Mirrors

I read a study once about how women when presented with multiple shadow images of their body’s figure, always picked the one that was two sizes bigger than they actually were. This came as no surprise to me at the time, seeing as we (women) are our own worst critics and we are always unhappy with some feature about ourselves, but now, in light of what I have been through lately, I find this particular fact about us women quite fascinating.

Have you ever noticed that you can be told the same wonderful thing about yourself time and time again, by people you love and trust or by someone you admire, but then you hear the same exact thing from some unexpected someone, and that it the moment that the wonderful thing finally sinks-in?? Its like everyday you are looking at yourself in a carnival mirror, seeing only a morphed image of yourself while hearing the compliments, but then this one person manages to say it and the mirror clears-up, and you are finally able to see the you that everyone else sees.

Lately, well actually throughout my life but even more as of late, I have been told how incredibly strong I am, but I never really saw it. My mirror seemed to only reflect the shattered or broken parts of me, like the tear stained checks, the dark, sunken and tired eyes, the lackluster hew of florescent kissed skin and sparkle-less eyes; basically the remains of someone wrung through and through. I always knew that when I managed to make it to the other side of a trying time that it was an accomplishment, but I always chalked that up to survival, perseverance maybe, but never strength; yet my husband openly admits that it is my strength that got him through our losses and my mother praises me for keeping strong and having faith, our Doctor marveled at my recovery and our co-workers and friends are all amazed… But it wasn’t until yesterday, when my brother said it, that for some unanswerable reason, I was seen, and my mirror was cleared.

Maybe...

It is amazing how much your life can change in a split second…

I learned on Tuesday that the baby I lost at the end of March was a little girl…

My little girl

Everything is so clinical when you go through a loss; the once living baby is referred to as a “fetus” as it is no longer a living baby in the eyes of western medicine. You are then walked through the procedure of a D&C and told how slim your chances of getting answers (as to the why this happened) from genetic testing are. You then are left alone to heal both physically and mentally from a procedure that in the time span of half an hour took motherhood away from you.

Well as you know I spent most of this month processing my latest loss; riding the emotional rollercoaster of doubt and hope while waiting for our answers.

What I was not prepared for, what no one warned me about, was that with this genetic testing on the fetus I would be told the sex of my now lost baby. “The results of your fetus are in, it was a girl and it did not make it to term because it had Triploidy.” In one sentence I learn so much about my little girl and yet find myself furious at the medical world still referring to her as a “fetus” and “it.” I fought through my building furry and somehow managed to absorb the information I needed, but the moment I pressed the off button on the receiver… I cracked.

Maybe the loss finally hit me, maybe it was harder this time because this time I learned that I was a mother to a daughter, if only for 12 weeks and 3 days; maybe it was harder because this was the third time.. maybe it was a horrible combination of all that. All I know is, I went dark. I started questioning if this was a sign that I was not meant to be a mother, if like in Mitch’s beloved game of baseball I had just struck-out. I wept and wailed over the ever more real loss of my little girl. Tuesday, for the third time, I lost my baby.

I spent yesterday numb, trying to find a way to breathe, trying to find a light to guide me out of the darkness. I spent the day wrapped-up in a blanket surrounded by my furry babies in a zombie like state in front of the television. Mitch was wonderful as he waited patiently for me to return, holding my hand occasionally and insisting that I eat when the day grew late. Wednesday is a blur of darkness.

Maybe it was his unconditional love and support, maybe it was his giving me the space to process, maybe I finally and completely grieved my loss, maybe after a month of waiting I finally had my good-bye… all I know is, I woke today in the light, again filled with hope.

I spent today not dwelling on the strikeout, but ready for the next inning.

My mother had once said that it was going to take a strong man to win my heart; maybe all of this loss and pain, is God making me strong enough for the children I am to have…

"De Nial"

Three weeks ago yesterday, I lost my baby.

I am starting to begin to feel normal again, but there are moments, and there are immense waves of weakness. It has been three weeks and we still have no results back on the genetic testing. Its like some horrible tease; you start your life back up, you get back into a routine, you allow yourself to breathe and laugh and live again, only to be hit with the reality that you have no idea why you lost your child; and then, that is when the questions begin to flood in…

I tell myself that we lost the first two because my hormones were off due to the ovarian cyst, and that this one is just horrible luck and strictly a chromosomal abnormality… that there is still hope.

I am a preparer though, always have been, and as such research things to death so that I am prepared for either the best case or the worst case scenario; but now, now I am trying to live more in the present, to not Google all the possible reasons I have had three miscarriages and what the genetic tests could offer and what those various results will mean as far as options going forward. I am trying to quash the questions in my head when they arise and put faith in small miracles.

They say the view is lovely on “De Nial;” Maybe that is what I need, a summer home on De Nial!

I won’t worry about our results and/or our options; whether or not I can carry a child; whether or not I will experience the joys of my body changing and growing as my little one develops daily; whether or not I will get to feel that first kick or the soccer game he or she will play with my bladder; I will not think about all I might loose…

De Nial; Yep, De Nial sounds lovely!

Instructions

When you find out you are pregnant with your first child, you proceed to download all the books you can, why, because you are hungry for all the answers and preparation that is out there… There are the ones that guide you through the weeks leading up to the birth of your baby, then there are the birth plans and breast feeding books, the ever so important baby naming books, and did I mention all the “how-to” books that are out there? There is the how to baby proof the house books, the what every nursery needs books, there is the how to prepare siblings (and even pets) for the newest addition, and then, when you are ready, there is the what to expect in the first year books that range from leaving you paranoid that you are going mame your precious little one, to coaching you on how to once again get a full nights sleep. There are the guides to prepare the new Mom for returning back to work and the emotional roller-coaster ride that might be. There are books to help the stay at home dad’s, there are check-lists galore and classes on almost every subject pertaining to “baby” imaginable…

But there are no “How To’s,” “What to Expect” or “Idiots Guide” books for the new step-parent!

Now do not get me wrong, there are amazing forums, discussion groups and chat rooms; there are also great novels told from one person’s journey and prospective; there are loads of websites, pages and blogs (including this one) that give you an insight into this new life of yours; but not one step-by-step guide or users manual!

Just imagine: What to Expect When You Are a Step-Parent, Chapter One, the Ex-Files

I guess this shouldn’t come as a huge surprise, we do seem (as a society) to concentrate on the “big events” and assume we will all be good at the in between parts. Example, you hire a wedding planner to make your big day perfect, but no one hires a marriage planner to assemble the perfect marriage, or, when one needs a divorce there is an attorney to be hired, but no one to help you know how to co-parent. You can even take all the above-mentioned books as an example, they all seem to taper off after the fist couple of years, no one seems to have a step-by-step guide for decoding a tween, or how not to kill your teenager.

It is the “journey” or the “climb” that is not written about, not documented and not recorded into some form of instructions for the next person taking this path. Yet it is this part of life that transforms us into the wonder women that we are. We are the amazing wives, awesome mothers, graceful step-mothers, fantastic daughters and sisters. We are simply a band of sisters on this bumpy rollercoaster ride called life….

Pounds of Pain

It hit me today on the stationary bike… I am shedding the pounds of pain.

In the last year of losses I have allowed myself to cushion the blows life was dealing me, with pudge.

I blamed my first miscarriage on my working-out, so I allowed myself to sleep-in instead. I also allowed myself an extra glass of wine because it could have been stress related too, and this does relax the mind and body after a tough day at work. I gave myself credit though, because I was optimistic and back to work a few days later; I gave myself credit because I had “picked myself up, dusted myself off, and I was starting all over again,” a few pound heavier, but I was starting all over again nonetheless.

With the second pregnancy I did everything I didn’t allow myself in the first one. I announced early, I painted the nursery, I bought a crib and changing table, and I enjoyed dessert whenever offered. We lost the baby on the forth of July. There were no fireworks that year, but there were a few vodka fueled nights. I had transformed our home gym (currently not in use) into the nursery, and was now living with that door firmly closed; allowing the desserts and the vodka fueled week to settle permanently onto my hips.

Then there was New Year’s… I was determined to return to some sort of normality, so I packed-up the nursery, restored the home gym and vowed to get back to the me I was prior to 2012. They say the best way to make God laugh is to make plans. Well sure enough come January 22^nd we learn we are pregnant. Six weeks in, I am spotting and put on bed rest; six weeks after that, I am without child once more. My body, now in a sort of reverse metabolism from the bed rest, further nourished by more wine and a rainy spring, is now looking very rubenesque.

So, with the gym restored and questions on why I am unable to keep a pregnancy unanswered until the lab finishes their genetic research, I return to my cheap form of therapy – blood, sweat and tears. So there I am, panting away on the stationary bike when I hear it, the voice I hadn’t heard in a year; my mother’s voice to be exact. “Okay honey, you have had your time to wallow, now its time to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.” I almost fell off of the bike! But then I am hit with her other favorite, “why don’t you jump in the shower and then put on some make-up, It will make you feel better, I promise.” A mile later I realize how much I needed this and how in reality I was allowing myself to stay down, how I wasn’t truly picking myself back up.

So, here I sit, showered and make-up free, realizing that while I wait for the answers, I must dust myself off by shedding my pounds of pain…

Patience

Have you ever examined difficult times in your life and noticed a theme?

I have, on many occasions, but what is hitting me today is… apparently I am not getting mine. Throughout my life it seemed the universe was constantly telling me to be patient. So, with each smack at the back of the head the universe provided, I took a necessary step to learning and accepting patience.

I am big on meditating and like to think I live my days with a sort of “om” balance and rhythm. After I quite my job, Mitch and I took a much needed vacation to Hawaii, and now I find I live my life in very “Aloha” style, you know “n o worries bro, it will get done” kind of pace.

I know being a Step-Mom has made me patient, if only out of sheer necessity or fear of going insane. When dealing with three kids that are not your own, an ex-wife that puts all of Disney’s villains’ to shame, and your new husband whom you are trying to enjoy the “honeymoon” phase of your marriage with, while now having to simultaneously break him in on your way of doing things… you learn to count to ten, to breathe deep in and out breathes, to hum “om,” to find your happy place, to call and cry on your mom’s ear (or a trusted and understanding girlfriend), and if all else fails, to enjoy one more glass of wine… and before you know it, you have more patience than you ever thought possible!

All that said, here I sit, in an absolutely spotless house (I clean when I am mad or processing), trying to be patient for the answers that will not come till the end of the month. The Doctor said he would call… boy don’t we love waiting by the phone! No point in the squeaky wheel calling him constantly, he is not the lab running these tests. So… my house will continue to be spotless, I will kick my A$$ into shape in our home gym, I will do yoga and chant om, and I will breathe; and maybe, just maybe….

I will finally learn PATIENCE!!!!! 

Body Blaming

There really isn't a way to describe fully what happens to your heart and spirit when you experience a miscarriage. What is universally understandable, yet torture on your loved ones is that you will emphatically blame your body for this tragedy. Of course it’s your body’s fault; after all it’s your body that now is letting this baby go. If you could stop it you would, but your body betrays you. You hold on to your tummy, you curl up into a fetal position and you clinch every muscle possible in a desperate attempt to keep your child within, safe and sound, all the while saying desperate prayers for help. Your body lets you down of course, and it’s in that moment that you know your body will carry this blame. You lie there going over everything you did and ate over the last several months trying to see if you did something that triggered this, and when you find nothing, again your body takes the blame.

My body has taken on this bashing three times now, and only yesterday did it finally get the apology it deserved. This was my first “captured” miscarriage, meaning this is the first time “tissue” was recovered for testing. We will not find out the results of this genetic testing till the end of this month, but what we were able to test for in the meantime and rule out, is that my body is not to blame. So very long and overly medical story later… I did not have any infections that may have contributed to the loss, my antibodies were not attacking the fetus, my thyroid is functioning perfectly, etc. In short, my body is off the hook.

So, with the apologies made to my body, I will now begin to take advantage of two months of non-pregnant behavior. I will color the grays, I will eat sushi and drink sake (and wine), I will enjoy a stinky cheese, feta or brie, I will resume my pre-baby workout, I will enjoy super hot baths and the extra time that comes with nap free afternoons. I will save all the nursery plans I had made and I will shelve my library of books for now, I will lick my wounds, heal my body, learn all I can and trust in my Doctor’s proactive plan and I will believe that here soon I will again be with child.

Today; today I stop my body blaming!

Questions

When does life begin? And/or When does the soul enter the body?

Difficult questions to ask and answer, yet somewhat relevant on today of all days. Today, you may be celebrating Passover, Resurrection, or simply the Easter Bunny and his colorful eggs; but today I am filled, no consumed, with these questions in my search for less pain as I process this loss.  

Some cultures believe that life begins at conception, others when the heartbeats and many believe that the soul does not enter the body until birth.

I personally, well today at least; I need the soul’s journey to be at birth. I need to know inside my every fiber that my baby is still safe and sound and merely waiting in the wings for a healthy body, one I have yet to provide, but one that is still possible. I need to know that I have not lost a soul I was meant to know, love and cherish. I need to know that my family, my child, is still coming.

Some say that the pain we endure in our lives allows our heart to split, heal and be enlarged by our pain and journey.

Today, today I sit, holding on to some of these warming theories, hoping and praying that my answers will come, and that they will be easy. Oh God give me strength, and please, please, go easy on me this time! Amen

May you all have a wonderful holiday xo  

On The Mend

It feels like I have spent most of January down with the worst head cold I have ever experienced! Truth be told it has probably only been on and off for two weeks, but when your sinuses are so congested that your head feels like it is going to split in half, or that your nose is so sore and red you put Rudolf to shame, and the fact that not a single over the counter medicine puts a dent or millisecond of relief to your symptoms, or that your list of to-do’s (including work)  is piling up around you… its right then that this horrible eye splitting Kleenex living life you are living, seems to be going on and on for ages!

The good thing is, most of the time, I am the single girl in a house of boys,

and those boys are wonderful snugglers! 

Romeo laying on Charlie's head (next to me on the couch)

Tremor and Charlie laying on me - totally understanding of how I feel

Tremor and Charlie on my lap... still understanding how I feel

Mitch has been wonderful too, running to the store to restock my supply of Kleenex and to pick-up a new array of drugs that inevitably do not work, not to mention being totally understanding as the couch he and I normally share and snuggle on, becomes base camp for the whole family to try and “fix” mommy.

Tremor, Romeo and Charlie on my lap - Mitch on the far right with the remote to keep him warm

But today I feel better, on the mend even; we have the house wide open on this unusually warm January day and the boys for once are out catching sunrays on the deck instead of hugging close to mom; and the sound of the first of the football games fills the living room… ah yes, Sunday at the Lynn house.

Happy Weekend Everyone!

Male Pattern Blindness

Tell me if this sounds at all familiar to you...

You have finally sat down for the evening, the kids are glued to their last show of their night, you have the cat on your lap and a dog laying against each hip and a well earned glass of wine in your hand when suddenly the munchies strike your husband, he gets up and makes his way to the kitchen, opens the pantry door where he stands for a brief minute before calling out… “honey do we have any ______?” or “honey where did you put the ________?”

Or maybe it happens earlier in the day….

He has been tinkering away at the computer finishing up all open projects before his self given holiday vacation starts, while you have been hacking away at your huge to-do list before holiday company arrives, you have dusted and vacuumed, changed all the linens, you are on your forth load of laundry and are currently kneeling and cleaning out the cat box before sprucing up the guest bathroom when the following conversation ensues….

Husband:         Honey do you want me to fix us lunch?

Wife:               Oh that would be great honey!

Husband:         Sandwiches okay?

Wife:               Perfect (cough! Gag! – wow the cat is working out something nasty)

Husband:        (standing in front of the open refrigerator) honey where did you put the ham?

Wife:               Probably in the meat/deli drawer honey

Husband:         Oh there it is!

Wife:               (ties a not in the trash bag carrying the evidence of why dry food is better than wet food for a cat working out a hair ball)

Husband:         Honey where is that mustard I like?

Wife:               (cleaning up bathroom) probably on the door honey

Husband:        Oh yeah there it is

Wife:              (vacuuming up stray cat litter and grabbing the guest bathroom towels for the next load of

                      laundry)

Husband:        Honey do we have any onions?

Wife:              (completely done with your chore now) Babe if it is not in the fridge than the answer is “no”

The sad thing is this conversation will go on until the sandwiches are made.

The even sadder thing is that all those things that were taken out of the fridge, that were found where you told him they were, are now returned to the fridge but not where they were found.

For the greater part of our marriage I had a day job and for the last two years of our marriage I not only worked my day job but also worked for us and our new company before starting my evenings… so I honestly had no idea my brilliant husband had no way of feeding himself this entire time without my being there to tell him where to find his favorite things in either the fridge or the pantry.

Now that I am home full-time, male pattern blindness has set if like crazy!!!

And they think men rule this world…. HA HA HA!!!!!

2012's Blessings

It has been a very hard year for the Lynn’s, but after a weekend of being glued to the tragic event in Newtown and with the approaching Christmas holiday, I must admit I am counting my blessings for what we have experienced, endured and enjoyed this 2012. I know it may sound Hallmark-y, but there are little and large blessings I take for granted each and every day, and maybe that is the beauty of Christmas and the end of a year… reflection!

I am thankful first and foremost for Mitch, he has seen me through one soul shaking year and still manages to love me with complete adoration, peace and happiness. I am thankful for our incredibly strong marriage. I am blessed to have amazing parents that live close by and am thankful to them for their unwavering love and support this year. I am grateful that my brother is happy, healthy and that he too lives close by. I am thankful that my three step-kids are healthy and strong. I am thankful that we have not lost Tremor, that he is now officially a member of our family and that he is getting healthier each and everyday. I am blessed to have my furry babies in my daily life (Romeo, Tremor and Charlie). I am thankful that the bonds I have made with the people in my life are strong enough to have lasted the year of neglect, as Mitch and I did everything possible to stay sane through this year.

I love and am thankful for our home; I love and am thankful that both Mitch and I work comfortably and well from this beautiful home; I am thankful that our work not only afforded us bliss in the form of a Hawaiian vacation this year, but also covered all my health exams, miscarriages and my recent surgical procedure.

And lastly, but not least I am thankful to you… to those of you who read, chat, reach out or simply like a facebook post. I am thankful for this forum and for the simple fact that I as a second wife on this journey called life am not alone!

He Is Not Your Dog

I have spent two years hearing how this adorable daschund our Andy managed to adopt (thank you first wife) is not our dog, but Andy’s.

Now, no where in there do I mention how this dog suddenly became fully ours two years ago, how when we got him he was stuffed to the gills and wheezing, or what I had to go through to get him healthy, or how when we got him Mitch had just walked out of his job to start a new firm and how my income was really the only guaranteed income we had at the time or how we even borrowed the start-up money from my parents all the while holding down all of our expense and a new addition, with just my salary….. NO!

Nowhere do I mention how we are now fully and financially responsible for this pure-breed heap of something the first wife wanted but once she managed to F&%$K-UP her 4^th marriage and was being foreclosed on and destined for a cheap apartment and could no longer afford nor have the pup, how we, out of the love and kindness of our hearts took on this dog for what was suppose to be 6 months tops!!!! NO!!!

I simply mention that I was told for two years that this was not “our dog”… aka “my dog.”

Now I say “my dog” because lets face it women build the home, we are the momma-bears and every living thing under that roof is guarded and loved-on by us momma-bears. Well for two years, while Andy was not around, Mitch would manage to catch me loving on “my boys” (Romeo our 14 year old cat, Charlie our 2 year old terrier mix, and now Tremor our 5 year old daschund) and remind me that Tremor is not “my boy” but Andy’s… So for two years I played a wonderful game of attach, detach, attach, detach, love him to death, try to separate, attach, detach…. FUN!!!!!! He was so “my boy” that when we went on vacations do you want to know who took care of Andy’s dog…. My parents; my parents whom Mitch’s kids have refused to meet!!!! My family cared for a dog I never got to remotely claim as “my dog” without being corrected on whose dog he actually was.

Why am I so bitter now after all this time you ask? Well that is simple really, you see right when I had my surgery we came home to “my boys,” because again the “kids” didn’t know I was having surgery, and found Tremor acting a little off; sadly I was too drugged to really pay attention, however over the next couple of days as I recovered he worsened, and this morning he woke-up without any use of his back legs. A trip to the vet revealed he has IVDD (Intervertebral Disk Disease). So what do I do? I jump into mommy mode and am on the doctors with a hundred questions and am ready to spend anything to make “my baby boy” better (I know, I am super attached to my furry babies but after 3 miscarriages you do not get to judge!!!), but then the inevitable "he is Andy’s dog" comes into play and I find myself finally hearing it this time.

I take a step back, okay I get it now! I will get him healthy (over the next 2 months) and he will go home with Andy and the first wife; okay, I can handle that. I can wrap my brain around that, only that is not that…. NO! Now hours later (10pm to be precise) Mitch and I get into a fight because now he is upset that “our boy” is possibly in pain and in a hospital and we don’t know how he will be tomorrow!!!! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!?!?!?! Now we get to be attached?!?!?!? Now he is “our dog”?!?!?!?

I am stewing!

For two years I have played this sick yo-yo game, today I cried and held a shaking, paralyzed dog that I am seriously attached too, and tonight he wants to fight me because I finally heard him and I am not willing to tell him what “in an ideal world I would like to hear.” Really?!?!? Like I am stupid enough to walk into that double edged sword/booby-trap! So then what happens, he gets mad at me for not talking about it, because I am “the talker!”

There is no wining this one!

Second Wife Drama, it never ends, it changes its shape and form sometimes, but it rears its ugly head just when things seem to be moving along too nicely or quietly. 

Scars

Scars, there are so many different scars; there is the scar you got when you climbed that first tree in the skirt your Mom wanted you to wear but you wanted to keep up with the boys; there is the scar from you first batch of big girl cookies, when you touched the rack just as you were pulling the sheet out but muffled your cry because you didn't want to worry your Mom; there is the scar from your first fight with your Mom; your first lost pet; the scar from when you fell off your bike; your first friendship betrayal and your first heartbreak; there is a scar from that bout of chicken box that you were told not to scratch; there is a scar from that teacher or coach who said you couldn't do it; there is a scar from every fight with a child (step or your own); your first fight with your husband and the one later where you didn't resolve it before bed; there is the scar from the first accident you were in and the first time you were robbed; there is a scar from your brother’s mean words and your own failed dreams; there is a scar from each violation and abuse you have ever survived…

We each carry so many scars, some many physical, so many emotional, all so very much a part of who we are. Some of us even build walls around the now scared and fragile skin to further protect the wounds, and some have been fortunate to have the walls broken down by a greater force than that which has scared us… but none of us has survived this ride of life untouched.

Today I have three new scars added to me, physically. Today I bare the scars of a procedure I discovered I needed after failing to keep a dream I wanted so deeply alive. Well maybe I now have three physical scars to match the three emotional losses this year has given me; either way I know this for sure, my scars make-up me, who I am and what I have lived. I wouldn't trade them. Today I took at three new scars in a journey to the motherhood I want, to the Lynn family I dream of… and from today on, I will wear them with pride and as my own coat of arms.

Wonder Woman Down

Today is day two of my recovery and I feel like I have taken a huge step back to where I was when I first got home, but I hear that is a part of recovery. Do I like it? No is an understatement

I know I am neurotic when it comes to keeping a house and home, so I was quite proud of myself for getting everything ready for my being out of commission. The house is spotless, casseroles were made and are ready for Mitch’s re-heating at any time; the dogs were bathed, laundry was completely done and we can survive for 2 week prior to it becoming a laundry emergency. The kids have been kept oblivious to this procedure so they could stay in the magical realm and reality of the holidays. Basically I planned for everything I could think of so that both Mitch and I could have an easy recovery period together. What I did not anticipate was that bending would be ever so painful! Do you know how much you bend during a day?!?!? I didn’t! I mean take away the constant up and down of tiding-up a house, picking-up toys, putting away dishes, lifting bags, laundry, etc. think of just the little moments like sitting and laying, oh that little belly button area of your abdomen really does a lot for you on a daily basis, I know because right now mine is shouting at me frequently!

Mitch has been AMAZING! He keeps track of my meds which is great considering how fuzzy my brain is most of the time, or how naps have been blurring into evening sleeping patterns which makes my tracking it impossible, oh and lets talk about how painful rolling over is!! One minute I am blissfully in a strange drug induced dream and then out of nowhere OH MY FREAKING GOD WHAT JUST STABBED ME?!?!?! I have always been a tummy sleeper, and you would think the mind/body relationship would know to default in this time of need to side-back-side patterns, but no!!! Somewhere in the middle of REM I roll onto the tummy and am sharply aware of each incision and every bruise.  

Our furry babies still do not quite understand why Mom is not feeding them, why they cannot nap with me and most of all why there is something smelly and foreign (bedadine, gauze and tape) on the lap space they love, but Mitch is juggling them and their needs really well.

Mom and I had a wonderfully touching and very tearful moment just after I was rolled into recovery. You have to first understand that I apparently did not like the combination of propiphal and the gas they injected into my abdomen because I was quite ill from that, then I was sore from my throat (where the tube had been) down to my toes, I literally felt like I had been hit by a truck, and with the truth serum known as drugs coursing through me… I actually voiced that to my Mom; not what any mom wants to hear ever!

Well really long and probably odd sounding story later (I probably shouldn’t write while on hydrocodone) I am home, the procedure went really well, and soon, hopefully very soon, I will be back to my normal self, minus the hormone imbalancing cyst that has reeked havoc in my life this year!

Update you more once the meds have worn off :o)

Sleepless Night

I didn't sleep real well last night. I guess the operation on Friday is weighing more on my mind than I originally thought. I know, you think I am being wimpy here, but truth be told I have never ever been put under. I know, it shocked the doctor too. I have all my wisdom teeth (apparently the whole “big mouth” taunting was actually true), I have my tonsils and I have never broken anything. As far as the medical world is concerned, I am pretty boring.

So you can now better understand my anxiety about Friday.

I know intellectually that the procedure is an easy one; I trust and really like this doctor and I know that he has done this procedure countless times with a spotless record; I like that I am the first procedure in the morning and that everyone involved will be refreshed and unrushed; I have an amazing support system and will have both Mitch and my parents there…

But there is something that I just cannot shake…

Well, here is to processing that, seeing what the real fear is and working through it before Friday… LOL

My Hardest Year

As I sit here now working on my third draft of this post, I realize now more than ever that I am a writer. Now when I say writer I mean the good ol’ pen to paper kinda gal. I use to keep long hand journals, write poetry, jot down lines of a story that would start in my mind on anything I could grab a hold of like my day planner pages (remember those?), back of a receipt, envelopes, anything really. I had a junior pad in my purse at all times and a legal pad at the ready in my office, but now, now my calendar is on my cell and set with all the many reminders I need, my journal is on my tablet and my organization and ramblings are on this laptop, making it all too easy to select all and delete, as I have done with each draft of this latest entry.

Writing in pen, processing things out in pen meant you poured everything out onto the page, there was no erasing or deleting, if you hated it you either scribbled over it or you got the wonderful satisfaction of ripping the page out, crumpling it up and throwing it away. The pages you kept were living testimonies to your state of mind during the processing, they could be spotted with the tears that dripped off of your checks as you wrote out all your pain and heartache, they could be littered with smudges of that amazing chocolate cake or tinted with that other glass of wine you poured yourself when you thought everything coming out of you at that point was brilliant, either way there is all the evidence of what you were going through in that moment, like your own private little time capsule.

Now do not get me wrong, amazing things have been poured out on type writers and now computers. Amazing poetry and novels, touching blogs, riveting journalism, etc, I just suddenly came to the realization that I personally may have needed the good ol’ pen and paper for this year. But I too relied on this wonderful new format and I too am processing on the blank white page of a word document, and when I look back at this entry I probably will remember what I was trying to convey, what I was processing, but I must admit, I do wonder what that legal pad may have looked like.

So… long, long story short, this has been the toughest year of my life. I am not sure how I will truly process it, I think in June I tried to start writing with the hopes that would help, not realizing how bottled-up I had become in an attempt to survive. Now though, now my mind is waking, I fall asleep with words and sentences forming, I look forward to hitting the keys and seeing what comes out of it… so we will see together I guess, what this new found energy may bring, but to get you all caught up, here is a snap-shot/highlight points of the year.

• January 29^th - Mitch and I are PREGNANT!!!
• Valentines - We celebrate in the snow and on the shore of Lake Tahoe (where we were married)
• February 24^th - At a little over 7 weeks we loose the baby (I take 3 days off work)
• March & April - Hiding the numbness
• June 1^st - Mitch and I are PREGNANT!!! This time I decide not to wait to tell and celebrate, I also start building a nursery (found an amazing Jenny Lynd crib and changing table set on craigslist, my Mom refinished a beautiful rocking chair and my boss and his wife give us a pack and play)
• July 3^rd - We loose the baby (back to work by the 5^th)
• August - Mitch and I plan a two week vacation for an anniversary of ours in November
• September -  Maui Vacation is booked and paid for – let the diet and bikini workouts begin!
• October 9^th - I wake feeling ill and off and realize I am late. Take a test… I am PREGNANT! By the time I am done getting ready for work I am spotting and on the phone with my doctor, 5 hours later we have lost the pregnancy (Mitch and I both take a week off, we turn off the house phone and set our cells to silent. Mitch helps me piece myself back together)
• Oct. 23^rd – 30^th – Let the testing begin!!
• November 1^st - After three ultra-sounds, an MRI, countless blood-tests and a meeting with a specialist, we learn that my right ovary is twice the size it should be and there is a mass within it, and we cannot decipher what it is. The doctor thinks I may have endomitrioma (sp) but will not know for sure until he can examine it. The operation is scheduled for the 30^th.
• November 2^nd - I give notice to my job. Mitch and I decide I have enough stress and that we no longer need that income. We decide to prioritize my getting well and us expanding our family
• November 8^th - Last day of work at an office I gave 11 years to. Two boxes of my office knick-knacks, photos, plants, etc. and a cake/party send off later, I am officially un-employed. Now a stay-at-home wife, step-mom and partner in our business
• November 9^th - We fly away to Maui and return just in time for the Thanksgiving family time and feast
• November 26^th - Pre-operation meeting with the doctor at 1:30pm (PST)

Well, I think that about covers the timeline of this year right up to today.

It is no wonder I have been unable to write!

Here is to finding out what is going on with my right ovary and hoping it is a simple fix, and here is to my new life, my new journey, and my renewed writing.

Keep you guys posted ;o)

House and Home

Let me start by saying this, Mitch is my favorite person in this world. He is my best friend and the love of my life. I love that we are inseparable and I love that he cherishes our every moment together as much as I do. I love that we work so well together, and in our building-up this newly developed company of ours, that we will be working together full time here in the near future.

That said, last night I had my first alone night in the house in a really, really long time, and I did enjoy it. Don’t get me wrong, it was odd and I did miss Mitch, but it was nice too.

I didn’t really do anything special. I laid out in the sun with the pups (cat decided to chill in the flower beds), did my yoga, bathed the dogs, tidied up the house, did a couple loads of laundry, etc. We all then settled into the evening and a movie, and we were all in bed by 9:30pm, and by “all” I mean I allowed the dogs and the cat to crawl up into bed with me, no point in leaving Mitch’s space vacant right?!? All was peaceful and quiet until Mitch woke the house up at 11:00pm. Thankfully he unwound and the family settled down quickly, and I was able to fall deeply asleep in his warm and secure embrace. 

So it may sound cheesy, you may shrug this off as they are still miraculously in the “honeymoon” phase, you may think me silly and sappy, or you just may find us gag-inducing, but waking this morning, a little droopy-eyed and nap craving, I will admit that I cherish the great afternoon/evening I had, but I so love having my home back more.

Our house is simply not a home without all of its loved members.

A Lighter Update

As promised, today’s message is a lighter note and update on the Lynn family.

In March we celebrated our business’ one year anniversary. Boy did that speed by! We had (blessedly) a very successful year. In fact looking back at the year I am totally impressed with what were able to accomplish in such a short window of time.

We had two additions to the family, a three year old dachshund named Tremor and a now one year old terrier named Charlie. They get along perfectly! You would think they were litter mates, and they both love our cat Romeo, though Charlie tends to think that Romeo is his pet. Romeo is my senior kitty, in fact it was just him and I before the Lynn family walked into my life. He will be fourteen in a couple of months, and though he is still very kitten like at times, there are moments he acts his age; and it is in those moments that Charlie comes racing to tend to his little pet. Romeo is a Siamese/lynx mix and with that mix is very talkative. He will talk his way down the hallway and Charlie will come running to see what he needs. He will give Romeo a smell down and then lick his head. Then together they will jump up onto a window bench we have, and look out the window at the world together. When bird and squirrel activity slow, Romeo gets a through ear cleaning from Charlie and eventually they curl up in the sun ray and fall asleep. This is the same window, that on a week day, all three will line up at 2pm awaiting my arrival home. I love how they know and depend on routines, and I absolutely love the incredibly overjoyed greeting they give. One cannot be depressed with a cat meowing at you on a bench seat and two grinning dogs bouncing around your legs, tails wagging a million miles an hour. This is the trio that makes up “My Boys.”

Tremor and Charlie in the convertible ready for the beach

Romeo soaking up the sun

We have almost finished up all of our household projects! I refinished our kitchen cabinets, master bathroom vanity, guest bathroom vanity, and our library built-ins, and we got all new pretty hardware. I petered out and never got to the mudroom cabinets, but I am sure one day, when I have the energy and drive, they too will be transformed. We got our beautiful hickory hardwood floors throughout and they look amazing! We got our fireplace in the living room built just in time to enjoy it during the winter season. We splurged and got a new dining set for the dining deck, and have slowly been replanting our tropical hill, we lost our bird of paradise plants during our last freezing spell, and have given up on that particular plant, since all the other ones thrive; and last but no where near least, we have begun putting together our nursery. So, all that remains to be done is our new kitchen countertops (still deciding on what material to use) and replacing some broken plexy roofing on our dining deck pergola. It is amazing to think of what all we have accomplished in such a short amount of time, not just to the house, but also in our almost five years of marriage.

Our families are good, though we did have some health scares with my sister-in-law, but thankfully she is on the mend now. The kids are all living full time with their mother. Really long story short, they have always preferred her very unsupervised and undisciplined lifestyle, and before you ask, yes, it upsets Mitch to no end. She has managed to manipulate these kids all through their lives, and continues to do it, even more so now. So, even with our just pasted Father’s Day Weekend, Mitch and I only saw Janet, and only for lunch. The boys were with their mother, out of town at her father’s home. Andy, Mitch’s oldest, didn’t even get on the phone after Nate to wish Dad a happy father’s day. I honestly fear how they are going to treat Mitch when we are with child. I know the ex will be full of all kinds of spite and poison them, but I genuinely cringe at the potential pain that they will inflict on their father. Then, then I remember that he and I are making our blended little soul, and that no matter what, that little soul will be loved unconditionally, and will never be poisoned against his or her father. One day, one day when his kids are all grown-up, and maybe not even until they are raising their own, but one day they will see what kind of father they had; I pray Mitch is still with us and still very healthy when that day comes, so that they may all have the chance to know that man. Until then, you send them love, give input when you can, be there for them when they need and/or want you, and deal with each dagger the ex throw at our backs as they come, that is all you can do in the never-ending battle of the split family.

Well, I think that pretty much gets you current.

Never a dull moment in this family, I just need to, for my own therapy and sanity, get back to sitting down and writing out all the ups and downs we go through. It does help. For now, TGIF

Ripping the Band-Aid off

My Mother asked me yesterday, “Are you ever gonna write an update on your blog?” At the time I realized it had been a while, and that in all honesty I was probably avoiding processing all we had been through recently by not writing. Sort of like… if it is not written and in black and white, then it didn’t really happen. Denial, it is a fun coping mechanism! LOL! Now, logging-on today, I cannot believe it has been almost a year since I last logged the happenings of the Lynn family!

Well I guess it is time to rip the band-aid off… here it goes.

Shortly after my big birthday conversations about starting “our” family started up. By October I was off the pill, on prenatal supplements and spending three months getting the pill out of my system. Three months later, on the dot, Mitch and I were pregnant! I could not do the traditional, wait until fourteen weeks to announce the good news, no, I told everyone! We were super excited! I downloaded this great tracker app and had my mom tracking the weeks with me. I started reading the bible for pregnancy “What to Expect When You Are Expecting,” and for fun, Jenny McCarthy’s “Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth about Pregnancy and Childbirth.” I was taking everything easy, eating super healthy, getting plenty of sleep and doing mild exercise; we took a romantic long weekend vacation and were just glowing in the joy of pregnancy. 

Just shy of eight weeks and while in the restroom at work, I had some brown bloody discharge after wiping. I frantically emailed my doctor, texted Mitch and Mom, and started googling the possibilities. While trying to breathe and find reassurance, I get a call from my doctor. She has me stop by the hospital and get my blood drawn. Tests that night reveal that my numbers are good and I am instructed on what to monitor and be alarmed about. I settle into the evening with comfort in the fact that all other trips to the restroom resulted in clean wipes.

Two days later the discharge is back and this time more bloody looking. Again I freak out. This time we get an ultrasound. There holding Mitch’s hand, we see our little precious soul for the first time. My heart starts to calm down, and I peacefully take in the image on the screen. Next, and to our surprise, she turns on the sound. Mitch’s hand tightens around mine as we listen to the heart beat. I am soaring! Falling super in love with this precious little cargo I am carrying, and that we have made. The doctor starts to move the ultrasound wand and hastily clicks away at the mouse and keyboard before announcing that the heartbeat is slower that she would like. My heart stops. “What does that mean?” She says nothing right away; instead she keeps at the wand and keyboard, snapping stills of my little one. I lay there completely numb. I know I have to have a vice grip around Mitch’s hand and I know I have to be shaking because the only thing I do feel is freezing, but we wait and watch her watch our screen, almost breathless. When she does finally start talking all I hear is “possibility of miscarriage.” More is said of course, and thankfully Mitch is there to absorb it all because my head is spinning and I am doing everything I can to keep the waterworks and ugly cry at bay. Somehow I manage to get dressed, in the car and behind the wheel. I follow Mitch to the hospital and in the sitting room, behind a large pair of dark sunglasses, the tears begin to flow. Mitch holds on tight and whispers something to me, and for the life of me I cannot tell you what he said, I just cannot hear or I cannot retain, or both. More blood is drawn and I try to contain the sobs that are creeping to the surface.

We make it home… honestly that still surprises me. The doctor calls later that evening, my numbers are still good, she wants me to take it easy and try to breathe, “it may all work out” she says just before our good-byes are made. The emotional rollercoaster has me exhausted, all I want to do is sleep and yet I cannot still myself or my mind long enough to really drift off.

The following morning I call in sick, still exhausted and now feeling icky due to the lack of sleep, I settle into the couch, blanket over lap, cat on lap, dogs on either side of me and clicker in hand. God please let there be some distraction worthy television to be had today, I need it! Mitch clicks away at his laptop sending off a few needed emails and closes down his office for the day to tend to me and my zombie like self. At 11am he insists I eat something and starts preparing a brunch for champions, though all I am able to eat is a dry piece of toast. That cat stirs and lies against my very full bladder sending me running for the bathroom, and there, like before, the news hits hard. Blood, lots of blood. Walking down the hallway, oddly calm, I ask Mitch to run to the market and get me some pads. I call and leave a message for my doctor and send an update text message to Mom. It’s not until Mitch has returned and scoops me up into his arms and into a super tight embrace that the sobs begin.

I did not know such heartache existed.

Hours later, more blood drawn, more prodding with an ultrasound wand and a full pelvic exam behind me, I leave the hospital clutching Mitch’s hand and a folder containing a prescription for morphine, grief counseling tips for sudden loss and information on a "spontaneous abortion." I am numb. All I have had to eat in 30 hours was one slice of toast, my tear ducts are completely dried up and I am suddenly hormonally fixated on the awfulness of the term “spontaneous abortion.” What imbecile would call what I have just been through a “spontaneous abortion?!?” Miscarriage yes, abortion…. Excuse my French here… but are you F&$KING KIDDING?!?? Only an cold hearted A$$HOLE who has never had a child let alone had a wife experience a miscarriage would call this loss a “spontaneous abortion!” But… enough of that, you get the picture, I really just needed an volatile outlet for my grief and that phrase provided for it excellently.

So, I make it through the weekend; comfort food, alcohol practically on tap, thanks to Mitch, and morphine helped, but now the reality is setting in as I wake to my alarm. Thankfully my doctor knew that reality was creeping up on me too quickly and faxed to our house a doctor’s slip for time off work. But of course I do have to get this word to my boss. The call was thankfully quick, my boss cannot handle tears, and I could not keep them at bay. Having to say it, having to actually say “I lost the baby, I am having a miscarriage,” made the whole tragedy oddly more real.

By Wednesday I was back at the office and back to my roles in life.

A month later I am sitting in my doctor’s office listening to her repeatedly reassure me that none of this is was my fault and how one in four pregnancies end this way, and hits me, no matter how incredible my support system is, or how frequently this happens in the world, I am alone.

Yesterday though, I read this article by Bethenny Frankel in Glamor Magazine, and realized with all the internal processing I had done, what I had not done was admit what happened. I mean yes, I had told my boss, and my parents were at the hospital with Mitch and I, but I had never really cried out… this happened to me. The sad this is, I started this blog to do things just like that, when it comes to matters of marriage, step-kids, ex-wives and just snapshots of the life of a blended family, I turned here to announce it, admit it, claim it and show any of you reading that you are not alone in your similar dealings with a blended family, but here I was keeping this secret. Bethenny is right, we women do not talk about this tragedy and here I was contributing to the silence.

So there it is, band-aid off, wound healed and scar exposed.

Thank you Bethenny for opening up this dialogue, and for those of you who have lost and for those of you reading this and going through a loss of your own… please know you are not alone. 

Festivities and celebrations and excitement – oh my!

It has been a wonderful month of festivities, celebrations and excitement, so much so that it suddenly feels odd to have a lull in my day and be able to briefly bask in the moment.

So let’s see, since last I posted… Mitch and I had a WONDERFUL anniversary; I had an AMAZING birthday. I was spoiled like crazy and really got to live up my 4 day birthday weekend (it was a big year); we got the most amazing business phone call that has lead to an INCREDIBLE contract (we are actually still glowing about that news); and then we had the PERFECT lunch party to celebrate my father’s birthday. Now, now we are back to reality…. Lol

Mitch is seeing business pick-up, which we constantly are amazed and very thankful for, considering it was just March when we began this new business endeavor, and then for added fun… I landed a (consulting) side job! Woohoo! Okay, let me explain the excitement there; you see we approach any side jobs I get as bonuses. So…. this current job will hopefully (fingers crossed and bid getting at the ready) afford us new countertops in the kitchen. But the really really great news about this job is it may lead to the possibility of landing another (bigger) side job soon… and if so, then my plan is to have that job cover our new cork floors throughout the house!!! And with that, all; and I mean ALL of our projects will be DONE!!!! Okay-okay, back to solid ground here… lol! The idea of completed projects puts me in the clouds. What am I saying; the shopping for the completed projects makes me giddy to the point where I cannot stand the waiting game. “Patience Grasshopper!”

Other than that… a new school year has started, and all of the “first day of” photos have been sent out amongst friends and family (via text/emails/facebook, etc), old routines and drive times have resurfaced after a seemingly short summer break... and yet, I feel a fresh new start blooming for the Lynn family!

Four Years Ago Today

Four years ago today, I became Mrs. Mitch Lynn

I said “I Do” to the love of my life

And to the wonderful life we live together

How fast these years have flown by

I had no idea that love could keep growing & blooming

That it is possible to love someone more

With each passing day and milestone

How marriage would change me for the better

I was given one of the greatest gifts of my life

All this week, I have reflected on our years together

Cherishing our every moment on this journey

How very, very blessed I feel

Anniversary Week

This week marks Mitch and my fourth wedding anniversary, and I cannot believe how fast it has gone.

I don’t know what is normally experienced in the first four years of marriage, but I know looking back on what Mitch and I have been through together, that I am so very blessed that he is my partner in life and love. Together we have learned how to co-parent, how to handle the ex-wife and all she throws at us, we have renovated the exterior of our home and given ourselves great vacation get-a-ways each year. We endured many losses, moved a family closer and started a new company. I am so very proud of the fact that we have met each challenge head first and more importantly, as a united front; that we have basked in the great things and gifts our life has given us and that we have celebrated our love at every chance we get.

I know it is still a young marriage, but I know based on what we have already been through that we have what it takes to be “we” till death do us part.

This weekend we celebrated in true “us” fashion. We threw the top down on the convertible, packed up the pup and set off on the open road, letting chance and destiny make each choice for us. It was the PERFECT weekend. Wednesday we will get to celebrate with my parents, whom I thank deeply for their wonderful role model marriage and undying love and support of Mitch and me; and then on an “it couldn’t be planned better if we tried” kinda notes… Mitch and I will be helping my in-laws this coming weekend, and will actually be up in the county/area we were married in…. So needless to say, we will have wound up having a wonderful Anniversary Week!

To the man who took a second chance on love and marriage, I thank you for loving me the way you do, for our wonderful life together, and for all that is still before us. You are my love, my life, my soul mate! I love you always and forever xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxox

Daddy Dan

The other day as Mitch and I were dropping off the kids at their mothers, Janet makes the blanket statement to all of us in the car “Daddy Dan is here.” In stunned and utter speechless silence I watch them all pile out of the car and make there way up to their mother’s inappropriately small apartment; and apparently into a world where a new man by the name of Daddy Dan resides.

Once they were out of view and my guards were quickly shattered, I turned all of my attention to Mitch in an attempt to be whatever he needed in this bizarre moment of “Daddy Dan” news. But, to my surprise, this news had apparently been more of a slap in the face to me than to Mitch.

Now you have to understand… in all my time in this family I have never heard the kids call Mitch “Daddy.”  They will call him Pop, Pops and Father; but not Daddy. So, here we have the ex-wife, who cheated on hubby number 3 (couple of quick reminders here… 1. Mitch was the 1^ST husband and 2. cheating is the ex’s favorite hobby) and in-turn was left with nothing in the divorce, causing her to loose everything, is now living with “the fling of the month” and having the kids to see him as, and call him “Daddy Dan,” all the while trying to secure her 4th marriage?!?!?

Even writing this out now I am just still so shocked!

Why do we, the second wives, seem to take all this bad behavior (from the ex-wives and children) so much more personally then the fathers of our step-kids??

Our New Addition

Early Saturday morning (June 18^th) Mitch and I picked-up our latest addition to the craziness known as the Lynn Family.

He is a bubbly and joy-filled three (3) year old with adorable rusty-red hair. He has totally changed the dynamics of our life and household, but so far (aside from the new early morning schedules) the transition has been very smooth. He instantly connected with all of the Lynn family members, including the in-laws, and constantly craves reassurance and lots of cuddles.

His name is Tremor, and he is our dachshund.

He is currently a bit of a rolly-polly, so we have been taking him out on frequent walks and he has begun playing fetch really well with Lucca (our mainecoon cat). I cannot begin to describe how cute it is to watch the two of them bound down the hallway side-by-side chasing a miniature tennis ball, or how adorable they both are sitting on an ottoman staring out our living room windows watching the world known as “the neighborhood” pass them by.

Tremor though is fighting a little bit of jealousy, he tends to nab Romeo’s (our lynx/Siamese mix cat) toys and run them back to his bed, leaving Romeo slightly confused and crying for our help, and he watches very intently as Romeo gains the coveted “lap” seat for the evening movie time. Sophie (our blue calico cat) though, seems to merely tolerate the addition to the family (girls!) and has now taken on a fun game called “my paws shall not touch the floor he runs on.” Meaning, she now prefers to stay aloft and totally out of his reach. She is living on top of the Kitchen cabinets and travels between locations by strutting from cabinets, to tables, to chairs, to couches, etc., all the while observing his every move, for her own safety of course.

So basically…. it is just another action-packed and drama filled moment in the Lynn family… lol!

Pictures to follow :o)

Coming out of the Dark

I know it has been forever since I have written; we have been through so much, and now staring at this page… I am just not sure where to start. I am coming out of the dark and beginning to feel like myself once again, but there are still so many things to do, and at times I just want to throw my arms up and say “that’s it, let’s get out of here; let’s sail away from it all on a long wonderful cruise!!”

But enough of that…. So the quick 411 on the Lynn family looks like this:

1.             We survived all of the losses the end of 2010 and the beginning of 2011 brought us

2.            As of this very moment, we have survived the craziness known as Liz!  We have survived the worse case of harassment I could have imagined. She stalked us at our home, she accused us of stealing; she would call us an insane amount of times and at all of our phone numbers. She was verbally abuse in her voicemail messages and emails, all of which were never ending and came at all hours of the day and night. Finally having enough of it, I contacted the authorities and as of now, we finally have peace and quiet.

3.             Mitch and I have started our own company and the good news is, we work really well together, he handles all the new jobs and field work, and I handle the books, PR and Marketing. So… for the first month we did nothing but spend money, and honestly I had no idea how much it would cost to start-up a little work-from-home business. There was the website, business cards, mailer (advertising), car decals, insurance on the car and company, field equipment, home office equipment, etc. It just seemed that everything cost money…. but then there was the celebration of our first paycheck and then the joy of our first two jobs coming from the mailer, which led to us now breathing easier.

So here it is the middle of May, boy oh boy this year has been off to a doozy! But the good news is… we are back on track! We are back to enjoying our daily lives and living without wondering when the next bit of nastiness will strike, and we are starting to get our groove down on our new schedule, all in all, we are doing really well.

I do have to thank our incredible family, who stuck by us through the darkness that was our life and for continuing to inspire us. I also have to thank our patient friends for waiting out our reclusive processing of everything, and whom are back to being important priorities in our life, and last (but not least) for those of you who would send me your wonderful notes and continued to follow even in my silence. Thank you all, so very much – You guys are priceless!

I am very blessed

Life's Tapestry

I once read an American Indian poem that spoke of every life being a bright thread woven into Life’s Tapestry, and its image stuck with me.

Two weeks ago, we lost Mitch’s childhood friend; he was 52 and is survived by his wife and two young children. Mitch and I have been on a rollercoaster ride as you can imagine, so I have been remiss in my updating.

But I find myself today, in the still moment an office can have around the lunch hour, thinking of the tapestry image.

We have lost one of life’s beautiful threads;

The pattern of the tapestry is now and forever altered;

But its presence in it is forever cherished, and will always be visible

Cherish your life’s every thread, be them daily acquaintances, email friends or family, for life is short, so short, and before you know it, the tapestry will change, and the loom will continue to weave.

What the F&$K is happening!!!

02-09-11 - What the F&$K is happening!!!

Since September I have lost my father-in-law and grandfather-in-law, I have made countless trips up and down the great state of California moving my mother-in-law and sister-in-law, my grandmother-in-law has lost her mind – literally, Mitch’s childhood friend/business partner is dying from cirrhosis of the liver, and now my uncle is in the hospital… oh and my boss just found out that his body doesn’t like his new titanium hip, apparently the knee is okay so they are putting in a new hip (still titanium) and attaching it to the knee with a titanium femur!!!!!

HELLO!!!! I mean just how much can one family take?!?!?!

I will say this, all of this has made me that much more diligent with my diet, workouts and overall lifestyle. Hello mediation… ohm! Poor Mitch, he really has no clue how health conscious I can get… but OMG is he going to find out!!!

Well... May this find all of you healthy, happy and with a circle of healthy and happy family and friends.

HELLO!?!?! No wonder my brain won’t stop!!! (02/03/11)

I didn’t sleep well last night; I mean I am pretty sure I logged in more than enough hours of lying very comfortably in bed and actually drifted off into another world while snuggling peacefully with Mitch - kind of sleep; but I just feel like I didn’t really get my super wonderful, super deep, the world could be destroyed and I wouldn’t know it - kind of sleep.  I think, no matter what I try (wine/meditation/harder workouts), there is just too much going on in the Lynn family for my subconscious not to be overactive.

We currently have Mitch’s childhood friend and business partner still in the hospital, still being poked, prodded, scanned, x-rayed and moved about and at this point the census seems to be that he is terminal, and no one in the medical field wants to actually say that aloud. Then there is my Mother-In-Law who is stressing out because she is taking care of her mother who has full blown Alzheimer’s, and because of that she has yet to be able to fully unpack from her recent move and is living out of boxes while chasing down a 90 year old who forgets who her new roommates are (her daughter and granddaughter), where she is, what day/year it is, etc. Not to mention the fun things in life like oh Tax season, an SUV/3^rd vehicle we are trying to sell (both of those said in a very factious tone), Valentines Day, Sister-In-Law’s Birthday, two office birthday parties I have to organize and set-up, oh and I am taking on a side job working for a general contractor.

HELLO!?!?! No wonder my brain won’t stop!!!

Thankfully this weekend we have nothing planned for Saturday… so hello couch and blissful laziness with Mitch. Then Sunday we will have an easy super bowl party with my parents where our only concerns will be running out of chips, dip or sangria. Lol!!

Tonight though, I may try a Benadryl with my wine, my own version of a sleeping pill, and see if I can slip into that deeper sleep I am craving.

Death Knocks

We got a call late Saturday evening, it was the kind of call no one wants to get. Mitch’s childhood friend and business partner was in the hospital, while on the phone with his wife I learned that he had actually flat-lined twice prior to being whisked off the property in an ambulance, by the time he reached the hospital his body temperature was 94 degrees and he was severely dehydrated. By the time Mitch and I got there, he was at least siting up and talking, but he was having blood drawn and tested every hour, and quite frankly… he looked like death. Maybe I was ignorant, or maybe this is truly happening at an escalated rate, but it seems that the moment he was diagnosed with Cirrhosis of the liver, he transformed from a healthy man measuring in at six feet tall and weighing 220 pounds, to weighing only 156 pounds. The best way I can describe how he looks, is to say he looks exactly like a holocaust victim, complete with the distended tummy.

This morning he has been moved out of the ICU and is awaiting a CAT scan; Medicine and the Medical Field, the art of hurry-up and wait. I cannot stop thinking about his wife and his two young children. How do you explain how Daddy suddenly got addicted to alcohol late in life? How the disease of alcoholism works and worst of all, how it is killing Daddy? I just cannot imagine.

The news has affected us on an emotional level, obviously, but more than that it is also impacting us on a financial level. Mitch has a lot to think about with regards to the company, if it can stay alive, what to tell the employees, etc. It was, to say the least, a shock to the system and a hard-hitting reality check.

I held onto Mitch like crazy the remaining of our evening Saturday, and all day Sunday. We were oddly more amorous too, maybe it was the most intimate and non-verbal way to express and convey just how grateful we are, how grateful that we have each other, how blessed our life together is and just how thankful we are that we are both happy, healthy and without death knocking on our door. It is amazing how a scene like we saw on Saturday can change you. I am still feeling the difference this morning.

On a lighter note… we survived the ex-wife tension at the graduation and we had a nice dinner celebration for Janet’s last evening.

Milestones (01/26/11)

Saturday, this Saturday, Janet graduates from a class she has been taking for almost a year now, and I find myself utterly amazed; not because I didn’t think she could do it, in-fact quite the opposite. I have been her cheerleader for the last four years now, but I have also watched her self-sabotage success on every level and have been paralyzed to help her or understand the reasoning. Mitch and I learned early that anything we did to boost her self-esteem/self-worth/self-image, etc. would last for as long as we had her, and then either be immediately undone by her mother or somehow get turned against us.

So…. I hate to admit it, but part of me just knew when she signed up for this, that she would somehow let history repeat itself. Happily, this is one of those moments in life where you are very, very glad to be wrong in your assumptions.

Mitch and I are still at a loss on how to reach her or help her on many other levels, but for this moment, and for this weekend, we are both very, very proud of her. So, come Saturday I will be recording and photographing her wonderful accomplishment, and on Sunday, because of course we don’t get her the evening of the event… but I digress, that is an old rant or ours; so, Sunday we will get to treat her and the family to a dinner in her honor and present her with our little token of our pride, a necklace with a charm that speaks to the occasion and her accomplishment.

Now to find a restaurant that will embarrass her… you know something with lots of singing, possibly a hat she has to wear throughout dinner… oh yes, got to at least do something wild like that for her!!!