This is What I Have Been Up To! (And Pictures)

I feel like an AWFUL blogger and online friend! I have been busy with Ava and getting into the groove of motherhood. I really need to write down a schedule:( Ex: 9AM:check email 0930: write blog, 1000: pick up house, etc). There is a BIG reason why I haven't been using my time wisely, other than Ava.

My Photography. It has kind of been going to the next level. I have been so busy shooting, editing, browsing for ideas and tutorials and other photogs' blogs and websites. I search and buy backdrops, and props, and fake floors, backdrop stands and lighting, lenses and even shopping for my second camera body (the Canon 5D Mark II) I use Pintrest for inspiration, and tips and tricks and suggestions for equipment from other professionals. . I use almost all of my computer time doing SOMETHING related to my photography.

I have to upkeep my Official Website, keeping up my facebook page and now just started scheduling regular posts for my Photography Blog. I am now trying to think of creative venues to market myself. I want to focus more on newborn and maternity, but shoot every category. Where should I even start marketing?!?! It is all overwhelming. However, I know once i figure it all out, it will come easier. I HAVE to get on a schedule though. I need to set aside time to edit and deal with the photography while still having a life...almost like a 9-5 job.

Ava makes it even more interesting balancing everything. And this is someone who once juggled work, school, non-profit, photography all at the same time! I hate sitting in front of the computer while she is awake..and that is becoming more and more. So I usually wait till Foster gets home to work on stuff. Like I said, it will all come together, and get easier the more comfortable I get, but in the mean time, things like this blog have taken the back seat, along with keeping up with others' blogs. Please forgive me!

Here are just a few of my recent pictures so you can see why blogs (mine and others') have been neglected lately. I promise I will figure it out:-)

When I Grow Up! Kitchens, Graduating, and Much More!

First I want to say thanks for all of my stalkers who commented and let their presence known on my delurking post! It was great to meet all of you!!

This has probably been the longest I have gone without posting a blog. I am so sorry to those of you who check on a daily basis:-) I guess it is because I have been so busy with things, that I barely have enough time to breath, much less sit down and write. I figured, since I noticed I have gotten a few new followers, that I would take this entry as an opportunity to fill them in on me and my life, along with giving all of you a quick update on the going ons in my household.

First, an introduction. thank you if you are a new follower. I originally started this blog as a way of relieving some of my grief after the loss of my precious daughter Rosalynn. She was a beautiful 5lb 12oz baby girl who grew angel wings on April 20th 2010. We were 34weeks4days into our pregnancy when we were told her heart had stopped. Foster, my dear husband, and I have been going through this awful journey with the help and support of my loving friends and family. I cannot express to you how much this little online space has helped me. The outpouring of support and understanding from friends and strangers alike has been so healing. I have come across some of the strongest women I have ever met through my support group and this blog. Women who are going through similar journeys as I am.

I have also been inspired to make a few changes in the world because of my daughter. I am an Emergency Room Tech, a student, and a Medic in The National Guard. I am currently waiting for the stillbirth leave policy to be changed this July through my work to more reflect that of a maternity leave, and I am also in the process of trying to find the best way of changing the National Guard Policy for stillbirth mothers. I have gotten involved with a non-profit group called "Back In His Arms Again" which assists stillbirth parents with the care of their angel baby and the funeral arrangements, also assisting in the costs that go with it.

My biggest accomplishment thus far, is the start of my own little project, in accordance with the non-profit group "Project Sweet Peas". I am the local project leader here in Ohio, and it is entitled "Roses from Rosalynn". PSP and RFR are dedicated to bringing comfort and memories to parents who have children in the NICU and who have suffered a stillbirth. I am currently focusing my attention on the stillbirth parents. I have bags that will be filled with helpful items that will assist these parents in creating as many memories as possible of their little angel. these bags will have molds for hand and foot impressions, journals for writing thoughts and memories in, disposable cameras, an outfit fit for a burial, blanket, footies, hats, a small bear for baby and a big bear for mom to ease that "empty arm syndrome", and a book "Mommy Please Don't Cry, There are No Tears in Heaven." I am waiting for my big bears and a few more of the books, and I will be making my first 10bag donation very soon. I have friends who have extended their services for blanket making and others who have offered to get donations. I am thrilled at the outpouring of generosity so many have shown. I have added donation buttons to all of my pages that goes directly into a pay-pal account and aids in the expenses of these bags.

Now for an update!

I am getting closer and closer to graduation! I am thrilled! Foster and I have talked about what I should do after March. I still am not sure what I want to do when I grow up. I want to go back to nursing school EVENTUALLY. However, I am burnt out from school. I am soooooo needing a break from this hectic life of school, work, studying, school, work, studying. I feel like it hinders my abilities to pursue that things I love, primarily writing and photography. I have recently taken up photography and am LOVING it, and I have not had the slightest chance to get any further in ANY of my books for the past 6 months because I have been so busy. So, I am giving myself 18 months. 18 months after I graduate to continue working my job and purse my passions. I am going to focus on getting at least one of my books completely written, or at least 80% before trying to get a publisher. I am also going to see how far I can take this photography business. I have an eye, I know that much, but I want to perfect my photo shopping skills, and learn the tricks to making that PERFECT picture! I have tons of friends who have been generous in their time, allowing me to use them as my test subjects on different equipment I have been obtaining, filters, new settings, and new ideas. I LOVE them all for it, and in exchange, they get a free disk with their photos on them.

Foster is incredibly supportive, and thinks that I can achieve my dreams! Have I told you lately how much I love this man? He just wants me to be happy in what I do for the rest of my life, and although nursing would secure an income, I am not so sure how happy it would make me.

Last but not least (sorry for the long post, and thanks to those of you who are still reading!) we have a HUGE project starting in March. Last year, before finding out we were pregnant, Foster and I were getting quotes on remodeling our kitchen. We were going to gut it, however, the news that we were expecting changed those plans. Instead of dropping $15-20,000 on a new kitchen, we needed to put our money towards a wedding that was bumped up 9 months, new carpet and windows in the house since the baby's room needed them BAD, and the expenses of baby furniture and items. Well, now we are going back to the kitchen! We started looking around at ideas, and we will have a couple contractors coming out shortly to show us designs and prices. We figured that if we do get pregnant again (Sorry for those of you who are following my cycles, this month is a bust!) there will be no need to worry about the expenses since we have everything we need for a baby. So, let "Operation Gut Kitchen" commence! We are putting in new floors, new lighting, cabinets, counters, buying new appliances, everything. We are installing hardwood floors through the entry, kitchen, and family room, and even finishing the carpeting upstairs while we are at it. Why not? We are already going to be shelling out a butload of money, what is another $1-2,000 for carpeting right? I can't wait! This will all start in March after I graduate, because Foster does not trust starngers in our home while we are both gone. I will keep you all updated, and I have a feeling it will cause a little strain between Foster and I, because he gets REALLY moody when he spends a lot of money, and there are always hidden costs that pop up with a remodle, like the fact that we will probably have to eat out for a couple of weeks because we will have no kitchen! But I will try my best to keep him relaxed.

Whew! That was alot! Thanks if you held out to the end!

Real Life Stories of the ER

I had an interesting encounter at work the other night. I was walking a patient back to their room from triage. As I started getting him set up in his room, he was pacing and asked me a question. I could not understand what he had asked me through his mumbling, so I turned towards him and simply responded, "Excuse me?" No attitude, no inflection in my voice that would indicate any disrespect. I was simply wanting him to repeat himself, because I didn't understand him the first time.

He looked at me like I had called him a bad name, or had just killed his dog. The look of rage in his eyes was powerful, "I asked for something to drink. Geez B**** do I have to repeat myself?"

"Yes sir, I didn't understand what you had asked. I was wanting clarification," I was keeping my voice even toned and sweet, because he was obviously agitated, and although he had called me a name, I was trying not to let it phase me. I have been called every name in the book working in the ER, and although I don't think anyone should call a stranger trying to help a b****, at least he wasn't propositioning me like the psych hold we had that same evening (I will get to that later).

He replied with some rude muttering under his breath, and I proceeded to tell him that I needed him to change into a gown and have a seat, that the doctor would be in shortly. He continued to be angry with me, and his agitation was escalating. I asked him if there had been something I did to offend him, and then he went on and on about how rude I was. His mother was standing right there and was trying to tell him to relax and "Leave her alone, she is just trying to help you and YOU are the one being rude."

When I left, I took my seat back out at the triage desk, and went about my business. I warned the nurse and doctor that he was a little rude and seemed very excitable, so to tread lightly. While I was sitting in triage, the patients mother came out. She stepped up to the desk with an apologetic look on her face, "I just wanted to explain to you why he is in such a bad mood."

"Okay," I replied. honestly, I don't think ANY reason is good enough to treat another human being like crap, but I decided to hear her out.

"His son died in March," She said. I looked at her with a blank stare, and she looked back at me expecting an understanding response of some sort.

After a pause to word my response properly, I said, "Well, I lost my daughter back in April, and I do not use that as an excuse to treat a human being disrespectfully."

I could tell that was NOT the response she expected. She seemed to be taken aback, and quickly started stumbling over her words, "Well, he was murdered by his step-father. He was five years old."

"I am very sorry ma'am,I understand too well the feelings after the loss of a child, I lost my infant daughter. I understand it is painful, but is not other people's fault it happened. Your son did not kill my daughter, so I do not treat him like crap. I did not kill your grandson, so there is no need for your son to treat me like crap."

"She was an infant, he was five," I could not believe she was actually trying to compare losses. One is no worse than the other. They were both loved children no matter what age they were.

"Ma'am, I am not going to argue over which experience was worse. I do not feel you need to apologize for your son's behavior. If he wants to apologize, he can. I am very sorry for both of your loss, but if he is still this angry, and lashes out at complete strangers, he may want to start talking to a professional or a grief counselor," It became really apparent to her quickly that I was the WRONG person in the ER to look for pity and acceptance. She was unaware when she approached me that I was a fellow baby-loss parent. I really do feel bad for the family. It breaks my heart that they have to endure such a horrifying situation, and have to live with the pain of losing a child. However, I stand by my conviction that my pain does not give me a reason or the right to take it out on any other human being. I have no idea where they have been in their life, I have no clue if they have endured something similar. I just take out all of my frustration on Foster, because I KNOW what he has been through! Just kidding. In this instance, this patient was treating someone who had gone through a similar loss, albeit not a murder, with total disrespect. He had no clue where life had taken me, and now he was inadvertently hurting someone who he could have related to and shared a mutual understanding of loss with, even if just for a moment.

A few hours later, I happened to be walking by their room when he was being discharged. When his mother was around the corner, I tapped the man on the shoulder. as he turned, his features and demeanor had changed, "Oh ma'am, I feel so much better."

"Good," I said, "I am glad they took care of you. I wanted to tell you that I am terribly sorry for the loss of your son."

I watched as his eyes welled up, and his features turned soft, "How did you know?"

"Your mom told me about it. I wanted to let you know that I kind of know what you are going through. I lost my daughter in April."

"You did!?!?!?! Oh, I am soooooo sorry how I treated you. I had no idea," he came up to me, wrapped his arms around me and gave me a hug. He started to sob, "I feel so bad, I wish I would have known. Are you still trying to come to terms with it?"

"Absolutely, I have a feeling I will be for the rest of my life. The death of a child is something that no parent should ever be expected to 'get over'," I explained to him. "However, this instance is a prime example of why you shouldn't take your anger out on strangers, I have gone through the same thing. You never know what the person you are talking to has gone through," We continued to talk about our children, I suggested different support groups and therapy options for him. He admitted that he felt guilty that he did not spend more time with his son and was an absentee father for the first 2 years of his life. He expressed his fear of having other children because he didn't want the guilt that he would treat them better than he treated his first son. I consoled him, and told him if that is the lesson that he got out of the death of his child, that it was a great one, because now he would treat all subsequent children as if they were not guaranteed another day on this planet. We parted with another hug, and an unspoken bond of child loss.
Now, onto my darling psychiatric patient who propositioned me. When I arrived at work that evening, I was pulled aside by a nurse. She explained to me that this patient had been asking about me all day. Not just asking about me, demanding to see me so he could talk about his problems with me. When we receive a psychiatric patient, we are required to hold them and have one on one supervision for that patient until we can either find him a bed at on of the psych clinics, or release them 72 hours later. I was one of the first to take care of him yesterday, but how he knew my name I am baffled by. When I took over care for him, he was sleeping. He never saw me, never spoke to me, and was never in close enough proximity to read my name tag. Now, there were a few times that he woke up and sat at the edge of his bed and stared at me through possessed looking eyes, but the door was shut, and we never really had any interaction. he would get bored of staring at me after 5 minutes, and go back to bed.

So while I was trying to unravel the enigma of how he knew my name, and why of everyone he was asking for me, I realized I had to take care of him again. I walked up to his room, and found him in a Halidol induced sleep. I was hoping upon hope that he would remain like that for the four hours I had to watch him. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. About thirty minutes into my watch, he stood up and started staring at me through the glass door. I was once again creeped out. He started moving his lips, and since I couldn't hear him behind the glass, I slid the door open, "Do you need something hun?"

His half hearted smile turned into a devious grin. He honestly looked like he was about to pounce. I backed up a few steps to keep a few feet between us, and heard him whisper, "Do you want to suck my ****?"

"EXCUSE ME?!?! No sir, I do not, and I would like you to get back into bed and lay down," I was appalled and disgusted, but kept in mind that he was mentally disturbed.

He lifted up his gown to reveal an unimpressive "package", and started creeping closer to me, "I said suck my ****!"

I quickly closed the glass door in order to keep him in the room and out of my personal space. As I held the door closed, I called out for security because he was struggling violently to open the door. He won in the end, and as the door slid open, he ran down the hall with all of his glory flapping in front while his naked butt hung out the back. I was able to grab an arm before he got too far, but why I didn't just let him run is beyond me. One of the males grabbed his other arm, and we escorted him back to his room where security proceeded to put him back in bed, and wait for the nurse to give him another shot of the "medicated restrains", aka, more Halidol.

It was actually kind of scary. For once, I actually felt threatened by this man, and really really creeped out. Obviously we figured out WHY he had been asking for me. He obviously has a thing for red heads, and thought I could fulfill his fantasy, or maybe he is just loony.

These are just a few of the lovely examples of what it is like on a daily basis at my job. At least I can say one thing, it keeps things interesting!!!

After tonight, I deserve a glass of wine!

I am sitting here at 630AM with a glass of wine in my hand pondering my last shift at work. No I am not an alcoholic, I work third shift and this is my "night time". My mind is still reeling, and I have a feeling it may take me a while to fall asleep.

If I said last night was hectic, it would be an understatement. We were drowning. It was so incredibly busy, I was trying to eat a salad while I had a desk full of charts,I was answering phones in between bites, and I only went to the bathroom twice in twelve hours. The emotions that run through me as I see these patients through their charts is what makes me happy I am not on the floor dealing with them one on one. I am responsible for putting in orders, calling doctors, calling specialists, making sure radiology, respiratory, and every other department in the hospital get their orders for patients. I am kind of the "hub" and I can make or break a night by how well I keep up with everything. The entire time I was working an image of an octopus secretary went through my head.

One of the many times I see the charts are at the end of a visit. I document everything and make sure they are logged out. This is when I come across the reasons patients are there. Last night it seemed like it was the night of miscarriages and pregnancies. It seemed every woman coming in between the ages of 16 and 45 were either miscarrying their babies or finding out they were pregnant. Every time I saw a miscarriage pass through my hands I got really sad. It pains me to think that another mommy was losing her baby. Every time a pregnancy chart passed through my hands I smiled and hoped that these women realized what an amazing gift they had, and hoped they would appreciate the life growing inside of them. Unfortunately, not all of them feel this way. Actually, a large majority of the women we see are not happy when they find out they are pregnant. I specifically remember a woman coming in right before I lost Rosie. I was a little over seven months pregnant. I went to tell her that she was pregnant and started to congratulate her when she replied, "Oh crap! Well, just as I thought, I guess I am going to the clinic this week. I made an appointment just in case the test came back positive." She was going to have an abortion. This instance I apologized to the woman and told her I wish she would think twice, but it was ultimately her decision, I obviously chose life. If I witnessed this same scene now I would probably burst out in tears in front of this woman. I would asked her to reconsider, and probably offer to adopt her child. I guess one of the girls last night was relieved that she miscarried, because she didn't want the baby to begin with. It is so sad. People take that tiny little life inside of them for granted until they have wanted it so bad and then lost it.

Then we had our psych patients, the patients who come to us because they either have attempted to commit suicide, or are threatening to commit suicide. Before I used to talk to them and listen to them and try to understand their reasoning. Now, if I had to take care of one, unless they have gone through the amount of grief that me and my family has over the past 9 weeks, I would tell them to suck it up and stop whining.
"My boyfriend left me."
"There are more fish in the see."
"My husband hit me."
"Leave his sorry butt."
"I am homeless."
"There are groups to help you."
"I lost my job."
"Get another one...I am POSITIVE McDonald's by me is hiring."

If there is anyone who should be a cracked out, chain smoking, alcoholic ready to commit suicide, it should be me! This one glass of wine before bed does NOT constitute an alcoholic, so don't send the men with straight jackets after me. I feel these people are just weak minded, and I know that is an awful thing to say, but if you read what my mom has been going through over the past year, NO ONE has room to complain!

Now, we did have three patients that came through our doors in the past twenty four hours that broke my heart. Our three rape victims. Yes, not one, not two, but three rapes in the past 24 hours. Luckily, the cops caught one of the rapists, he was the local serial rapist who had raped at least 7 women that we are aware of. They all had the crap beaten out of them in the process, and were all pretty bad off. No woman should EVER have to experience that. Any man who would be as low as to rape a woman should have his penis chopped off and nailed on a post in the middle of town square. These are instances when I wish the old forms of punishment were still allowed, hang the man from the gallows not by his neck, but by his penis. Then let all of the women he has hurt rape him how they want with whatever object they want! Sorry, I went on a tangent.

The twelve hours is kicking my butt also. It is one thing to remain happy go lucky for 8 hours, answering every "How are you?" with "I'm fine." and a smile on my face. By the end of twelve hours it becomes exhausting. I am not saying all of it is an act, but every once in a while I really just want to vent and say how I truly feel, "Every minute that I have been here I think about my daughter and miss her. I am not okay and don't feel like I will ever be okay again." However, tonight when I started to reach my breaking point, I accompanied a friend of mine outside for a breather. We talked for a good 40 minutes. She let me vent, talk about Rosie, talked about my blogging, and talked about God. It meant so much to me, and I was able to go back in refreshed and finish out the shift with a true smile on my face. I think some people think it hurts me to talk about Rosie, but actually it makes me feel good and makes me realize that they have not forgotten about her either. It is not a conversation people need to avoid for fear of "hurting", I already hurt no matter what the topic is. Ask me anything I will be happy to talk about her. So I really appreciated the wonderful talk I had with my friend tonight.

I know helping people is one of my callings, I just pray everyday that this experience has not made me hard to the struggles and problems of strangers. As time passes, I am sure these little things that get to me now will ease. Grieving is a process and I am along for the ride now.

His Mysterious Ways

I walked into work yesterday and took my seat at the ER desk. I was put on light duty when the bleeding started in the second trimester, and remain on the desk until I feel I am strong enough physically and emotionally to go back on the ER floor. Honestly, I think the physical part of me will be ready before the emotional. You never know what you will run into on the floor, babies, abused women, pregnant women, etc., and it can get VERY stressful. Although I seem to be pretty emotionally stable to most, the truth is I get emotional very easily, just ask Foster. At this point, I am not sure how I would handle an immense amount of stress, so I am happy to keep my butt at the desk for as long as my boss allows me. Also, I like the fact that I can kind of "escape" and not talk to anyone if I don't want to while I am working as the Unit Clerk and can escape into my thoughts.

Well, I was sitting there when a familiar face walked up in scrubs. I had to do a double take because I am used to seeing this same face in Army combat uniform (ACUs). "Ray" is a fellow soldier who happens to be in my National Guard Unit. He and I have hit it off as friends because not only are we in the same unit, but we also endured the torture of ROTC at Ohio State together. For those of you who are not familiar with the military jargon, ROTC is Officer training that you participate in while you are in college.

When I realized who I was looking at I was surprised and happy to see him. "Where did you come from?" Ray asked.

"I have been working here for almost 3 years, where did YOU come from?" I responded. Apparently he was recently hired while I was gone for my 6 week leave.

All of the sudden his smile dropped, and he started apologizing, "I am so sorry, I am so sorry."
To most, this would appear to be his way of showing his condolences, but what my other coworkers did not realize, is that Ray and I had had a really serious conversation the day before Rosie passed.

Sunday of my drill weekend, I was as big as a house and sitting on one of the chairs in the common room with my swollen feet elevated as high as I could get them. Ray sat down beside me, "Hey Finny," he greeted using my nickname amongst my fellow soldiers, "how are you feeling lately?"

"Pretty good," I replied, "Obviously a lot of swelling, but the baby and I are doing well, thanks."

"Will you do me a favor?" He asked, "Keep close track of your kicks and the baby's movement."

"Sure," I said, "But why the concern?"

"I just witnessed a 36 week baby pass in its mother's womb. She had noticed a decrease in movement, and when she came in they could not find the baby's heartbeat. It was heartbreaking, and it made me realize that even this far the baby is still not 'in the clear'," he explained.

"That is awful! I cannot even imagine," I exclaimed. "I don't know what I would do," I said as I rubbed my hand protectively over my belly.

Now he was apologizing for this conversation, as if he had jinxed me, "Oh hun! Don't be sorry. After our conversation, I was so attentive to all of Rosie's movements. If it had not been for your advice, I may not have realized as quickly as I did that something was wrong. Thank you." I tried to put him at ease.

"Thank you? Are you serious? Ever since I heard the news all I kept thinking about is that conversation, and have felt so bad," he said.

"Please don't. It is not your fault."

"I am so sorry for your loss," Ray said as he gave me a quick hug.

It is funny, because just like Ray, I have thought back to the talk we had many times, and kept thinking about how I never imagined that I would be going through the same pain that the mother he had mentioned is. I also wondered what I would do if I was that mother. Well, I now am that mother, and I am dealing. It is amazing how much strength God gives us, and it is true, he does not ever give us more than we can handel. This story is just another example of the ways I believe God was preparing me and warning me that something was going to happen. God sure does work in mysterious ways!

High Risk!

Yesterday was full of excitement. I had my 6 week postpartum check up, and also finally started back to work. It was a day filled with anxiety, and the unknown. I have not published anything about the reason behind Rosie's death because we have had no real answers. They had a million and one tests to conduct on her, me and the placenta. As of yesterday, we still have no reason why such a perfect little girl went up to heaven so soon. Dr. P sent out the placenta for a pathology evaluation, Rosie's blood for chromosomal evaluation, and of course my blood, urine and amniotic fluid for testing. the pathology report came back with an "interesting" discovery. There was an placental infarct. Basically, for those of you who don't understand medical jargon, it means blood flow was cut off from the placenta, causing death to one third of the tissue, kind of like a heart attack.

We had had some issues through the pregnancy. Around week eleven I started to have some significant bleeding. I thought I might be miscarrying, but the absence of clots and cramping said otherwise. Upon further examination, I had a blood pocket between my placenta and uterus. Dr. P sent me to the high risk doctor in order to monitor the bleed, and make sure it did not get bigger and cause the placenta to completely detach, resulting in the loss of my baby. By week 22, the bleeding had completely stopped, and the pocket had resolved itself. I was relieved. I finally started to feel like I could breath easier, and started enjoying the pregnancy. Foster and I ordered baby furniture, my mother and I hung a unique wall mural, and I ordered linens and horse lamps. I was bound and determined to make the nicest horse-themed nursery ever. Rosie's room was inspired by the passing of our beloved pony Sunny. I had waited so long to buy a single baby item because although the doctor said the baby was healthy despite the bleeding, I wanted to make sure I was safely past the danger.

Dr. P is referring me to the high risk specialist, and we will get a little more information to what caused the infarct. They ruled out Pre-eclampsia at the hospital. Many people were worried that I had Pre-e because of the SEVERE swelling in my legs and feet, 3+ pitting edema in medical terms. However, with all the labs they drew on me, they ruled out any possibility that pre-e was the problem. All of the chromosomal tests came back fine, our baby Rosie was perfect. Dr. P says because of the lack of answers, she highly recommends that I be monitored by a high risk specialist through the next pregnancy. She explained that what would probably happen next time is that they would do and amnio (they put a big needle in the amniotic fluid and take a sample) around 34 weeks gestation. If the test results show the lungs are developed, they will take the baby by c-section. If the lungs are not developed enough, they would monitor me in the hospital, administer steroids, and take the baby at 35 weeks gestation. It scares me a little, but I would rather have a live baby in the NICU, where my sister can take care of it for a little bit, than have to bury another child.

We did get some good news, however. Foster and I can officially start trying again in July, and we have been given the thumbs up to start practicing again now(sorry mom and dad for too much info). Most women who just had their baby love the rule of no sex for 6 weeks. It gives them a time to sleep, and not worry about their husband's needs for a while. In my situation, however, you realize very quickly how love making is a form of comfort. When grieving, there is no better feeling than the closeness that is obtained by making love to the one person who means the world to you. (I am sorry if this is too much information for some of you, but this is my blog and I use it as an outlet, so at times it will get a little personal.)

I also got the thumbs up to go back to work, slowly. I worked my first eight hour shift last night. I look back and read my last blog and wonder what I was so anxious about. I know I work with great people, and I should not have expected anything less than sympathy, support, and smiles when I walked through the door. Some came up with tears in their eyes as they hugged me. Others voiced their condolences while explaining how much Rosie and I have inspired them. I found out there are a lot more people following this blog than I thought. This has been beneficial because it means I don't have to explain the situation to many people because they have been following along as I have taken everyone through my journey.
The pregnant coworkers are not an issue. I am actually happy for all of them. The doctor I was referring to in the last blog has popped out and is noticeably pregnant now. She is expecting a boy, and I could not be happier.

I am currently working on the desk, and have been reminded numerous times why I am not ready to go back on the floor. I have watched numerous charts come across the desk that relate to pregnancy. I get really choked up when I see women coming in with bleeding or cramping who has a positive pregnancy test. I can't help it, all I can remember is the pain and knot in my stomach that appeared when I found out I had lost my daughter, and I realize at that moment, someone is feeling the same sense of loss and pain.

Pray that my appointment with the high risk doctor goes well this Friday, and I will make sure to update you as we find out more information.

Back to Work

Today marks the day I return to work. For those of you who do not already know, I work as an Emergency Room Tech. This sounds like, and is, a very exciting job. I love the people I work with, and love the job I do. So why am I so nervous about returning?

Lets just say that the last seven weeks of my life have drastically changed me. Some friends and family would say that I am strong, that I seem like I am coping well. This is semi-true. I am doing everything I know to cope with the multiple losses I have endured in the past 7 weeks. I have joined support groups, set up a scholarship in Rosie's name, and am getting involved with a group dedicated to helping women going through the loss of their child. I have written blogs to express my emotions, and when I have needed to, I have cried in private. Foster expressed it this way, "Today marks the day that our lives officially start to go back to normal." I don't know if this is entirely true. I don't think my life will ever go back to "normal". My world was rocked on April 20th 2010, and highly doubt it will ever be the same again. There was my life before that date, and my life after, and that will always be the pivotal moment.

I remember one particular moment while working I will never forget. I was working on the desk, and a woman was wheeled in seven and a half months pregnant. She was having major pains and the baby seemed to be in distress. The staff was working to get her transferred to the main branch of our hospital that is more capable of dealing with OB medicine. I was so nervous for her. I found out her due date was only a week before mine. I thought and prayed for her the rest of the night. I prayed that she and her baby would be healthy and safe. This nameless patient jerked me back into reality, that that could be me. Little did I know that it WOULD be me, only when they checked my baby, she would not be in distress, she had already gone up to heaven.

Going back to work scares me for a number of reasons. When I step onto that floor, it is eight to twelve hours surrounded by people the entire time. Eight to twelve hours of not being able to nap when I want to, get away and cry if I want to, and eight to twelve hours away from my husband and the comfort of my own home. For those of you who have known me at all prior to April 20th may be confused, because this does not sound like the old Erin. The new Erin likes the comfort of her home, the feeling of safety I get from being around Foster. I feel that if anything happens, as long as he is there, I will be okay. Obviously he can't go to work with me, so I will have to go it alone. The privacy at work is non existent. Unlike my home, I can't hide away and cry when I want to. I will have to keep my emotions in check for eight to twelve hours.

I may be completely overreacting. I could just be working myself up, and I will be just fine at work tonight. Maybe it will be a great distraction, and allow me to focus on something else. However, a small part of me feels like this is abandoning my child. I feel like if I am moving on, that I will be moving away from her. Once again, I know this is ridiculous, but these are the thoughts that go through my head. There is nothing that can happen, short of a total brain injury, that will cause me to forget Rosie. Life has to move on. Life has been moving on without me for the last seven weeks, and now is the time for me to jump back in and join the world again.

I am nervous about are all the questions. Working in the medical world, everyone wants to know the how's and why's of the situation. Prior to this weekend, I think I was emotionally stable enough to deal with all of the questions. However, with the passing of Mama JJ, more wounds are wide open and my emotions are on edge once again. I also know there will be numerous questions about Mama JJ, because so many of the nurses and staff were praying for her and her family. I just pray that I can be strong and explain what happened without breaking out into tears.


The last thing I am afraid of is all the babies. We have a pregnant Doctor, two nurses who gave birth to their daughters shortly before I lost Rosie, and one woman in x-ray that not only had her baby right before mine, but was a patient with my doctor and I saw her in the office numerous times. I am not looking forward to the pregnant women that come in to be checked. A lot of them do not take care of themselves. They drink, are on drugs, and have no prenatal care. It angers me to see women put their children at risk. Some of them come in and admit they do not want their children. I am afraid I may have problems keeping my mouth shut. those of you who know me in real life, know I can have a mouth on me, and I don't always think before I speak.


I have one consolation, my coworkers. They are a diverse assortment of personalities. There are ones who make me laugh and the ones who inspire me. We all care about each other, and are like one dysfunctional family. I have grown so much over the past few years with this amazing group of people. They helped keep me positive while Foster was deployed, they prayed for my family while we have gone through numerous tragedies this year, and I am sure they will help me ease back into the world that seems so overwhelming to me right now. I am sure there will be hugs, and tears, but I am sure, there will be smiles and laughter too. Look out ER, here I come!