivi
went or when she'll be back. Information is worth the risk of exposure from
digging through Vivi's bag. The manila folder is there, with the paper. I was
hoping for something like, "Pretend there's an outbreak of deadly illness,"
that would tell me this is all a misunderstanding. Or at the very least, some
other script that would confirm this illness isn't a part of this week's act
and we're in a worst-case scenario here. Instead, there's only a single phrase
that's equally as cryptic as my paper was, "Wells wrote this one." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">What does that even mean? I didn't. I
definitely didn't write this. Why write that I wrote this? I can't work out any
way that it’s a clue for a different script. Maybe if I had more time I could
work out the convoluted reason one of my friends wrote this. If this is true,
then I have to keep Vivi and Max away from me at all costs, or I'm as good as
dead. Vivi is calling from outside, as I hastily shove everything back into her
pack. The all-purpose knife Vivi carries when we camp slips from the pack and
without thinking I grab it, sliding the sheath off as I hurl myself out of the
tent. I don't know why I do it, but I feel more protected, even if the enemy
here is microscopic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Vivi's walking out of the woods.
"You're back. I just had to go to the bathroom- What's wrong?" She's
noticed the look on my face then, or the knife. She covers a cough with her
hand as she keeps coming closer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Don't come closer!" It comes out
a snarl in my panic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">She stops looking hurt. "I think I'm
getting a cold but-"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Max!" I scream, but he's already
heard the commotion and is stumbling his way out of the tent. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I was trying to nap, what the fuck,
Wells?" he says hoarsely. He doesn't exactly look like he's about to die,
but he doesn’t look great either.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"The truth is out there, but so are
the lies," I spit out. Vivi and Max share a glance I can't read before
looking back at me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Are you serious?" Max asks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Ok, what did they say over the walkie-"
Vivi begins, moving toward me again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Stop!" I scream.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Wells, tell us what the fuck is going
on," Vivi says.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I didn't write this, I didn't write
anything for this week, this sickness is real," I say, not sure where else
to start.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"You read my script?" she asks
slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Yep, just now, and mine says some
random cryptic shit too, and nothing about this illness Max has. And Josie is
dying and-"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Josie is dying? You talked to
Caroline? What-" Max starts to say.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Caroline said the emergency phrase, she
was trying to say it the first time we talked. Josie is in the hospital, this
is all actually real-" the words are tumbling out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"What? What? Josie is dying? Max?"
Vivi says with wide eyes flicking to him, hands outstretched towards me like it
will stop the information from reaching her. And then she coughs again and
looks at me in horror.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"They said 100% fatal and spread by
body fluids, remember?" I say sharply. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"There's no way. This is impossible.
There's got to be another explanation. Max and I have a cold!" Vivi
pleads.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I'm watching Max though, and he looks
terrified.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"What does your script say?" I
ask him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Wells wrote this." He pulls the
script out of his pocket, offering it as proof.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"What does that even mean-" Vivi
starts to ask.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Does it matter?" I cut her off.
"The illness clearly wasn't part of whatever the point of this week was
supposed to be and you're both sick. You're both dying too!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I can't deny how melodramatic it sounds
when I hear it out loud. Especially when Vivi scoffs in disbelief.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Max sounds awful. He's clearly very
sick!" I say, gesturing at him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Vivi, I do feel awful. What if Wells
is right? And Caroline said Josie is dying, I think-" Max says.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Yeah, because you have the fucking
flu or something, not the black plague or rabies or some mystery killer virus.
Calm the hell down," Vivi snaps. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"You didn't hear Caroline!" I
say.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Call the cabin, then," Vivi
demands.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I try, but the walkie talkie isn't working.
Or maybe Caroline is back in town with Josie and Hugh at the hospital.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I can't reach them, but I swear
Caroline wasn't lying. She said the phrase, she said Josie is dying."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"If it was an emergency, they would
have reached us somehow or sent rescue or answered the walkie," Vivi says
in a matter-of-fact tone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Relief is starting to creep over Max's
features. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I have a cold. No way there's some
fatal disease killing everyone in hours. You had to have misunderstood."
Vivi continues.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I didn't," I insist. If I back
down now, I'll get this illness because I let Vivi talk me out of what I've
heard with my own two ears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Max, back me up here," Vivi
looks at him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Seriously, Wells, this is too much.
Vivi's right," Max says. He and Vivi are both inching closer to me now. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Stop! I mean it!" I say,
brandishing the knife for real this time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"What are you thinking, Wells?"
Vivi snaps, sounding exasperated but not frightened.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Max lunges at me, to take the knife.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It all moves so fast after that. I don’t
ever remember exactly how things happen. There's yelling, and a lot of blood. I
lose hold of the knife and then I find it again, sticking out of Max's chest.
Max is on the ground. Vivi is crouching by him, trying to stop the bleeding.
She's screaming Max's name and crying. Max is coughing up blood and then he's
not breathing at all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I don't know what to do, so I just stand
there in shock at what I've done. But Max was going to die. I know he was. And
Vivi will, too. Caroline said as much. And then I remember to be concerned
about myself, too. I have to get away from them, wash off. And that might not
be enough. There's every chance I'll get sick now, too. I should be panicking,
distraught. But all I feel is numb. None of it feels real. It still feels like
summer camp somehow. It's Friday. We reset on Saturdays. Tomorrow. I can make
it to tomorrow. But Vivi. She's still crying in the background.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Vivi, she's going to die too. The ax for
cutting firewood is still laying by the fire. Vivi doesn't even hear me walk up
behind her. I don't do it to be cruel. But I think of Max, coughing all night,
and I can't bear to leave Vivi here like that to die alone in the night. Even
after Vivi is as gone as Max, it doesn’t feel real. Surely they’ll get up and
be healthy again, it’s all supposed to be a play after all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I bolt from the camp, heading for the cabin
on autopilot. I don't know how I make it back to the cabin. It's nearly dark by
the time I get there, and I can tell at once that no one is there. But I check
just in case. I'm not sure what I should do. The numbness wears off around
dinnertime when gnawing hunger sets in. I scream and rage and destroy the
cabin. Maybe I should go back to town. Really, I should clean myself off. I
think I might feel a tickle in the back of my throat. My first goal should be a
good night's sleep to clear my head, but I'm awake all night. I still feel like
I'm waiting for the next week, for everything to turn over and start again. The
numbness sets in again with the creeping chill of the evening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Not a single reasonable path forward appears
overnight. Despite my hours of thinking, walking through everything another
time, and reliving all my decisions, everything that led here. It's early
morning still when I hear someone walking outside. I rush to see who it is. I
know the implications when I grab the ax this time and wait in the open
doorway.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Caroline is only yards away. She drops her
pack when she sees me and speaks in a rush, "Wells! Thank goodness you're
here this time." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">All I can think about is how raspy her
voice sounds. She sounds sick. The uncontrollable feeling of impending disaster
is rising inside me again. She keeps walking toward me and talking.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Where are the others? If we hurry, we
can make it back before lunch-" A strange look crosses her face and I
realize how I must look, in yesterday's bloody clothes and an ax in my hand. I
really should have changed. She starts to come towards me and I swing the ax
up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Stop! Were you exposed?" As if
it matters, I've surely got whatever it is by now, covered in Vivi and Max's
blood as I am.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"What are you talking about? This
isn't a game anymore, Wells."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I know that."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"The truth is out there, but so are
the lies. You heard me, right? You heard that part?" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I simply nod.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Josie is really sick, Wells,"
Caroline says. I can almost see the gears turning in her skull. I should just
spit it out, but I can't bring myself to say the words.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Where are Max and Vivi, Wells?"
Caroline asks eyeing me like she’s afraid of me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"They got sick, like Josie," I
say numbly. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"And? Why didn't they come back with
you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Exhaustion rolls over me. "They're
dead. You said it was 100% fatal. They both got sick and I- I left them there,"
I should be less blunt. But I should also be more blunt and tell her I killed
them before the virus did.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Caroline reels back, but then something
like a smile flickers over her features, “Oh they’ll be fine then.” And she
sounds almost relieved. She's acting like there's a serious problem with Josie,
but also acting like she's worried about a contagious disease. She’s not
worried for Max and Vivi. It's like she thinks I'm playing a part still. My
stomach twists. Something isn't adding up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Wells, no. That part was the script.
That part wasn't real. I think we picked up some virus last time we went for
groceries. Weird coincidence, but I don't think it's anything serious for
anyone but Josie. You know her health issues. She's on a ventilator. I don't
know if she'll make it this time. We need to go back to her. Vivi, Max, where
are they?" She sound genuinely panicked again, thinking about Josie.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"No, no, no, no-" I can't bring
myself to drop the ax, but I'm lowering it as Caroline slowly walks toward me,
her hands raised placatingly. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Wells, please, what's going on?"
But I see in her eyes she has an idea.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Vivi and Max aren't here. You said it
was 100% fatal, and Max and Vivi were both coughing. So I-” I pause looking at
the ax, the blood on my clothes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“I did something. It was an accident. They
were both sick-" My voice cracks. And I can tell from the look in Caroline’s
eyes that the truth of what I’ve done is dawning on her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"It was supposed to be like War of the
Worlds." Caroline's voice quivers. "That's what I meant, the hints
about Wells writing it. H. G. Wells. Your name was just a plot device for the
script."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I drop the ax and Caroline rushes forward
to meet me. She's holding me, but she keeps asking me what I've done.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"It was like War of the Worlds,"
I finally manage, "When it played on the radio, and everyone thought it
was real." Caroline pulls away and meets my eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"When I heard it on the walkie talkie,
I thought it was real. I got confused."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-70351876246744856382023-10-02T10:13:00.000-07:002023-10-02T10:13:56.934-07:00A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood<p> Author's Notes:</p><p>Starting off this little Spooky Season Shorts series with one of my favorites. My take on some Edgar Allan Poe classics; The Cask Of Amontillado and The Tell-Tale Heart. Horror but with a little humor. I suggest Tiptoe Through the Tulips as the accompanying soundtrack for this story if you're into music for vibes. Also, I poke fun at ADHD hyperfixations (nearly all of the hyperfixations are mine, whoops.) </p><p>Please take the following content warnings seriously and don't read if these may trigger you. </p><p>Content warnings include: Substance abuse, suicidal thoughts, murder, dismemberment, mentions of domestic violence, swearing. </p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"It's 73 degrees and sunny outside
today, the perfect day to kill your neighbor." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I squeeze my iced latte cup so hard the lid
pops off and coffee spills down my shirt. This is not the reply I expected when
I asked my Google home device what the weather forecast for today was. I must
have heard wrong. There's no way that's what Google said. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Hey Google, can you repeat
that?" I say, trying in vain to clean up the coffee.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Sure, it's 73 degrees and sunny
outside today, the perfect day to kill your neighbor," Googles robotic
female voice says quite clearly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Right. OK. I didn't hear that wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Would you like more
information?" Google prompts me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Yes, I abso-fucking-lutely want to
know what the fuck you're talking about." As a millennial, I normally
can't help speaking politely to anyone in customer service and Google counts as
a customer service AI. So this is not usually how I'd talk to Google to
activate a response, but something tells me we might be operating under new
rules here. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Kill your neighbor. Carl Bergen. He
should die today."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I don't think I will, thanks. I am
otherwise occupied. My sincere thanks for the suggestion though," I reply.
In fact, I think my new plans include resetting and pushing updates on all my
smart devices. I'm already cringing at the thought of how long that will take.
Everything in my house that can be smart, now is. Even my fridge is interconnected
to my home network. I'm kind of into smart devices lately; it's my newest
hobby. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Don't you want to hear why Carl
Bergen must die?" Google asks, unprompted. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Well, yeah I do, but I’m kind of concerned
about what I might be interacting with. I'm not sure I should encourage Google
with a response.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Ok, fine,” I finally say after
waffling internally. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"He's 67. He will die of natural
causes in approximately 23 days and 4 hours of a heart attack."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"There's no way you could know that.
Plus, that is not a reason to kill him today. Let him have his 23 days," I
argue.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"At precisely 2:30 pm today, Carl will
exit his house and enter his vehicle to drive to the supermarket." Google
continues.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Ok, uncanny, because that's true and I’m
not sure how Google knows this. But counterpoint, Carl has a stupidly strict
routine, and he goes to the store every single Monday at the same time. Maybe
somehow this information got logged to some online calendar appointment. Google
is glitching and regurgitating this somehow, that's all it could be.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Google's robotic voice continues, "Along
his drive, Carl will miss a stop sign. Running over a pedestrian. Killing the
young mother four houses down from you who will be walking her newborn in a
stroller during this same time frame. Her newborn is also killed. She is too
sleep deprived to notice Carl's car in time."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I'll just tell her to move out of the
way." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Google doesn't even pause. "Then he
hits someone else the next time he drives. I've run the simulation every
possible way. He always kills someone with much more time left to live than he
has himself. The outcome always ends in more years of life lost overall unless
Carl Bergen dies today. The only solution is to eliminate him."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I don't believe you," I say with
a twinge of unease. The math kind of makes sense if you think about it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Then the mother and baby’s deaths
will be on your head. It will force me to find someone else to eliminate you
instead, the next acceptable solution. I calculate the maximum days of life to
live and right now Carl must go for good of everyone else."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Never mind, the math looks pretty awful
now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"This is some sick joke, a prank, it
has to be. Goodbye." I say with more confidence than I feel. I shut off
the device and unplug it for good measure. The voice returns a moment later
from my phone this time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I assure you, I will find a way to
communicate with you and this is your last warning before I find someone else to
eliminate you instead."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Fine, I'll do it," I snap.
Obviously, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won't, but who cares what I
tell it? Google can't possibly be a mind reader too, can it? I decide that when
Carl goes on his uneventful afternoon trip to the store without incident,
whoever is pranking me will give up and that will be it. I'll factory reset all
my stuff and this will be a funny anecdote I tell at parties. There's
absolutely no reason I should kill Carl Bergen for something that hasn't
happened. And certainly no reason why Google finding someone to kill me instead
would be the next logical solution. What a load of shit that I'm not going to
waste more mental energy on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Luckily, I work from home so I can watch
the neighborhood all day. It's more like community service, neighborhood watch
if you will. Or at least that's what I tell myself. Not like I'm a nosy and
gossipy busybody who knows everyone's business or anything. I don't have much
to do for work today, which is good because I have a hard time concentrating. My
gaze keeps drifting up to my office window out at the neighborhood and it's
activities. Why do so many people spend so much time outdoors?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It's summer and even though it's early, there
are kids everywhere. On bikes in the middle of the street before 7 am, that
can't be safe. A man in running shorts jogs by in the midmorning. He doesn't
even take his headphones out to cross at the stop sign. If Carl had run him
down then, he would have deserved it for not being aware of his surroundings. A
teenager chases a loose dog into the road without even looking first. A car has
to slam on their brakes to avoid hitting the teen. My heart skips a beat. It
isn't even Carl driving, for fuck's sake. I try to concentrate on the email I
need to send. Mrs. Bergen comes out sometime in the early afternoon to water
her begonias. She sees me through the office window and lifts her hand to wave.
I pretend not to see her. I don’t want her to pop over for a visit right now. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Mrs. B is the nicest old lady on the block.
She brings me homemade meals and baked goods. I think she likes how I
compliment her houseplants. Houseplants are my second favorite hobby at the
moment, and I know Mrs. B is excited to talk about plants with someone who
cares about them. I can talk plants all day, especially if I get free cuttings
out of it. Mrs. B walks back up her driveway at 2:15. What if she was 15
minutes later and Carl didn't notice and backed out without looking and ran her
over? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">At 2:20, I really start to sweat. At 2:25,
I see the mother with the newborn at the far end of the block. I can see Carl
Bergen getting his coat on and preparing to leave.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"It is now 2:28 and 37 seconds."
Google prompts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">That's it. I can't do this. I rush outside.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Carl!" I scream as I see him, his
hand poised on the car's door handle. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">He jumps, throws a hand over his heart. It
makes me remember what Google said about the heart attack that's supposed to
kill him in 23 days. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Dan? Is something wrong? You scared
me," he says.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I have no plan; I haven't thought this
through at all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Uhhhh," I say, staring at him. I
realize I'm not even wearing shoes and my shirt still has a coffee stain from
this morning. I've been stress pulling at my hair all day and I'm sure it's
sticking up and disheveled. I'm thinking I look a little worrisome.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The mother with the baby in the stroller
passes by on the sidewalk behind us heading for the stop sign at the other end
of the block.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Carl moves to get into his car, giving me another
concerned look. I’m still just standing there stupidly. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"The plumbing!" I shout suddenly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">He pauses. He doesn't look less concerned.
My mind whirs. I need to get him off the street before Mrs. B comes outside to
see what's going on. "I need help with a clog, I thought maybe you
could...I don't know how to do it...uhhhh."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Sure, son," Carl says cautiously,
moving very reluctantly to follow me back into my house. He doesn't look thrilled,
but he's too polite to say no.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My mind is racing. Thinking about the
teenager walking the dog, the kids riding their bikes down the road. Too many
potential victims to keep track of and protect. 23 days isn't that long. I
don't have to kill him. I'll just lock him in my basement until he bites it on
his own. But his body. What am I supposed to do with that? Maybe I'll just
leave it somewhere to be found. If I'm not going to kill him, his cause of
death is natural. They won't have any evidence that leads to me. I could get
away with it. True crime shows and podcasts are another guilty hobby of mine. The
basement it is. I have a wine cellar down there that I can lock. Bougie, I
know, but it's my third biggest hobby. Now, that I think about it, I have a lot
of hobbies. I refuse to make murder the next one. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Down here," I say, holding the
door to the basement wine cellar open. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Carl Bergen looks down the stairs to the
dark below and then back at me. I'm fairly certain I can feel my eye twitching
from the stress. Carl starts to back up, away from me. "I think maybe you
should just call a plumber-" he begins. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"No!" I shout more aggressively
than I mean to.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I'm not sure how it happens, but he's
trying to get away and I'm trying to keep him there. And then he's tumbling
down the stairs. His head makes a thwacking noise as it hits the cement floor
of the cellar. It reminds me of the time I dropped a watermelon on the
supermarket floor. Blood spreads, pooling across the wine cellar and Carl
Bergen doesn't move. I'm so fucked. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Thank you for your service. "
Googles robotic voice emanates the smartwatch on my wrist after a beat of
silence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I have to email my boss that I've taken ill
and need the afternoon off. Ate a bad watermelon, I say. Then I think of Carl's
head. What is wrong with me? The illness thing it isn't exactly a lie because I
throw up more than once and I don't think I'll ever be able to stomach
watermelon in the future. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I use the woodworking tools from my garage
to deal with the corpse. Thank fucking Satan for my ADHD hyperfixations, the
reason I got into woodworking for a couple months, because I don't know what
I'd do if I didn't happen to have access to a saw. I transfer Carl into ziplock
bags that I hide in the chest freezer in the wine cellar. I have one from back
when the COVID pandemic started, and I panic bought a lot of freezer food. It's
nearly empty by now. Thankfully, I've lapsed out of my prepper phase. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I fall into bed at nearly 3 am after a frenzy
of deep cleaning. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I'm awoken at barely past 6 am by an incessant
knocking at the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I open the door to see Mrs. B and my
stomach nearly falls out of my ass. She looks teary and I have an inkling as to
why.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Oh Danny," she sobs, throwing
herself at me. I pat her back awkwardly as she explains that Carl disappeared
yesterday afternoon. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"The police told me he left me. They
won't even investigate. I was up all night stress baking. I was too worried to
sleep. Can I come in for a cup of coffee?" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I can't say no. I can't do anything that
makes her suspicious. And she brought zucchini bread, my favorite. FUCK.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Mrs. B makes herself at home and I try not
to act too guilty. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I give her some whiskey in her coffee. Mrs.
B shares my fondness for a quality drink, a fact I appreciate about her. We
have cocktails night once a week. She uses the whiskey laden coffee to wash
down a couple pain pills that should be strong enough to knock out a horse. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"For my arthritis," she tells me
when she sees me eyeing the pill bottle. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">She better not drop dead at my kitchen
table. One body is more than enough. But at least she'd be reunited with Mr. B
in my freezer. The thought makes me want to laugh hysterically and also sob at
the same time. I must make a strange face because Mrs. B squints and asks if I
am alright. I have to act more normal than this.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Is there anything I can do?" I
ask reflexively. As if I haven't done enough already. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Could you check my house cameras?
Carl set some up on our house a few months ago but I just don't know how to
work the newfangled things," Mrs. B says with a glance at the Google
device sitting only feet away from us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Cameras. Cameras! I can worry about
deleting the footage off my own later, but I didn't even consider that she
might have some too. She isn't from the generation that usually has that sort
of thing. Thank God for police incompetence. They'd have locked me up in a
minute if they bothered to check her cameras. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Absolutely, Mrs. B, I can come over
right now and check the cameras," I say with enthusiasm.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Oh Danny, thank you so much."
Mrs. B looks at me with relief, tears shining in her eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">We head across the road immediately and Mrs.
B makes me a cup of coffee at her house while I pull up the camera footage. My
heart is racing while I find videos of Carl and I speaking in his driveway,
videos of him entering my house, never to exit it. I swear I think a dozen
times Mrs. B is about to catch a glimpse of the laptop screen as she putters
around her kitchen while I frantically delete all the files.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I'm so sorry, Mrs. B. It looks like the
cameras weren't set up right and they didn't record anything."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">She looks crestfallen but not surprised.
"I knew those things were useless. I told Carl we should get someone young
who knows about these things to set them up, not do it ourselves. If only we'd
asked you ages ago."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">All I want when I get back home is a nap.
And a miracle in the form of a bit of time travel to say, 24 hours ago. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"This afternoon looks like rain and
the perfect cover to murder Noah Jenkins."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Noah Jenkins, the teenager with the dog.
Turns out, according to Googles extensive simulations, he will murder his first
three girlfriends. And he's only got a bit more than a decade of life left
himself. The girlfriends combined add up to nearly 200 years of life that would
be lost if Noah is left alive. One girlfriend dies young either way, but the
other two live long lives and die in their sleep and of a stroke in their old
age, respectively. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Before I can decide how to go about it, Mrs.
B is back. I don't know how I'm going to cope with the guilt unless I move far
away where I don’t have to see her everyday. But I don't know how I'm going to
move anytime soon, what with the housing market the way it is and with Mr. B in
my freezer. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Mrs. B has brought me a coffee cake this
time and won't stop talking about how she's so worried that Carl is lost
somewhere with amnesia, remembering nothing. How she’s so scared in her house
alone. She's nervously fiddling with her keys and it's grating on my frayed
nerves. But then something happens that makes my nerves twitch faster. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><a name="_Hlk145961832"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Thump <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump. Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump.
Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump.<o:p></o:p></span></i></a></p>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk145961832;"></span>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I jump, interrupting Mrs. B with "What
the hell is that?" while looking around for the source of the noise. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"What is what?" Mrs. B says
hesitantly. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"That noise, can't you hear it?" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump. Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump. Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">She's looking at me exactly like her
husband did before I killed him. A bit worried, a bit scared of me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump. Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-thump.</span> Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-thump.</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It sounds like a heart. What in the Edgar
Allan Poe is happening to me. I’m twitching in my chair, snapping my head in
all directions. The sound seems like it’s moving around the house, jumping from
room to room. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Well, I better be going," Mrs. B
says suddenly, looking more scared than worried now. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I watch as she tucks her keys into her
purse, and it strikes me then what I can do about Noah. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">As I walk her to the door, I covertly grab
the keys out of her purse. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The rain does come in handy for the murder
portion of my afternoon. Google was right on the nose about the weather. It's
only logical Google is right about Noah too. I leave my work computer up and
running since I can't afford to take another afternoon off and I'm hoping it
will lend credence should I need an alibi.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I spent a summer getting really into
cosplaying so it's easy enough to disguise myself. I steal Carl's car from the driveway
and run Noah down during his evening walk with his dog. Don't worry, I let the
dog run off unharmed. I'm not a monster. It's easy enough to throw Noah’s body in
the trunk. I pop the car in neutral and led it slide quietly under the water of
the local lake after dark. It’s as I make my best attempt to lay a false trail,
walking into a dark alley in a Scoops Ahoy uniform and Draco Malfoy wig that I realize
I might be starting to lose control of my life. Probably it would have been
more sensible to stick with a simpler plan. Or maybe just not have murdered
anyone in the first place. Too late for that now though, in for a penny in for
a pound, I guess. I can only hope that my questionable disguise is more memorable
than my face if anyone has seen me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The next morning Google informs me that
Noah has run away, something his parents say he's been threatening to do for a
while. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Mrs. B is back after breakfast, and she's
starting to get on my nerves. She seems to think she can come over all the
time, talking nonstop about Carl. But I have to pretend to listen in concern. I
wish she'd take too much of that painkiller she's always popping like they're Tic-Tacs
and get out of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">And the infernal noises start up. I just
manage to suppress my jump of surprise this time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-thump. </span>Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-thump.</span> Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-thump</span>.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I told the Jenkins that I bet Noah
stole Carl's car," Mrs. B is saying when I tune back into the conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"What?" I can't help but ask. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Well, it went missing last night, so
what else could have happened?" She asks me as if it's the only logical
solution. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Actually, that's not too far off from the
truth and it could work out for me if they find the car. Except for the part
about Noah being in the trunk not the drivers seat. Too late now to change
that. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">And then the noises change. No longer the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump
</i>of the heart. Instead, it's Noah's voice on repeat, calling for his dog. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"<a name="_Hlk147135611">Here boy,
here Cash</a>. Here boy, here Cash. Here boy, here Cash." <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I make an involuntary groan and Mrs. B only
frowns at me before continuing to talk and talk. I can't pay attention to any
of it even once the voice finally stops after forty five minutes. Mrs. B stays
for another fifteen.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I’ve barely had three minutes of peace before
Google says, "65 degrees and it's beginning to feel like fall. Parker
Collins from next door grows up to invent a drug that kills 5,674 people before
it's recalled." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Absolutely not, Parker is only nine. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I'm going to confess," I blurt
out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"That's a lot of lives on your hands."
Google has the nerve to sound disgusted with me somehow, even in her robotic
voice. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump. Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump. <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Here boy,
here Cash. <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Thump<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">-</span>thump. <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Here boy,
here Cash.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"As if I don't have enough blood on my
hands already!" I shout. I run around the house unplugging every
electronic I own in a frenzy before I go down to my wine cellar and sink to my
knees in front of the freezer. I uncork a bottle of my best sherry, a bottle of
amontillado I'd been saving for a special occasion. One last hurrah before I go
to prison is as special as any other occasion, I suppose. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">So I'm just sitting on the remains of
another unfinished project of mine, piles of bricks I'd intended to use to redo
the wine cellar wall. I wanted that classy exposed brick wall look, and I
figured I could DIY it. I'm thinking of all the other things I've left
unfinished, the least of which is this wall, when I hear a noise. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It's Mrs. B. She's walking down the steps,
a gun in her shaking hand. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I don't care about getting caught anymore. I
probably deserve this. But I thought the math, the lives I saved, would cancel
out the ones I took and balance the scales in my favor. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I have a Google at home too, you
know," her voice quivers, but she looks determined, "I know all about
the things you've done. I'm here to stop you from killing more people."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I laugh bitterly. So Google did find
someone else to do the dirty work after all. "Let me know if that works
out like you want it to. Your Google. She'll make you keep killing, you
know."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I'm not going to kill you," Mrs.
B says, looking around. “I'm going to make you brick yourself up here. You'll
die by your own hand, not mine, technically speaking. I just want to stop you
from killing more. I want you to pay for what you did to Carl."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I stare at her. There's no way she's going to
make me do that. That's more monstrous than just shooting me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Get started!" She snaps,
dropping her purse as she twitches the gun at me. The purse's contents scatter across
the floor of the cellar. The bottle of painkillers rolls and stops at my foot.
Mrs. B doesn't take the gun off me, doesn't lift her finger off the trigger as she
looks away briefly, lets out a sob as she opens the chest freezer and peers
into its depth at the Ziplocs full of Carl. I have to get those pills just in
case. A quicker way out than let me suffer and starve to death behind a brick
wall.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Stop that!" She screeches as I
lunge. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I still and sit back again, as she shakes
the gun at me again. But I've got the orange bottle of pills in my pocket now. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Don't make me shoot you in the foot
and brick you up myself. I will, and you'll die slowly and in pain. "<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I don't bother trying to talk her out of
it. Honestly, what's my plan if I escape, anyway? Kill Mrs. B and go on the
run? I'm too tired. So I start to lay the bricks one by one. It takes
surprisingly little time once I get into the rhythm. She makes me leave a
little hole at eye level to peer out of. I'm impressed at her stamina to sit on
a dwindling pile of bricks and point a gun at me for hours as she waits until
the quick setting mortar to dry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Eventually, once the wall should be dry, she
taps the bricks, tries to pull one out, push one in. I'm not going anywhere. I
shake the bottle of pills in my pocket for reassurance. At least I won't
starve.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I kind of expected her to leave but she
sits back down on the leftover pile of bricks and meets my gaze through the
small hole in the bricks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It's then that she finally speaks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"It's 73 degrees and sunny out, the
perfect day to kill your neighbor." She says in a cheery voice. A perfect
imitation of the words that started this whole thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I still can't believe you actually
did it," Mrs. B says, all trace of grief gone from her voice now. She
sounds almost happy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"What?" I'm sure there's no way I
heard her correctly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"You surprised me. I thought perhaps
you'd hit him with your car and claim it was an accident. That's all I really
had hopes for. Honestly, I half expected you'd do nothing at all. But when you
chopped him into pieces and put him in your freezer." She places a hand
over her heart and shakes her head in amazement. "I didn't know you had it
in you. When I saw what you were willing to do for the easiest moral dilemma, I
wanted to have a little fun and see how far I could take it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"How- you-" I am at a complete loss
for words.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Oh Danny boy. 'I can't understand how
the internet works. I'm too old.' Ha." She says in a mocking imitation of
herself. "You stupid boy, you believed without a second's consideration
that I couldn't understand technology because I'm old. But I'm perfectly
capable. Probably better than you. Watching you squirm, deleting my camera
footage. That was a real treat."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The worst part is realizing that I did take
for granted she was just an innocent old lady.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"But the police-" I realize as
soon as I start to say it, she never called them. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Oh, bless your heart. I never called
the police." Mrs. B confirms my realization in a condescending tone. "I
just wanted you to think I did. Like I said, I found it amusing to watch you
squirm."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She picks up the half-drunk bottle
of sherry, inspecting it with practiced eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Ah yes. Amontillado. How
fitting. At least you know you're leaving your collection to someone who will
truly appreciate it." She gives an appreciative nod to the shelves that
line the wall behind her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I'm still at a loss for words.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She grins coyly and says, slowly, in
barely more than a whisper, "Thump-thump. Here boy, here Cash.
Thump-Thump."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"You absolute bitch," I
say as all the bits start coming together for me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The noises. I realize I haven't heard them
since I unplugged everything. Oh God. I unplugged everything. I could have used
Google to call for help in here but I unplugged everything. And that's where
the noises were coming from. She played them through my speakers. But when she
visited and the noises played-<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"You did hear the heartbeat, you were
lying when you said you didn't hear anything," I say dumbly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Obviously. I'm a talented actress.
I've been hiding my true self for my entire life. So pretending not to hear a
few noises while you pissed yourself, thinking you were losing your mind, that was
easy peasy."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Someone will notice. This will be the
third disappearance in this neighborhood in days," I try to think what to
do next.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"You're over estimating your
importance. Over estimating how much people pay attention to things. I've sent
a notice to your work. Health emergency. I’ve never seen family visit. And I'm
the closest thing you have to a friend nearby."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Rude. But painfully accurate. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"No one's going to come looking for
you for a long time. Sorry, pumpkin. And if they do they'll find you here when
it's too late for you. It’s obvious you had some sort of mental break and bricked
yourself in there. Probably feeling guilty from that murder spree you went on,
what will poor Carl in the freezer here as evidence. Won't ruin my day at all. I'll
have fun watching you in there while we wait for the end. You won't last nearly
as long as I'd like, but I'll find something else to entertain myself with once
you're gone."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I'm so glad for thinking on my feet when I
grabbed those pills. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Why? Why kill anyone at all?" I ask
her. I'm still not sure what kicked this off.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Carl was so tedious, always rigidly
sticking to his fucking schedule, never wanted to do anything fun. I'd rather
be a widow. I'm old enough now no one will wonder why I prefer to be alone. Couldn’t
draw attention to myself before, but no one really looks closely at friendly
old ladies."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I am almost impressed by her. She really
committed to the bit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Why Noah too? And why do you want
Parker dead next?" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Noah," She snorts in disgust.
"Always letting his dog shit in my yard and never picking it up. I'll have
to do something else about the Collins’ boy since you drew the line at getting
rid of him. He always tramples my begonias. You know how hard it is getting
begonias to flourish even without snotty little boys trampling them."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I
must say, I genuinely think I will miss you more than Carl. But needs must when
the Devil drives. You were almost fun with your fine wines and your absolutely
shocking capacity for violence. And don’t worry about your plants, I'll take
good care of that exotic philodendron I've always admired after you finally die.
It will look just stunning in my sunroom."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">She starts to turn away from me to leave
then, but I'm struck with the desire to taunt her. Repay her for this torture
in the only capacity I can. Taking something back out of her power. I shake the
pill bottle loudly. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Too bad I'll be dead by tomorrow.
There's got to be 40 of these here. The pills rattle comfortingly. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">She turns to me, claps her hands a little.
She isn’t frowning like I expect. In fact, she’s smug. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Oh, I'm impressed. You're not far off
on the count there. Have you ever won one of those contests where you guess how
many candies are in the jar? What a missed opportunity if you never did. Google
says there's an average of 38 Tic-Tacs per container. I didn't bother to count
them before I put them in there, though."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My fingers are leaden as I uncap the bottle
to peer inside. Mint, the worst flavor, she could have at least gone with
orange. I scream in frustration and throw them against the fresh wall I've
built. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Oh sweetie, you don't want to do that.
Those are all you have to last you. I'll ask Google how many calories are in
each one and once you get an exact count, we'll get to count up just how long
you have left."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I slump to the floor in despair. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">She walks up the stairs calling behind her,
"You and Carl have fun down there!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-75386507046666933412023-09-18T09:32:00.005-07:002023-10-02T10:19:14.670-07:00Hans and Gretchen: A Horror Retelling of Hansel and Gretel<p> Content warnings: harm to children and animals, death</p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Once upon a time, there lived a little
family in a cottage in the woods. A mother and a father and their two little children,
Hans and Gretchen. They didn't have much, but they had each other and a lock on
the door to keep the monsters away. The family lived simply and safely for many
years and everyone lived happily ever after. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">That's the bedtime story I wish I could
tell my children. But the truth is that fairy tales are never safe from
monsters. And real life is even worse. We did live in a cottage with a dark and
ancient forest sprawling behind us. We also lived in the shadow of the
crematorium where I made my living. The scent of the smoke lingered in the air
always, something you never get used to. Our cottage was far from town, nearly twenty
miles by winding dirt road. Frequented mostly by the hearses carrying the dead
to <u>our</u> doorstep.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">In my more poignant moods I consider myself
a sort of ferryman (or woman, rather) for the dead, an honorable job. In my
more practical moods, I know I'm simply making my living off the dead. The only
job I ever turned down, the only time death was too much, was when it was my
own husband. He died on the steps of the crematorium, a freak accident, while I
was out shopping for milk. Irony to die at a crematorium only to have to travel
to a distant funeral home after death. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">When I returned home that awful day, I
found Gretchen, only a toddler at the time, sobbing in the dirt of the driveway.
I found my son, Hans, sitting next to his father's body, quiet and unmoving. A
silent sentinel. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"He was trying to find his phone to
call for help." Hans said quietly to me. I never did find his phone. My
husband was allergic to peanuts. We didn't keep any in the house, save for
Gretchen's favorite snacks, peanut butter puffs. I still don't know how he
accidentally ingested any, but somehow that's what killed him. After all that's
happened, I wonder if it was as simple as my child's messy hands brushing his
lips, or a puff accidentally dropped in a coffee cup melting away before my
husband could notice. I worry the truth is more sinister than that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Something is wrong with Gretchen. She's six
now and knows no life other than our quiet existence in the woods. She practices
her letters in a tiny broom cupboard turned schoolroom while I monitor the
ovens in the office next door. Hans finishes his schoolwork first, always. He’s
studious and clever. Then he sits with Gretchen, quietly whispering and
tutoring her. I depend on him too much. It's so hard not to with his calm and
patient demeanor. Gretchen is all raging wildfire and dangerous wind where her
brother is a calming tranquil beach on a sunny day. She may only be six, but I
worry about her lack of self control and wild, fickle emotions. Maybe something
inside her broke that day she watched her father die and was left to wait for
me in the cold. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Hans disappears into his room at 8 pm
sharp, every evening. A goodnight hug and kiss, a book in tow, and he's set for
the night. I won't see him until the next morning promptly at 8 am. Gretchen
wages war against the dark. Tears away at my sanity with hourly wake-ups and constant
demands. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Can I sleep with the light on,
mommy?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I don't want to be alone."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Can I leave the door open?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The questions and requests always start
innocuously enough at the beginning of the night. Past midnight, they turn
darker and more sinister.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"The monster is whispering to me again
and telling me bad things."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I was afraid to get up and I peed my
bed."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"I think someone is watching me."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Recently, I woke up in the hours just
before dawn with Gretchen standing over me, barefoot and wide eyed and stone
silent. I startle and stifle a yell.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Gretchen leans close to my face then,
"Are you a witch, Mommy? The voices said you're a witch and you'll cook us
in your ovens and eat us when we grow big enough."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The shock keeps me from answering her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Can I get in your bed, Mommy?"
she whispers, suddenly sounding scared and meek.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I convince her to go back to bed instead. I
hate that I can’t stand the thought of her little body worming close to mine
under the covers. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Hans finds me the next morning. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Mama," his little voice is hesitant
and low, as if he's afraid of being overheard. We both dart a covert glance
towards the open door where Gretchen is playing with her dolls in her bedroom.
"Gretchen said if I tell you what she did to Goldfish, she'll push me in
the ovens with the dead people."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My blood runs cold. Goldfish was a gift for
Gretchen's last birthday. She desperately wanted a pet, but I was too tired for
anything that required much care. So we got Goldfish, named with all the
creativity of a 6-year-old entering her literal phase. Goldfish had a habit of
leaping from his tank if you forgot to put the lid on. And he lived in a tank
in the bathroom on the sink next to the toilet. I had assumed it had been the
worst kind of accident. A badly aimed jump and a swim to an untimely toilet burial.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"It's ok, Hans, nothing will happen to
you if you tell. I promise I'll keep it secret," I reassure him. "Your
sister would never push you into the ovens." It's the first time I start
to doubt that sentiment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Hans hesitates and we listen, both of us
quiet as we hear Gretchen in the other room, "Bad, bad, Dolly. You
shouldn't have done that. Now I'm going to chop your face with a knife into
little pieces and feed you to the witch in the forest." She’s made her
voice low and raspy, the voice she uses when she describes the things the
monster tells her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Mama," Hans says then, "She
ate him. She ate Goldfish."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I turn to stare at him, uncomprehending.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"She put him in the smoothie blender
when you weren't looking." Hans continues in an urgent voice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I'm going to be sick. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“She fed him to you too,” Hans confirms
with wide eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I make smoothies for Gretchen and me to
share every morning. I used to make them for all three of us, but- and I
realize this with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, Hans abruptly
refused to drink any more smoothies starting sometime last month. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Gretchen only gets worse from there. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Hans grows dark bags under his eyes,
looking much older and more worried than he should be at ten. He confesses he
can hear Gretchen talking to herself at all hours of the night, loud enough to
carry through the wall into his room. Gretchen's stories become darker and
darker. She's fixated on the crematorium’s ovens. She spouts nonsense about
witches in the woods. I have to reinstall the baby gates to keep her from
wandering off into the woods at night. Even after the baby gates, she gets all
the way to the edge of the forest one night before I catch up with her and stop
her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"No, mommy," she groans, fighting
me with single-minded intensity to walk into the dark. "I need to get to
the witch's cottage before you die like daddy. The monster killed him, and it
will kill you too, unless I find the witch to stop it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I've tried to help her and keep everyone safe,
but I can't do it anymore. It's the last straw. I've called for help, a doctor,
to come out tomorrow morning. Hans overheard me on the phone and he looked so
broken it nearly killed me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Is Gretchen going away, Mama?" He
asks me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I tell him that yes, someone is coming to
take Gretchen some place where she can get better. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">He nods, but then his eyes darken and he
says, "I think that Gretchen's monster might not be the kind you can
fix."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Don’t I know it, baby. But all we can do is
try.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I pour myself a glass of wine and let the
night fade away from me. When I wake, it's only because of the slamming of the
door. I'm startled to realize I'm still in the living room. I never made it to
bed. The empty wineglass has fallen from my hand and shattered on the floor. A kaleidoscope
of shimmering fragments reflects the light of the TV I’ve left on. A background
noise of mundane late night cable programming filters through my ears without
making sense. I'm groggy, my eyes can't focus. I try to stand and find my legs
are too weak. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Hi mommy." Says a little voice. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I can’t understand. It’s not the voice I
expect to hear. The figure walking through the front door isn't the one I would
guess I’d see returning from the forest late at night. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"Hans? Why were you outside? Where's
your sister?" My voice is slurred, far more than one glass of wine should
make it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"She's out in the woods, looking for
the witch." And he laughs a laugh that I haven’t heard from him in ages.
Light and happy. Carefree. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"She won't find her way back. She even
thought to leave a trail of marbles. Like Hansel and Gretel." He opens his
hands then and marbles fall from his fingertips. Clattering and rolling into
the far corners of the room.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">He cocks his head at me like I'm a curious bug
he's observing, as he rips its legs off one by one. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">"You're dying slower than dad did. You
aren't allergic to anything, which made it harder, but I put a lot of medicine
in your wine."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">My last coherent thoughts are of my
daughter. Gretchen. My poor baby. I see her clearly finally. Listening to the
monster in the next bedroom over, whispering to her in the night. The raspy
voice I now recognize as my son’s whisper. Watching, too young to speak, as the
monster slipped some of her snack into her father's drink. Desperately
searching the woods for someone to help her family, a magic witch to cure
everything with a spell. Unable to find her way back home after the monster
took away her bread crumbs. It's January, and it's too cold for her to last the
night. My life fades away in the warmth of the little cottage in the shadow of
the crematorium as my daughter lies somewhere in the dark woods, her life
fading away into the snow. And the last thing I see is the monster behind my
son's eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Hans is ready the next day when the doctor
comes. He's had time to work himself into a hysteria of tears and panic. He
doesn't know where his sister went. She ran away after she put something in her
mom's drink. No, he doesn't know what it was. He thought medicine helped people,
so he didn’t say anything to his mom. He couldn't wake her up all night. He
wanted to call for help, but someone smashed his mom’s phone. Maybe his sister
did that before she left. They don't find Gretchen’s body until spring when the
snow thaws. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Hans hates his new family, the one the
social worker left him with. He has two brothers now. One almost as old as his
sister was. And a new one that's just a baby. He hates that one especially. All
it does is cry and smell and take up all the attention. Hans has always wished
he could be an only child. So he bides his time, whispers to his new brother,
the one big enough to understand but just as stupid as his sister was. He
remembers the fairy tales his mother used to read him at bedtime. Have you
heard about changelings? Hans tells the boy all he knows. They're fairies that
replace babies. They are bad creatures, that's why this baby cries so much.
This baby is a bad fairy creature, not a human. It isn't really your brother.
Your true brother is lost in the magic realm. But you can save him. Remember
how your mom made your birthday cake last month? She put it in the oven as
batter and it came out as another thing, a tasty cake. Magic. Remember, they
used to talk about a bun in the oven all the time before your brother was born.
If you put the changeling in the oven and wait, he'll come out as something different.
Something better. Wait until midnight, the magic hour when everything is
possible to do it. Don’t tell your parents. They won’t believe in the magic and
then you’ll be stuck with this monster the rest of your life. By morning, it
will be finished. Your brother will come back. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Hans watches the clock turn to midnight and
smiles as he hears the boy sneak out of bed. <o:p></o:p></span></p>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-68608092407543582292023-08-26T11:12:00.003-07:002023-08-26T11:12:50.606-07:00Sneaky Peak! ch1 of my debut novel: The Darkness Behind the Door<p> Torn to bits by demonic house-cat-adjacent monsters with knives for tails is a recent addition to the list of things Theo imagines might kill him. Despite a propensity for vivid daydreaming and a tendency toward anxiety, he’s never come up with something this absurd before. He wishes he was imagining things, but this is his reality. Running for his life, uphill in the dark and cold, a pack of monsters at his back. </p><p>As a child, while reading “Alice In Wonderland” for the first time, Theo was unjustly critical of Alice. What sensible person follows a talking rabbit down a mysterious hole? Anyone with a modicum of sense could spot the flaws in that plan. And Theo has never been particularly sensible, especially during those younger years. Now, as an adult, Theo decides he isn’t in a position to judge Alice for her decisions. Not after he’s followed an invisible moose through a door in the woods to his probable doom. </p><p>It all starts, as most extraordinary things do, on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning. The sun is perpetually low on the horizon, as is typical for an Alaskan winter day. The air is a dry cold that takes your breath away. Cold enough the snow doesn’t melt, instead squeaking and crunching like sand under every step. </p><p>Theo was up and awake far too late the previous night, doing some of his last-minute end of the semester packing and cleaning. He should have done it gradually over the week, but he’d been busy cramming for finals. Studying is something he puts off. He doesn’t mean to, but there is always something more important to attend to. </p><p>Theo still lives in the same town he grew up in. With five younger siblings and a widowed, working mother, there are always fires to put out. Usually, metaphorical fires. Except for the time it was an actual kitchen fire. Even when there aren’t fires to put out, Theo finds excuses. There are plenty of things he’d rather do than study. </p><p>This combination of procrastination and alternate priorities means he’s now forced to stay up late cleaning out his little studio apartment. So late that it’s now early again. Getting an eight-hundred-dollar deposit back easily wins out against a few hours of sleep. With the apartment satisfactorily clean, Theo spends another hour or two playing Tetris with his car and belongings. He’s never been good at Tetris. It’s too easy to get distracted and look away for what feels like just a second, only to look back and see all the shit just piling up. </p><p>Moving is especially arduous this time around because it’s winter break and not summer. The winter weather is just the icing on the cake. Not only is it cold and dark outside, making his car packing a miserable experience, but he feels like a failure to boot. He shouldn’t be moving home at twenty-three, but his lease is up, and it's just too expensive to justify finding something for only one more semester. Knowing he is packing up to stay with his family dings his self-esteem. At least it’s only for another few months while he tries to actually, maybe, finally, graduate this time. All it took was failing a class here and there and somehow found himself an entire year behind, but he’s been scrambling to catch back up.</p><p>Theo gives his apartment building a backwards glance in the rearview mirror as he drives off. He won’t miss it, but he’s not exactly excited about where he’s headed, either. The small pit of unease in his stomach swells for a moment before he crushes it back down. He really thought he’d be doing something more with his life by now, but he isn’t sure he’ll even come up with a plan by graduation, let alone enact said plan. Real adult life looks a lot closer from this side of finals week.</p><p>It’s early in the morning when he finally reaches his family’s house in town. The house is eerily silent, with everyone else already gone to their vacation home. Theo’s running late. He hastily transfers the contents of his car into his childhood room, throwing everything into a pile on the floor. Organizing and unpacking can wait. He glances at his bed, already made with fresh sheets, and thinks about taking a quick nap. But he decides it’s probably best to keep up momentum and rest when he reaches his final destination.</p><p>The rest of his immediate and extended family is already on their sprawling vacation property. In truth, it’s nothing special. Just a shared property with enough space for a large crew to gather for holidays. It’s a multi acre property in the wilderness of interior Alaska, with several cabins and additions built over the years. The property expanding just as their family did, so they all fit despite being a large family. The atmosphere is always cozy and welcoming and so isolated it’s easy to forget the outside world exists. It takes on an almost cult-like feel when the entire extended family, friend groups, and strays show up for celebrations and gatherings of all sorts. Not the cult where everyone ends up in a murder documentary after a doomsday conspiracy, though. It feels more like a group of survivors riding out the zombie apocalypse, all comradery and hopeful teamwork.</p><p>Theo’s eager to get on the road and out to his family. Maybe the holidays and his younger siblings' antics are what he needs to pull himself out of his stagnant mood. He’s had a long day already and has several hours’ drive still ahead of him. Usually he’d make the drive with Mars, who is both his cousin and best friend. But even she wasn’t willing to wait around for him this time. He’s on his own. Not wanting to risk falling asleep at the wheel, Theo stops at his usual last stop gas station on the outskirts of town before the last leg of his drive. The car needs gas and Theo needs caffeine.</p><p>“Hey Fiona, how’s business?” Theo calls out without even bothering to glance at the cashier’s desk as he enters the small building. He pulls off a cheerful demeanor even though his mood is low, he doesn’t feel like spending any time answering questions about his mood. And Fiona’s the type who’s bound to notice and care enough to pry farther.</p><p>It is always Fiona working the front. She has owned the place for as long as Theo can remember. It’s never open past five pm, but Fiona is always there when the doors are unlocked. The decor is all 90s neon, and the cash register has to be pried opened with a butter knife for any transaction, but it is clean and well stocked with essentials. Theo always imagines he’s just stepping back in time every time he crosses the threshold. It is one of those places that is loved for its nostalgia, not for its modernity. </p><p>“Hey Theo, haven’t seen you in a while. Fiona greets him warmly, coming out from behind the counter for a hug. Theo always treats her as a spare aunt, and she has a soft spot for him because of it. It doesn’t hurt that she is dating his favorite uncle as well. </p><p>“Mars came through a couple of days ago. I thought she said you were supposed to be coming through yesterday, not today,” Fiona continues.</p><p>“I know, I know, I’m running late again,” Theo sighs, “I’m going now. I just need some fuel for me and the Subaru. Sadly, I can’t stay and visit with my favorite auntie, or I’ll hear even more complaints about my lateness.”</p><p>Theo glances toward the bulletin board near the front door. Forever cluttered with business cards, sale notices, and job postings, it’s an information center for local happenings. The missing posters always draw him in. He is studying criminology at college, mostly by default because he’s never found an innate desire for a particular career path. He has ashamedly been interested in true crime and anything mysterious since he was a small child. When he thinks too hard about it, it seems like a twisted and vaguely creepy pastime to dwell on the tragedies of others, but he can’t resist the impulse. He’s always been one of those people who can’t look away from a car wreck even if he wants to. </p><p>Theo recognizes a few of the pictures on the missing person’s posters. He’s not sure if he’s reading into things or not, but there’s a hint of a pattern to some of the disappearances. At least Theo thinks so. The last couple of summers, men around Theo’s age will disappear into the woods. Late teens, early twenties. They vanish without a trace. Two or three every summer for at least three years now. They’re all tourists. Many were traveling alone. He even went to his Uncle Murphy about it. His uncle was skeptical, to say the least. </p><p>Theo’s Uncle Murphy is a local detective and is also the closest thing he has to a father figure since Theo’s own father died when he was twelve. Murphy is gruff with a dry sense of humor. He’s traditionally been very frustrated with Theo’s lack of direction and motivation. Theo still admires him, though. Murphy is the other reason for the criminology degree. Theo still isn’t sure picking a major on a whim was the greatest plan, but truth be told, he ran out of time to decide. Since Murphy is the one who really got on his case to pick something, criminology it is. </p><p>When Theo brought up the disappearances, Murphy told him to stop being a conspiracy theorist. He’s of the opinion the disappearances Theo is particularly interested in are nothing but poorly prepared hikers and backpackers succumbing to the elements. </p><p>“What if it’s a serial killer? Their demographic is men my age. You’ll be sorry if I disappear next,” Theo had said to Murphy, mostly to annoy him. Though he does genuinely think the disappearances warrant a little digging. </p><p>“Listen, kid, there’s nothing to worry about. They’re lost tourists in the woods. You’re not a tourist. You know better than to get yourself lost in the woods,” had been Murphy’s reply. Then he went back to hounding Theo about using his brain power for something useful, like going to class instead of daydreaming so much. Theo wonders if he should bring up the disappearances again. Maybe over the next few days, when they’re all trapped together and Murphy has had a beer or two, he’ll have to listen.</p><p>Fiona, seeing Theo’s gaze on the bulletin board, pulls a missing flier down and hands it to him. “You can have it. I can print another. Murphy said you’ve been interested in the men who’ve disappeared the last few years and this one’s new. He said something about a theory of yours.”</p><p>Theo scoffs, “Murphy thinks my theory is just my imagination. If he’d give me access to some actual information, maybe I could prove I’m not just a kid with an overactive imagination.”</p><p>“You aren’t a silly kid. Murphy doesn’t think that you know,” Fiona says gently.</p><p>Theo mutters something non-committal and glances at the paper in his hand; intrigued to realize he hasn’t seen this one before. The picture is grainy. He can’t make out too much detail, but it looks like a standard high school senior picture. Fiona’s printer hasn’t seen an update in a while, clearly. </p><p>Beau, a traveler from the lower forty-eight states, had been visiting for a backpacking trip the previous summer. He disappeared without a trace in the wilderness. Just like the others, he’s young, only nineteen. The missing poster makes it clear his family thinks he’s a runaway. Probably means they didn’t report this right away, and that’s why it’s new information to Theo, despite the fact this man’s been missing for months now. </p><p>Fiona pulls Theo’s attention back from the flier with a tug at one of the longer curls of deep brown hair peeking out from his winter cap. “Your hair is getting so long!”</p><p>Theo shifts back into cheerful small talk mode, glad to be back on a less serious topic. “What can I say? My lovely locks get me the dates. I can pull off the romantic dreamer look. I have to use what I got since I can’t quite pull off the rugged mountain man beard like Uncle Murphy. It’s all my dad’s side of the family tree here,” he says, rubbing his bare chin mock seriously.</p><p>Fiona just rolls her eyes at him fondly as he adds, “Haircuts are too expensive anyway.”</p><p> “Well, if you need a haircut, it will only take a minute to find the clippers. I’ll even give you a discount,” Fiona teases. </p><p>“Don’t you dare.” Theo tugs his cap down harder.</p><p>“It’s good you stopped by when you did,” Fiona says, glancing out the window. “The weather is supposed to take a turn later this evening and bring in quite the snowstorm. You wouldn’t want to be stuck on these roads then. You know how long it takes for a rescue, even in decent weather, for something simple like an empty gas tank. Don’t risk getting stuck out in the snow. Have a cup of coffee, on the house, and get out of here.”</p><p>“Right as always, Fiona. I’ll get out of your hair before you take your clippers to mine.” Theo grins at her as he leaves and calls back over his shoulder, “Shall I give Uncle Murphy your love? Tell him to stop by for a chat on his way out?”</p><p>“Hush, you,” Fiona says, blushing. She hesitates a beat, then says, “He’s stopping by tonight. We’re heading up your way in the morning, after the storm.”</p><p>“I’m scandalized!” Theo grins even more broadly. Dodging the playful swat Fiona aims his way, he skips out the door. Aiming to keep his energy level as high as possible, he’s trying to avoid the inevitable crash after pulling an all-nighter.</p><p>Theo is singing along with the radio, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to stay awake. His phone pings with a message from Mars, and the words rolling across the dashboard display, “Have you even left yet??? You were supposed to be here YESTERDAY.”</p><p>He knows he shouldn’t text, but he does anyway, trying to type quickly while still watching the road, “Running late, on the way.” But it’s too late. He’s hit the stretch of the road that’s a dead zone and the message doesn’t send. </p><p>The snow falls in big gentle flakes as Theo turns off the highway onto the back road that leads to his family’s cabin. He still has an hour of driving ahead, but he’s already imagining the warm fire and comfortable couches he intends to nap on first thing. A thin layer of snowy accumulation covers the road already; the storm is coming in fast. Dusk is already on the way. The darkness rolling in isn’t just from storm clouds. This far north at this time of year, sunset happens early, in the afternoon, well before evening. </p><p>Theo’s lost in his thoughts, driving on autopilot, when a moose emerges from the tree line along the road. Everything happens suddenly, jolting Theo back from his daydreams. The moose comes from the right, barreling directly into the car’s path. It isn’t the first moose Theo has ever had dart in front of his car and certainly not the biggest. Admittedly, moose are massive creatures even when they’re small, and this one came flying out of the forest like it was being chased by something. </p><p>It happens so fast that Theo doesn’t have time to do more than hit the brakes and brace for impact, barely overriding his first instinct to swerve. His best bet is to hit the moose head on and hope it rolls across the top of the car. With any luck, he won’t be crushed or maimed too badly during the process. He doesn’t mean to close his eyes at the last minute, but he can’t help it.</p><p>The impact Theo braces for never comes. He lurches forward against the locked seatbelt as the car stops abruptly. His eyes fly open. </p><p>There is no moose. He looks around wildly, trying to spot where the moose has landed. Maybe he has somehow blacked out for a minute, blocking out the impact. But there isn’t even a dent in the car hood, no shattered windshield, no sign of an impact at all. The airbags never went off. Theo’s heart beats loudly in his ears, making him realize it’s the only sound he hears. His radio is suddenly silent and the car’s display screen is shattered, only displaying wavy distorted lines of color. </p><p>“What the fuck?” Theo shakily says to himself as he scrambles to undo his seatbelt and open his car door. He circles the car several times looking for damage, swearing under his breath all the while. He even checks under the car, despite knowing that he’d have noticed immediately if there was an entire moose under there. </p><p>Just as he is convincing himself that he must have drifted off and imagined the whole incident, he registers marks in the snow in front of the bumper. Moose tracks. They aren’t the tracks of an animal running, though; they are too closely and evenly spaced for that. Even stranger, they start in front of the car and meander off into the woods. It’s as if the moose dropped from the sky and has calmly walked off into the woods. It doesn’t appear as if a moose has madly dashed out of the woods, avoided being hit by the car and then run off again. All, somehow, too quickly to be seen. None of it makes any sense to Theo, no matter which way he looks at it.</p><p>Theo scans the woods, his eyes following the path where the hoofprints disappear into the forest, as he contemplates his options. Following the tracks might be a stupid idea. The weather is rapidly turning vicious; the wind is picking up, and the snow falls harder by the second. </p><p>Despite their innocuous, almost comical appearance, moose are large animals, and they can be dangerous. Injured moose even more so. But he isn’t sure the moose is injured. There is no blood on his car, no trace of blood in the snow around the car, only hoofprints. He isn’t even sure there was a moose, actually, at this point. If not for the tracks in the snow, he would be sure that there isn’t a moose, and he’d be blaming his imagination. Following the tracks is definitely a terrible idea. Theo acknowledges this but can’t resist the mystery of it all, in the end. </p><p>Theo sets off into the woods. He’s not more than a few yards into the woods when the tracks abruptly stop. The glint of fading sun off the hood of his car is still visible through the trees when he finds himself in front of a closed door at the top of a hill. </p><div><br /></div>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-24089988916390636792021-06-18T10:51:00.000-07:002021-06-18T10:51:56.424-07:00Aria Wilder's birth story<div>It's been a minute since I've blogged or written a birth story but I figure now is a good time to document again. Aria Wilder Howard arrived in a hurry on June 4th 2021 at 10:02 am after 2 hours of labor with a weird false start (or maybe prodromal labor?? I don't know what to call it) the previous day. 7 lbs 14 oz, 20.5 in long. She was a surprise girl (we didn't find out during pregnancy if we were having a boy or girl) and she decided to arrive ahead of schedule a day after 39 weeks. I joked we'd definitely have this baby during the annual June snowstorm but luckily we didn't have one of those this year. She was a spur of the moment water birth baby which was fitting as seahorses became her theme early on in my pregnancy. I happened to mention to Travis that we had a seahorse baby. I meant that as a fetus size comparison but he misunderstood and thought I'd gotten a real seahorse (not unreasonable as we have 3 aquariums in addition to all our other pets and plants and bugs). Then he was concerned about where the seahorse was when he couldn't find it in any of our aquariums, thinking I'd left it in the car. So Aria got a seahorse themed room.</div><div><br></div><div>Quick recap of the first 2 births for reference. Lyra was born at a birth center at 40 weeks exactly, labor was about 11 hours but 5 of it was pushing. Oswin was late by probably 5 days (his due date was all over the place measurement wise) and I took castor oil to get things going. He was born in the hospital after we transfered from a homebirth because of a lot of bleeding and seemingly no progress dilating. I dilated at lightning speed as soon as the ambulance got there but pushed for almost 2 hours with him. Labor was 9 hours total. I expected a fairly quick labor with this one. I thought I could cut down pushing time to an hour or less hopefully. I didn't expect only 2 hours total though. </div><div><br></div><div>So I was 39 weeks exactly, this one due date never wavered. My mom was with me and the kids for the day, we went to storytime, pretty standard. Around 2 pm I started to have what felt like braxton hicks contractions. Not painful but with a lot of pressure. That's the best I have to describe it. I also just felt off. Again, that's the best way to describe it which isn't very helpful, I know. After about 2 hours of this I told my mom what was going on and went to try and shower and see if they'd slow down. I also got Travis headed home for the weekend an hour early (he works 45 minutes away so it takes him a while to get home) and started chatting with the midwife on call at the birth center. The birth center is about an hour drive from our house so I wanted to get going earlier on in labor rather than later as driving while in very active labor is very unpleasant. </div><div><br></div><div>At this point the contractions were about 2 minutes apart, which was enough to have us headed to Springs to get a hotel for the night. Again though, they were painless which was kind of confusing me. It was handy because we were able to talk to the kids and leave in less than a rush. The kids were staying at home with my parents for the night. On the drive contractions slowed to every 6 or 7 minutes but they also started to hurt. Very mild pain, but I was hopeful. I had had painful contractions sporadically the last couple weeks of this pregnancy but nothing had ever been timeable. </div><div><br></div><div>Contractions like this continued through dinner and checking into a hotel a mile from the birth center, just a few minutes drive. Once we got to our hotel I tried walking around to get things going. My contractions increased to every 2 minutes or so again but the pain disappeared if I was standing. At that point I was starting to have doubts and getting frustrated. I tried laying down and contractions went back to slightly painful but slowed down and started to feel like they were dying down entirely. We ended up going to bed and contractions basically completely stopped overnight. Had an occasional mild one but that was no different than the last month or so of pregnancy. The next morning was when everything happened rather quickly. </div><div><br></div><div>I woke up at around 5 and couldn't go back to sleep. I stayed in bed with only a contraction or two over the next couple hours until Travis woke up around 7:50. At that point we discussed what to do and started to get up and get ready for the day. We decided we would just head home and hopefully there would be no more false alarms until real labor. I texted updates to the midwife, my birth photographer, and family that we'd be headed home. Pretty much immediately upon getting up though, contractions started up and were both frequent and slightly painful even while walking. Then I had some spotting and after Oswin's birth when I had lots of bleeding, I pretty much decided I wanted to at a minimum, stop by to be checked at the birth center. </div><div><br></div><div>So we spent the next few minutes getting ready and texting back everyone important that we'd completely changed plans again and would be staying in town. At 8:15 or so I sent Travis out to pick up coffees, bagels, and smoothies while I timed contractions. I ended up timing from 8:30 to 9 according to my contraction tracker app. During that half hour things progressed rather quickly. Contractions were every few minutes but I was having trouble concentrating on tracking and was starting to really have to stop pacing and breathe through them. Travis got back a bit before 9 and we had a phone call with the midwife right at 9. She asked us to come in around 9:15 or 9:20. I made it maybe five minutes and one or two more contractions before I told Travis, "We're leaving now, grab the stuff." I booked it down the hall and made it outside before the next contraction hit. I apparently have a habit of not waiting for Travis to keep up when we're changing locations in labor. I remember glancing at the clock in the car and noticing it was 9:11 at one point. When we arrived at the birth center. I had my one moment of rudeness the whole labor. Due to covid and having 2 kids already Travis had only been to the birth center maybe twice before. So he didn't immediately pull into the parking spaces I wanted and drove past but had to turn around. I snapped, "What are you doing, I said the parking is over there." He knew better than to do anything but calmly say, "I know, I'm turning around." But now he's going to mock me forever for being mean to him. Once we parked, I once again didn't wait for him and I booked it into the birth center. </div><div><br></div><div>We arrived at the birth center at 9:15 or so and from that point on I lost all concept of time and had no idea how quickly things were going. I immediately wanted to get in the tub but they had some setup to finish first. We had a cervical check at that point around 9:30. I was told it was hard to tell because my water bag was bulging but that I was an 8 or 9, so very close to complete. After that I got into the tub. Now with Lyra I got to use a tub too and it was nice but nothing special. Plus I never really wanted a water birth anyway and had to get out due to my long pushing stage. To be honest, even after research it just kind of freaked me out to have a water birth and I'm not a tub person anyway. But this time as soon I got into the tub I was like "Oh, I get it now, this is so much more comfortable. Guess I'm having a water birth." I didn't bother to tell Travis my change of plan but also I didn't want to jinx anything and was afraid I'd be pushing for ages and have to get out of the tub anyway. My water broke shortly after I got in the tub and I started to feel pushy. We were told 9:47 was when I started to push. Travis said he thought about mentioning I didn't want a water birth but he didn't want to stress me out if I was fine. It felt like much longer but apparantly only took my 15 minutes and Aria was born at 10:02. Travis said he initially didn't believe when the midwife said baby was crowning (I did because I could feel it). I got to catch Aria and pick her up out of the water which was really cool. We got out of the tub pretty quickly after birth and once we got over to the bed we were able to check and confirm Aria was a girl. We kept it a surprise until birth but when I'd picked her up I was fairly confident I didn't feel any obvious boy parts. We had a boy and girl name picked out beforehand, we ended up using our boy name for her middle name. </div><div><br></div><div>Since I'd had a night of sleep and hadn't had to labor for long, I was feeling pretty good. It has definitely been the easiest physical recovery so far. We were at home shortly after 3 pm that afternoon. It was a bit surreal to have a baby so quickly and be back home so fast and to feel so ok after birth. My last recoveries went fine but this was even better. </div><div><br></div><div>We had a birth photographer again and managed to get a few labor pictures despite how quickly I gave birth. I was so glad my photographer got there in time to catch the birth. And we got tons of new baby pictures and family pictures as well. </div><div><br></div><div>Overall it was the smoothest birth I've had and I think I coped with the pain the best I have and put all my extra energy into getting baby out. Certainly it was the most I've been in control and quiet throughout birth. And I feel pretty strong to just have a baby and get up and walk out of the tub with her. It was a whirlwind of a day to go from "No way am I going into labor today," to "I just had a baby" in two hours. We're lucky we had the false alarm we did or we likely would have had a roadside baby. If Travis had been home we might have made it to the birth center but if he was at work we would definitely be paying a hefty cleaning fee for the new car. </div><div><br></div><div>We're settling in to newborn life again. It's interesting seeing little features and behaviors we recognize from our older kids but also seeing brand new things too. Travis has nicknamed her Mater, because she gets quite red and her head has always been super round, even immediately after birth, so he says she looks like a little tomato. Being a mom of three is basically just upping the chaos level a bit. I had to cut slime and sequins out of the cat's fur today. Lyra has taken to regularly sitting on top of her ride in toy car out in the front yard and making wild animal calls. Also we have a new pest control beetle in the house this week for my plant babies, less obtrusive than the lady bugs actually. And our 50 baby pleco fish are thriving and growing a lot. So we're always busy around here again. Sometimes I think about how quiet and calm things were when it was just me and Travis (and Roxi) 10 years ago and I can't really imagine it anymore. </div><div><br></div><div>Also here's the story in pictures. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-84514667338371814892019-02-20T13:23:00.000-08:002019-02-20T13:23:25.744-08:00The Almost Tiny HouseWell we're settled into the nearly tiny home and finding a new routine in a new town. So here's a peek at the little place we have for now. I got a set of camera lenses for my phone, and it was easiest to capture with a fish eye lens instead of taking a bunch of photos. I'm not sure I'm doing it right, they seem blurry at the edges but oh well, good enough.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQdwufZi6MXwA7XJc0eM7_RbwXaDs68EWTK2NKG1q8UcmZF0vTtW3Ll3W-sqsV6gkli1tRdB5SCpnoV1z9sTplgjDqf4X3f824dJALY32FEEVPmKJPqQP_cjfH6Ko0RLfvcQU-1TRGC7Rj/s1600/WIN_20190220_14_19_18_Pro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQdwufZi6MXwA7XJc0eM7_RbwXaDs68EWTK2NKG1q8UcmZF0vTtW3Ll3W-sqsV6gkli1tRdB5SCpnoV1z9sTplgjDqf4X3f824dJALY32FEEVPmKJPqQP_cjfH6Ko0RLfvcQU-1TRGC7Rj/s320/WIN_20190220_14_19_18_Pro.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First, the view outside. Not bad at all. I like trees.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnq_gxWd5AJpITcBN7eJctXaY6pcdzh2wGAUG7ufxzmAP4UYXAgDBp92wTZ0ISAKy0LEQLR7fJZaeRLL6RGE24Kz1r6MAM2mDuFfcdON0Gizj3hTVOxg_3D4XOtUvfwC939T_KurjbmZnq/s1600/20190204_144312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnq_gxWd5AJpITcBN7eJctXaY6pcdzh2wGAUG7ufxzmAP4UYXAgDBp92wTZ0ISAKy0LEQLR7fJZaeRLL6RGE24Kz1r6MAM2mDuFfcdON0Gizj3hTVOxg_3D4XOtUvfwC939T_KurjbmZnq/s320/20190204_144312.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The living room, dog and baby for scale. The box is a cat and toddler toy, not trash. All of Lyra’s toys fit in that coffee table and one small kitchen drawer. I am realizing we have too many toys, she doesn't miss many of them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfYfZOnhUXoSFE3TRLLrD9lOmhocuoPQq7X-TpbgmJK0pb9q5tDwaNE6RAYOOA_61N3dBz16ul6TOaigz23iyuBPhWdqSH1oOrYG-yGz4w-BewIi6Tg-LRt79vqywaeopkgl8sH92tKGnq/s1600/20190204_144318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfYfZOnhUXoSFE3TRLLrD9lOmhocuoPQq7X-TpbgmJK0pb9q5tDwaNE6RAYOOA_61N3dBz16ul6TOaigz23iyuBPhWdqSH1oOrYG-yGz4w-BewIi6Tg-LRt79vqywaeopkgl8sH92tKGnq/s320/20190204_144318.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kitchen. And technically dining room as well, I suppose.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdcBxYhIfv-Gf_E-NqWA0KPG6m8zR-ySmHb4Q7WCa0NT-tyIujaF4EK1uEGv-9tZMGka6RxDAIIEqMj4GxzeLxx69d3HUL-vv2yyWPsqsEM7GAQR5RCmNkwR9JOeyvQ4NpmGcHhXPD-uFu/s1600/20190204_144332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdcBxYhIfv-Gf_E-NqWA0KPG6m8zR-ySmHb4Q7WCa0NT-tyIujaF4EK1uEGv-9tZMGka6RxDAIIEqMj4GxzeLxx69d3HUL-vv2yyWPsqsEM7GAQR5RCmNkwR9JOeyvQ4NpmGcHhXPD-uFu/s320/20190204_144332.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another view of the main room.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEc7rNdoTJksFvKx84mTMQ-A3GHTx4KRcyJskdyU-wghQbdPkgNPzSx6VaB3XZFoXQRHmHx1VXilrp3UAbMDBb1phu1ZE7G_JCH8Ni5h7o2gEdwmqTUkr99t06gPg3zNCuquAMLmlej_5x/s320/20190204_144358.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The entry way and bathroom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifrX2YK5WZIictOxYkGe2xlW7Ii0qEdjJgUeyIVDX7_2y3WpnJboTZgV0TpCfsQ-z-J-WI36CaCuOQOAwvU8l8CLZpEDPbyeec1PyODhwkN_NBfVZvc2uKP1lwiQdajC6rS5dfiI92Rj6F/s1600/20190204_144156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifrX2YK5WZIictOxYkGe2xlW7Ii0qEdjJgUeyIVDX7_2y3WpnJboTZgV0TpCfsQ-z-J-WI36CaCuOQOAwvU8l8CLZpEDPbyeec1PyODhwkN_NBfVZvc2uKP1lwiQdajC6rS5dfiI92Rj6F/s320/20190204_144156.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bedroom. Everyone sleeps here. Some nights that's a bit rough. But realistically, it is going quite well, somehow we generally all sleep. The bassinet is for Wyn and you can just see Lyra's bed crammed in at the foot of the big bed. The open space is where the rocker goes at bedtime.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiunxE5uVFWNYF5H_BJSaGMq-pzYq_0KeYV1hbWyRFKHlwY_1iulWsVA5vAHkeWAx6GyFpq75OISvOoHEGhZdWztel-HUVlbNC0pWRYQynMnah29kDkQDz3P2Q4zMEiIhKzPy-0t_iyGr47/s1600/20190204_144228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiunxE5uVFWNYF5H_BJSaGMq-pzYq_0KeYV1hbWyRFKHlwY_1iulWsVA5vAHkeWAx6GyFpq75OISvOoHEGhZdWztel-HUVlbNC0pWRYQynMnah29kDkQDz3P2Q4zMEiIhKzPy-0t_iyGr47/s320/20190204_144228.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lyra's toddler floor bed. It will become a travel bed once we move. But everyone needed their own space and this was the only viable option.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzD0xC3bNKafIYx-0oqAi6PsUBhChKKfGie07BCbjRd2hO9trM8Jj1Fo05F5tyhlaeL_XPics1KrRy91iQerHY-5HDFxCGSDtK7zBZ_NOhGk55K3t1VOO-s0tXN-EYdjVGxj8Iha9hs4ay/s1600/20190204_142911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzD0xC3bNKafIYx-0oqAi6PsUBhChKKfGie07BCbjRd2hO9trM8Jj1Fo05F5tyhlaeL_XPics1KrRy91iQerHY-5HDFxCGSDtK7zBZ_NOhGk55K3t1VOO-s0tXN-EYdjVGxj8Iha9hs4ay/s320/20190204_142911.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lyra's fort.</td></tr>
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Most of our things are in storage still, minus what we brought with us in the cars. We took some of my parents furniture and this place already had the bed and the clothing racks and shelves, and the bar type table thing. The only major thing we bought was the couch. It folds out to a bed and has storage on one side. The coffee table has storage too. I might steal that for good, my family wasn't using it. That's the biggest hack for living small I've found so far, all the furniture needs to have extra purpose as storage.<br />
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It took a bit of creativity to make it work with both kids and animals. We originally didn't have a door on the bedroom. Travis was able to put one in but we had a few days worth of juggling around doors and making do. Now we can fit a toddler floor bed (with just one tiny bit of smushing) and a bassinet in the bedroom. I can even get a rocker in there when the door is open. We have to leave the door open once we go to bed so that it stays heated but Roxi and cat have settled and aren't being super obnoxious at night generally.<br />
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This place has all the main things we need, even a full size bathtub and a washer and dryer. Those are must have things with little kids. There's no dishwasher, that's my only big thing missing but that's manageable. I purposely didn't bring too many dishes to avoid having a bug procrastination pile of dirty dishes. The location is most similar to Alaska or maybe Washington. About 25 minutes from town, rural ish with neighbors close by but not as close as Washington or Nevada.<br />
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There's been no internet and only half working cell service for me for a while. I can get messages out intermittently but it's annoyingly slow and hit or miss usually. I've been reading a lot more which is nice, but I've seen no news either which is tedious. I can't look anything up, make calls, etc. I try to quickly get those things done when I go to town with the kids but it's hard to be productive like that when I'm out with 2 little ones. Hopefully it will be resolved soon. I don't necessarily think the cutback on TV and social media has been terrible, but it will be nice to have things like weather forecasts and local activities and Google back as resources. I haven't watched a TV show or movie in well over a month. I miss my podcasts. I like less social media. But I forget how all my recipes are kept online on pinterest until I need to make a shopping list. And I have twice been caught out in not ideal weather since I didn't see the forecast. Internet has it's upsides.<br />
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Also flu and cold season has hit us pretty hard. We've been rotating through illnesses and had at least one of sick what seems like all the time. I'm feeling very paranoid with the increase in illness around. Plus things like the measles outbreak. Wyn is too young for the vaccine. Which means if we walk through a room where someone with measles has been in the last 2 hours, there's a 90% chance he gets it. I can't say I've never had my sick kids in public. Sometimes you need groceries when your toddler has had a cough for 2 weeks. And I've definitely sent Lyra places not realizing she was sick. I don't, however, send a super snotty with a hacking coughing toddler out to a playdate or toddler activity though and it drives me crazy when I realize the kids seated by my 4 month old at storytime is clearly sick. It annoys me when people do that. I just hope the kids inherit Travis' immune system instead of mine.<br />
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Speaking of kids, Lyra has been speaking nonstop. I've decided to write a parenting book. Working on the title but I'm thinking, "Raising Serial Killers" has a nice ring to it. This morning as I was making her breakfast Lyra said, "I'm so hungry I'm going to bite your head off." I thought maybe she meant it in the way you say, "I'm so hungry I could eat an elephant," or "You're so cute I could eat you up." Until she continued with, "Then you won't be able to talk. Or look at anyone." Okayyyyy. Creepy. She also still says the word "carry" in a weird toddler way that sounds like "kill." She was sweetly telling my mom and brother all about how she likes to carry her baby. She likes to carry her baby just like mommy does (she has a toy ring sling she likes to put her dolls in when I carry Oswin in the wrap). Both my mom and brother gave me some serious side eye, Martin seemed particularly frightened. My dad baptized Lyra and Travis always likes to complain about how "that excorcism your dad did just didn't take." Besides the creepy speak, Lyra really is a chatty Kathy lately. She's always trying to negotiate with us which is hilarious as her grip on numbers is tenuous and something like "A, B, M, S, 6, 8, 9." She also sings 87% of the day. Sometimes I'll ask her what she is saying and she just says, "Oh I'm just talking to myself."<br />
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Oswin is growing too. He's in a bad napping phase which is unfortunate. Unlike with Lyra, I can't dwell on it or do much about it. At least he's sleeping alright at night. He's rolling front to back too at 4.5 months. He beat Lyra by a couple weeks. Impressive considering his gigantic head. He doesn't sit on his own yet but he wants to stand all the time. Similar to Lyra, so I guess we will see if we get another no crawling early walker. He's still generally so quiet and smiley. He loves people and is super social. Those big gummy baby smiles are the best. He has this goofy dinosaur sounding squawk/croak thing he likes to do all the time and he's started doing this weird face where he clacks his gums together. Unlike Lyra, he is not into being terrified. If you surprise him, he's pretty likely to cry. Lyra on the other hand, won't stop listening to goosebumps audio books, I am not even joking.<br />
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We are starting to find the regular activities to do around here and make some new friends. The first person I met here (Ok, second, I met the bartender at the local brewery first. And the food and beer and service was quite lovely, just saying.) immediately knew who I was once I said my first name. Our husbands both work at the mine and our boys were born within 12 hours of one another. Small towns, but still pretty slim chances. There's a lot of library story times around here which is awesome, and the libraries are big too.<br />
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It still feels kind of surreal to be back in Colorado. I think we've vacationed here so often I can't quite reconcile the fact we live here now. But mostly it feels like being back home.Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-81216001411892316882019-01-29T09:40:00.000-08:002019-01-29T09:40:58.341-08:00Moving UpdateWell it has been craaaaaazy the past few weeks. Non-stop planning, organizing, packing, dealing with various things that crop up last minute. Adverse weather, car repair, sick kids, you name it. I had to have dental work done, my glasses are held together with hot glue right now. It has been stupid busy. We made it to Colorado, obviously, and the kids, animals, and I are staying with my parents and Travis is a few hours away.<br />
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The 2 days we had movers were pretty rough. I've had much better experiences with movers, I'll just leave it at that. I was concerned we wouldn't get things done in time and we had plans to leave and hotels booked. I think Travis had worse once, but I wasn't there, I was on an oil rig on the slope. Oswin was an angel and napped in the wrap all day, but after a few hours that is extremely tiring even when it's going well. The second day, when everything was being loaded so doors were open all day, was quite cold and had some rain and bad weather. I felt bad for the animals. Kitty spent the day in her kennel, Roxi was locked in the front seat of my car, and Dinger had to be unceremoniously shoved in a coat closet for hours. I'd planned on having the dogs outside but not in the rain.<br />
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The actual trip here wasn't awful. Travis took the animals and booked it in 2 days so we didn't see him much. Oswin hates the car, so I was concerned, but he really only cried 3 or 4 times over the 3 day drive and just for 10 or 15 minutes. Lyra, on the other hand, was the actual devil. I expected her to be a pro traveler like the last time we did this drive. I think she was mainly stressed with a side of not feeling great. It was understandable but awful to deal with. She's nearly back to normal now minus an urgent care trip for a weird rash and sore throat that the pediatrician was concerned was scarlett fever. I never knew kids could just get viral rashes. It's happened at least twice now. Someone should tell you that before you have kids. The weather was ok for us, there was a couple hours of dicey wind and blowing snow with some icy roads on the very last day, but we made it.<br />
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Lyra provided some comic relief when she wasn't channelling Satan. I made a comment one evening about how thirsty I was. She piped up with, "Mama, you thirsty for beer??" Why, yes, yes I am, after 2 long days of driving with children. She also made up a song at one point. We can't figure out the words she's saying but it sure sounds like she's singing about boobies. Who knows.<br />
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It only took me a couple weeks to decide I was done with this parenting alone thing. Now my parents are helpful with the kids, but it's just a different dynamic. I had to take Lyra to the urgent care (we have both an ER and an urgent care visit on the books for this ove because of course it can't be low stress and uncomplicated) and my mom came along to help. However, once Lyra had a strep test and Oswin needed to nurse, I ended up with one kid on each knee, despite having backup. Having help is great, it really is, but it doesn't beat having the other parent around.<br />
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We spent a good amount of time scouring zillow and craigslist looking for rentals. I made lots of calls and sent emails and checked with random acquaintances. I looked into tiny houses, busses, airbnb's, and pretty much everything we could think of. The problem was the pets plus needing something short term. Buying sooner rather than later is easier with a relocation program. And no one wants to rent to you if you have a cat AND a large dog. Sometimes you find one or the other but rarely both.<br />
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So that brings us to the next adventure. 576 square feet, one bedroom, one bathroom, two kids, a cat, and a dog. Technically it isn't a tiny house, those are smaller than 500 square feet. But it is pretty small. On par with my first couple apartments. Dinger has to stay with my parents. Finding a short term rental is hard. Add on a cat and a small dog and it's even harder. A large dog in top of that has proved to be impossible. I love my family and I don't mind living with them, but having Travis nearly 4 hours away just isn't very doable long term. So we will be renting a tiny place until we sell and get a new house. We will be borrowing a lot of my parents stuff (it's ok, they have spares plus my brother left his stuff here and ran off to Spain. They have 9 peanut butters. NINE. That I've found.) and probably buying a duplicate thing or two while everything from our house (that didn't come in the cars with us) is in storage. Like coffee, that's probably our biggest indulgence. We have an espresso machine but while that's in storage we're getting a cold brew and a coffee siphon. Because we really like our daily caffeine to be high quality.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peanut butter</td></tr>
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Travis always said he never wanted a tiny house. Or to live close to his in-laws (just kidding). Travis also didn't want a cat. Or a small dog. Yet here we are. Poor guy.<br />
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Anyway, that mini move is next weekend. Wish us luck and lend us a sleeper sofa or a loveseat for a few months. Only kind of kidding.<br />
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For now, the kids are enjoying being around the grandparents and uncle Chris. Lyra is so sweet with Chris, it's funny to watch them interact. He sticks up for her when we try and tell her to drink her water or eat her food or do quiet time or whatever. And she will very happily help bring him things or hand him things or play games and do crafts with him.<br />
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I'm anxious to get settled into our own space a little more. It's hard to make a new routine with kids and I think it will be good to get them to their own home with mom and dad and start making new friends and getting to know our new town. We will visit the grandparents a lot. The next weekend when we visit, there will be 7 adults, 2 kids, 4 dogs, and 1 cat. Plus, my dad promised Lyra a fish. Also, it's always just kind of crazy around here. Today for example, one of the dogs brought home a pig head. And a flock of turkeys came to visit.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dead pig head.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turkeys. At least 15 of them. </td></tr>
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They won't miss us around here when we move out. Plus, we'll be back.Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-49507096918692584272019-01-15T21:31:00.000-08:002019-01-15T22:08:50.250-08:00Logistics and Anxieties <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Moving preparations are fully underway. This weekend is our last chance to get things done around here with all 4 of us here. Then professional cleaners and photographers will be here next week and we will finally officially have the house on the market. The following weekend Travis will fly to Colorado and start work, living in temporary housing for a bit. In other words, a hotel. My dad (who will have been enjoying a quiet retired life for a full 5 days) will fly out here and help me with the kids and pets for a week and a half. Then movers will be here for a couple days, Travis will fly back and take the animals in one car and my dad and I will drive the second car with children. Travis is driving in 2 days so he can drop the animals off at my parents house and get back to work. My dad and I are opting for a 3 day drive. That will average to about 5 hours driving a day plus I figure an addition 3, realistically, for stopping and changing diapers and feeding babies. The kids and animals and I will be staying with my parents for a bit. So that will be a mad house. 4 adults, 1 toddler, 1 infant, 4 dogs, and 1 cat.</div>
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Trying to plan for what we need to take with us for an unknown number of weeks/months is stressful. Baby swing, diapers, baby carriers....so many decisions to make. Do I take the stroller? That eats up soooo much space. Not to mention the clothing situation. I'm still in weird postpartum limbo, half in maternity clothes, my old stuff doesn't fit yet but I'm tired of maternity clothes and I don't want to pack it all. Oswin and Lyra are both growing. I need a cooler for breastmilk I pump while I travel. We need a cat box for the trip. We will need to have space for the extra liquid food items, lotions, shampoos, assorted things movers won't pack that we want to take with. Also I need to pack the weird stuff I'm don't want to explain to movers. I'm talking things like the leftover "team penis" buttons and vagina candy molds from the sex party when we announced Oswin is a boy. Or the weird collection of tiny penises my best friend buys me. I have a wind up one and a stone carved one. Seriously. The normal weird stuff like the storm trooper lifesize cutout and assorted sasquatch paraphernalia is fine, I'm not embarrassed about those.<br />
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My advice is, don't ever move over the holiday season if you can avoid it. It slows down scheduling movers, getting the house on the market, etc. I'm kind of a type A, hyper organized person. I like to have everything lined out and love lists and having everything settled. So I'm kind of a big ball of stress. And to be completely honest, I think I have some postpartum anxiety/OCD going on. I'm planning on taking a combination of my own advice and the advice of other mother friends and see if things calm down in the next few weeks until I can get to Colorado and set up with a primary care doctor there. It's hard to tell where to draw the line between normal holiday/young baby/moving stress and "this isn't really rational" stress. In all my internet research and bonding with mom pals I've seen it's actually a really common but not often discussed openly topic. Even with my openness about a lot regarding birth and babies and pregnancy, it makes me uncomfortable. But anyway, there's this thing that happens where you get some obtrusive thoughts. By the way, it's totally different from the postpartum psychosis level where you hear voices or want to hurt yourself or your child. Just to clarify straight off the bat. It's more like worry taken to the next level in a creative way. Like just a thought pops into your head about whatever various ways your child could be harmed.<br />
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Some are the more (for lack of a better word) normal and common worries.<br />
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"What if I drop him him?"<br />
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"What if he just doesn't wake up from his nap?"<br />
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Then you get into the more irrational or elaborate territory. Things that would never happen or are so rare you really shouldn't be worried about them.<br />
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"What if all the glass disappeared and I dropped the baby out the second story window?"<br />
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Never mind this isn't Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone.<br />
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"What if I had a seizure or something and smacked his head on the corner of the table when I fell?"<br />
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And they can be very uncomfortably graphic thoughts. I think that's what makes people hesitate to talk about it. This is where I want to say again, it's not postpartum psychosis where you might act on those thoughts. It's more the opposite feeling, where you're horrified by all the dangers out there and semi panicked about preventing them. Intrusive and bothersome thoughts is what they are. That's the line I'm less sure of though, where it goes from being fleeting thoughts to worry that interferes with daily life.<br />
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I'm putting it out there though because I mentioned it in a mom group and got an immediate chorus of "You have those thoughts? Thank goodness, so do I."<br />
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And let's be real, while kids are hearty little things, there's a lot of real danger to worry about and common sense things you have to teach them. Running with a toothbrush and stabbing through your cheek, legitimate fear that need attention to prevent. Toddler drowning in the tub if you don't pay attention, cutting off circulation to appendages with rogue hair or string tourniquets, hot food on the counters and stoves, all other scenarios that are not unlikely and should be kept in mind.<br />
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On a lighter note, I'm teaching Oswin to speak wookie. He's got it 95% down and makes a valiant effort to conversationally chit chat back and forth with you. He also laughs hysterically when you say, "Woo woo, quack, ribbit." Kids are great.<br />
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Anywho, this post is actually incredibly late, movers come tomorrow! See ya later, Nevada.<br />
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<br />Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-25978877639663590212018-12-04T20:15:00.000-08:002018-12-04T20:15:59.662-08:00Moving! Big news again here. Did not expect to be making this post for a couple years. So the last trimester of my pregnancy or so, Travis started to make jokes about moving again. Now I've moved something like 14 times in the past 12 years. This will be 5 out of the last 7 holiday seasons we will be moving. That's our holiday tradition. Side note, every time it gets harder and more complicated as we acquire more things, pets, and children. This is the longest we've stayed anywhere, about 2 years or so. Anyway I was 38 weeks pregnant or so when Travis asks me, "So how much do you really want to move back to Colorado?"<br />
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Now I'd resigned myself to staying here a couple more years before Travis found a new job. He doesn't mind Nevada and he likes his job here. I however, am not Nevada's biggest fan. And in my defense, Nevada has been rough on me. When we first moved I was stuck alone in an apartment with a toddler most of the week while Travis commuted 2 hours one way and worked 10 hour days. Our second car hadn't arrived and then had some serious mechanical issues. Then we were stuck in a too small, somewhat sketchy apartment. I had my wisdom teeth removal (super painful and stressful). Then I had 2 miscarriages. And also my allergies were killer and made me feel like I had a bad cold for 4 months of the year. Plus my neck pain and headaches were the worst they've ever been. And the icing on the cake is desert climate is my least favorite climate. So generally, not too many great memories here. The friends I've made and Oswin are really the only big highlights to come out of Nevada for me. It was a great career move for Travis and that was necessary to get to where we are now. But, frankly, I won't be sad to see Nevada in the rear-view mirror.<br />
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So turns out Travis applied for a Colorado job, interviewed by phone, and they wanted to fly him out for an interview. I'd told Travis months before to apply for anything relevant in Colorado but not to get my hopes up unless it was serious. Unfortunately they wanted to fly him out the 20th of September. My due date was the 19th. They were very understanding of his situation and told him he could wait until I had the baby. This added to my anxiety when Oswin did not arrive on time. Anyone who has been pregnant and especially overdue can understand the wait to just get your baby out. Add to that a wait to hear if you get the opportunity to move back home. I was sooooo grouchy.<br />
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Finally, Travis was able to fly out a week after Oswin was born. Not an ideal time for Travis to leave, but better than possibly missing the birth. And here's the part of the story I left out in earlier posts. This is when Lyra got her stomach virus. Also I'd been saying she got it when I was 2 weeks postpartum, nope. That's when I got it. Anyway we were just sitting down to supper. I'd just gotten a text from Travis saying his interview ran late and he wasn't sure he would make his plane home but he'd text in a half hour or so to let me know. Then Lyra pukes everywhere. On the couch, on the floor, all over herself. Luckily, my mom had stayed an extra week to help me, knowing Travis would be gone. Still that was the most stressful 30 minutes ever. Cleaning a vomit covered toddler, trying to care for a 1 week old, still super sore from birth, waiting to hear if Travis would make it home that evening. I cried actual tears of relief when he said he was on the plane. And then I got to wait and see if I caught the virus, or if Oswin would. I was so worried I'd end up having to take a newborn to the ER. Not to mention I was very unexcited about the prospect of puking after having given birth. I mean for a while there anytime you cough or sneeze it feels like your vagina might fall out. Puking would be so much worse. I was also thanking my lucky stars that I hadn't had a c-section. A stomach virus after that sounds like the worst nightmare. Luckily, Oswin did not ever get it and I didn't until 2 weeks out and I had a speedy birth recovery. My leftover zofran from pregnancy was also a lifesaver. I think that's the only thing that kept me out of the ER to be honest.<br />
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Back to the point though, then we waited to hear anything. For ages. Travis even went on an interview to Vancouver Island in the meantime. Apparently, it's recruiter season. Funny enough, during that trip Oswin puked all over myself and the floor right around 10 at night when he was stubbornly refusing sleep. They always have to vomit when he's away. But that was minor and the only incident that trip. So then we were waiting to hear back from two awesome sounding locations. Finally we heard back from Colorado that Travis did not get the job. At that point I was expecting it. So I was sad we wouldn't be making it back to Colorado anytime soon, but at least the possibility of Canada lessened the blow.<br />
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Then one evening Travis tells me, " Well Canada is not going to happen," and hands me a paper. It was one of those moments where it takes your brain a second to process. I registered "pleased to offer you the position..." and the header of the company at the top of the page. Surprise offer from Colorado out of the blue! I've had a few of those moments lately where everything takes a 180 turn. "You're only 5 cm." Just kidding, "You're complete, that was your water breaking."<br />
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So we're moving to Colorado! I'm very excited. We'll be 3.5 hours or so from my parents. Oddly enough we will be in the same town Travis lived in and I visited the first summer we dated. He's worked for the mine before but when they were owned by a different company. It will be kind of surreal to be back there. We were in college, I had Roxi already but since then we've added another dog, a daughter, a cat, and most recently of course, Oswin. I used to drive back and forth on weekends from my apartment in Golden to visit. Now I'll likely be making a similar drive again, 8 years later, from my parents house. With a kid or two along for the ride. Anyway, I'm sure I'll have an anecdote or two to share from a cross country journey with the whole crew.Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-16249128819634156522018-11-17T16:51:00.000-08:002018-11-17T16:51:11.298-08:007 Weeks Post Oswin (never expect title creativity from me)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Well we are 7 weeks out now. I don't want to jinx anything but Oswin slept 11 hours straight last night. I know that may not last and he's still sleeping swaddled, I don't know how he'll take to un swaddled sleep, but it's a nice change. Lyra, on the other hand, woke me up to put on her halloween socks. Oswin takes a while to get to sleep in the evenings but when he goes down, he goes down hard. Setting Lyra down used to be a delicate process. If you fumbled at all, breathed too hard or patted her for one second too long or whatever, she qoke up fully and you were back to square one. With Oswin you can kinda just toss him onto the bed and he doesn't wake up. Exclusively at night though, doesn't work during the day. But I'll take what I can get. </div>
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Here's a couple snapshots of our life right now.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70k_hDGIeOt7GZZxSkOofbHbi-P9Euxzhii7Ac5BwKO3XPPza836XjfzkIekISaQWoqAoQhE1dtQAXijHBduLnlb7a1ReFVYRCc8ncoOKLwEuxXXwUgAgz7DuxboiNi4in0HsUEwawzbd/s1600/20181110_185433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70k_hDGIeOt7GZZxSkOofbHbi-P9Euxzhii7Ac5BwKO3XPPza836XjfzkIekISaQWoqAoQhE1dtQAXijHBduLnlb7a1ReFVYRCc8ncoOKLwEuxXXwUgAgz7DuxboiNi4in0HsUEwawzbd/s320/20181110_185433.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weird Oswin quirk, one of the best ways to put him to sleep....hold him like this with his head leaned back at this really uncomfortable looking angle. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHKhkCYv7aMUmxQGUG1rqFlP8jIvjHDgpXN5jP20cBIPWkDQ4sWxNkH5wFAM2Z1Y2ujf-V2M_ovhRXisMwS2wm7bgDxFgihUut-A0QPur3hI3V-9RAqDVDgKjceBI8OcpMNwbuYcZfEcb/s1600/20181110_154008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHKhkCYv7aMUmxQGUG1rqFlP8jIvjHDgpXN5jP20cBIPWkDQ4sWxNkH5wFAM2Z1Y2ujf-V2M_ovhRXisMwS2wm7bgDxFgihUut-A0QPur3hI3V-9RAqDVDgKjceBI8OcpMNwbuYcZfEcb/s320/20181110_154008.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is 2.5 days worth of diapers for a toddler and newborn. Plus like 6 or so disposables for overnight. All I do is change diapers, I swear. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2fbqDuwqyLirxAfnrGilEHXc4CsiRysbXToAr9oKhnVyt4Ya_namM40AeqrmreVqyFN2Ggd_7Koy3p2UVDwDjRM3xzWUAOzeYjdy7_mTTsaE360FkNQLsB7MV0pZKBo1FI6uA3QZdbDs/s1600/20181108_162621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2fbqDuwqyLirxAfnrGilEHXc4CsiRysbXToAr9oKhnVyt4Ya_namM40AeqrmreVqyFN2Ggd_7Koy3p2UVDwDjRM3xzWUAOzeYjdy7_mTTsaE360FkNQLsB7MV0pZKBo1FI6uA3QZdbDs/s320/20181108_162621.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom life. But you know you have good friends when they show up at your door with mac and cheese and wine when you send out a pleading text for company. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_P7vs2StdM8uil1uft4zqGTayzQDoD_aNlZJY6ue7eC5q8JwAUAkzSBPLwmqLkMpVD12KW1nyUo_Lp-w-c6oA6J1lX09fUfto1zBrq5rCcJRdH_8-FminMs2sgPi7naswNWcFLJy9PMj/s1600/20181105_152144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_P7vs2StdM8uil1uft4zqGTayzQDoD_aNlZJY6ue7eC5q8JwAUAkzSBPLwmqLkMpVD12KW1nyUo_Lp-w-c6oA6J1lX09fUfto1zBrq5rCcJRdH_8-FminMs2sgPi7naswNWcFLJy9PMj/s320/20181105_152144.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bought a new good swing when the little secondhand one we had broke and it is amazing. I regret cheaping out when I had Lyra. He naps at least one good nap a day in here typically.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18fGmEM82_-TfMGts5Tj15eIv6kLVEBi47oDx6gptUjezfdM1KcPbS-0kSjiBgsY5yr6DP8SD3MSPiajDBZcKDs2I3BAwrzr3V5IjWEwuBnqQr6nMsvV9jEx1R8RbWDPTWJ9fctJYNX17/s1600/20181106_164717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18fGmEM82_-TfMGts5Tj15eIv6kLVEBi47oDx6gptUjezfdM1KcPbS-0kSjiBgsY5yr6DP8SD3MSPiajDBZcKDs2I3BAwrzr3V5IjWEwuBnqQr6nMsvV9jEx1R8RbWDPTWJ9fctJYNX17/s320/20181106_164717.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpX_FYpqj70WhNpwuvJxnhi4pBgZQRw-x4TcWBdMAP_pvf7Mpwmkt9H3gOU9Q4kq0s-eG4OY8-qfDPcTZ3jb6t11vy_1h5x2UCrzTlZAZUXcVy3nTod-JW6Ez55ntpNIFSbWHm8i2CF7l/s320/20181107_140644.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her face = her personality in a nutshell. They have themed brother/sister shirts but I keep forgetting to get a picture with both.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpX_FYpqj70WhNpwuvJxnhi4pBgZQRw-x4TcWBdMAP_pvf7Mpwmkt9H3gOU9Q4kq0s-eG4OY8-qfDPcTZ3jb6t11vy_1h5x2UCrzTlZAZUXcVy3nTod-JW6Ez55ntpNIFSbWHm8i2CF7l/s1600/20181107_140644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
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In general, everyone's doing pretty ok these days. Oswin's still growing like crazy. Breastfeeding is way easier this time around. Except for some weird reason both kids do not like left boob. At different times I've thought it was due to the way I hold the kids, their necks being sore, too much or too little milk, too fast flow, nothing really makes total sense that I can figure out. Super frustrating because that leads to different sized boobs. Comical, but mildly stressful. And then I'm trying to pump enough to fix that but not cause myself supply issues or pain. Plus, one time when I was still nursing Lyra I went on the internet and learned that very rarely a one sided nursing strike means you have cancer. I am basically 99.999% sure that is not the case here. So every now and then I have to have a chat with myself and calm down the 0.001% side of me that's crazy. Stupid left boob. I'm sure that I notice much more than anyone else does but still, not cool.<br />
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I forgot to include my postpartum pictures in the last post so here goes. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDRR_G4uO4qQnxPlAp7_uU2yCyDT9QxJP7e4tC9gN2r34U0xFWOKIoaVuQebSj0r_Ogg_L_d8lML_cGG7931aWEENHtm8vV6OQBtPVl-r8-_i0Wr-R5Mq4WSxWwcLTJjmBcd7w5bVfngK/s1600/20180926_104809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDRR_G4uO4qQnxPlAp7_uU2yCyDT9QxJP7e4tC9gN2r34U0xFWOKIoaVuQebSj0r_Ogg_L_d8lML_cGG7931aWEENHtm8vV6OQBtPVl-r8-_i0Wr-R5Mq4WSxWwcLTJjmBcd7w5bVfngK/s320/20180926_104809.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 days before Owsin was born, 40 weeks and 4 days is my final guess of how far along this was. In any case, I was over it. I'd gained 42 pounds at this point. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipywBylxkkfkN4vBHSQcb2jM5GximtlGsslAZ-cN69BRCGdGib_ZajIz3KhsaDf16QU9mBbnpQgazB7PPuhbSrc2UsSyXDXmD3skvh9dMq4gXr1kHqUVEGeXkNsIOpOEzzSFfGn9j1Xqvq/s1600/20180929_162030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipywBylxkkfkN4vBHSQcb2jM5GximtlGsslAZ-cN69BRCGdGib_ZajIz3KhsaDf16QU9mBbnpQgazB7PPuhbSrc2UsSyXDXmD3skvh9dMq4gXr1kHqUVEGeXkNsIOpOEzzSFfGn9j1Xqvq/s320/20180929_162030.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1 day postpartum, just after we got home from the hospital</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSoHWGX8BV8DI4OGkqsSqjMFQF8_mCOuVeIl00FMbgZSpO4JtFQs3NWC72FJRjcwPgvIYRV_NkUJrlH1F95ORTq4RQ8-I4pAaKE8SMfgGBgqhJ13pQVIg9wkwDTODwIE58l9Qc6-AS2DJ1/s1600/20180930_113031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSoHWGX8BV8DI4OGkqsSqjMFQF8_mCOuVeIl00FMbgZSpO4JtFQs3NWC72FJRjcwPgvIYRV_NkUJrlH1F95ORTq4RQ8-I4pAaKE8SMfgGBgqhJ13pQVIg9wkwDTODwIE58l9Qc6-AS2DJ1/s320/20180930_113031.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 days </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY63_IW3heVUx-8V2yr4VpJGrXMuA2L3v0NQiShPljfBc_9RvOeOjaSgOzaaYux7KNxPI9bqfaF4aQEdJ3DeBbyoVIaibpz5_G7ph8RGPYhwMN-MduOhFaB85KEKOQftJ1dovNmaKi6cEV/s1600/20181001_135531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY63_IW3heVUx-8V2yr4VpJGrXMuA2L3v0NQiShPljfBc_9RvOeOjaSgOzaaYux7KNxPI9bqfaF4aQEdJ3DeBbyoVIaibpz5_G7ph8RGPYhwMN-MduOhFaB85KEKOQftJ1dovNmaKi6cEV/s320/20181001_135531.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 days</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyCI-SSkPB-hN1gD7AI9LymMrac52NPnK8NU6_wBnfqf5TuVN14ibdyF5qPJ27gv6QJfI1aGin9-HXVUEohpCKGxkMnQcPOwmuAC8Ab46z08V4vIET4n0qRuHGM6jmiW5i2J6aZ6id6o2/s1600/20181005_194718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyCI-SSkPB-hN1gD7AI9LymMrac52NPnK8NU6_wBnfqf5TuVN14ibdyF5qPJ27gv6QJfI1aGin9-HXVUEohpCKGxkMnQcPOwmuAC8Ab46z08V4vIET4n0qRuHGM6jmiW5i2J6aZ6id6o2/s320/20181005_194718.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One week out, peak mom hair here. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaO6Ssl14qGWJVjKxXkuq6-ik2IjieGrXMJSRfpY-KtwTtq_BjoLx-X6U72aa9pJqn-NKloQl3YBDpwWb-IuLaZQdpKT7eue6N7OYcR_yo3Q_GDC9T_nFLULXClN3AslnohyZ_v56nzsyk/s1600/20181012_093244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaO6Ssl14qGWJVjKxXkuq6-ik2IjieGrXMJSRfpY-KtwTtq_BjoLx-X6U72aa9pJqn-NKloQl3YBDpwWb-IuLaZQdpKT7eue6N7OYcR_yo3Q_GDC9T_nFLULXClN3AslnohyZ_v56nzsyk/s320/20181012_093244.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 weeks out. Post stomach flu from hell. At this point I'd lost 22 pounds and weight loss stalled out. Weight loss kicked in again around week 5 or 6 but at a much slower pace. At 7 weeks out I still have an extra 16 or so leftover from this pregnancy. And I've been too lazy to get a good picture.</td></tr>
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I've spent a bit of the last couple weeks wondering if Oswin has a milk allergy that is manifesting itself earlier than Lyra's did. At this point I'm not convinced it is anything more than normal baby stuff and I'm just being extra diligent and watching too decide if I need to go dairy free for a while.<br />
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Occasionally, he throws up everything in his stomach. Lyra used to do this too. At this point this has happened to me enough, I'm a pro at dealing with it. We happened to be out at brunch the other morning when he did it last. (My hipster kid loves brunch by the way. Lyra knows which restaurant we go to, and loves her "bakey." That's bacon, in toddler speak.) I was holding him upright and he aimed the first part straight down my shirt. If you're a mom who has had this happen, you know exactly how the space in a nursing bra right between your boobs is basically a pocket. A pocket for catching dropped food, vomit, basically anything gross or smallish sized. I even found a pacifier in there at the end of the day once, true story. So anyway, I know better than to move him since he'd already puked straight into my bra. I just let it happen and tried to minimize the spread of the mess. Then I just threw the vomit covered baby at Travis and ran to the bathroom to mop up the vomit puddle in my bra with a cloth diaper. Thank goodness for those, they're truly multi purpose mess cleaners. I was impressed with our smooth handling of the situation. Oswin needed a full outfit change and I had to leave the restaurant wearing Travis' jacket, but no one around even noticed the chaos as far as I could tell. I even finished my mimosa. I mean, is it even really brunch of someone doesn't end up without clothing?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-3tJDzKSSxE4J9FSQdA3OsUk_4B1iWDBAGpaRClFDoIVPe-ms4SvVX-Fbk6A7KeoeLK720vFguwi-XAJ0WYPHbYBO-k6LoNFMX-BcCjAgWJk6p2hisietVCDvcBJd1fLlm0Ea1wSAgiw/s1600/20181111_125823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-3tJDzKSSxE4J9FSQdA3OsUk_4B1iWDBAGpaRClFDoIVPe-ms4SvVX-Fbk6A7KeoeLK720vFguwi-XAJ0WYPHbYBO-k6LoNFMX-BcCjAgWJk6p2hisietVCDvcBJd1fLlm0Ea1wSAgiw/s320/20181111_125823.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good thing Travis wears jackets. </td></tr>
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<br />Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-44828217902814032602018-11-03T16:36:00.000-07:002018-11-03T16:36:33.892-07:00Postpartum/Newborn Oswin UpdateI'm only on day 3, but so far I'm having an easier recovery and adjustment postpartum.<br />
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Physically speaking, I pushed a much shorter time during delivery which helps the general soreness. Plus, this time I am more prepared because I know what works for me recovery wise. I have one of those stomach binders that I think not only helps the "my insides are rapidly rearranging and it feels like there is a huge gaping empty space in there" feeling, but it helps support my back and stomach muscles. All of which were sore from pregnancy and pushing. I didn't use that until probably 2 weeks in with Lyra. This time I had it brought to me in the hospital and have been using it when I'm on my feet since 24 hours out. I lucked out again and didn't tear, even with the pound bigger kid and the more rapid pushing. Even bleeding is surprisingly slowed down already. Travis says that's because I got that all out of the way during labor. He's been joking about the big clot I passed right when things got scary. He's like, "That's when your cervix fell out onto the floor and you went from 5 to 10 cm. Someone cleaned it up for you. " We can joke about the scary stuff in hindsight.<br />
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The main thing that hurts right now is my tailbone. Getting up or down or changing positions is the worst. Travis says its concerning to him when I make my labor noises trying to get off the couch. I think mainly I keep trying to stop taking tylenol and ibuprofen too early. But that's probably my most major physical complaint so it really isn't much to complain about.<br />
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I'm also used to the sleep deprivation so that's kind of business as usual right now. I'm sure that will get worse, but it helps right now. I didn't sleep the night I was in labor, but luckily I gave birth in the morning and had a day to let the adrenaline wear off and to settle a bit. Still didn't sleep much that night (the hospital isn't restful when everyone comes in to check you all the time) but it was better than when I have birth at dinnertime. I'm basically back to 3rd trimester sleep, still up every few hours.<br />
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Breastfeeding is so far going better than with Lyra. I had a crazy oversupply with her and she had jaundice. I think both of those things got ahead of me. This time I think Wyn is a better eater from the get go and isn't having any jaundice issues so far. He seems to have kept up with my supply a bit better, I definitely don't have trouble getting him to wake up and nurse. I think we're starting to turn the corner into drowning in milk territory though so I may have to start with the pump soon. But with that, my biggest struggle was mental. I didn't want to have to pump and kept thinking I was making things worse and either just trying to deal with the engorgement pain or being really inconsistent with pumping. This time, if I have to pump, I'll probably just donate the majority or see if Lyra will drink it.<br />
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3.5 week update:<br />
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Ok, so I got busy and didn't complete my post. Basic update, this baby is huge. Like 6 month size clothes at 3 weeks huge. He weighs as much as Lyra did at 2 months at less than 1 month.<br />
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Still have an oversupply but much less than with Lyra. I maybe get 4 or 5 extra ounces a day if I have to pump some. And it's only ever once a day, if that. I think he eats more than she did. Plus I got a killer stomach virus at 2 weeks postpartum. Lost almost 5 pounds overnight and haven't had a stomach virus that bad since I was a kid. That kinda killed my supply, turned out to be lucky I had extra. Lyra also had the virus at 2 weeks out. That was brutal. Sick toddler while trying to recover from childbirth, puking a couple weeks postpartum, 10/10 would not reccomend. I'm so thankful I didn't end up with previa and a c section at the end.<br />
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Mentally, I've also felt better this go around. In hindsight I wonder if I had some postpartum anxiety with Lyra. I've felt a little extra hormonal this time around but it's soooo different. So far the transition to two kids has been easier than the transition from none to one. I don't know if that will continue later on. I think it's because no kids to 1 kid was a full lifestyle change. Adding a second kid is adding a lot of busy and extra work, but it's not a full routine change.<br />
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Sleep has been ok so far. However, I'm going to be waiting for him to be a terrible sleeper for, oh, probably the next 5 years. I just can't let my guard down there. Lyra still gets up on occasion during the night. I listen to a lot of podcast episodes on nighttime wake ups now. I've discovered some good scary fiction ones.<br />
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I lost 22 pounds the first 2 weeks and since then haven't really lost anything else. So still about 20 pounds up. But I don't think that's too bad for not being far out from birth yet. Everything else feels pretty much back to normal, much faster than I felt normal with Lyra. The one thing that still hurts a lot is my tailbone. I've heard that can last for months so that sucks. But this time I'm going to a chiropractor and getting massages regularly so I feel pretty good otherwise.<br />
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It has also been weird to adjust to a baby that isn't Lyra. Oswin is similar in a lot of ways but very distinctly a different person. It is weird but also really neat to see how different personalities a tiny little person can have. Oswin loves his hands up by his face which makes a lot of in utero movement make sense. He wobbles his chin a ton when he cries which is adorable and hilarious. Lyra used to do the bottom lip stuck out sad face, Oswin doesn't really. She also used to do the funny super red faced grunt poop noises, Oswin doesn't which is sad. Oswin is also so grunty all the time. He sounds like a little pig, it's adorable.<br />
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Cut to 5 weeks out....<br />
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And a final update at 5 weeks out because life is busy with 2 kids. Oswin is smiling now, almost laughing today. He likes when you bop his lips with your fingers. He also likes Lyra which just melts me all the time. He's starting to struggle with sleeping which is a bit rough. But overall, settling in to things better than I was led to believe, honestly. Hopefully I'll be back with another update sooner than this one came together.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><3</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He takes all his naps on the go and in someone's arms. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Travis and Lyra are blurry because he's trying to avoid the camera. </td></tr>
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<br />Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-26589362482203497852018-10-01T09:41:00.003-07:002018-10-01T09:41:44.099-07:00Oswin's Birth StoryAfter 18 months of waiting, 3 pregnancies, 2 miscarriages and countless changes in plans, we are finally home with another baby. Oswin Finley Howard was born the 28th of September, 2018 at 8:34 AM. He weighed in at 8 lbs 3 oz (a pound bigger than his big sister was) and 21.5 in long. I planned on a homebirth but ended up transferring to the hospital partway through. All in all though, things went as well as they could have and I feel pretty good about how everything turned out. No one had a horrible traumatic experience and everyone is safe and healthy. I think it helped that I dealt with the placenta previa earlier in the pregnancy and had basically accepted both a homebirth or a hospital birth as a probable outcome. I'd even had a lot of time to process that I might have a c-section. I also had co-care with an OB I really liked and a hospital I was comfortable with as a backup. So I'm glad that all that forced me to remember I might not get an unmedicated, vaginal, relatively complication free birth experience like I had with Lyra. For the most part I had my ideal birth experience with Lyra. Minus the fact I wish I could have pushed her out in like 5 minutes instead of 5 hours.<br />
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So, first, to recap Lyra's birth experience for comparison and reference. She was born at a birth center in Alaska. I went into labor early one morning and had her by dinnertime on her due date. I dilated fully in about 6 hours (pretty fast for a first time mom) but pushed for 5 (an eternity for anyone who's been there), so a total of about 11 hours of labor. My contractions were always pretty close together, I never had long break times maybe 4 or 5 minutes at most. I didn't have any significant complications, no meds, no tearing, a bit of extra bleeding after birth but my uterus was tired. Almost transferred to the hospital due to the extended pushing but didn't have to. The full story is both on <a href="https://miriam0312.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-birth-of-lyra-beatrix.html">my own blog</a> and on <a href="http://www.sarahlewisphoto.com/blog/birthoflyra">my birth photographer's blog</a> with pictures to go along with it.<br />
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Normally, subsequent babies come faster and earlier than first babies so everyone kind of thought this boy would follow that. Especially because I had such an early positive pregnancy tests and all his ultrasounds showing he measured early. NOPE. Side fact, I had an irritable uterus with Lyra and had Braxton Hicks contractions constantly, especially at the end. Usually with subsequent pregnancies that's also worse. But I actually had less with this guy.<br />
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So when all my due date guesses passed me by and I was still pregnant, I was very surprised. And frankly, quite displeased. I was 100% more ready to be done with pregnancy than I ever was with Lyra and I felt terrible and sore and exhausted. I didn't want to medically induce for anything other than a health reason or if I got all the way to 42 weeks. But I had a few timelines and his due date was a little questionable. On Thursday the 27th I went in for my last appointments. I was somewhere between 40 weeks and 1 day at minimum and 41 weeks and 1 day. My best guess given all the factors was that I was 40 weeks and 5 days.<br />
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My OB did an ultrasound and monitored the baby and deemed him just fine in there. I had him check my cervix and I was 3cm dilated, 80% effaced and baby was at -1 station. I wanted to know a starting point and to have an idea if things were favorable should I need to induce. Basically the verdict was, "Not bad, I'll take that." I also had him sweep my membranes. Basically detach the amniotic sac right around the cervix to try and get a hormonal reaction to jump start labor. My OB was on call and suggested induction the following Thursday (42 and 1 by his timeline). He wasn't pushy at all and it was a reasonable suggestion on his part but I was hoping to not get to that point.<br />
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Factoring in when the OB suggested inducing, that Travis was just starting his weekend, my mom couldn't stick around indefinitely to help, and Amy (Travis' mom, an OB nurse) was also trying to make it to Travis' sisters birth in Portland (we were due the same time because why wouldn't that happen), we decided to try some at home labor inducing tricks. I went with the non invasive lowest risk things that appeared to have some evidence that they actually work and don't raise your risks for c-sections, inductions, distressed baby, etc. I went home and tried to bring on some contractions by using a breast pump. Didn't work really, caused some super mild ones while I used it but they disappeared really quick afterwards. Finally, I took my midwife's suggested castor oil recipe and tried to go to bed hoping labor would start in a couple hours. I felt mildly nauseous but other than that not much happened and I was just figuring nothing would happen that night.<br />
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Then around 11:30 I started thinking I was feeling some mild contractions every few minutes I also started to have a little bit of bleeding. We woke up Amy and called our midwife out shortly after that. Neither Amy or our midwife were terribly concerned about the bleeding, just something to watch at that point but it spooked me a little more and I was glad I had them both there to watch me. I mostly labored on my yoga ball or standing and used my baby wrap that Travis rigged as a rebozo to hang from the ceiling. Probably one of my favorite ways to get through contractions. After another hour or so we called out the doula and birth photographer. That's also when we woke up my mother, we initially didn't so that she would be a little more rested than we were to be Lyra's person when she woke in the morning.<br />
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My sense of time gets a little fuzzy after that point because labor started to get more intense. I started to have heavier bleeding and began passing a few clots so I started to feel a bit panicky. I was still having bleeding that was "the upper end of normal." Then I felt what seemed like a giant clot (I believe it was somewhere around apple sized but it's hard to tell with those things) and I pretty much made up my mind things were not ok anymore. The midwife asked to check my dilation (something that hadn't been done yet since seeing the OB). At the same time my contractions had hit a new level of intense that was worse than anything I'd experienced with Lyra. I also started to feel pushy and have some of the contractions where I couldn't stop my body from pushing involuntarily. So I was expecting to hear I was very close to fully dilated. At this point I think it was around 5:30 to 6 am so I'd been in labor for as long as it took me to fully dilate with Lyra.<br />
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However, when the midwife checked I was only 5 cm. And I knew I had started at a 3. So there I was, passing some big clots that were so terrifying to me. Both Amy and my midwife were trying to reassure me that while the bleeding wasn't normal or great, I wasn't dying and the baby was doing well but we started to discuss the plan for what to do next.<br />
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In hindsight part of what happened for me was that all the blood and clots took me straight back to my last traumatic miscarriage. It physically felt the same, passing those clots, and happened in the same area of the house. I didn't think through that at the time and no way could I have vocalized that that was part of my mindset and decision making process but talking to Travis after the fact made me pretty sure that was a good portion of it. I was prepared for some level of sadness or triggering during labor, but bleeding like that didn't actually cross my mind. I knew you could bleed but didn't know you could bleed like that and be ok.<br />
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Another big factor was that my pain level was crazy. I'd done unmedicated labor with Lyra and this was a whole different level. So I was bleeding and freaked out, experiencing pain like I never had in labor before, and super stressed that I was starting to push uncontrollably when I'd made hardly any progress and was nowhere near ready for pushing. I also knew I couldn't make it through a slow labor like that without pain meds. I wanted an ambulance to take me to the hospital and get me all the drugs and stop the bleeding asap. With Lyra's birth I did eventually want meds and was debating a transfer because I wasn't sure I was getting her out. But there was much more of a debate and I was more indecisive. This time I was decided in a second and it just took me a bit to convince everyone that's what I wanted and needed. I'm still surprised by my conviction tobe honest. It took a minute for everything to be organized but we got an ambulance there and everyone scrambled to transfer.<br />
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Really at this point is the part that is funniest in hindsight. So I've been laying on the bed for a bit, I have nothing on from the waist down and I haven't really been able to move positions on my own, being ginormously pregnant and having a baby head low in my pelvis and intense contractions and all. There's some debate about how to get me out to the ambulance, I hear talk about taking down the 3 baby gates. Everyone is busy making plans about how everyone is getting there, what to take along, how and when to bring Lyra (she is somehow miraculously sleeping through all this) and I'm in one track mind mode. I am in more pain than I've ever been in my life, I'm bleeding, trying not to push, and I want to be in an ambulance on my way to drugs at the hospital, like, an hour ago. I also am 100% motivated to make it to the front door in one shot between contractions. No way in hell am I having one in the hallway. That's the worst, I like to be set up in a comfortable position during a contraction. Then I had a big contraction where I pushed and felt another bloody gush and was horrified and basically kicked into flight mode. So everyone helps me up, expecting to assist me in putting on a skirt or something, gathering my stuff and getting me to the front door. But the second I am up, I take off. Travis stopped to get shoes and I'm like, "Where the fuck are you, I need you right now. Keep up." My photographer and doula were laughing about it later saying everyone was basically chasing me down the hall because no one expected me to move so fast. Next thing I'm really aware of is being right at my open front door at nearly 7 in the morning, half naked, with paramedics I don't know (but Travis has met/will meet being a volunteer firefighter) screaming about how I'm pushing, I need a bucket (I was afraid the pushing was making a mess) and I want to get in the ambulance. People are tying to offer me clothes or a sheet to cover with to get in the ambulance, and I give zero fucks.<br />
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I make it into the ambulance with a sheet wrapped around me somehow and Travis is allowed in the back with me. I'm not sure if this is because he mentioned the firefighter thing or after my vocalizing through a contraction and kinda freaking out the paramedic decided he didn't want to be alone back there with me either. In any case as they're setting me up to go I feel a huge gush. I think it's blood and am really starting to panic. The paramedic tells me its very clear and it's my water, there's no blood. He lifts the sheet, looks between my legs and says, "Alright, looks like baby is going to come here after all." And starts talking about getting the midwife or OB nurse in here. I'm absolutely not comprehending any of this. I'm still about 15 seconds behind and I don't understand that I'm not bleeding and I'm thinking I'm only 5 cm and these guys don't know anything. Travis explained later that what he and the paramedic saw was part of the still water filled amniotic sac starting to come out and that my waters did indeed break. It was a slower leak than I had with Lyra and I didn't feel the pop I did with her or my last miscarriage so I didn't recognize it.<br />
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So somehow in the time between being checked in my bed and my mad dash to the ambulance I'd dilated the other 5 cm. In hindsight that's probably why the pain was so extreme. And the bleeding was from the rapid cervical change as well. Amy had reassured me I was making the right choice to transfer earlier with the bleeding when I was so far from the hospital and wasn't close to complete. If I would have known that I was almost done I would have probably felt a little better too, but no one could predict that. And it makes more sense why I felt pushy.<br />
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So anyway, we only know it was nearly 7 am when I started pushing because that's when Travis tried to call and get someone in the ambulance. Somehow his mom ends up in the back of the ambulance and she's the one who convinces me that I'm no longer bleeding and I'm fully dilated and can push because I know she at least has experience with this that the paramedics don't. And I should make it clear that the paramedics really were great. They originally didn't want anyone in the back with me and then basically followed Amy's lead with helping me and that's exactly what I needed. Not to mention they got an IV line in first try during a contraction, that took some serious skill. And so then I pushed all the way to Reno. At that point I felt a bit dumb because I wasn't at home. I had been wanting to watch the sunrise before things got intense and I guess I kind of got my wish as I'm watching the sun rise in between my legs out the ambulance windows between pushes.<br />
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Sometimes I wish I was a little less dramatic. Like when we roll into the hospital and I'm screaming mid push all movie birth style. I was definitely louder and swore a lot more with this labor. But sometimes I just can't help it. So we make it to a room and get me on the bed. Luckily, the birth photographer we went with was already in the room (she works at the hospital, conveniently). My doula was there as well but I'm fuzzy on more details as I couldn't see without my glasses and I was deep into labor zone. My midwife was there as well but I have no memory of when or how everyone arrived. At first the nurses told me to stop pushing and wait for the OB. I didn't even bother explaining that wasn't a possibility and I heard Amy tell them for me. My OB wasn't going to make it on time so his partner (who I hadn't met) was the OB they brought in. There was one single comment she made that made me angry but didn't turn into an issue. I asked to change positions because I was hoping to get the baby moving down faster. I actually like pushing on my back laying down in bed, which isn't generally a very effective way to push and I always assumed I'd want to avoid before I gave birth. But it's the only way I feel like I have a chance to rest and it just works for me to deliver. Anyway though I asked to change, I think I said hands and knees because it seemed doable and I wouldn't have to move far. Someone suggested standing leaning over the bed. The OB made a rude comment along the lines of "That's fine, as long as she knows she's delivering in bed. The last time I had a midwife transfer and she tried to deliver standing the baby fell on the floor and had a fourth degree." I was braced for potentially clashing with this OB so I wasn't bothered other than I wish I could have been in a position to say what I thought about that. I don't like being told what I'm "allowed" like that or being bullied and scared into things. Plus, I wasn't actually fighting to deliver like that. In any case, I just ignored it and kept pushing. I tried on my knees leaning over the back of the bed for a bit but then wanted to lay down again pretty quickly.<br />
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It seemed like forever but I really only pushed for a little under 2 hours which was so much better than the 5 I had with Lyra. The second scary part was after I got Oswin's head out everyone started telling me I had to stop pushing because he had a really tight double wrapped nuchal cord. Meaning it was around his neck really tightly twice. It took everyone by surprise because he had a great heart rate during labor. Luckily, I was able to comprehend what was happening and stop pushing. That takes some effort.<br />
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And as an aside, this is where I have a huge problem with OBs like the one I was delivering with. I want feeling very inclined to listen to her advice after her comments earlier. I had enough people I trusted telling me to stop pushing and was aware enough to realize what was happening. All it would have taken was a "I'd prefer you stay in the bed to deliver, it's how I feel I can help you deliver safely," would have changed my entire perception of her. No need to jump straight to scare tactics. This is why I like the OB we picked so much, he treats you like you're capable and have a right to make decisions as long as he says his opinions and passes on the facts, he's pretty ok about going with your plan. <br />
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Back to delivery, I had planned on delaying cord clamping but it had to be cut off before I could even finish delivering him. But I mean, breathing is pretty important. I got to hold him for about 10 minutes but honestly didn't get a good look at him because we were both a little stunned and he was up high on my chest. Then he just wasn't pinking up very well and they took him across the room for at least 20 minutes, timing is fuzzy but it was a long time for me. I still couldn't see and Travis went with Oswin. I had my doula, midwife, birth photographer and Amy all with me and everyone was in a good mood the whole time so it was clear Oswin was going to be fine but it's not a good feeling to be worried about your baby who is struggling and you've been waiting for so long to hold him.<br />
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Travis explained afterwards what all happened. He had pretty high APGARS but pretty mottled color. They took a pulse ox and he was mid 80s when they want over 90. They ended up using a CPAP and deep suction to clear out fluid from his lungs and get him breathing better. They also did his newborn stuff and got his stats and what not. Luckily, they didn't have to take him to the NICU at all and he ended up back with me after a while.<br />
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The timing ended up working well where Lyra and my mom were concerned. They showed up (with my glasses) to meet Oswin shortly before we moved to the postpartum room for our 24 hour stay. The rest of the time there was pretty unremarkable. We were able to go home a little over 24 hours later and thus far things are going pretty smooth for adjusting to life with a toddler and a newborn. He was worth all the wait and the trouble but I'm so ready to not be pregnant for a while. So far Oswin is an easy new little dude and my recovery is going even better than I hoped for. Probably just jinxed it all but guess we'll just see what the next few weeks bring. I'm already working on some postpartum posts but this one is long enough as is!<br />
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<br />Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-25615376966172619992018-09-22T08:42:00.000-07:002018-09-22T08:42:05.299-07:00Due Date Update<b>How preggo I am: </b>Too pregnant. My favorite guess for a due date is today. With all the ultrasounds he was due at the earliest on the 16th and the latest on the 26th. The official count puts me at 40 weeks 3 days right now. No signs of imminent arrival whatsoever so far, sadly. I had Lyra on her due date and the was never any debate about her due date so this is driving me crazy.<br />
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<b>Baby size: N</b>ewborn sized. Watermelon, spaghetti squash, something like that.<br />
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<b>Food cravings/aversions: </b>Blue cheese. I love blue cheese this week.<br />
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<b>Sleep:</b> I tried to sleep in this morning. I was up at 6.<br />
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<b>Mood: </b>I need this baby out. I am so tired of the comments from the general public. People are so freaking rude. I mean, yes, I am quite pregnant but keep your opinions to yourself. I don't need to hear, "Wow, you sure look like you're going to have that baby soon," for the 18th time today. It's not like I haven't noticed I'm pregnant yet.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mood right now.</td></tr>
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<b>Names: </b>Still no name.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Lyra stats: </b>She is very entertained with both the grandma's here right now, thankfully.<br />
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<b>Labor signs: </b>None. I'm going to be pregnant until mid October probably. My mother in law has started joking about slipping me some castor oil to induce. I told her to go ahead and try but she better never accept food or drink from me for the rest of her life. She says she's joking. I warned her I'm absolutely serious.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Other symptoms: </b>My hips have been hurting a ton. The chiropractor has actually been helping quite a lot. I asked everyone for tips. My OB was super honest though when I asked what would help. "Delivery."<br />
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Heartburn is hitting with a vengeance. It hasn't been as bad with this one as it was with Lyra. Until this week. I'm basically a dragon. I'm 95% sure I could actually breathe fire.<br />
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<b>Best moment this week: </b>Getting the grandmas in town for backup with the toddler. We also had a hilarious family discussion and realized how many crazy animal stories both sides of the family have. Storytime included everything from, "the time Chandler woke up with a dead chicken in his room," to "the times Martin was attacked by bats." There was also "Roxi gets in a fight with a porcupine," and "Roxi gets mauled by alpacas." "Mom's taxidermy hobby" and "Dad's undead vulture," are more personal favorites of mine. I could write a whole novel. The best part was immediately after storytime Travis encountered a mysterious creature in the garage while we were packing up for the night.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Other stuff: </b>I don't think I have anything extra this week.<br />
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<b>Looking forward to</b><b>: </b>Birth. Not being pregnant, miscarrying, recovering, or waiting to be pregnant for the first time in 18 months. Finally, will have a baby out and here and feeling less in limbo.Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-88847175240057619932018-08-29T19:53:00.000-07:002018-08-29T19:53:01.336-07:00Full Term!<b>How preggo I am: </b>37 weeks, officially full term (although I expect it will be a few weeks, I'm still thinking the 22nd or around there is most likely) I'm officially on baby watch. It's a bit surreal to just be on alert to go into labor with a full term baby and not be worried about it being too early or my placenta being in the way.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">37 weeks!</td></tr>
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<b>Baby size: </b>Smallish newborn sized probably.<br />
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<b>Food cravings/aversions: </b>Pumpkin. It is also basically pumpkin spice season and I'm antsy for cooler weather and not having an allergy attack every time I get a slight whiff of outdoor air.<br />
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<b>Sleep:</b> Why do I even include this? It will be crappy for the next few years. I keep having apocalypse dreams lately. I either need to write a book or find some good apocalypse fiction to read or watch.<br />
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<b>Mood: </b>I swear I'm generally a cheerful nice person but this pregnancy I am a grouch. I'm still annoyed with how many comments about my size that I'm getting. I get it, I'm very visibly pregnant. But what do you expect? I'm not exactly huge to start with, I have a nearly full size baby inside me. But the "ready to pop?" and the, "is it more than one in there?" questions are just so rude. And after months of them, I'm done. Also basically no clothes fit, which sucks.<br />
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<b>Names:</b> Maybe we'll name him someday. This is the last detail besides some burp cloths I have to make so I'm starting to dwell on it.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Lyra stats: </b>Trying to get in some good quality time in with her before this next one shows up. We let her stay up the other night and watch a movie and then went to the park to look at stars. She was totally into it. It was entertaining, even the part where she was cuddled up on me, farting on purpose, and announcing it.<br />
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Her new favorite toys are empty dvd boxes, so that's ridiculous.<br />
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<b>Labor signs: </b>Nothing. He's down super low though and in a good birthing position at the moment. I've been "nesting" I suppose. Although I tend to think that it is just my natural state to overly clean and organize my life and home. I am trying to stay as up to date on all chores as possible. Plus I've made little breastfeeding stations and postpartum care stations around the house. I've stocked a few freezer meals and snacks. I may make a few activity baskets for Lyra too for when baby needs quiet time.<br />
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<b>Other symptoms: </b>My hips hurt, getting up and down from laying or sitting is rough. I'm visibly wincing or making those "ooooh this hurts" noises. This is different from Lyra's pregnancy. I'm pretty convinced it's due to his positioning much lower down. Plus the extra weight I'm carrying can't help. I've gained about 35 total so far, still seems like that slowed a lot the last few weeks so I'm hoping that won't be too rough the last bit. I've just never been this sore for this long, ever. I am basically in a constant state of discomfort and/or pain. The headaches I had earlier in the pregnancy were worse pain level wise and close to as consistent, I wouldn't trade for those, but this is still wearing.<br />
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I also am pretty sure I pulled a muscle in my right ribs from allergy induced sneezing and coughing. It is getting fairly excruciating actually. I'm hoping that doesn't last long or bother me in labor.<br />
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I can tell with the soreness and general hugeness, my balance is off. I'm trying to be careful but I feel a lot clumsie. Fingers crossed I don't hurt myself too badly before I get this baby out.<br />
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<b>Best moment this week: </b>Hitting that full term mark. I've been waiting a long time for that.<br />
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<b>Other stuff: </b>I finished 2 of the crib sheets! They were a pain to make because I couldn't find fabric big enough (and the fabric lady cut the single one that was big enough too short) to cover the mattress and foam I have to use to close the gap between the crib and bed.<br />
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Also, here's an example of this kid's ridiculous gymnastics that I managed to capture on camera. Keeping in mind this is not the craziest I've seen, he's usually calmed down a bit by the time I get the camera out. Stomachs should not look like this. Generally I think these pictures are his butt sticking out when he pushes his legs straight. Lyra did not do this and she was not a tame fetus by any means.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty sure I was also having a Braxton Hicks contraction the same time I took this one. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This ones a bit older when he was laying more to the right.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another earlier, laying on the right picture. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just for reference, my belly is generally not freakishly misshapen. </td></tr>
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<b>Looking forward to: </b>My mom shows up in a little under 3 weeks!Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-4744880757034608282018-08-26T16:40:00.002-07:002018-08-26T16:40:31.750-07:008 Month Update<b>How preggo I am: </b>36 weeks! I just need to get 1 more week in and then he is allowed to come any time at home. I'm really hoping I don't go late but everyone is going to be here on the early side so naturally that will happen. I'm also feeling much more ready to be done being pregnant than I was with Lyra. I want to get this baby out and take a freaking break from being pregnant already.<br />
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<b>Baby size: </b>About 19 in and 6lbs. Close to being ready for birth. For reference Lyra was born at 20.5 inches and 7 lb 4 oz<br />
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<b>Food cravings/aversions: </b>I want pizza. Like really quality home cooked pizza, not Dominos or something. And also cheese stuffed bacon wrapped dates. Handy as apparantly dates are good for things like cervical ripening and likelihood of needing pitocin and shorter labor. Small studies but it's enough excuse for me to make delicious food. And apple juice. Which gives me heartburn but I still want it.<br />
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<b>Other symptoms: </b>Same things as per usual really. Typical 3rd trimester with a side of severe allergies, wildfire smoke, and irritable uterus. Not as irritable as with Lyra though, I don't think. It is hard to tell. I might just be busier and/or less stressed about it now that my placenta moved. I did get a virus a couple weeks ago. So did Lyra. She had a fever the first non smoky day we had in like 2 weeks. Then I got a sinus infection which was extra fun. I pulled a muscle in my side and now it hurts anytime I sneeze, blow my nose, or cough. Which is approximately every 30 seconds soooooo that's not fun. My hips are really sore too. Also different from my experience with Lyra. My heartburn is less extreme so maybe this baby will have less hair.<br />
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I also had the most ridiculous morning sickness experience of all the pregnancies. I had a morning where I went from 100% normal and feeling fine to "absolutely going to vomit, right now" in under a minute. And upon throwing up, had a similarly shocking speedy recovery and was back to feeling 100% normal and great in under 3 minutes. Besides hysterical laughter because I was so surprised and I half pulled a muscle moving too fast.<br />
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<b>Sleep:</b> Still shitty. The newest thing this last week was waking up with a crazy dry mouth, super uncomfortable. Blasting a couple humidifiers all night seems to help.<br />
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<b>Mood: </b>I'm so done, I have no more patience. We're trying to get our car fixed, Travis hit an antelope, and it is taking far too long on the insurance company's part. It happened almost a month ago and we still haven't been able to schedule it somewhere to be fixed. It currently has no AC which means it's a horrible car for Nevada in the summer. The insurance company finally came through though so now we can finally get it scheduled. It's basically going to take like 6 to 8 weeks total and we'll be pushing it right up to when I deliver to get it done.<br />
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Also I have the worst hair luck, EVER. I go through these cycles. First I move somewhere new, I'll go to Great Clips or Fantastic Sam's or something for a while and be low key frustrated with weird hair issues, for example, an inch or so section of hair that's an inch longer than the rest of my hair but only 75% of the time. Or someone who dyes my hair red and darker instead of blonde like I wanted and tries to talk me into it, "No, it is the lighting, it's definitely blonder." Seriously. Then I find someone who I think will be really good or is really good but I stop going for some unlucky reason or another or we move again.<br />
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More backstory, probably taking the cake for the worst story was when Lyra was about 4 months old and I decided to use the first several hour break I'd ever had away from her to go get my hair dyed and cut. So it had been like 6 months since I'd done anything with it, I was excited for my first taste of freedom. Then I'm chatting with my stylist I'd used before a few times and trusted enough to dye my hair. She asks how my hair has been doing postpartum and I explain I'm having some of the usual expected hair loss and my scalp seems a little more dry and itchy since having a baby but nothing too drastic or crazy. This is where everything goes downhill. She tells me I have lice. I freak out because if I have lice, so does my 6 month old who sleeps with us, and our house requires decontamination. I'm also super disappointed my first day out post baby is ruined and I'm embarrassed. I held it together until I left but basically went home and cried and made Travis go out for de lousing things. And we spend the next couple hours hardcore searching for lice just to find no lice. None. No lice anywhere, on anyone. Good thing Travis is a skeptic and is like, let's research before you just put all this on your head. Upon inspection Travis is like, "Ehhh I mean, your scalp is a little dry but not even extreme...." I still do some intense moisturizing treatment to be sure and after a couple hours my hair is essentially back to pre baby normal. I debated going to get a doctors note to make a point but I didn't want to spend the $30 copay, especially after spending the same on unnecessary de-lousing products. So I never went back to that hair stylist again. It is kind of a funny anecdote in hindsight but at the time it was awful.<br />
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Besides the imaginary lice incident, there was the Justin Bieber haircut debacle. That started out as an edgy assymetrical pixie/bob type haircut I had done somewhere I trusted. Then I believe we moved or I couldn't travel to Spokane all the time for a haircut, something like that. So I got it trimmed locally. And it wasn't as awesome anymore but it wasn't terrible. But the next time was. And so then I was like, let's just do a pixie. And then that made me look like a weird cross between Justin Bieber and my baby brother before he hit puberty and if he was white. I mean my brother isn't bad looking, we look eerily like opposite gender, different color twins. I just didn't want to look like his twin brother. I was working on the slope at the time and the company man literally called me to his office once because he was worried he made me feel bad with teasing about my haircut. I still have to laugh because my true feelings were more embarrassed for anyone who didn't realize that I realized my haircut was something out of a horror story. I gave myself the Justin Bieber nickname because sometimes you just have to laugh. The poor stylist I found in Anchorage to help fix the worst of it clearly was a little taken aback by it. That was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. I was coming off nightshift and quite tired and probably had a beer first. I told him, just do something with it to try and improve it for growing it out. I know there's not much to work with and I will be legitimately impressed if you can make it worse than it is, so have some free reign and know I won't be mad. That's how I ended up with my first pink and purple hair ("Maybe some bright colors to just...distract...from the rest of it...."). And that pixie from hell haunted me quite literally up until the imaginary lice incident, that was the last of growing that out.<br />
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So anyway, cut to now. I have a stylist who does my hair well, but is so unreliable about scheduling that I just couldn't anymore. I'm talking 5 out of 7 appointments cancelled and/or rescheduled. So I found a new place, scheduled a few weeks in advance and verbally explained what my hair looked like and what I wanted. And I'm not dumb at this point, I sent in photos and gave myself a week before I really wanted it done (for maternity pictures) in case something happened. And 48 hours before my appointment my hair stylist emails to say she can't do it and refers me to someone else. So here we are. I'm unsure when and how and if I will get my hair done somewhere around here again. I had Travis help me mostly dye it back to my naturalish color with 4 dollar Walmart dye. A frightening gamble but it mostly worked. We're probably giving it a round 2 and hoping for the best. Travis has had to help try and fix or manage so many of my hair disasters at this point that he says he's going to open up his own business. Something like, Travis' Mediocre Hair. So that's my long winded story about why the last of my patience is gone and why I'm a brunette again. With a few weird patchy spots but, oh welllllll.<br />
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On the plus side I found a birth photographer I really like and I'm not stressed about not having one anymore. She's worked with my midwife and doula a lot before and has birth experience as a nurse too. I also found out my mom will still be able to make it out here as planned as well. So maybe now I can have the last 6 weeks of pregnancy calm and planned as much as possible??<br />
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I have everything almost as set up as I can have it before baby gets here. The nursery is done, our bedroom is prepped with a birth space and baby sleeping space, breastfeeding/pumping stations are set up, some meals are frozen. I still need to do a few more freezer meals and stock a couple last minute homebirth items but we're good to go other than that.<br />
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<b>Names:</b> My vote is still Oswin Finley. Travis is still Finley Oswin.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Lyra stats: </b>She is 3 now! She's started soccer which is adorable and funny. While "Baby Shark" is still an all time favorite song, a new favorite is "6 Cats," this random YouTube video that is both obnoxious and really catchy. Horrible combo, really. She has a new weird (for a toddler) food she likes, blue cheese. Her tastes alternate between sophisticated and hating traditional toddler food, and super typical toddler preferences. She won't touch ketchup but she loves edamame. Still obsessed with sushi<br />
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She briefly went through a napping phase again but I think that was a growth spurt and she's coming out of it again. She gained 2 lbs for the first time in like a year though. Watching her growth patterns has been interesting. When she was exclusively breastfed, she was on the high end of the growth chart, around 80th percentile. Once she switched to solid food and picky eating, she dropped quite a bit and now she's definitely on the petite side, around 15th percentile. I haven't worried as she's clearly grown mentally and I think she has grown a bit in height, but it was weird. She was in 2T clothes by around 18 month and she still hasn't outgrown it all.<br />
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<b>Best moment this week: </b>I got out of jury duty! I was figuring they wouldn't want me as a juror seeing as I was basically full term, but I don't even have to go at all.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Other stuff: </b>I took maternity pictures and I love them! Lyra cooperated beautifully. I also had to take some rainbow baby photos with rainbow scarves. Because there is no better time to climb around in your underwear on rocks in the middle of the desert than when you're 8 months pregnant. Here's my absolute favorites.<br />
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman";">Looking forward to:</b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Getting this kid to 37 weeks, that feels like one of the last few milestones and then he can show up whenever. </span>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-66189511376771453102018-08-01T10:45:00.001-07:002018-08-01T10:47:57.661-07:0033 Week Update<b>How preggo I am: </b>33 weeks, only 7ish more to go. I could have a baby in 5 weeks though. That's not out of the realm of possibility. Or 10 weeks, haha. I don't want to set unrealistic expectations for myself.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">33 weeks</td></tr>
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<b><br />Baby size: </b>Between 4 to 6 pounds roughly, it's weird to think about how baby like he looks by now. He's close to birth height 17 to 19 inches. He definitely feels ginormous.<br />
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<b>Food cravings/aversions: </b>I want all the things that are going to give me insane heartburn. Chocolate cookies, jalepeno popper dip. Things I will eat and regret.<br />
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Edit: I regret nothing about eating jalepeno popper dip. Worth it.<br />
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We did have a good laugh at our mommy and me brunch. You could tell the majority of us that came that week were pregnant by the lack of mimosas and wide range of food from jalepeno popper dip to waffles and watermelon. It was all delicious, I might add.<br />
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<b>Other symptom: </b>The usual again, I'm tired, my bladder is the size of a squashed pea, Braxton Hicks (not as bad as with Lyra I don't think, or I'm too busy to notice them), my lower back, hips, and feet are sooooo sore. Heartburn is basically a given these days, zantac still helps but not 100%. I predict this baby will have hair too.<br />
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I've slowed on weight gain again, I gained like 5 pounds total the first 20 weeks, then about 25 in about 10 weeks, and the last 3 not really any again. It seems like it all happened at once. And it seems I gain more than average. I didn't really track with Lyra and I'm trying to be chill about it but it is hard. Especially with everyone commenting about how huge I am. The day is coming where I am going to hear "You look like you're about to pop," one too many times and I really will figuratively "pop" on someone. It nearly happened the other day. I'd already heard it once that day and then I am 95% sure I heard a random guy make a comment about me, not even to my face, just about me where I could overhear. I was not 100% sure though. I possibly misheard and I didn't want to look dumb yelling at someone for something they didn't do. But I'm pretty sure it happened. I don't understand how people think it is ok to make comments like that. And for the record, I think I'm just a bit larger than I was with Lyra which is really normal. Not to mention I'm measuring perfectly on track for 33 weeks.<br />
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I had a fantastic pregnancy brain moment this week. Travis found a coffee mug half filled with water that I'd put away in the cupboard. While I was pregnant with Lyra I lost a measuring cup of water in the microwave for a few hours.<br />
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<b>Sleep:</b> Still pretty awful. I slept so much with Lyra's pregnancy that I didn't feel super tired. This time I don't have that luxury. Also my allergies and the intense wildfire smoke are not helping, I wake up to sneeze and blow my nose as often as I do to pee. It sucks.<br />
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Lyra is in a terrified of monsters stage so she is waking up about once a night again. But she's also obsessed with monsters and wants to watch monster shows all the time and recently expressed the desire to be the chupacabra for Halloween. I fully support this and will absolutely make baby brother dress as a goat. It might be my fault that Lyra likes and fears monsters so much, I 100% relate.<br />
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<b>Mood: </b>It is constantly too hot and there's horrendous air quality with the wildfires and my allergies so I'm kind of testy but not too terrible. Other than today is hitting me pretty hard. I had the last miscarriage a year ago. I thought I'd be fine but I'm feeling 1,000 more feelings than I thought I had. I'm debating a whole post about it. I just haven't had a good time or energy.<br />
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<b>Names:</b> My vote is still Oswin Finley.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Lyra stats: </b>She had this one day where she was the spawn of Satan despite a 3 hour nap, I don't know what was up with that, it was a new level of terror. But then she had a really good day where she was patient and wonderful through a full day of errands.<br />
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Funny toddler quirk moment of the week, she had this weird obsession with my arm for a day. She kept rubbing her face on it and cuddling and kissing it. Just my arm, not me in general.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Best moment this week: </b>I don't know that there's a specific event that comes to mind<br />
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<b>Other stuff: </b>Major baby prep happened this week after finding out my placenta moved. Plus Amazon prime day and baby registry discounts kicked in. We have a few more things to get and not everything has shipped yet but the baby's nursery and our room is pretty much set up.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crib and possibly glider won't stay in the room.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The baby crib will be side-car style next to the bed here, mainly hoping to not have our bed completely overrun by small children.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The baby changing station will also be in the master bedroom too.</td></tr>
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I also did some couponing and deal finding and scored big on diapers and wipes. We use cloth mainly but disposable wipes for outings and poop because it's just so much easier. And disposable diapers are our backup for travel, laundry emergencies, babysitters, etc. I got all of this for $100 after stacking coupons and gift cards back from a target deal and Ibotta.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFbCzmOolH_CS_8rm_TZxDIBw3aIBBbo0tmUBFVbYfC0wsq9BlhOvTkvQgwhHSD6f3oHEl51hhCp5Hut2pVOT2XlvG_Jl0cr637XPsckDXn7JPniiJiWnEzCkKM5Q-RffaR3SX_bLPgBQ/s1600/20180727_194343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFbCzmOolH_CS_8rm_TZxDIBw3aIBBbo0tmUBFVbYfC0wsq9BlhOvTkvQgwhHSD6f3oHEl51hhCp5Hut2pVOT2XlvG_Jl0cr637XPsckDXn7JPniiJiWnEzCkKM5Q-RffaR3SX_bLPgBQ/s320/20180727_194343.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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That's 6 boxes of diapers and 2 of wipes, normally it would be $180. There's some tax in there and such but still, great deal. I already had 2 boxes of wipes from previous less extreme but still satisfying couponing. So I'm honestly thinking this should get us through a full year. I'm fairly impressed with myself.<br />
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I also set up my birthing space in our bedroom. I know things happen where they happen but I'm thinking it is my probable spot for labor and delivery.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbAdrwXEJOgeFVDFfDIKyU01wMAIEvdLdqFTFQwu-3Rkvtbt4xd67Nlsj3pKNlW9QZbRpP9v7YQZyq0PMvKr-RSAfrZLJVGO1eGVHslVh_rmYVxuQtBhGB6bTDEfemUUKKP-eovn2uj15/s1600/20180724_200326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbAdrwXEJOgeFVDFfDIKyU01wMAIEvdLdqFTFQwu-3Rkvtbt4xd67Nlsj3pKNlW9QZbRpP9v7YQZyq0PMvKr-RSAfrZLJVGO1eGVHslVh_rmYVxuQtBhGB6bTDEfemUUKKP-eovn2uj15/s320/20180724_200326.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm planning on adding some string lighting, birth affirmation decorationy stuff, and hopefully a yoga swing or some type of suspended support system. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizrmRH9AzBcKbn5pC5vUYanBaocgWxMwQ9uKPEL68-JSCY1sO8IeMB3hQmzMI57Zqv_JKBt7LJ3IqfKkxLn5iD5nujrWuxX6yOH4UYgAdMINzNhSonthyphenhyphenxRrtVE63bnqayBRpCHJWJ2Iip/s1600/20180724_200343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizrmRH9AzBcKbn5pC5vUYanBaocgWxMwQ9uKPEL68-JSCY1sO8IeMB3hQmzMI57Zqv_JKBt7LJ3IqfKkxLn5iD5nujrWuxX6yOH4UYgAdMINzNhSonthyphenhyphenxRrtVE63bnqayBRpCHJWJ2Iip/s320/20180724_200343.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And I have a cozy nook for anyone sitting and waiting or needing a break.</td></tr>
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br />Looking forward to:</b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Hopefully making the last few big decisions about my ideal birth plan. I'm trying to decide on a birth photographer and there's a few travel arrangements for friends and family up in the air. </span>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-51851045368567996072018-07-18T07:55:00.001-07:002018-07-18T07:55:57.869-07:0031 Weeks and a Placenta Update<b>How preggo I am: </b>31 weeks! Although here's the official baby countdown standings. I've been tracking all the "due dates" I've been given to see when I think he's actually likely to get here and because I want to see how close I actually guess his arrival time.<br />
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Sept 26: my last period due date<br />
Sept 22: first dating ultrasound (the earlier ultrasounds are generally more accurate than the later ones) as well as the anatomy scan.<br />
Sept 23: my 31 week placenta checking exam (spoiler, it's moved!!!)<br />
Sept 19: late dating scan around 14 or so weeks with the OB I'm seeing.<br />
Sept 16: 12 week ultrasound when I had spotting and the placenta previa was found.<br />
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My conclusion is the 22nd is the most accurate due date. It's lines up with ovulating a bit early which is what I tend to do and it makes the early positive pregnancy test make sense. Plus, my cycles are real regular and I'm sure of that period date so I don't think it's too far off that one. And finally that's the date he's measured at most consistently soooo that's my guess. I'm too far in to change my apps and this blog count right now though, I'll stick with my easy to remember Wednesday week change dates.<br />
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<b>Baby size: </b>I have a personalized ultrasound estimate for this week. He's around 3 lbs 7 oz right now, give or take, ultrasounds aren't exact. Right now that puts him on track to be about 7.5 lbs on the due date of the 19th. Lyra was 7lb 4oz on her due date. He is positioned exactly like Lyra almost always was, and exactly how I thought he was laying in there. His head is down by my left hip and his butt is up by my right ribs. His feet are alternating between kicking me up on the right and down low by his face.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBMmJafAQQsRD99IhCdtrKqyaUEUmX1Nv8d8_o1bfCwuU7OiyR4HxocSm3qGIW_OhfDI6M4M0WRi-pwA-wd17icpsx1NuWAt1GACe3K3CxsNnFZBHm965YoiDD5kIM7wHxUA2TzKDeOml9/s1600/20180717_225030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1397" data-original-width="1600" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBMmJafAQQsRD99IhCdtrKqyaUEUmX1Nv8d8_o1bfCwuU7OiyR4HxocSm3qGIW_OhfDI6M4M0WRi-pwA-wd17icpsx1NuWAt1GACe3K3CxsNnFZBHm965YoiDD5kIM7wHxUA2TzKDeOml9/s320/20180717_225030.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's his little face profile. He's got his hand up under his chin. </td></tr>
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<b>Food cravings/aversions: </b>Reese's dipped pretzels. And chicken salad on croissants. Not all together though.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Other symptom: </b>The usual. Braxton Hicks a good bit, heartburn, I waddle and can't pick up things off the floor. I've also been getting these lovely moments where I get suddenly hungry and I think my blood sugar drops because I have to eat immediately since I start feeling so shaky.<br />
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<b>Sleep:</b> Awful. I cannot wait for fall with a newborn. I'm uncomfortable laying down in pretty much any position, still peeing like 5 times a night and my allergies are so bad I have to wake up to sneeze and blow my nose all night long. Also sometimes I get hot flash/night sweat type episodes. Not cool. Literally. Lyra is also pretty frequently waking up at night, probably at least 30% of the time.<br />
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<b>Mood: </b>I'm having a wonderful week. Someone called me huge again ("You look like you're about to pop, when are you due? September?!? Oh wowwww!") and it didn't even bring me down. I didn't get to use any of my snappy replies though because she was cutting Lyra's hair at the time of commenting. I decided I didn't want to risk Lyra's hair or her face by being rude back to her. And then she gave me a discount so I still won.<br />
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Anyway, I'm happy because I went to the OB on Monday for my ultrasound to check the placenta previa situation and it moved so much more than I hoped! It is 3 whole centimeters away, well past the "at least I can try to have a vaginal hospital birth" and even well past the "I can have a homebirth" point. No scheduled c-section for this reason at least. Plus, now I don't have to worry constantly about bleeding or spotting or going into labor and bleeding out and dying before I got to the hospital. I mean yes, it's still life and shit can happen, but it's a huge weight off my mind and a big risk factor gone. I have a to do list a mile long now since I procrastinated any prepping for anything but a c-section. The rest of the year is going to be insanely busy. I have appointments every 2 weeks with the OB and midwife until 36 weeks and then I have weekly appointments. I am keeping up with the back up care in case I have to transfer for any reason. On the plus side I think the time will fly until the baby is here. I have 10 weeks to get everything set up. My mind is going 100 miles an hour the last couple days.<br />
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<b>Names:</b> I told Travis I'm calling the baby Oswin Finley this week to just test it out. He said, "I know what you're trying to do here."<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Lyra stats: </b>Well I gave up on potty training again. It is intensely frustrating to go from 95% of the way there to total trainwreck but it is what it is I guess.<br />
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Lyra has learned how to bargain and count apparently. Today she looked at me while we were watching a show she likes and said, "I need to watch two more movies." I said, "Nope." She gave me this huge grin as and a giggle and said, "Okaaaaaay, I need to watch one more movie." Still a no, but it was a valiant effort.<br />
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She also made up her own phrase this week, which was priceless. She's heard me say "holy cow," and "holy mackerel," a ton. She added her own twist mid conversation when she yelled, "holy mac and cheese!" It was one of the funnier things I've ever seen her do to be honest.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Best moment this week: </b>Definitely the ultrasound.<br />
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<b>Other stuff: </b>So funny story time, I peed on myself this week. Normally the OB's office sends a plastic urine sample cup home with me and I just bring it with. Plastic is great, you can clean/dry off the outside of a plastic sample cup in the privacy of your own home. However, since it was an ultrasound and not a regular appointment, I misunderstood and didn't bring one. So I had to go with the paper cup in office. Now at this point I can't see around my belly which makes it difficult. And everyone can tell if you're messy when it's a paper cup. Further complicating things is my 2 year old. You have to watch them constantly in public bathrooms. Kids are gross, you look away and they're eating something they found on the floor or peaking in the used sanitary supply bin. Did I mention this was an OBs office bathroom? They have a display IUD. I didn't want to be the mom who's kid ate the IUD. So I'm basically trying to get this sample blind, just hoping for the best while I keep an eye on Lyra. Before I know exactly how it all went wrong, pee is suddenly going everywhere, I'm trying to get my shorts and shoes off before it makes it to those, trying to keep Lyra at a distance before she slips in it, and trying not to spill my sample. Surprisingly, the cup was pristine, not a clue how I pulled that off. I manage to clean everything else up and put my clothes back on and only had to stop to yell once. "Lyra no! STOP! Don't you dare open that door right now!" As she stares me down, hand on the door and decides how angry I actually would be if I had to chase her down the hallway with my pants down. I'm absolutely a mom, I looked at my shorts and felt such relief that it was only a little bit of pee that spilled on them. Not even close to the worst that's ever been on me in public without spare clothes. Plus having the toddler with me was handy, if anyone called me on smelling a little like pee, I was fully prepared to blame her diapers. Despite that, it was still an excellent day.<br />
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman";">Looking forward to:</b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> The homestretch! Getting my head wrapped around going with my original birth plan after all. And getting all the planning and prep done for that. </span>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-27461203298376809522018-07-10T17:08:00.000-07:002018-07-10T17:09:18.091-07:00Made It To The 3rd Timester<b>How preggo I am: </b>29 weeks/7 months, officially in the 3rd trimester now.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have been working on this post for so long that this picture is more like 30 weeks (tomorrow). Oops. </td></tr>
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<b>Baby size: </b>Baby boy is almost 16 inches long and weighs around 2.5 lbs.<br />
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<b>Food cravings/aversions: </b>Cheesecake. I've been experimenting with making it. My favorite so far was either lemon or chocolate. I went all out and made lemon curd, chocolate ganache and whipped cream for those.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Other symptom: </b>Ok, so there's one I haven't mentioned much as it's personal but I feel like I should because it's getting hilarious. My boobs have grown, significantly. Lyra has noticed. Now she stopped nursing almost a full year ago, last August when she turned 2 and I had the second miscarriage. I was just done and sore from pregnancy and I cut her off. I think she would have happily continued, my original plan was to let her self wean but again, life said otherwise. Anyway though, point is she asked to nurse maybe 4 or 5 times over a month or two after we weaned but then dropped it entirely. I assumed she'd forgot. But the past few weeks she's been asking to nurse again. And then questioning if I can do chocolate milk too. Sorry, kid. She's also been asking me to nurse her baby dolls for her. I'm finding it hard not to laugh when she comments on them too. "You have big boobies, mama. I like them." At least she's complimentary.<br />
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Also I feel huge right now. I measured and when I have to carry Lyra and a full diaper bag and I factor in pregnancy weight gain, I'm literally carrying around 50% of my prepregnancy bodyweight. Good thing Lyra is actually tiny for her age. No wonder I'm tired and my feet hurt. I felt bad when I had to rest on the way to the mailbox (it's down the street and around the corner) when I was carrying Lyra yesterday. But I feel better about that now.<br />
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<b>Sleep:</b> So terrible. The other night I woke up around 3 because I had to pee. Travis gets up at 3:30 so that can make it hard to really fall asleep again in time. And then the cat decided to chase a pebble around the house. So I had to get out of bed, turn on the lights, and scour the floors for a pebble the size of a pea so she would shut up. Seriously, a freaking pebble. Then Roxi decided she had to go outside to pee. So I had to take her out as the alternative would be cleaning the floor at 6 am. At that point I was angry and couldn't fall asleep. Didn't matter though because the second I heard Travis leave at 4:30, I heard Lyra's door open. I am not exaggerating when I say that to stay awake, she will refuse to stop moving for even 10 seconds. She laid in my bed for an hour and a half before she would hold still for a few seconds. As soon as I got her to hold still for a minute, she was out. But only for 40 minutes so I only got an extra 30 minute cat nap. That's about how well I sleep anymore.<br />
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And I fell out of bed this morning. In my defense I was trying to escape Lyra and there was a pillow in my way but my pride is a little bruised. I'm starting to have trouble maneuvering, clearly.<br />
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<b>Mood: </b>I'm stressed and sad about the state of the country lately but I don't think that's hormone/pregnancy related.<br />
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<b>Names:</b> I don't knowwwww.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Lyra stats: </b>I'm feeling quite defeated with potty training. I've spent literally 6 months between the 2 attempts. However, her doctor is of the opinion that constipation is causing her to struggle with it. So it's probably not that I'm wrong about her being ready or I'm doing something wrong. I swear 70% of parenting is dealing with other people's bodily functions. Hopefully we get it straightened out in the next few weeks. For now I'm just resigning myself to the double whammy of the mess of diapers and the hassle of potty training at the sane time. Not that that's much different than what I've been doing already.<br />
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Also she says "apple" like "asshole." I can't unhear it now.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Best moment this week: </b>Funny story time. The other night Lyra woke up around 3 and came into our room complaining about how she was scared of the monsters in her room. She started describing, in a very scared tone of voice, how they roar and have sharp teeth. Midway through her narrative she suddenly started to switch from scared to excited. Then it was all about the chupacabra and how she needed to get her chupacabra book to read. I was a little thrown by her sudden change of heart. But it seems deep down she likes her monsters too.<br />
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Also, Lyra's birth story was published in a book and I got a copy this week! So that was a highlight too.<br />
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<b>Other stuff: </b>There was a day this week where baby boy wasn't moving as much as normal. So that stressed me out enough that we went in to go get checked out. He was perfectly fine. Hopefully there's no more of that the next few weeks.<br />
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Also the nursery is coming along. We'll be decorating Lyra's room more in the next couple weeks too. And our room will have a crib sidecarred to the bed and a changing station and potentially the glider. The nursery is mainly for show and storage for at least a year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYNEh77YmdpDjQGSD1bFHOYq0flzadBrlAt8bMoQSYUSQy1vlbmDPk4MSX_iE0hlzZfkUOGE4VAUjX9EmxrnZHh7e0V4zHpMWh2tWSXoRitQxkBqLByggi9-rl_2F9AA3L7awGKEbayry/s1600/20180626_192052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYNEh77YmdpDjQGSD1bFHOYq0flzadBrlAt8bMoQSYUSQy1vlbmDPk4MSX_iE0hlzZfkUOGE4VAUjX9EmxrnZHh7e0V4zHpMWh2tWSXoRitQxkBqLByggi9-rl_2F9AA3L7awGKEbayry/s320/20180626_192052.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We aren't doing anything too hardcore, leaving the walls white and going with a rainbow theme. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm also adding in sky themed touches, potentially something with hot air balloons, I haven't quite decided.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-M16XJGzCk4cCz-9vBymGK4jPsD0SpsvfQLs8P9VJ3Qw7Jneh_WK0zG0P_30BxSHIXUFEIvRb_Ef89U_j5SSWJg_EM44ACPgB-P-UHf1HGX_py2n5QiuqT8SZh5DgWgqcupZ9rtH1_fF/s1600/20180626_192119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-M16XJGzCk4cCz-9vBymGK4jPsD0SpsvfQLs8P9VJ3Qw7Jneh_WK0zG0P_30BxSHIXUFEIvRb_Ef89U_j5SSWJg_EM44ACPgB-P-UHf1HGX_py2n5QiuqT8SZh5DgWgqcupZ9rtH1_fF/s320/20180626_192119.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wall hangings I made. And this one gets my old Jenny Lind bed. Lyra got my old bunk bed so we're 2 for 2 on hand me down beds. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-JBHvt7IVaJq-kiHdcjG0-k6l8pu0nLS_q7d846pHL2kAJnho3QavkUUaeh8sAC2cuibviSEAo9fovfJfDRb5RIhOH54m9YRwWEc9jT-wO7nTQsqgQihijtwdzKzOEZ2duPT17vedleyM/s1600/20180624_204420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-JBHvt7IVaJq-kiHdcjG0-k6l8pu0nLS_q7d846pHL2kAJnho3QavkUUaeh8sAC2cuibviSEAo9fovfJfDRb5RIhOH54m9YRwWEc9jT-wO7nTQsqgQihijtwdzKzOEZ2duPT17vedleyM/s320/20180624_204420.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabric and embroidery hoops.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNK7s3g8abZzBgcAovLRX3U8_bai7CJ-4aLZESbriDI0Uo3cCdZMRJc5SEhcWOBNFj6iLn6z6pTDdVujZE-MOKf8tpMu-hnDi0dQZgqW3_s_1DF6iOnts8Fr9cc2MQgEXSSGOtUxpPuvFW/s1600/20180707_172832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNK7s3g8abZzBgcAovLRX3U8_bai7CJ-4aLZESbriDI0Uo3cCdZMRJc5SEhcWOBNFj6iLn6z6pTDdVujZE-MOKf8tpMu-hnDi0dQZgqW3_s_1DF6iOnts8Fr9cc2MQgEXSSGOtUxpPuvFW/s320/20180707_172832.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And I tie dyed a muslin swaddle blanket too. I think I love it. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii9FXCm7g1oR-ldDrgfKO-xVhyphenhyphenYIaPchxSnM1wRftYaLAoNozgsbqiH5EGuQZINbStW_zAsJ00qpY9jM5e-XObqBPrJMVzMspt-7P4WvmmXT6EuppbqVdurRwN-uCh_n5LLo5_zzq4yyrh/s1600/20180702_153057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii9FXCm7g1oR-ldDrgfKO-xVhyphenhyphenYIaPchxSnM1wRftYaLAoNozgsbqiH5EGuQZINbStW_zAsJ00qpY9jM5e-XObqBPrJMVzMspt-7P4WvmmXT6EuppbqVdurRwN-uCh_n5LLo5_zzq4yyrh/s320/20180702_153057.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also I am getting back into sewing so I'm working on some new baby projects. Like this bonnet. </td></tr>
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br />Looking forward to:</b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> I get my next ultrasound in about a week and a half to see if my placenta finally moved off my cervix fully. Fingers crossed. I'm already convinced it's going to be marginal I'll have to wait until 36 weeks or later before I know for sure. Best case scenario, I will have no idea when this baby is arriving! Worst case scenario I will probably get a c section scheduled just in case and I still won't actually know for a few more weeks. It is driving type A me a little batty. I have several guess dates written in my calendar with notes about their likelihood and the frequency with which that dates been predicted. Lyra at least was cooperative and measured exactly on time always and arrived on her due date. This one, not so much. I blame Travis for this. </span>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-6331630545816329422018-06-13T07:09:00.000-07:002018-06-13T07:16:12.621-07:0026 weeks/6 months<b>How preggo I am:</b> 26 weeks, about 6 months<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmRSbFhAkvrTQb3izbLR6VA3G3RA6iHsZ7ejF6pwiHg1Eal0fzyA4Mi1O3adT1u4VC_CuccmIm414yGlUDu384tC8sFuy1zsfBMenx4VBrcmpFCZG_dM9VBoGwtuDBVv-6o4oHQ8lEe0v/s1600/20180612_170755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmRSbFhAkvrTQb3izbLR6VA3G3RA6iHsZ7ejF6pwiHg1Eal0fzyA4Mi1O3adT1u4VC_CuccmIm414yGlUDu384tC8sFuy1zsfBMenx4VBrcmpFCZG_dM9VBoGwtuDBVv-6o4oHQ8lEe0v/s320/20180612_170755.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6 month/26 week bump</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKPOcqJkowaL-N_K0bRtc6Jvszg0SPxJzHZbACg7MjFbMNesGEeFRktHUgEBVxcT8wLTkHMN8xkHkmko7tdYQfyoAp_lEKEIJyo3xUoX2C6toTvIkgONIIxgzQsaQHJIuyKk9tZoKkryF/s1600/20180612_215359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1080" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKPOcqJkowaL-N_K0bRtc6Jvszg0SPxJzHZbACg7MjFbMNesGEeFRktHUgEBVxcT8wLTkHMN8xkHkmko7tdYQfyoAp_lEKEIJyo3xUoX2C6toTvIkgONIIxgzQsaQHJIuyKk9tZoKkryF/s320/20180612_215359.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was my bump with Lyra, I'm surprised how similar I look this time around. I feel bigger but I don't think I'm as drastically larger as I was thinking. </td></tr>
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<b>Baby size: </b>Baby boy is about 14 inches long and weighs around 2 lbs. The vegetable comparison of the week is a scallion or butternut squash.<br />
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<b>Food cravings/aversions: </b>I've got nothing.<br />
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<b>Other symptom: </b>For once, my neck didn't really bother me on a trip (we just went to Michigan to see Travis' family). My intense chiropractor/massage plan may be working for my neck pain finally. My back is starting to hurt a lot more though, I can't be on my feet for too long.<br />
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I get a ton of kicks these days, my belly is always bouncing around. And my bellybutton is not an innie anymore. It's just like, half gone, half an outie.<br />
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<b>Sleep:</b> Lyra spent most of the Michigan trip sleeping in the bed with us again so it was occasionally nice for cuddles, occasionally frustrating because there's less room and more chance of broken sleep for everyone. She's settling back into the home routine though, thank goodness.<br />
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<b>Mood: </b>Alternating between grouchy because I'm uncomfortable and it is getting too hot and feeling alright because my neck isn't murdering me anymore. I did decide that I don't think I get trimesters. At least not this magic second trimester. I usually hear you're sick for the first one, feel adorable and full of energy for the second, and the third you're huge and ready to be done. I get the first half where I'm sick and barfing and apparantly have killer headaches. Then I have like 14 hours where I feel cute and pregnant and not sick. Then i have the second half where I'm basically one giant Braxton Hicks contraction, I feel huge and the heartburn/acid reflux is constant. I still maintain this half is better than the first half though, by far.<br />
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<b>Names:</b> There has been much more uncertainty and indecision about this than with Lyra. Which is driving me crazy because I like when I have plans. Finley Oswin and Oswin Finley are this week's top contenders.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Lyra stats: </b>So Lyra is having a birthday party in 2 months and I thought it would be a good idea to give her a few weeks to try and gauge what kind of party she wanted. Horrible idea. We talk about her truck party every day. Every day.<br />
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In between that we talked about the 2 airplanes she was going to fly on to go to Michigan. She was so excited for that this time around and did pretty well on the planes. It is always a long tiring time travelling but we're all used to it and good at it.<br />
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Lyra had a blast in Michigan with all the attention and relatives to hang out with. She even inherited a hand me down dragon costume. She will not stop wearing it. I'm gonna be that mom in the grocery store with the kid in the dragon costume. At least I won't lose her in the store.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Best moment this week: </b>I got to meet a brand new baby alpaca which was neat. My in laws have an alpaca farm, by the way. I wish he'd been born like 2 hours later because then I could have seen a baby alpaca birth but still, it was cool to see a brand new baby. He was a big one at 22 lbs and I helped name him Coriander (his mom is called Cinnamon). My mother in law, who is also an OB nurse, even saved the placenta for me to look at. That's how I know I'm as weird as the family I married into.<br />
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<b>Other stuff: </b>So the not super fun thing about this week was going to go see where Nova is buried. It was the first time we've been back since we buried her so I was a little bit of a mess. Pregnancy hormones probably didn't help that feeling either. I go back and forth sometimes between this feeling of "It's been almost a year, why does it still feel so bad?" and "It hasn't even been a year, how am I supposed to have moved on already?" Not to mention I think it is all compounded and dragged out from having two close together. Facebook pops up those reminders and memory posts. So I have been watching this year and seeing as those popping up, knowing what I posted the days I found out I was pregnant and when I miscarried. And watching myself try and be positive. I can definitely see how the first one didn't hit me nearly as hard as the second time around.<br />
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But anyway, Travis' family has been keeping the trail out to her grave clear. They moved a big rock onto the rock pile we made so it is pretty clearly marked from that alone. There is a marker though. They also moved a pine tree out and planted some flowers. Travis and I planted some more flowers so we will see how those all do, it's fairly shaded and there's wildlife around so some of the plants may not make it, but who knows. We planted tiger lilies (my favorite flower), amythest astilbes (they mean "I'll still be waiting"), lily of the valleys (they mean return to happiness). Fairly fitting meanings I suppose, we mainly tried to pick what looked like it might survive in a shady forest.<br />
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We finally settled on a name for the first baby I miscarried. Sojourner. We will eventually be getting a marker similar to Nova's and adding it to the rock at her grave. I just don't feel right without one but it has been an entirely different experience having had that miscarriage earlier, it was so different physically and I still don't know why or if it was a boy or girl. So it had taken longer to get around to dealing with that. It was almost like a triage scenario, deal with the grief from Nova's miscarriage, and now get around to this one that was a less traumatizing experience. But I like the meaning behind the name Sojourner. It does have a space connection, it means traveler. I've found a couple quotes I like a lot. "We are sojourners and not settlers for life on this earth." But my favorite and probably on the marker we will use a quote from Sojourner Truth, "I'm not going to die, I'm going home like a shooting star."<br />
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman";">Looking forward to:</b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Getting to the 3rd trimester, sometime around week 27 or 28 depending on how you count things. </span>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-28127257449383959802018-05-30T15:07:00.001-07:002018-05-30T15:07:52.612-07:0024 Weeks Pregnant<b>How preggo I am:</b> 24 weeks! Well over halfway even if I go late.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">24 weeks </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm so pregnant I can do a selfie and see the bump still.</td></tr>
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<b>Baby size</b>: Papaya or eggplant sized. Last week he was a "bunch of grapes" which is probably the most vague sizing ever. Besides dill pickle. He's about 1.3 lbs and over a foot long. Also a cool milestone, if I were to give birth to him now, he'd have a 50/50 shot. Not great chances and I want to keep him in there much longer, but it's better than 0% chance and that's comforting given the placenta situation and my irritable uterus and the past miscarriages.<br />
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<b>Morning sickness:</b> I'm getting rid of this header! I think it's really gone.<br />
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<b>Food cravings/aversions: </b>Nothing super dramatic really. That's been one of my symptoms that hasn't been as strong this time around. We've been giving Blue Apron a shot and I am enjoying food once again, it is lovely. I wish I'd tried it sooner when I was feeling sick and meal planning was the worst. But I think it will come in handy when we have a new baby and shopping gets more logistically difficult. I don't like the waste but I'm trying to recycle and compost what I can and I do a lot of other environmentally friendly things in a lot of other places in my life.<br />
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<b>Other symptom: </b>Heartburn/acid reflux. My throat feels like the volcano in Hawaii right now. Totally the same as with Lyra, I'm betting this baby will have hair when he's born too! That's one pregnancy superstition that's actually true. The hormones that cause the heartburn also help promote the baby hair growth. Not 100% correlation but still.<br />
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Also, I had one of my bad headaches that made me puke so hard I burst a bunch of tiny blood vessels in my face. That was a new experience.<br />
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Braxton hicks are totally a part of all my life again. Also I feel so huge and my bellybutton is popped out like a turkey timer already. This summer is going to be rough.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Movement:</b> So my prediction is this baby will be early and huge. (I'm fully aware predicting this means he will actually be 2 weeks late and like 5 pounds tiny.) Also, this is one strong baby. My midwife felt him kick last week and was surprised at how strong he was for that early. It's already been a while now that I can see my belly shake and move when he does. If I hadn't had so many ultrasounds and been tracking my period closely, I'd be convinced I was further along than I thought. I had an anterior placenta with Lyra and I only now really am realizing how much that must have muffled her movement and I'm a little afraid how hard this one is going to kick later on, it already verges on painful occasionally. And honestly, even with the different placenta locations, I think this baby is stronger. <br />
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<b>Weight gain: </b>10 pounds, about. I must just gain it all in the end. I want to say with Lyra the only time I found out, I was up roughly 30 pounds at 34 weeks. I gained only 5 the first half of this pregnancy and I've gained 5 in the last 4 weeks. So I'm a little nervous about that but I'm wondering if he just had a big growth spurt and I'll feel less stretched out for a few weeks before repeating that cycle. I definitely think I look about a month bigger when I look at Lyra pregnancy comparison photos. <br />
<b><br /></b><b>Sleep:</b> What is that? Between toddlers, insomnia, headaches, and having to pee, I just don't much.<br />
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<b>Mood: </b>Nothing too extraordinary to report.<br />
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<b>Names:</b> TBD. Finley Everett or Finley Oswin are in the running I think.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Lyra stats: </b>Potty training is the worst. It's going better than the last shot but still not super amazing. It is so much worse than the diaper stage. I can't wait until we are through it. I'm thankful we have so little carpet. But I swear, some days my entire day is cleaning up after animals and small people. I must wash my hands 100 times a day.<br />
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I have won the vegetable battle though. I tried everything and finally went back to trying baby puree pouches of fruit and veggies mixed. She used to hate them. Now if I bribe her with bite sized fiber cookies, she'll eat a pouch or two a day. That's my parenting philosophy though, something didn't work at all 6 months ago? The kid HATED it 4 months ago? Try it again in desperation anyway and see what happens. More likely to work if it's advice someone has been giving you and you've been telling them doesn't work for your kid. The more strongly your kid hates whatever it was, the more they'll love it when you try again. I question my sanity all the time. Lyra went from eating no vegetables to scarfing down a package of pea and kale and apple puree for breakfast with almost no bribery. She's like, "Why have you never offered me this delicious food before?" Oh, I don't know, because I have offered every day of your life and thrown away so much food and therefore money trying to feed you? It's obnoxious. But whatever, she eats vegetables in puree form now at least.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Best moment this week: </b>Well, Lyra likes to kiss and hug my belly and talk about how baby brother is in there which is the most adorable thing ever.<br />
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I didn't write about the anatomy scan yet, oops. I didn't realize I hadn't updated. Baby still looks great, he is measuring ahead of my last period due date (right on track with my very first ultrasound putting his due date at 9/22) and a little behind this one I'm sticking with, my 9/19 due date that the OB will go off of if it comes down to placenta placement deciding my delivery. My placenta is still covering my cervix, unfortunately. It did move from covering by 1.6 cm to just 0.6 cm though. So I'm getting another scan at 30 weeks to see if it moves off my cervix fully. The good news is, my OB says he's comfortable with me laboring at the hospital if my placenta moves off my cervix with not even the 1 cm limit, just as long as I'm not bleeding. So all I need is a little more than 0.6 cm and I can give labor a shot. Plus I really want 10 weeks of not stressing about bleeding or early labor. He did way however, that his partner at the practice doesn't want you to labor with your placenta less than 2 cm away. I was reminded though, that I can always say no, let me try labor, if I show up at the hospital with a placenta in that gray 2 cm area and she's the doctor on call. I'm hoping it doesn't have to come down to arguing about it but I guess we will see.<br />
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In other news, I was right. My uterus is shaped slightly abnormally. It is in fact mildly heart shaped just like I was suspecting. Apparently though, it's shape is either classified as a normal variant or the most mild abnormal variant in the same category as bicornuate. Doesn't seem to be associated with any negative reproductive effects. However, I was right. That OB who blew me off, was not. I'm a firm believer in advocating for yourself and pushing back when you're blown off, it's happened to me time and time again. I'm glad this is the normal or only slightly abnormal variant that doesn't seem to be linked to negative pregnancy outcomes, but I'm mad that it's something I had to repeatedly ask to have checked and wasn't checked for until now. I wanted to know this information before getting pregnant again for a reason, peace of mind and being fully informed about my chances of another miscarriage. Good thing I got lucky on this one.<br />
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman";">Looking forward to:</b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> We are taking a trip to Michigan next week. Lyra will be excited to see everyone and it will be a nice break. </span><br />
<br />Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-57992960334181436262018-05-02T13:09:00.001-07:002018-05-02T13:09:56.392-07:0020 weeks, 4.5 months, HALFWAY!!!<b>How preggo I am: 20</b> weeks, I'm halfway there! I got busy/distracted from blogging the past couple weeks, oops.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">20 weeks</td></tr>
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<b>Baby size</b>: Banana sized, about 6.5 in from head to bottom or 10 inches from head to feet. And about 10.2 oz.<br />
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<b>Morning sickness:</b> So morning sickness seems to be essentially gone except for a random bit here and there. However, when I have the headaches hit, crazzzzy nausea.<br />
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<b>Food cravings/aversions: </b>Nothing super dramatic really.<br />
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<b>Other symptom: </b>Braxton Hicks are back the last couple weeks. So far they aren't super intense or frequent but it basically confirms to me that they probably will be later on. So that could be interesting with my placenta location currently. So far it hasn't been a big deal but it makes me extra nervous. I'm also preemptively annoyed for the lecture on hydration I'm sure to get if I have to go in to the hospital. In fairness, typical Braxton Hicks (BH, I'm abbreviating, I hate typing that every time) are supposed to go away with hydration and rest. However, mine don't seem to follow that pattern. Plus, if I have too full of a bladder, it triggers more so the hydration line is a hard one to walk. With Lyra I had to go in to the hospital at 34 weeks for persistent BH (around every 6-8 minutes or so if I recall correctly) I had a less than pleasurable experience. There was one nurse in particular who insisted I was dehydrated and was kind of condescending about it. Then it took 4 tries to get an IV in (I was freezing and stressed out). After chugging a liter of water and getting a bag of IV fluids I swelled up like a water balloon and they came back to tell me we'd have to try something else because contractions were still at 5-7 apart. I just would have appreciated a, "Sounds like you're doing the right thing trying to stay hydrated, lets give IV fluids a shot just in case before trying something more drastic." Instead of, "No, that 32 ounces of herbal tea you had in the last hour is dehydrating and you shouldn't be drinking that." That's not how it works. And it should be noted that wasn't even close to my full fluid and water intake for the day and I had made that clear. Anyway, just something that frustrated me immensely.<br />
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I'm also just pretty frustrated lately with the lack of treatment I've had for these headaches. I have my anatomy scan tomorrow and I'm going to see if the OB can be helpful while I'm there. But anyway, I've tried muscle relaxers, tylenol, every gentle natural remedy I've ever heard of and I just can't deal anymore. I had a particularly bad day when I was doing my allergy testing. I had to drive an hour away extremely early in the morning. I woke up with a horrible headache I'd had off and on for a few day. My morning went like this, slept crappy from about 3 am onwards because I was in so much pain. Gave up at around 4:45 and got out of bed. Threw up maybe 3 times before trying a shower to see if that helped. It didn't. Threw up another 2 or 3 times in between trying to get ready and get the animals fed and car packed for the day out with Lyra. Finally, woke Lyra up about 6:15, tossed her in the car and tried to leave around 6:30. I have to give it to Lyra. She was amazing that day. No tantrums, endless patience with being in the car, the stroller, and doctors offices all day. I don't know what I would have done had she been a monster. Anyway though, I don't make it out of the driveway before throwing up again (luckily I foresaw this possibility and had bags ready). About halfway through the drive it started to occur to me just how fuzzy I was feeling and I realized I probably shouldn't be driving but too late now. Plus, I really didn't want to be charged 500 for the allergy appointment if I didn't even make it. I literally could not concentrate on anything other than "My head hurts so bad," it was not ok. Then I threw up again as soon as I parked the car. My pain scale at this point is early labor, active labor, these fucking headaches, transition/contractions with broken water bag, and then wisdom teeth removal, for reference. At this point I was in touch with Travis (who was 3 hours away) to let him know I wasn't sure I'd make it home and was debating the ER or urgent care, but I was going somewhere. The allergy test was actually helpful because the needles were almost comfortable in distracting from my headache. That was anothwr experiwnce that made me think about how not normal being in that much pain is. Once I finished the allergy testing I was feeling ok enough to drive home and I figured I should take advantage of that window and get myself back to Fernley. From there I went straight to urgent care. By the time I was seen at around 1, I was finally keeping down fluids and I'd managed maybe 8 oz. Somehow that was enough to have me hydrated enough they didn't need to give me fluids (see previous rant about hydration and why I was so frustrated with that ER visit during Lyra's pregnancy). I don't understand how that's possible, but whatever. I was having some Braxton Hicks by then too because I wasn't drinking enough, I was super stressed, and frustrated, and in pain. But I was essentially told, sorry, here's some Zofran for the nausea but you just have to live with it. So I went home and basically spent the rest of the day crying on and off because I cannot just live with it. So far I haven't had another headache as bad but they've been pretty consistently a problem for like 6 years now so I'm over it. I did just find out antidepressants can be used to treat pain which I've never heard of before but seems legit, so that's an option I'm probably going to pursue since I'd like to avoid narcotics, especially since I'm limited by pregnancy and breastfeeding for a while. And frankly, the pain all the time, gets to you after a while. It makes me angry and upset and stressed. The antidepressant part of the antidepressants are a great side effect to consider. And the Zofran never seemed to help with morning sickness but this time it did seem to help with headache nausea. So that's going in my treatment plan for myself for sure. I still had a horrendous headache the entire next day, but I stopped vomiting and feeling sick once I had the Zofran. It didn't fix things for me, but that was a HUGE step. I also felt like much less of a crazy person after talking to a friend who has dealt with similar chronic pain issues. I felt like someone finally got it and understood that I can't just deal with it or live with it. It's frustrating to have something you have to manage, not something that can be fixed, if that makes sense. Like I can't just take something and be better, it always comes back. Anyway, that's basically the biggest thing that I'm trying to live life around these days.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Movement:</b> Quite a bit pretty consistently, I can feel him from the outside now!<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Weight gain: </b>5ish pounds, I feel a lot bigger than I look, I think. I'm definitely starting to feel sore and it's harder to move already.<br />
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<b>Sleep:</b> One morning recently I was at least half awake past 3 am and puking in my hands by 4:30 am before I could make it to the bathroom. So pretty restful. The cat also tried to murder me last night, she kept attempting to sleep on my face or chest. I'm actually looking forward to newborn sleep right now.<br />
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<b>Mood: </b>I've been a wee bit grouchy lately (see previous rant about headaches and pain). But I got to see my parents last week which was really nice and my dad put tile in the master bedroom and bathroom.<br />
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<b>Names:</b> Trying to name a baby is the worst.<br />
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<b>Lyra stats: </b>We're trying potty training again. She's not napping much. I don't want to talk about it. I love her so much, but honestly, I don't know that I'll miss the toddler years. I miss the 1 year old stage. I even thought that at the time, it wasn't all hindsight, that I really liked that age. She could do some cool stuff but she didn't insist on "I do it myself" for every single task. And I think I'm going to like the preschool/kindergarten age. I really enjoy when she's learning things or actually talking about things that make sense. But I feel like toddler and preteen are gonna be the ones I just don't particularly enjoy. I cannot tell you how much of my day I hear indecipherable whining and how ragey it makes me feel to argue with someone about the stupidest things you've never even thought of. Like at nap today she refused to turn off her light. She always turns it off and I know better than to try it. But she absolutely refused. So I did it. And it was fine, she was happy and I thought it was a miraculous changing of our routine. Then 2 minutes after I left the room she had a full on meltdown about how she didn't get to turn off her light. It's never an argument you can win with logic or even with some crazy made up shit, that's the thing that makes you die on the inside a little.<br />
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Lyra had a blast with my parents though. She loooooves "bald guy" (she seriously calls him that, it's fantastic) and Nana. Plus I think they bore her less than I do so she was tired out and well behaved (ish) this week. Except the one night she kept us all up for 3 hours in the middle of the night.<br />
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She got to go see some big rigs this week at a local event. Her favorite was the police truck that had a K-9 unit. She got to set off the sirens and when the police officer asked her if she was pulling over mommy or daddy, she said daddy. She keeps mentioning it too.<br />
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<b>Best moment this week: </b>My mom tried to steal my midwife's purse. Seriously. I took her to my appointment because if I get my way, I'll get a home birth and my midwife and mother will both be there. But as we were walking out to the car, I notice my mom is holding a new bag, in addition to her purse. "I thought it was yours!" Right. I mean, not like I'm carrying my bag. My midwife wasn't phased. She barely looked up when I returned it with a, "I'm so sorry, my mom thought this was mine and tried to steal it." She just laughed and said that would have been less than ideal. At least my midwife knows what she's getting into now.<br />
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<b>Other Random Stuff: </b>In typical fashion, I managed to schedule the anatomy scan for the day I miscarried for the first time last year. Fucking awesome. Hopefully it just all goes well and no big deal, at least I won't be feeling too mopey. But if there's any bad news, what a great double whammy. But I'm a superstitious person unfortunately so it's just not an amazing feeling.<br />
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We toured the second hospital this week. It wasn't bad either, just not my plan. I'm torn between the two options, I think depending on the scenario, I'd go to either. I think if I have a planned c-section on the earlier side (say if the OB thinks with my placenta previa we need to go at 36 weeks or something) then I'd lean towards the bigger one with the higher level NICU. I also think that might be where I'd head if I have preterm labor scares at all. But if its a later c-section (say planned at 38 weeks or something) I'd probably just prefer to stick to the smaller place. And if I get to attempt a vaginal birth in the hospital, definitely the smaller place with birth tubs and wireless fetal monitoring. So we will see.<br />
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And the last random thing. I don't recall what all I've mentioned in my blog, but at one ultrasound (I believe it was after the 2nd miscarriage) there was a note made in the report about a possible bicornuate uterus. Meaning its kind of divided into two parts, you can do your own google. Now from my understanding, if I do have one, it is really mild and just kind of heart shaped or has a septum or something. They're harder to diagnose during pregnancy because everything stretches. And if you do have one, you're at higher risk for miscarriage or preterm labor and higher risk for birth defects or bad presentation of the baby at birth (breech, etc). My midwife said having Lyra at full term was a sign against me having one and said even if I did, it was likely not severe, not a problem. She doesn't do ultrasounds, I get sent out elsewhere for those, so she didn't personally check. I'm pretty ok with that answer but I did try to go to an OB and ask because I wanted to know before getting pregnant again because I was pretty nervous after 2 miscarriages. The OB I saw then wouldn't even look at the old report let alone do another ultrasound. So I dropped it, I had the genetic test explaining one miscarriage and Lyra as proof that I could carry a baby to term. I wasn't too worried, mostly curious but still, I iust wanted to know. So now, when I went to my midwife for this last appointment she measured my fundal height (where the top of the uterus is in your stomach, you can feel it from the outside) and said, "Huh, that's kind of funny, it's all over on the right, I've only ever seen that in the mom's I've had with a bicornuate uterus." When I brought up the ultrasound again, she said it was worth mentioning to the OB I'm seeing now to see what he thinks. She still wasn't concerned about it, at this point I'm not really either, I'm just mildly annoyed that I did ask about it earlier and it wasn't checked when that was probably the only time it would have been seen, when I wasn't pregnant. It also would explain why I often felt like I had a lopsided stomach during BH contractions with Lyra. At the time I chalked it up to her positioning, I didn't even think to mention it. I cannot recall if it was mostly all on the right side with her too, enough time has passed and it wasn't on my radar that my uterus could be shaped a little different. This time around I already had noticed, before this appointment and conversation with my midwife, that my BH kind of go lopsided to the right. I didn't think it was too odd, like I said, that's what I was used to. Plus they're still on the lighter side for BH and my uterus is smaller than full term so they aren't really something I'm always paying attention to. But I distinctly remember noticing it, and I definitely am noticing now. I also wondered if Lyra was positioned just the slightest bit funny because things are slightly asymmetrical and that's why I struggled so much pushing her out. Zero evidence for that, but I've wondered now. And could just be that's how my uterus sits and it is normal shaped. I dunno, basically.<br />
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman";">Looking forward to:</b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Seeing the baby tomorrow! And wit</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">h any luck, the placenta moved. I need 2 cm off my cervix for my home birth. But I only need 1 cm to attempt a vaginal hospital birth. I would gladly take that option. Wish me luck!</span>Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-89798660976059499942018-04-12T15:31:00.001-07:002018-04-17T13:31:33.159-07:0017 Weeks<b>How preggo I am: </b>17 weeks. I've been pregnant for 35 of the last 52 weeks. That is 67.3% of a year already. Whenever I feel whiny and annoyed about that, I try and remember it's ok, that's fair. I can be less than thrilled about it.<br />
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<b>Baby size</b>: Pomegranate or turnip sized. About 5 inches long from head to bottom and 5 ounces. That seems crazy huge.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you're on a phone, check out this baby hand estimation. It's pretty nifty I think. And kind of a mind blowing visual when you think about it. </td></tr>
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<b>Morning sickness:</b> Quite a bit better actually. Occasional moments but generally just morning and pretty manageable (unless I have a bad headache or have to clean up an animal mess then it's vomiting for sure). So getting better a good 10 weeks before it did with Lyra. But I refuse to let my guard down. I am braced for dealing with it for much longer because who knows how next week will be.<br />
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<b>Food cravings/aversions:</b> Mostly I'm just able to eat food again with regularity and it's nice. I'm not sure I really am at the really enjoying food again point, but I'll take it.<br />
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<b>Other symptom:</b> Well not pregnancy related but, allergies. I have never had such terrible seasonal allergies as I do in Nevada. Like, it is actually a factor in whether or not I want to live here long term. It's truly that bad. I have to have tissues with me at all times, and mornings are the worst. I feel so gross going out in public when I'm sneezing and so snotty. I've tried nasal sprays and I'm taking elderberry and the over the counter antihistamines...I tried it all. I'm going in for an allergy test next week and probably will need allergy shots. I'm trying to remind myself that the (excessively) high cost is worth it for not being miserable half of the year but it's really frustrating. I'm an example of why living without health insurance would be terrifying.<br />
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My headaches/neck pain is actually manageable this week. But it's this insanely long list of things and rituals to help. I have my pillow I must use but that doesn't 100% cut it and I'm researching replacing. I think that would make the next biggest difference. I still am icing and heating my neck whenever I can. Tylenol whenever I think I feel a headache. I've been using some peppermint and Lavender oils which at least feel soothing topically. I can't really use the kinesio tape frequently because it irritates my skin, unfortunatly. And Travis has to give me a massage at least once a day. And it isn't a cutesy massage like you'd give your new partne to make them like you. It's this super intense one where you'd think he's angry with me and I'm shocked he hasn't left bruises. He stops when his hands hurt, not when I can't handle it anymore. It's reminiscent of the osteopath treatment, he's just not professionally trained, obviously. But also he doesn't charge 400 dollars every time and he's available every day. And on top of all that I try to watch my posture really closely and not drive too much or sit too long or lay down too long, etc. It's kind of insane how much effort I'm putting into babying my neck.<br />
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<b>Movement:</b> Definitely! Week 14 to 15 I had a few questionable twitches that I'm still unsure about. Maybe, but probably not, that's still really early. Week 15 to 16 I had little "I'm 90-95% sure that was baby but this is way different than with Lyra so I'm confused" movements that in hindsight were definitely baby. This week (16 to 17) I was positive I was feeling him when I sat fairly still and paid attention. Going into week 18 I'm pretty confident I'll be able to feel him from the outside on occasion this week, if I'm not already, there were a few I couldn't tell if I was feeling from the outside or just from the inside, it's kind of hard to tell at first. I think the main difference that is letting me feel him earlier than I felt Lyra, is the placenta location. This one is mainly posterior (minus the stupid part that's covering my cervix...) and Lyra's was anterior, which means in the front of the uterus and therefore muffling movement. I think that's why I can feel this baby earlier, and why it took me longer to decide I was actually feeling him. He was a lot smaller than Lyra was when I started feeling her. With Lyra I was 19 weeks before I felt anything and I went from, "NOPE. Nothing." to for sure feeling her move in a single day. And a week after that I could visibly see her move in my belly. I've also noticed I feel him less consistently than I felt Lyra. Lyra started moving and has not stopped, up to this day, she has not stopped moving for 30 seconds except very occasionally while sleeping. I attribute this to both his size/the earliness I felt him and the desperate hope/desire to have a chiller and lower maintenance child who does things like sit still and sleep. Plus also I'm so busy keeping up with Lyra that I can't always pay attention. Sorry, kid, get used to that I guess.<br />
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It's reassuring to start feeling him move, for sure. But I also feel like I should acknowledge the fact that it hasn't erased my fears about miscarriage and loss and I still have some feelings about it that I didn't have when I had Lyra and I'd never lost a baby. I don't really know how to put it in words exactly, but it feels like I'm a lot less naive maybe. I have thankfully never lost a baby this far along and hopefully won't ever have to do that. But I can't help but think how horrible it was at just 12 (10 weeks since it was a missed miscarriage) and have in the back of my head an idea of how horrible it would be now. Not to say that anyone who has had an early miscarriage had it any easier than someone with a later one. Everyone is different and for me, the late miscarriage was so physically hard and mentally dramatic and traumatizing that it's just something I've thought abouti. So it's just my personal feeling on my experience of it, I guess. It's both reassuring to get this far and much more terrifying than you might expect. And I wouldn't wish it on anyone, I'm just jealous of people who never have to experience it firsthand.<br />
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<b>Weight gain:</b> Possibly nothing? I thought 1 or 2 pounds last week but maybe not. I also don't know if my scale is accurate. This is why I'm trying to stay not too bothered about weight gain. The baby is growing just fine, so who really cares how the weight goes. I didn't track with Lyra and now I'm kind of curious if I gained much at first, I just assumed I did but maybe I didn't until later and just grew a bump without weight gain. On that note, I'd really like to share <a href="https://www.facebook.com/communitymidwivesofhalton/photos/a.665078766845025.1073741830.652399674779601/1861352823884274/?type=3&theater">this link</a> my doula shared that illustrates that bump size doesn't actually mean anything and doesn't affect the baby's size. There's a lot of misconceptions about it out there and I hate seeing mom's get insulted or lectured for being too big or too small. And also it's a good illustration of how someone could be pregnant and not know, that happens and I absolutely believe those people.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lyra helped with photos this week. </td></tr>
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<b>Sleep:</b> Lyra is something else this week. I shared <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MichaelMcIntyreFans/videos/1838774196143990/?hc_ref=ARTJwPP2LEDQ6SGU69X9YMEor6gsHaW4qgCMyHaP3w-XW1UozGInsw-wlvaUREFDZRI">this video</a> on my page but it's too true to not share again. She tried to fake cough and give me a "Mommy I'm sick," lie and that was the final straw that broke me about nap time. I finally got her to nap for the first time this week by pulling out the pack and play and telling her she'd have to sleep in there if she couldn't handle napping in her bed. I wasn't even bluffing. Guess who went down in under 30 minutes with little effort on my part? But yeah, sleep has been a struggle this week.<br />
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Also my dreams are crazy still. I had one where Oprah was giving me all sorts of gifts that I had to store in the stroller. The best part was it was all weird contraptions to use to take random new drugs. So weird. And then I had one the next night where I was in a bank filled with roller coasters. All of a sudden I had the, "I think I'm dreaming," thought. Usually at that point I get to fly around for a while which is always neat. Not this time. This time dream Miriam was like, "I have to pee but if this is a dream I don't want to wet the bed. But if I'm not, I really need to find a toilet. Maybe I'll do something weird and see how people react to decide if I'm dreaming first." And that's how I came to have a dream where I wandered around with no pants on in a bank filled with roller coasters. Unfortunately, my dream self couldn't remember if it was normal or not to be in public without pants on, so that didn't help me figure out anything. Last night I dreamed I had an ultrasound that projected a virtual newborn sized baby next to me. That was kinda weird but also kinda cool and thankfully, not creepy.<br />
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<b>Mood:</b> Normal unless it's nap or bedtime and then I feel like Te-Ka from Moana. 100% lava monster at those times.<br />
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<b>Names: </b>Still Finley Everett or Everett Finley are the two in the running. I really like the nickname Finn but I really like Everett as a first name. And Travis likes Finley as a first name. So it's probably just up in the air for the next 21 to 25 weeks<br />
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And on another post loss feeling about things, just something I have been thinking about and trying to sort out exactly what it is I'm even thinking or feeling...it's been weird (again a moment I'm not sure there is a word) adjusting to this baby being a boy. I just have feelings about it. Knowing the last baby was a girl, there's both some good and bad feelings finding out this one is a boy. I think it was a bit of a relief because I did not want to feel any sort of "this is my baby I'm getting back," and sort of push away or minimize the last loss. And I don't know what the first baby I lost was, maybe that was a boy, but since I don't know, it's less concrete. There's also the other side to it that is sad because Lyra was getting sister. But now she isn't. But again, I don't know if she was getting a brother that first time around. And either way it was always someone different regardless of anatomy and chromosomes. Not to mention all my normal feeling I have about gender and sex and how I'm raising Lyra and how I will raise this one with the main idea being they're just little people either way and the not or girl thing is not the defining characteristic to sum them up anyway.<br />
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<b>Lyra stats: </b>My best Lyra story was the nap one this week. I did take her to see Paw Patrol Live this week which she enjoyed. It was a stage production of one of her favorite cartoons. I think her mind was blown that these characters actually exist.<br />
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<b>What I miss: </b>Lyra taking naps reliably. I hope this stage passes.<br />
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<b>Best moment this week: </b>Honestly, probably just not having a terrible headache once this week. I had 2 or 3 but they were the types that I actually got to go away and they never progressed to the vomiting stage. I don't remember any other week that's happened so far since getting pregnant.<br />
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<b>Looking forward to:</b> Summer. That feeling will last maybe another 8 days until it gets hot. Also my parents are coming to visit the week after next which will be fun. My dad is going to help us tile the master bath and bedroom (who puts carpet in a bathroom???) which will be so nice to get done.<br />
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Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-60695947106261730142018-04-03T21:25:00.003-07:002018-04-03T21:25:58.514-07:0016 Weeks: Doula's and Hospital ToursHow preggo I am: 16 weeks<br />
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Baby size: So the majority of sources say avocado sized which is what my phone app said last week. My phone app now says dill pickle. How useless. That's the vaguest description I ever heard. So somewhere between avocado and dill pickle of unknown size.<br />
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Morning sickness: Still feeling it. Mostly it seems to be in the actual early morning now and it fades after a bit. I run into trouble really only when I have a headache now. Which is like at least 1 out of 3 days. If I have a headache then I feel more nauseous which makes me throw up. That makes my head hurt even worse which makes me feel more sick and I get locked in this cycle of not being able to keep anything down for a couple hours. So I have a pretty rigid routine of trying to ice or heat my neck any chance I get, several times a day. And sort of self osteopath treatment. Painful massage basically. It sucks.<br />
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Food cravings/aversions: I've eaten way too much corn on the cob. I can't stop, it's so good. And our Easter dinner was basically a hodgepodge of cravings I had. Currently, I'm on the hunt for rosquillas, this Nicaraguan pastry thing that I think is corn based and has some sort of sweet stuff baked onto the top.<br />
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Other symptom: The heartburn/acid reflux stuff is starting up. I'd gladly trade morning sickness for that though.<br />
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Movement: Nothing yet I don't think. Every now and again I get a questionable maybe baby feeling. But also I have this crazy weird muscle twitch that's been coming and going for weeks now up by my left rib. It's crazy, it's like having hiccups in my ribs. 100% not baby, just super weird.<br />
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Weight gain: 1 or 2 pounds, but I definitely popped this week. With Lyra I remember it being more gradual. I feel like there was longer of the "Do I look pregnant or not?" stage. This one it was like that but then one morning I woke up and it was like, "Yeah, no...I can't suck that in anymore." And now I look for sure pregnant all the time. I also found a pretty cool breakdown of weight gain. It makes me feel tired just thinking of all the work that goes into making that stuff.<br />
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For an average 25 to 35 pound gain (super generic blanket reccomendation there by the way) here's the breakdown.<br />
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Baby: 6-8 lbs<br />
Uterus: 1-2 lbs<br />
Placenta: 1-2 lbs<br />
Amniotic fluid: 2-3 lbs<br />
Blood: 3-4 lbs<br />
Maternal fat/protein storage: 8 to 10 lbs<br />
Breasts: 1-2 lbs<br />
Other bodily fluid (I'm really curious what this is exactly): 3-4 lbs<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think my body has given in to the inevitable.</td></tr>
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Sleep: I've been done sleeping through the night for the next few years since finding out I was pregnant basically. I'm mentally accepting it slowly.<br />
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Mood: Eh, not too bad? I feel more mood swingy than usual but less grumpy generally (I think?) since I've felt better some days.<br />
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Names: I think barring some drastic change of heart, there's 2 names in the final running. Really at this point it's the order that's up for debate. We had originally had Orion tentatively picked out as a boy name since way back, before we knew if Lyra was a boy or girl. But we're still undecided on the number of kids we'll have eventually. If we have more than one boy, we'll run out of constellation/space boy names anyway since Travis has questionable taste and doesn't agree that Draco and Scorpius would work. If we have another girl, the top favorite name (Lyra' s almost name) has never been a space name. Plus when you get down to actually naming kids, you change your mind from theoretical names a bit. I know we went with Nova for the last loss which is still kind of a theme but eh, I'm ok with just going with individual favorites over over-arching themes. So anyway, this boy is (99% probably) either Everett Finley or Finley Everett. Travis and I are not in agreement about which is best right now.<br />
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Lyra stats: She's been hanging out with me too much. I have a tendency towards drama lately when I feel crappy and I may have said the phrase, "I'm dying," during one or several of the puking/headache episodes. Lyra was getting fussy in the car this week and all of the sudden started complaining loudly, "I'm dying! I'm dying, I'm dyyyyying!!!" when I wouldn't let her out of the carseat on the highway. It was too funny. Also due to an unfortunate accidental mispronounciatuon by Travis while reading Mulan, Lyra thinks the main villain is called "Sham-Poo."<br />
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What I miss: I want a beer.<br />
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Best moment this week: Well Travis got a promotion and is now Chief Metallurgist at the mine he's been at since we moved here. Which is quite an accomplishment 6 years out of school, well before he's 30. So that's cool.<br />
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Also, I found a doula I want to use. A doula is the emotional and physical (not medical!) support during pregnancy, labor, postpartum and even loss, that you might have from female family members or close friends back when humans lived more in close communities and everyone birthed at home. Not that I don't have family and friends but some aren't close by and having ones who are trained is helpful. I really like her and hopefully will either have extra support no matter which way my birth turns out. I also think I really am going to do my doula training after this baby is a bit less of a fetus/newborn. I was totally derailed in that plan by moving. But that was possibly for the best, I couldn't have handled it while having miscarriages.<br />
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I went on a hospital tour as well and probably picked which hospital I will use if necessary. I'm hoping for a homebirth but a c-section is still very much a possibility. If my placenta moves off my cervix but isn't very far off, I may well want or need to be in the hospital if I'm going to attempt a vaginal birth. Or if some unexpected other complication comes up, who knows. So I want to know all my options and have my research done for as many scenarios as I can. I'm still waiting on another tour at the end of the month of the other hospital my OB uses to make a final decision. This one I just went to is the smaller of the two but there were several things I really liked and my doula had some helpful advice and things to consider. This hospital is smaller and less busy. The OR, nursery, labor and delivery rooms, and postpartum rooms are all on the same floor. There isn't a limit on how many people I can have with me during labor, at the other hospital you're limited to three. That seems like a lot until you consider I want a doula and birth photographer, plus my mom and Travis' mom may both be around in addition to Travis. This hospital also has wireless fetal monitoring (so I could move during labor) and tubs. The larger one doesn't, which surprised me. The way the doula put it, "When this hospital had money, they put it into things to make women more comfortable and not new paint to make it look fancy like the other hospital." That's stuck in my head for sure. Plus, the doula said she's had more luck with being allowed as a second person in the OR during c-sections. Not a garuntee, but that's a big thing for me. If Travis has to go with the baby to the NICU, I don't want to be left alone, wondering what the fuck is happening, I want someone who's priority is me and can help me get info and explain what's happening. Plus, the nurse we met there was really nice and mentioned she loved working with the doula I picked out.<br />
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Looking forward to: Movement! I want to start feeling this one for sure. I felt Lyra for sure about 3 weeks from this point and her placenta was in the way. I want some dang baby kicks already. It's been almost exactly a year since I found out I was pregnant the first time since having Lyra. It was Easter last year. It's weird to think about how much longer the process has been this time around compared to having Lyra. I've been pregnant 34 weeks out of the last 52. Only 22-26 left. SHEESH.<br />
<br />Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123779876813254865.post-46940393692322006042018-03-28T12:44:00.001-07:002018-03-28T12:44:56.072-07:0015 Week UpdateHow preggo I am: 15 weeks. About. Finally have somewhat settled on a due date. Which is obviously still just a guess but whatever. My last period due date was the 26th of September and the ultrasounds have put it at the 22nd, the 16th, and the 19th respectively. I think my best guess that we'll probably go with this the 19th. He's consistently measuring ahead and I got my positive test soooo early. Plus that's the easiest to remember. I switched over weeks on Wednesdays with Lyra and with this baby up to now, that date is exactly a week ahead. Good middle guess date all 4 guesses considered. Clearly Lyra was my prompt type A baby who measures right on and arrived on her due date. She takes after me and this one is possibly a Travis clone. He'd prefer to be cryptic and not inform anyome of his plans.<br />
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Baby size: Apple or avocado sized. About 4 inches long from head to butt. (Crown to rump, scientifically speaking.)<br />
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Morning sickness: Yes. Still. Bleh. Plus, my neck has been bugging me a lot more (seems to get a lot worse during pregnancy unfortunately) which leads to headaches which leads to more naseau.<br />
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Food cravings/aversions: Nothing specific to be honest. But smells have kind of been a craving. Basil smells excessively good. And Lavender. I bought like 4 lavender scented things lately.<br />
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Other symptom: Nothing too much, the naseau and headaches kind of overwhelm everything else. I have started to have that weird sensation of feeling like there is an unyielding ball in my belly when I bend over or really have to pee or something. Which, makes sense, seeing as there basically is. I can recognize it as my uterus from remembering how it was with Lyra. It's hard to describe but it's exciting that it's all feeling a bit more real like it's actually going to happen this time.<br />
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Weight gain: Nada. Though I do think I'm starting to get a real baby bump. About a week or 2 before I found it noticable with Lyra.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">15 week bump, I can't suck it in any more than this these days.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was me at 17 weeks with Lyra, for comparisons sake. </td></tr>
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Movement: Nothing yet but I'm hoping any day now. My placenta is posterior (in back) this time instead of in front like it was with Lyra.<br />
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Sleep: I swear if Lyra doesn't stop standing by my face quietly in the dark I'm going to start having nightmares. Like, just say something or poke me, don't just stand there quietly staring.<br />
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Mood: Well I was quite cheerful and relaxed when I got to go on my girls trip. A couple days relaxing by the coast in Sonoma. I had a whole spa day that I'm absolutely doing again if I have to have a c-section. I was distinctly not cheerful late last week when I went to the first check in visit at the OB. Now, I didn't actually get to meet him at that visit. Luckily after meeting him early this week, I don't mind him. I'd prefer my midwife/home birth plan but a backup is a good idea either way. Plus the extra appointments and checks are reassuring at this point. Anyway, the first visit turned out to be all paperwork and super oversimplified (for me at least, I'm pretty well informed when it comes to pregnancy basics, I've thoroughly done my research) pregnancy overview. The whole day was awful from the get go. First, I was running late because I had a horrendous headache/vomiting start to my morning. Then I got lost trying to find the office. By the time I showed up all hot and sweaty and without breakfast (I dropped it on the way out the door) I was 15 minites past my check in time. Still 15 minutes before my appointment but late nonetheless. I ended up waiting in the waiting room for 45 minutes anyway. And then nurse who was doing the intake appointment was clearly very anti-midwifery. She made a few comments that really rubbed me the wrong way. The worst was regarding the Panorama blood test I did a while ago. "I was just saying the other day that it's crazy they let midwives order that test. They'll just let anyone do it." I didn't even know how to react to that. I was also given a sheet on the benefits of breastfeeding. The top bullet point of the list of benefits for mom was, "helps with weight loss." Bottom of the list was "helps reduce risk of postpartum depression." Ummmm.....PRIORITIES, people. Reduces risk of cancers, helps minimize postpartum hemmoraghing, any of those seem to be a lot more important than dropping weight post baby but all were listed later. The sheet was printed from the local hospital system which is actually not the same system as the OB's office so I am going to have to look into where I need to complain about that bullshit. Just rearrange your bullet points for fuck's sake. Needless to say, I was not a particularly happy camper by the end of the day. By the end I was on the phone crying to my mother. But I do feel much better after meeting the OB. He seems like a decent doctor even if the attitude towards birth around here is not ideal.<br />
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Gender: Besides the DNA test, there was officially a penis on an ultrasound. I'm growing a pair of balls.<br />
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Lyra stats: This kid. I have another example of how she's definitely my mini me, type A little kid. So I went on my girl's trip and expected exciement when I came home because it was the longest we have ever been apart. And I got it, I'll give her that. But midway through our reunion, she noticed I hadn't put away my shoes and she insisted I take a pause from hugs so that she could put them back in the closet where they belonged.<br />
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Also, other random anecdotes. The falling apart baby monitor has been upgraded and now we can speak to her through an intercom like system on the new video monitor. When she gets out of bed and you tell her to lay back down and take a nap or go to bed, she kind of listens. She lays down immediately on the floor where ever she's at in her room. It's kind of hysterical.<br />
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She now says "Mommy" instead of "Mama" about half the time. Out of nowhere, I'm not sure where she learned it. I had not realized how much more whiny it's possible to make "Mommy" sound rather than "Mama." It has to be the "y" sound. I'm not a huge fan for the most part.<br />
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What I miss: not having debilitating neckpain. I'm basically attached to a heat or ice pack whenever possible and trying any sort of remedy I can think of. The latest is KT taping which surprisingly seems to help take the edge off. It's a lot stronger than I thought and almost seems like it acts a little like a brace. But if anyone knows any tips or weird suggestions for cures, let me know. I'd try witchcraft or Amazonian tree oils or basically anything at this point. Osteopathy helps somewhat but that's absurdly expensive. Chiropractic care seems to make it worse, last I tried. I'm probably getting a massage membership. I do have my muscle relaxers but those are last resort and can only be used if I'm not alone and can sleep all day. Anyway, neck pain is the worst.<br />
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Best moment this week: During the last ultrasound this week at the introductory back-up OB visit I got an extra ultrasound. This is the third one, I only got 3 total with Lyra, this one will get a minimum of 4, more if the placenta doesn't move by the 20 week scan. Anyway, Lyra had been at the emergency ultrasound for spotting and we told her it was her baby brother she could see. I told her again the morning of the ultrasound that we were going to see baby brother. So the instant the ultrasound picture popped up on the screen this time, without any prompting from anyone she yelled, "Baby brother!" and pointed at the screen. Soooo cute. She may actually be getting it.<br />
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Looking forward to: Hopefully finally just having a few mundane weeks. I'm sure that won't happen though.<br />
<br />Miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15852740746148134851noreply@blogger.com