Is Winter Over Yet?

Blah. Blah blah blah.

Yippee.

Ok, here's a dilemma for you. What would you do if, say, you found out that your 8-year-old daughter, who is strong-willed, stubborn, and difficult - you'll be the first to admit it - has this friend, who is a bit older, in a different grade. But your daughter Capital-A Adores her. And you've just found out that this friend has said, not within your child's hearing, that your daughter is "fat" and "annoying." After spending hours at your house, sleeping over, being fed, coming to birthday parties, etc. And now your child knows it too.

I don't know what to do. I don't know if I should do anything. But this bugs me. And I also realize it says more about me and my insecurities than perhaps my daughter. I don't have many friends here, even after living here for 11 years, and I lack even one person I feel I can consistently turn to as a confidant. Except my husband, but, we all need a girlfriend to talk to sometimes, yes? I never had many friends growing up; I was very shy, which others translated as stuck up. I have a hard time making friends and I know I'm not easy to get to know. And yes, my daughter is a little chubby, but so was I when I was her age; she's also very tall, as was I. And yes, I'm lonely here. I'm afraid that my daughter will feel the same way I did growing, the same way I feel sometimes now - like she doesn't fit in, that she's different somehow.

And it makes me want to cry.

What would you do?

What, Posting Again So Soon?

Hmm. I just posted yesterday, whatever am I doing posting again today? Well, I have some unexpected free time, thanks to my 8-year-old dramatically lying on the sofa, clutching her stomach and moaning. Don't worry, she's fine, just feeling a bit off today. Heaven help us if she's ever really ill, with something serious; she's such a (lovely) drama queen that the slightest poke can have her howling.

So, I keep thinking about this story. Thoughts anyone? Or are you sick of it? Because, honestly, I'm both sick of it and morbidly fascinated. Who allowed this to happen? Did anyone ever suggest mental health help? What about all of those babies - who will take care of them? Will they feel like freaks growing up, everyone pointing and whispering on their first day of school, or as they walk down the street?

And I'm angry with their mother for allowing this to happen: while she has the right to have children, 8 at once? Did she think about the health risks to those babies, far more likely when born so soon, with eight little beings fighting inside her womb for what they need to grow strong and healthy. What problems will they face? I'm not saying she should have done a selective reduction, which apparently some of her doctors recommended; I don't think I could have either. But she didn't need to have all those embryos transfered.

And infertility treatments for an unemployed woman with 6 kids already? Oh boy.

I can't say I've added anything new to this debate, I'm just having a little vent, really. It just boggles my mind.

First Candle's 2009 Research & Advocacy Symposium

First Candle is "a national nonprofit health organization uniting parents, caregivers and researchers nationwide with government, business and community service groups to advance infant health and survival. With help from a national network of member and partner organizations, we are working to increase public participation and support in the fight against infant mortality." (From their website.)

I expect many of you who read this blog already know about First Candle, and I know I've mentioned them here before. They are holding a symposium in Washington, DC on March 23, 24, and 25. They're planning some presentations on stillbirth and SIDS research, a networking session, and, most importantly (at least to me) a "Day on the Hill" of grassroots advocacy to members in the House and Senate, providing anyone interested with transportation and information on how to talk to your Congresspeople. There are bills, like this one, we've been advocating for, and the Missing Angels Bill, which is all about getting birth certificates, not just death certificates, for our babies.

I hope to be there, and if you're in the area, please consider attending too. I should know in the next few days if I can definitely go; I hope to meet some of you there.

Another One of Those Things

It's another one of those things they don't tell you when you lose a child: 80% of couples who lose a child will ultimately split.

Wow.

That number is huge.

I'm thinking about that today because a number of my blogger friends have been writing about their marital difficulties post deadbaby. And it rings true for me, those marital blues. And while I don't think I'm ready to get into my marital troubles in depth, let's just say I've had them, and am having them, and some days I think to myself, "If Ben hadn't died, we would be okay."

Which may or may not be true.

Grief has gotten in the way of my relationship over the last five years; we each grieve so differently, my husband and I. I grieve harder, while he doesn't know how to let it go. I wrap myself up in my own little world to get through the days (though this is not so much true anymore as it was) and ignore what my husband needs. I get it wrong, so many times.

And I'm tired.

Today is not a great day, despite the sun finally shining down on us, after 10 inches of snow dumped on us yesterday, on top of the 1.5 feet we already had. I don't like winter, I don't like feeling so ... down, inadequate, and ... well, useless, as I do right now. And part of that is my marriage.

I just want to feel okay.

Stillbirth Makes Headlines at Newsweek

Just a quick update before I get ready for my day: Jessica Clark-Roe, of the organization Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, which trains photographers to take portraits of stillborn babies--or babies who aren't expected to survive--and their families, has placed two articles about her organization and stillbirth in Newsweek magazine. The links are here and here.

More from me later....

Another Poem

Hosted my daughter's 8th birthday party this morning, and it was fun until she melted down completely at the end and turned into a spoiled brat. I'm feeling really down now, upset with her, sad, disappointed, feeling like I've raised a brat. Ok, so I'm feeling sorry for myself, I know, but, to change the subject entirely: A friend of mine on Facebook put up this poem by Langston Hughes the other day, post-inauguration, and it is too wonderful not to share. Hope you enjoy it.

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll sit at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

-- Langston Hughes

Today's the Day the World Changes

All right, so my title for today's post may be a bit of a stretch, but can I tell you, I am proud today. Whether you are Republican or Democrat, black, white, tan, or whatever color you identify yourself with, whether you loved Bush or hated him, think Obama is a leftie socialist or the savior of the world: you know, today is a day over 200 years in the making.

I've never been one to go around gloating about how America is the greatest nation on the earth (too much arrogance in that statement for my taste, and as the wife of a man who is not from this country, and the mother of two children who can claim citizenship in that country, I'd rather see the world through a bigger lens). I've never really understood patriotism and love of country; perhaps that is my own personal failing, I don't know. I understand loving people, but the concept of loving my country is nebulous for me, at best. Maybe it's the Democrat in me (despite the very Republican upbringing) that sees the flaws as well as the good, the part of me that knows nothing is perfect and there is always more to strive for.

Today, for the first time in my life, I can say with all honesty, I am proud to be an American. Obama has a tough road ahead of him, a country full of potholes and craters created by others. Change takes time, and it is not Obama's road alone - we must all participate in filling in the cracks, listening to each other, working together, finding common ground.

But today, I am going to revel in this moment, in the pride and hope I feel. Change has come, and may America be better for it.