A woman at church interviewed me about 3 months ago and wanted to consider me as her doula. (training of course…I still have my two studies to write up) I followed up with her many times to see if she had made a decision. She told me that her boyfriend (they have been together for 7 years but are currently broken up) was not comfortable with a doula. Ok…no problem. Some people are not comfortable with another person in the room.
On Friday she went into labor. From what I understand it was a difficult time. After all was said and done she nearly died and….her baby…her son died in childbirth.
I really don’t know where to go from here with this post. I cannot imagine the pain she must feel. I went to go see her today (because she was not accepting visitors Friday or Saturday) and my heart just went out to her.
Her boyfriend met me in the hall. When he saw me he sought out my arms to comfort him. He was so opposed to me being there yet he knew that my heart went out to him and E. He sobbed like he was a child. I could tell his heart was just broken into pieces. He was relieved when he saw mewhich was strange. It was like he knew he had to be strong for her yet he knew he could let his guard down with me.
When I walked into her room she was hysterically crying because they were trying to get her to make a decision on the remains. I could tell that she herself was drugged and not in the reality of the moment. When she saw me she tried to “suck it up” but ended up just melting down. I wound up sitting next to her in her bed and she laid her head in my arms. All she could manage to say was, “If you would have been here I know this would not have happened. ” and “My arms are empty. How can anything mean anything if my arms are empty?” Honestly, I did not know what to say.
Because I am not related obviously they won’t tell me what happened. I cannot bring myself to ask her how this could have happened.
Life is so so fragile. Being here in the states the mortality rate is so different in comparison too some parts of the world. With all of the equipment and technology they still could not save this little baby boy’s life. Most of the time there is a happy ending. The line between life and death is so fragile when a woman gives birth. The miracle is so wonderful yet it is a major event to the body of a woman. We never think that it can happen to us or near us. Reality is…there is not always a happy ending.

My condolences to E and her family. Your loss is so great and felt by all of us. Please know that our prayers are with you at this time.

I was talking with a prospective doula client the other day. I need to do a “clinical” and attend two births and write about them. We have been talking since about week one of them finding out they were pregnant. She is super organized and wants her ducks in a row.
We were discussing about her plan for the home birth she wants to do. Her husband is really wanting her to do a hospital birth. To me it does not matter where she wants to do it. If she’s comfortable at home then that would be fine. He has been very strong about it.
Yesterday she called me in tears. I honestly did not know what to say. She is now 7 months along and he has not changed his idea of a hospital birth. She feels railroaded into using the hospital.
Honestly, I have no idea how to approach this situation. Obviously it is not my place to interfere. His concern is that the insurance won’t pay for a home birth. She did her homework to find that in fact they would be very happy that she do a home birth. (hospital stay…zip…kkkaaaccchhhinnng) Personally, I think his hang up is that he wants her to be safe and in a “controlled” environment.
I’m stumped. I listened…I spoke words of encouragement. Obviously, he has not learned the rules of engagement when it comes to a pregnant woman. I can see both of their points. I’m stumped.

How many of us remember the teachers that made a difference in our lives? I can count the number of teachers that had that special gift to make a student feel intelligent, wonderful and like a million bucks. I had a few and loved them dearly. Their mark on my life was not just a feather like print but a solid, positive amazing mark.
Miss Richardson was my kindergarten teacher. I personally think she started my experience with school out to be a very positive one. She was no bigger than 4′11″ but she was a gentle fireball. We were her first class after graduating from College. She had the patience of Job with all of us. We drove her nutty. Regarless, she was firm creative, but strict.
I would have to say that after that I had a few that put the fear of God in me, but not ones that really left an impressionable memory. I went to a small private Christian school at that time.
In high school I would have to say that I had two that I remember with strong respect, Mr. Swisher and Mr. Rosenburg.
Mr. Rosenburg was my drama teacher. He let us be as creative as we wanted to be. He threw open the doors of our imaginations and let us run amuck. Even though most took his class to make an easy A, they soon learned that they were in fact mistaken.
He told me from day one that he thought I should write children’s stories or go into Children’s Theater. When I wrote for him I was more maticulous and let my inner perfectionist go to the creative side. I could do nothing wrong in his eyes. Even though I was never chosen to be the lead in the school plays, if it was a children’s play he chose me to lead.
My first children’s book that I wrote (even though it has not been published) I gave to him. Even if he published it and took the credit I would not care. It was written for him. He would deserve the credit and the money. (not saying it was that great but he loved it)
Mr. Swisher was another influence. He was my Spanish teacher. Interesting little tid bit…he was also HH’s teacher at the same time. He spoke of other counties as if America was only a tiny element that ade the world go round. I would sit and dream of places I could go. I never imagined that boy that forgot his book every day would eventually be my husband. Mr. Swisher allowed us to share books. We invited him to our wedding. Just weeks before our wedding I read that he had passed away and that to me was a sad passing. He never knew how much his passion for the world set me in the mode to see the world one day. Also, that his compassion on HH and myself set the wheels in motion that had us look at each other in a different light. We simply fell in love…..later…not in school.
These are only a few of the teachers that made a difference. Honeslty, each and every one of my teachers growing up had a special place for different reasons. These are a few that demanded respect in their classrooms yet had the gift not to inhibit the creative part of us.
Thank you Miss Richardson, Mr. Rosenburg and Mr. Swisher. You made a difference in my life. Your teaching may have felt in vain at points, but in my life you left a positive fingerprint that helped mold me into the person I am today.

Did you have a teacher that made a difference? Feel free to blog about in the comments.

I met CC Jelly Bean through blogging. She is a gifted writer. She writes her own blog but also contribues to DotMoms. I always enjoy hearing about her daughter Lillianna because she is the same age as HG. I like the no nonsense way she tells things. She’s very straight and to the point.
Some of my favorite posts are HERE and HERE. The joys of raising a girl is always fun to read about. We said the children would be pen pals, but life tends to get in the way. The nice thing is is that I think she truly understands that.
Her life, her struggles with her health, her viewpoint is always refreshing to read. I don’t feel alone in this mama game because we seem to have our daughters that keep things in common.
Thank you CC for taking the time to blog by. It has indeed been my pleasure getting to know you.
Blog on by and tell her hello and that Hula sent you if you have a chance.

I figure starting tomorrow I would take each person from my blogroll and write a blip about them. I don’t know if I’ll do one a day or just one a week. I’ll tell the deep dark stories of how I stubbled across each and every one. Tomorrow I’ll start with it alphabetically and see where it takes me.

My grandparents owned a large farm when they were living. In this farm house it had 4 main bedrooms upstairs, on the main level it had a parlor that had been converted into a bedroom and then downstairs it had enough room to house a small army of farm hands. There was never a lack of kitties to cuddle, dogs to ride and bulls to tick off.
They owned this dog named Tyke. Tyke was a HUGE dog to me. He was fluffy, fuzzy and had feet that were the size of my mother’s feet I was convinced. Tyke use to let us ride him when we were little and get up on his back. He normally took us and dropped us off. (literally) He would sit his bottom down generally where the newest batch of baby kittens had been added. He was no dummy. Show a little girl a kitten and the attention gets diverted to the babies.
As we got older the farm seemed to get a bit boring, but….. (more…)

Dear Daddy,
Happy 76th birthday. I know this is a bit early. I also know that you are getting ready to leave so I wanted you to see this before you go. I also know I saw you yesterday but I really wanted to write you a quick note and let you know a few things.
The last few weeks for me have been reflective. After M (my dear friend for 21 years) lost her dad last week that prompted this thought. I did not want to wait until you are dead to tell you over your coffin how important you were and still are in my life.
One of the things that I admire the most about you is your humaness. What I mean by that is that
Daddy, you’re a simple man with a simple life. You told me from experience what life was like and the struggles you had. You explained the hardship of a few of the wrong choices you made. You were real with faults. You did not have an easy life. You were filled with insecurities and doubt. Your family life growing up was not what you wanted for us. You knew that you could do something about it. You made the choice to break the chain. In return you gave me a full life, a happy childhood, a security within myself, and a feeling that my little querks were what made me special.
You are not a man of many physical or verbal affirmations of love, but your actions speak volumes. You have rescued me at 2 in the morning when my car would not start. There was never the question of why I had not phoned home in 5 months….nothing. You knew I needed my space and my wings. You let me have that breathing room. You let me live my life and experience my pains. You were always there when I needed you.
Today I wish you many healthy happy years Poppies. I adore you and love you

Your T Baby

“What part of blessing do you not understand?” Sometimes I feel that way when I look at my children after a hard day. I try to convince and remind myself that they are a blessing when in fact HB pulled the dogs tail which made the dog nip at HG or when HG nags endlessly at HB about how she is the older child and what she says goes! Sometimes I feel that way when I look at my health related issues and I want to scream out in anger and frustration.
HB reminded me again today of the little “isms” that bring me to my knees. I have been a little upset may be even a little depressed over the outcome of last week. I have been encouraged that I do in fact feel better but I am still in the healing process. HB said to me this morning, “Mommy, I know lots of things, but I don’t really understand everything I know.” That boy has insight beyond his years I tell you. He is humble enough to know that he has head knowledge but not the understanding of that knowledge.
My hope for this week is to find the understanding and have the strength to take the truth no matter what it may be. I have those days though where I do not have the foresight to understand the blessings that come out of a hard situation. Though my tears, in humility I admit I do not understand, but my hope is that I am not blinded by frustration and I can see the little shards of blessings that make the trip worthwhile.

9/11, yes I do remember that day. I remember that HB was not born yet. HG was just going to Preschool. On our way to preschool I was shocked and saddened to hear the reports. We were on our way to school to have a popcorn party because all of the children had been good all month. They were thrilled that they would be able to have popcorn and watch a 20 minute movie. As I was listening I remember the horror when I heard the 1st tower fall. The thought that small children can not comprehend adult talk is for the birds. HG piped up and asked if the plane had hit the building. I responded that indeed it had done so. I then gave myself a mental kick for not thinking that her little ears were listening to the radio along with me.
In the back seat I heard a small voice say, ” Mommy, I bet Jesus is having a big popcorn party in heaven for everyone that is coming home.” Amidst my tears I responded feeling a bit comforted by her words.
Funny how through the mouths of babes we see truth and comfort. The original post in down below.

My heart goes out to all of the families that suffered loss. We remember you. We will not forget.
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In the past weeks I have been contemplative about who I am and what my purpose is since the children have started back to school. Being that being a mommy is the only thing I have known now for 10 years it was difficult to let my children start school. All that “free time” was not really my time, it was just time to keep our business going and keep the house in order.
In the past few days I have come to ponder these things at a higher level. I was sent my favorite song from a friend as encouragement and it brought me to my knees. The chorus ALWAYS brings a tear to my eye and reminds me of my place in this world. I do not talk much of my beliefs on my blog due to the fact that I do respect others who do not believe the way that I do and care about them despite the difference. I just need to share a bit of my spiritual self.
Casting Crowns - Who am I
(if you want to hear the song I have included the utube below)
“Who am I?
That the Lord of all the earth,
Would care to know my name,
Would care to feel my hurt.
Who am I?
That the bright and morning star,
Would choose to light the way,
For my ever wandering heart.
Not because of who I am,
But because of what You’ve done.
Not because of what I’ve done,
But because of who You are.
Chorus:
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still You hear me when I’m calling,
Lord, You catch me when I’m falling,
And You’ve told me who I am.
I am Yours.
I am Yours.
Who am I?
That the eyes that see my sin
Would look on me with love
And watch me rise again.
Who am I?
That the voice that calmed the sea,
Would call out through the rain,
And calm the storm in me.
Not because of who I am,
But because of what You’ve done.
Not because of what I’ve done,
But because of who You are.
Chorus:
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still You hear me when I’m calling,
Lord, You catch me when I’m falling,
And You’ve told me who I am.
I am Yours.
I am Yours.”

I am Yours”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CT7×3VnrqbA
The fact is that now I need to draw on my Peace. This is just a temporary hiccup. It can only last this lifetime. This is the first night that I have had inner peace because I do know who I am…..I know I am His.