**Disclaimer: I am not a psychologist nor did I study psychology, these are simple observations from my own experiences.
Our first Christmas in Virginia
Marriage or any long term relationship is not the “happily ever after” we assume once the vows are said. They’re often not a fairy tale even getting to that point. I’ve often day dreamed about different fairy tale scenarios where you phase in on a scene 1-2 years after the magical wedding when The Beast has really not changed (cause they never really do) and is losing his temper, but by now, Belle has had enough of his crap and has locked herself in the library looking up a way to turn him into a much smaller beast.
My first time skiing
So, what are some obstacles Tony and I have come across during our 19-year relationship and 13 years of marriage? Let’s start with our two break-ups before the wedding. The first one was when I was 18 and thought God was telling me to break up with him – lasted 3 hours, then we got back together. The second was when I was in my first year of vet school and was super stressed with exams and other issues. We were engaged and I got cold feet – I was worried that I would get bored of Tony or that he would eventually resent me since I was his first ever girl friend and that maybe we should date around. He gave me his engagement ring (yes, I gave him one too – if I have to be marked, so does he) and went off to work in the vet school hospital. An hour later, after one class of bacteriology, I ran down three floors to the hospital and gave him his ring back and it was okay again.
City Museum – St. Louis, MO – get knee pads!!
Those are such frivolous problems, though, in the scheme of relationships and trust. One if the challenges we’ve face, especially since having regular jobs and raising children is our lack of alone time together. We have a hard time getting babysitters and keeping them around (they tend to grow up – or move away and steal your horse trailer – I digress). If Tony and I do not get a date night every now and then, or at least make it a point to pay attention to each other and not just stare at the TV or our phones after the kids are in bed, we tend to gravitate toward roommate mode. In this mode, we work well together, we always have, but it’s business only. We discuss the dishes, laundry, kids’ homework, kids’ behavioral problems at school, common issues at work, but nothing about these things separates us from a casual relationship.
Mount Shasta, CA
I can see this happening and worry as I DO NOT want to end up like some couples I see that do nothing but complain about being married and how big of a mistake it was. I will try to pay a little more attention to him, try to be flirtatious, try to plan things for us to do that is different from the norm. He is not as good at this and often does not even recognize when I am trying. I don’t want to ask him to be flirtatious or complimentary of me, but I figure if I pour it on him, he will return. Not so much. Men are a little dense when it comes to that kind of stuff.
Roller blading – rail trail Clare, MI
The biggest challenge to a relationship, though is the potential loss of trust. And the biggest obstacle to that precious, extremely fragile jewel that is trust is the f#&($ng crush! (pardon my language – but it deserves it) Crushes are like little demons that infiltrate your stupid brain and completely blind you to the truth and only let you see what tiny little things they want you to see. Tony may not be the most romantic man in the world, but I think we all need to give him a huge hand for dealing with my crushes over the years like a champ. I’m so afraid of hurting our relationship (as well as a general fear of getting into trouble) that I’ve always told Tony about my crushes, usually after I’ve fought them (the idea, not the people) but after they’ve already taken over my brain. He claims to not get mad or jealous, sometimes he just laughs at me because my brain’s choices are atrocious, but really, it isn’t fair to him. I unload my guilt by telling him what’s going on in my head and he just has to deal with it gracefully (which he totally does). He also claims to have never had a crush other than me. He could be telling the truth, but I mostly just accept it, because unlike him, I would NOT take it gracefully and it would be ugly.
Jealous India
So, what makes a crush so much like a dirty little demon? It makes you think that you may be in love with that person that you barely even know. It makes you focus on only the positives of that person and not see the million other things that make that person a terrible match for you. As my brother told me once when we were discussing this topic when I asked why I get crushes, he said “because that person somehow validates you, makes you feel good about yourself”. It’s like that one movie I saw with Janet Jackson (I think) where they talk about the 80/20 rule. When I’m mad or bored or depressed, I may only see the 20% Tony is lacking and wish for just that, then when another person comes along and provides that 20%, they seem perfect, but I’m not seeing the 80% of them that just doesn’t fit with me.
Flying somewhere, I’m sure
I’m happy to report that I have never acted on any of my crushes. The closest I got was to tell the person I had a crush on him, knowing that I would be overcome with embarrassment when we were together in public and it totally worked. I have told Tony everything I’ve ever done or thought and have even showed him all the texts I send or get if I feel that he may find them by accident and question me. I have now been crush free for 4 years! I continue to keep my eyes out though and if I even start to have those stupid, ridiculous feelings about anyone, I cut it down. Tony is the best person for me, he puts up with a lot and I never want him to hurt because of a stupid decision I make and lose that precious jewel of trust we have kept intact.
Sorry for how long it’s been since my last post. First we had a rough bout of flu sweep through the house, then we had some technical difficulties with our computer. But finally everything seems to be up and running again. We are all health and happy, and we bought a new computer to replace the one that was broken. Now we are in the grip of COVID-19. The kids’ schools are closed for at least two weeks, and I’m sure daycare will close soon. Once daycare closes, I will have to stay home from work. I can’t imagine I will have enough sick leave to get paid through the two weeks. Emily (being a doctor and all) will still have to go in to work. Pets still get sick and injured after all. On the plus side (if daycare closes and I become a temporary stay at home dad) I will have more time with the kids, and frankly more time to post on this blog as an outlet for being a stay at home dad. Good conversation is hard to come by when you’re home with the kids all day.
We went to Target today to do a little supply stocking. While there I saw a person wipe down a shopping cart with Lysol wipes. My first reaction was to think that wiping down a cart was over kill, but I quickly changed my mind. I have no idea what “overkill” is these days. We didn’t go crazy and buy 144 rolls of toilet paper, but we did by some frozen foods that will keep for a while, some extra cereal for the kids, and (of course) ice cream. We’ve got a couple of loaves of bread in the freezer, a good amount of canned foods, and plenty of rice. I think we’ll be fine. But that is the real problem with COVID-19 in my opinion. I really have no idea if we are over prepared or grossly under prepared. There is so much information out there and half of it contradicts the other half. Some things you see on the news talks about this as a global crisis that could be devastating, while others refer to COVID-19 as little more than a joke. The idea of “Just wash your hands” doesn’t jive with people fighting in stores over the last roll of toilet paper.
India has made herself a little pocket with a fitted sheet on the couch.
Social Media is no help at all. I know that Facebook should never be a trusted source of information, but most of us spend a significant amount of time on social media. We get bombarded with misinformation about this disease to the point of exhaustion. And, for me, exhaustion is the point where I stop caring so much. I truly don’t know if I should be terrified or if this whole thing is a big joke. I know places like China and Italy have been hit extremely hard, but is that going to happen here? I feel like there was a big push to make us not worry about COVID-19 for a long time, but now we’ve hit the panic button.
Our response as a nation has been confusing. We’ve closed the borders as far as international travel is concerned. India and Oscar’s school is closed for at least the next two weeks, but daycare is still open. Oscar has soccer practice on Tuesday that is still scheduled to happen. The government downplayed COVID-19 for all most a month, but now we are in a national state of emergency. Should I take the kids to daycare and go to work Monday? Emily’s and my line of work can’t stop. Animals will need help no matter what is going on in the world and where there are sick animals, there will be their potentially contagious owners. If an owner is sick and infects me, and I bring it home and infect my kids…I don’t know. It would be hard to deal with. On the other hand, spreading disease to my family through contact with others is something I’ve risked long before COVID-19 was a concern of mine.
Calvin found some vampire teeth from Halloween
So, yeah. I know this is a ranting rambling post, but it is an honest post. And, I bet a lot of people feel similarly to me. I don’t really know what to think of COVID-19. Is it similar to the flu (and thus not to be feared [I know the flu so I don’t fear the flu]) or is this a new much scarier upper airway disease. My true fear is for India. She has asthma and I am truly terrified she will get sick and end up in the hospital again where there could be a shortage of hospital beds. I don’t want her to know my fear and spread my fear to her. I want life to go on much as it always had, but I also don’t want to bury my head in the sand and pretend like COVID-19 doesn’t exist or pose a threat to my family.
Last but not least, Emily and I were recognized and thanked for our posts in Target. Shout out to the lady that saw us in Target, I wish I had asked your name, instead of just saying “thank you.” Tell us if you guys are afraid of what’s going on with COVID-19, or if the disease doesn’t scare you. And, as always, thanks for reading.
When we were considering places to go for our honeymoon in May of 2007, we considered our ancestors. My family comes from, mostly, the United Kingdom and Tony’s Great grandfather came to the US straight from Greece. As poor college students, financial concerns definitely played a role in the final decision, and we decided to go to Greece (half the price of Scotland). Being a very sensitive person, I decided I was going to learn the Greek language so that I didn’t have to be an annoying tourist. I bought a CD and popped it in my radio of my Toyota Echo and played that thing every – almost – every time I was in the car (it was boring) for over a year before the big trip. We researched and planned, we bought books, Tony made all the day to day plans and where we would visit and all the transportation and hotels. We were ready!
Athens, Greece and as close as we were going to get to the Parthenon
First thing that comes to mind about the trip was the plane ride. I was something like 15 hours on the plane where I could barely fit in the seats, not to mention Tony’s extra 4 inches of femur. That’s something that scarred us enough that even 13 years later, when people talk about far off fabulous trips, Tony and I still think “ugh!! the plane ride!” Then we made it to Athens, finally able to live out our wonderfully planned vacation as newlyweds. The first thing we found out once our plane landed was: The entire transit system – including ferries – was on strike. How were we going to get around to all of our reserved hotels and destinations without transportation? There were some taxis still working, but they were expensive and not in our budget for all the traveling we needed to do. We were not able to visit major sites like The Parthenon, but did wander around the city and explored the National Gardens. The next thing we quickly learned was that my Greek was worthless. I would go up to people and try to speak what I thought was the Greek language, only to have them find out I spoke English and say “oh, thank God.”
National Gardens, Athens, Greece
We quickly learned where NOT to get food on a budget. There was a guy who came up to us and told us that he worked for a travel agency and had a restaurant recommendation for us and led us a few blocks to this pretty outdoor patio area. The guy there said he could offer us a special of a sampler platter for 30euro which was way more than we wanted to spend at that time, but we were also wanting to be polite and accepted. He ended up charging us 45euro, the food was good, but we were ripped off first thing.
National Gardens
That night, about 1 am Greece time, I woke up and was starving. I went down 6 flights of stairs to get to the lobby (no elevator) and asked where I could find food at that hour. The front desk guy gave me directions so I went and got Tony and dragged him on the streets at 1 am to get some food. Now, THAT is where we found Greece’s best secret – street Gyros – AMAZING taste and only 1.5euros (and they stuff them with fries).
The next morning, we were scheduled to go all over Athens to see all the sites and then go to Pireaus to get on a ferry to Crete, but with all the transportation strike going on, our ferry got cancelled and the only way to get one now was to go and reserve one on a first come, first serve basis. So, we packed up, said goodbye to Athens, then went and tried to beg a taxi to take us to the port. The taxis were just doing circles, asking people where they wanted to go and would decided whether or not they wanted to drive that and tell you yes or no. Except their no sounds like “okay” with a head nod and their yes sounded like “nah” with a quick head shake. So, while we thought one guy agreed to take us and we’re grabbing our bags to put in the car, he’s driving away, and then when one finally agreed, we looked disappointed and started to walk away. Yes, I had studied Greek via the flawless method of in-car CD learning, but when you’re in the situation and everything is fast-paced, it’s hard to decipher when the mannerisms are so opposite of what you’re used to.
So, we hopped in a taxi, paid another whopping 45E and made to to Pireaus just after the crack of dawn, and once the travel agency opened, we were able to secure a spot on the next ferry – leaving at 8pm. 12 hours later. We didn’t want to spend another 45E on a taxi and not be guaranteed to get back in time for the ferry’s departure, so we decided to wander the bustling streets of Pireaus – they were not bustling – it was a tiny little port town (at the time). We did learn some valuable lessons while wandering the streets – after finding out that the archaeological museum we were planning to see was closed (after a 30 minute hike to find it) – we learned that towns that are more tourist-based are not as bad and we once thought. Public restrooms were not widely available or available at all, except in McDonald’s. Yes, we hated going to such a familiar place while in Greece, but we could buy a McFlurry (or a Heineken, oddly enough) and just sit and rest and use the bathrooms. We did find a fabulous bakery that, to this day, served the absolute best baklava I have EVER. HAD. Also, in this pre-cell phone era, churches were great for their clocks.
Pireaus, Greece – port city – best baklava ever
Eventually, after studying the in-depth idiosyncrasies of pigeon social hierarchy, the day passed and it was finally time to board our ferry to Crete. We had, in an effort to save money, purchased the least expensive tickets to get us over to the large island – deck seats. I’m not 100% sure what we were expecting, but the deck seats were literally metal benches on the deck of what looked like a cruise ship. We sat down, excited to watch the romantic sunset as we were whisked away to the beautiful island of Crete. As we left the port and started across the Mediterranean sea with the sun setting, it very quickly got cold. Very cold. I found myself wishing I had not packed my jacket in the suitcase that was stowed under the boat.
Iraklion – port city of Crete
We stayed out on the cold deck for as long as we could stand, which was not very long, then wandered inside. Just inside, there was a hallway with a large room with closed doors on one side blaring club dance music. We knew that we had only paid for the deck seats and knew that we could upgrade to an actual room with a bed, but for a lot more money that we were not prepared to spend. So, we settled just a few yards into the hallway from the outside, afraid of getting into trouble if we ventured too much farther. There was a small reading desk with a lamp, one wooden chair sitting next to a window with a large, heavy red drape. We sat on the floor, huddled together for warmth, and finally, seeing as it was an overnight ride, I lay on the floor with Tony’s leg as a pillow and did my best to curl up in the drape to stay warm. Tony just read a book and let me sleep – or at least rest as it was freezing, I was shivering all night, and the music from the adjacent room was never ending.
Finally, the ship arrived in Crete at the port of Iraklion at 5:30am. We got off the ship, set off to find our hotel, and promptly got lost. We walked with our rolling luggage far past where we were supposed to turn and ended up in a not-very-touristy part of town. An older lady took pity on us and, even though she didn’t speak English, led us to a bus stop and told us to go to Astoria. We eventually figured out how to buy a bus ticket and got on the bus. We had no idea when we had gotten to our stop except a nice passenger told us to get off. We finally found our hotel, but it was way too early to check in, so we went and got breakfast.
Iraklion city
We then hiked to the other museum that was on our schedule to see, but it was also closed until August. After some more wandering and time killing around the city, we were able to check into our hotel at 11 am, promptly fell asleep and slept until 7:30pm – we’d slept the day away. Better rested and with at least something going according to plan – we had a roof over our heads – we set off to explore the city and get dinner. The city itself was actually quite beautiful on well-rested eyes – many shops and restaurants.
Iraklion – don’t mind the reflections
When we finally settled on a restaurant, Tony ordered a beer and I ordered the “house wine” known as Raki. Quick tip: Raki is NOT wine. I thought it was odd that they brought it to me in a resealable glass bottle with a shot glass, but figured it was the way Greeks drink their wine and started to drink – or inhale what immediately evaporated upon contact with a warm surface. I don’t even remember the rest of the meal; I have some memory of cuttlefish, but don’t know if either of us actually ordered it. We then stumbled back to our hotel (after buying some cookies) and crashed again.
The next day we were scheduled to travel to Knossos – and, surprisingly, we did make it there and had a great time. Pictures:
Next on our schedule was to travel to Chania – first we got lost finding the bus to get there, then as we were travelling, admiring the beautiful dramatic views of sharp mountain peaks with glimpses of the gorgeous Mediterranean sea far below us, we noticed that our hotel whizzed on by. We knew we weren’t anywhere close to Chania where the address for the hotel was, so we figured there was just another hotel with the same name and didn’t say anything. About 45 minutes later, we arrived in Chania and went to a travel agency where they told us we would have to get back on the bus and go back to the place we had seen. So, we caught the next bus and Tony tried to talk to the driver to discuss where we needed to stop or find out the closest stop, but he didn’t speak a word of English so we sat down and formulated a plan. When we got to where we thought we were close and the bus stopped, I went up to talk to the driver to “distract” him while Tony grabbed our luggage, because at this point, we were prepared for disaster. Once I saw that Tony had our stuff, I leaped out of the bus and Tony and I practically high-fived at our level of genius.
Countryside of Crete around Hotel
We began to walk – large rolling pieces of luggage in tow. Countryside. No sidewalks, no real shoulder. Just the road and rocks. We walked. We passed some very small goat herds. And then we walked. The wheels on our luggage were started to get pitted and not roll as well. Then, we walked some more. Like a couple of idiots, there we were, walking with rolling luggage in the middle of nowhere, sure that we would never see our home in Georgia again, for 3.4 miles before we caught a glimpse of our hotel. It was beautiful, and ended up being a German resort (I hadn’t practiced this language) with lots of older naked folks. There, we got to take our first dip in the Mediterranean which was cold but absolutely beautiful!
Tony laughed at how touristy I looked – hey, I had to walk a lot of miles
We explored that area for a couple of days, finding a tiny temple out in the sea that could only be accessed by traversing rocks that were barely projecting from the turbulent waters, as well as a little outdoor restaurant hut that we ended up going to twice as the owner was so nice. He kept bringing us samples of different kinds of Raki (now we knew better) and taking shots with us. He and the staff were all singing and drunk and swinging their Greek Orthodox beads around. He even offered for us to stay at his house the next time we visit (he was very drunk). The food (like all the food we had in Greece) was AMAZING!
Mediterranean SeaTemple out in the middle of the sea
The next day it was time to go back to the mainland and back home. We made it uneventfully to the port but still had several hours to spare before our ship was leaving so we caught a bus to the main city of Chania. This was my favorite place so far. The streets were beautiful, the shopping/restaurant area next to the sea was spectacular! If you’ve even been to Savannah and know the Riverwalk – it was similar except more open air with blue waves of the Mediterranean crashing on the rocks while you shopped or ate.
Seaside walk in Chania
Then came the absolute worse part of the trip. Yes, it could get worse. We had (smartly *winky face) reserved a faster boat this time which they called the “Flying Dolphins”. We sat in our seats (inside the boat this time) and had to strap in like you would for an airplane. There were about 10 rows of 6-7 people in the room we were in. Then, the trip started and it was like riding a speed boat in the ocean with high waves, with no breeze for 1.5 hours. I get motion sickness very easily, but, apparently, it didn’t matter on this boat. EVERYONE was rushing to the bathrooms by about 20 minutes in. There was so much vomit, it was running down the floors. I was able to hold on for about 30 minutes, then I exploded as well – but was able to make it to the toilet. It was the sickest I have ever been on a trip – there was a line to vomit and people weren’t making it.
Cat scavenging food while we waited for our ship back to Greece
Last bit of hell – we got to the port at 1am, the airport at 2am (with Tony practically carrying me at this point) and then arrived back in Atlanta, GA. Eighty. Hours. Later.
Last picture so I can have one associated with the blog
There have been many great horse races in history: Secretariat winning the Belmont Stakes by 31 lengths, Seabiscuit beating War Admiral, and all of Man O’ War’s races. However, there is one race that slipped through the annals of history, one race that rivals these great races. That race was Jinjer vs Orion. Before I go any further, I’ll give you a little back story. Jinjer was a stocky, middle aged quarter horse mare. She was a very trustworthy, although, she could be very stubborn. If Jinjer didn’t want to run, she didn’t run, if Jinjer wanted to go back to the barn, she would turn toward home no matter where she was on the trail. Orion is Jinjer’s son, at the time of the race he was a young appendix quarter horse (quarter horse x thoroughbred). Where Jinjer was stocky, Orion is lean, where Jinjer was trustworthy, Orion is skittish. These two horses were a study in opposites.
Emily on Jinjer, she was a fuzzy little horse
The day of the race: it was a hot Georgia summer day. There wasn’t a cloud in the beautiful blue sky. Emily and I went out to her barn to prepare our horses. We gave them each a good brushing, we cleaned out their hooves, and we tightened our tack. I was going to ride Jinjer (imagine a gangly 150 lbs nineteen year old on this stocky short mare) and Emily was riding Orion (a petite beautiful girl on a tall strong horse). Emily and I walked our horses to the edge of Emily’s property and the neighboring field. There was a track around the field that was about three miles long square. This was to be the site of our great race.
I got on Jinjer and Emily mounted Orion, you could almost hear the trumpets from Churchill Downs floating in the light breeze. Emily looked at me and I at her, we shared a quick nod, and Emily shouted, “GO!!”
I think I surprised Emily with my strategy, instead of bursting from the proverbial gates at a gallop or even a canter, Jinjer started out at a slow trot. Emily and Orion were gone, they were way a head while Jinjer and I just plotted along. Emily pretty quickly pulled up, circled around, and came back to check on us. I told her that Jinjer was fine and that this is the pace she decided to start with. Emily, curious to see how this was going to go, settled in beside us. Emily and Orion would occasionally slow down even further just to gallop back to us. Once, Orion dropped pretty far back, and, once Jinjer and I had a good lead, I gave Jinjer a click and a nudge and Jinjer took off at a gallop. To be fair, Jinjer’s gallop was probably Orion’s canter, and they caught us with little effort.
We played this new game for a while, Emily would concede a sizable lead, I would try and stretch the lead, and Emily would eventually catch back up. The race was now two miles gone and just one more to go. I think Emily and Orion decided to put the race in the bag and be done with it. After falling well back and galloping up, Emily passed us at a good speed and she wasn’t slowing down this time. I could read the writing on the wall, it was now or never. Jinjer and I could either push for the win and make it respectable or we could give up and let them win. Fortunately, I had three things in my favor: the last mile of the race was toward the barn (Jinjer loved to go back to the barn), Jinjer was a quarter horse (she wasn’t good for long distances, but she had a great burst of speed if she wanted to), and lastly Orion was skittish. I gave Jinjer a harder click and a harder nudge and Jinjer leapt forward. She reached a gear I had never felt her reach before, and we were catching them. Jinjer closed the gap with Orion and came within a couple of lengths of him. Orion was not expecting this. He snorted and jumped to one side. Emily had to pull Orion up to get him back under control.
Jinjer and I cantered to the finish line, the sun setting into a pink sky behind us. I got off Jinjer and was taking off the saddle when Emily and Orion came trotting up. We both walked our horses for a while in the slightly cooler evening air, letting them eat the grass that grew tall on the field’s edge. (I love the sound and smell of horses eating grass.) As the sun lowered in the sky, we walked the horses back to the barn (not really talking between us, just enjoying the evening [at least I was enjoying the evening, Jinjer and I won the race]). As a reward for a great race, Jinjer got some extra sweet feed that night.
And that is the story of how the stocky old quarter horse mare beat the young thoroughbred gelding in a three mile race. Feel free to leave a comment, and, as always, thank you for reading
Hopefully you’ve seen our video blog q&a, if not, catch it here:
We did have some pretty good outtakes and cuts that Emily and I thought you might like to see, hope you enjoy.
If you like what you’re seeing, be sure to share with your friends, leave a comment, and give us a like. Hope you enjoy, and, as always, thanks for reading!
This post has been put off much like Calvin’s creation. Things were going well, and I just now got around to thinking about the third child – who was not – and then was – planned.
I love this picture our friend, Alex Mikus took right after Calvin was born
Tony, India, Oscar, and I were pretty happy with just the four of us. When coming up with kids’ names when we were dating, India and Oscar appeared and that was it. Tony, being raised most of his life with one sibling, thought two children was plenty. Me, being raised with two siblings and a whole onslaught of cousins near-by thought at LEAST three. But then we had two and everything was going just fine. We had bought a small Subaru Crosstrek the year before, knowing we were done having kids. Oscar was about to turn 2 years old, India was 4 and we were finally, FINALLY a mobile family. Anyone who has had an infant can testify that you just can’t do much when they’re babies. We could now take the kids hiking, camping, biking and they loved it. Then my brain got in the way.
Back when it was just the four of us
As you have read, I may be a tad ridiculous in my listening for God’s word, but after Oscar, I suffered some major post-partum anxiety that I had to seek professional help for. PPA is different than depression in that I was constantly worried and picturing, in detail, my children being maimed, severely injured, or killed in horrifying detail. All I could think about when I was alone was yet another scenario that was heart wrenching and my mind played it out like a movie and I would just start sobbing over something that has never even come close to happening. The worst was one night when I was trying to comfort (typical) screaming Oscar and my mind asked “what if this was the Holocaust and if he doesn’t stop screaming, the Nazis will find you and rip him from you and throw him on the hard ground, immediately killing him?!!?” So, I sought out help via a therapist who helped immensely.
Pictured rocks, MI
So, one of my wild manifestations of my PPA was that even though I knew we were done having children and even though I knew as a well-educated doctor that this wasn’t true, I started to imagine that every time I had my period, that I was just flushing a personality down the toilet. Each and every egg that was not fertilized was another potential being, a contributor to the world, someone’s soul mate just missing their chance at life. I told my therapist about this and she suggested I just go ahead and have another baby. It was almost like I was looking for someone to tell me that. I got very excited, even though the pragmatic part of me started listing off all the reasons this would not be a good idea.
A long hike with a 4 and a 2 year-old, but at least we were mobile – Pictured Rocks, MI
I talked to Tony about all that I told the therapist while we were on a bike ride with the family on the rail trail in Clare. He stated that he was happy with just the two kids, but would do whatever I wanted if I really wanted it. I’m pretty sure Calvin was made that night – we were quite lucky with our fertility.
Our pregnancy announcement after laughing repeatedly at this advertisement (on the right – in case you couldn’t pick out the photo shopped one)
I was excited even though I was experiencing nausea and headaches even before the positive pregnancy test – and craving grilled cheese sandwiches. I nervously told Dr. Pol while I was spaying something and he cried with joy – he’s always been a sensitive soul about that kind of thing. It was all very happy and exciting until I was about 6 weeks pregnant and started bleeding. This was not as acute and heavy as when I bled with India, but no pregnant woman wants to see any red/brown tinge on the toilet paper. The bleeding started off moderate like an early period, then got a little heavier. I cried and cried – all of my thoughts, no matter what I was doing would migrate to “am I losing it? am I losing my baby?” I ultrasounded myself with the machine at our work (probably 20 years old) and saw a fluid filled uterus with a tiny cluster of cells with a possible “flutter” that would be the heart beat and felt a tad better, but still made an appointment with my doctor.
Calvin’s first selfie
My doctor was professional, but certainly not comforting. The ultrasonographer found that I had a subchorionic hematoma. This meant that there was a pocket of blood between the uterine wall and the placenta that was leaking out. They found that the baby was still alive, but my doctor told me straight up that I could still lose the pregnancy. So, I went home and waited, changed pads several times a day for 7 LONG weeks that I was still seeing blood. I ultrasounded myself 2-3 times a day. Sometimes, if I didn’t sit just right it would look like the uterus was empty and I would go home sobbing. Then, Tony would tell me to go back to the clinic and try again – when I would see the black fluid where a tiny blob of tissue floated with a very healthy heartbeat.
Calvin at my dad’s retirement party – Forsyth, GA
Around 13 weeks into the pregnancy, I finally stopped seeing blood every time I peed and could settle into my future with a third child – and eventually allowed myself to come up with a name. Going into my second trimester, I started having horrific pelvic pains that felt like the bones at my pubis were relaxing apart and would rub and click against one another when I walked. I could only walk for brief periods before I had to sit down. It felt like my pelvis was about to split in half with every step.
Annnnnnnnd Hobbes!
By the time my third trimester came along, I was pretty certain my body would not survive a fourth pregnancy as I was barely holding it together at this point. Calvin was being a good baby, though and was facing head down. Around 36.5 weeks (normal pregnancy 40 weeks) I got to where standing and walking was near torture. Between braxton hicks contractions and my pelvis splitting in two, the very idea of getting up and walking was awful.
Support belt that helped some with the pelvic pain – but I felt like that girl from “The Fifth Element”
The day before I went into labor, I was tired, I was the only person at the clinic that afternoon as Dr. Brenda was out on farm calls. Right about closing time, a very good client called and said her goat herd had been attacked by a couple of dogs and they were all mangled and in need of repair. I stuck around, but sat on a rolling chair and gave all the wonderful people who worked at the clinic that day detailed instructions on drugs, dosages, surgical material, etc. One by one, they carried in goats for me to evaluate on my rolling chair, sedate and suture, or euthanize. I think we had 7-8 goats in all that needed attention. My abdomen was so tight by the end of all that, I went home barely able to stand.
All three – now a family of five
The next afternoon I went into labor, I was at work and had seen a sick patient and come up with a treatment plan. I was currently having a doubled over, bear down, teeth grinding contraction that I thought was just bad diarrhea and told Tony I needed to go home, but needed to talk to the client first and didn’t think I could stand up. He asked if he could just go get the client and bring him to my desk so I could go over the plan and not have to stand. I thought that was a genius idea. Tony brought me the client, I went over the x-rays on my computer, went over the treatment plan and all the medications while sitting in my chair, keeping my insides from breaking out of my pelvis, then sent them on their way. Tony later told me that Diane took a call just a few minutes after I left for the hospital with a complaint from that man that I was not being professional when I made him come back to talk to him. I’m not sure what he would have thought had I waddled down the hall to his room, in a cold sweat, bent in half while panting out his instructions.
We were a little late with the newborn pictures – but were able to mimic them pretty darn well =D
I insisted on driving myself home as I thought it was just bad diarrhea and didn’t want Tony home with me to witness that. The office staff, however, insisted that Tony drive me home. About 3/4 of the way home, still clinging, white knuckled to the “oh crap strap” in the car, I decided I had better go on to the hospital. When I got there, the doctor checked me and said I was at 2 cm and was having contractions, so they placed me on IV fluids and the contractions slowed, then stopped. I was still three weeks early and technically considered premature and the nurse told me if I were to have the baby now, he may end up in NICU and I might not even get to hold him. I decided to go home and try to delay the inevitable.
Couple of cuties surviving Michigan
I went home, had a horrible contraction, then had some toast and fell asleep on the couch. Tony woke me up to go to bed and I was feeling much better. Then, when I lay down in bed, the contractions started again. Not as violent this time, but very deliberate and regular. I decided I’d rather spend the night in the hospital being monitored than risk something happening to my baby (one nurse told me my uterus could rupture due to my previous cesarean, so I might have panicked a little). Luckily, Missy from work had already taken India and Oscar to her house in case this happened, so we didn’t have to worry about them at a hospital – my mom was on the way, but didn’t expect me to go this early.
It’s true
I went to the hospital and told the nurse not to call the doctor because I didn’t think I was in labor, but just needed monitoring. She called him anyway and he said I was progressing and technically in labor. Because it was after hours on a Friday night, at this particular hospital I couldn’t try a natural birth, it had to be a c-section. So, a few minutes later, much more calmly than Oscar had entered the world, Calvin was delivered three weeks early, 6lb ?oz – at least 2lb smaller than our first two and he was TINY! Everything about him was perfectly healthy and normal. We had the horrifying scare at the beginning of the pregnancy, but now we have three beautiful, rambunctious, trying, wonderful children!
I told everybody I was trying to talk Emily into doing a video q&a blog. Well, she’s agreed, and she’s pretty excited about it. We are trying to figure out how to go about it and the logistics of a vlog, but I think we’ll figure it out. We don’t have any specialized equipment, so we’ll be recording on our phone and trying to edit on our computer. It will be a learning experience, but it will also be fun. I can’t wait to get this out to you guys. My hope is that we’ll get the video on the website by Sunday. Anyway, just thought I would give you guys an update, and wish us luck. And, as always, thanks for reading.
You may have read my previous post (and I encourage you to before reading this one): https://dremilythomasvet.com/i-appreciate-it-but-youre-wrong-about-me/ But if not and you don’t feel like it right now 1. you’re my kind of person 2. Here’s some background (you may skip if you’ve read my previous post)
I was raised in the deep south where you were either Southern Baptist or straight up heathen. My parents did not raise me to be religious (me=heathen) and I struggled a lot with whether or not there was even a God. I believed there was deep down inside but couldn’t wrap my head around the “loving God” that the people trying to save me taught versus the highly judgmental, hateful god they all acted like they served by their demeanor. (btw “Saved!” is a fantastic movie if you want to know what it was like to live in my town)
So, before you decide to stop reading – ugh! another religious, witnessing post – just know that I felt and sometimes still feel the way you might about people wanting to talk to you about religion. This post is purely to walk you through a part of my journey. To be quite open and honest, I still struggle with the workings of God, whether we’re all worshipping the same god, but kill each other over the minor differences in translations, whether we just made God up to give us hope in the dark depths of despair of there just being nothing after death, why no one we love has come back and told us there really is a God, and maybe, if we all just lived like we are told, following the golden rule (in almost every religion), maybe that’s just the best way for us all to live and thrive – through love.
So, here’s a few stories about my asking for an answer from God and getting them. I’ll tell you He certainly does not answer all the time or even most of the time. There are definitely periods in my life where I think I just made all these experiences fit with there being a God, but then sometimes, He answers again when I’m not expecting it.
I’ve told you the story about how I came to work for Dr. Pol – I prayed for an answer to our current situation – I needed a new job fast and I was pregnant – and then Dr. Pol called me and off to Michigan we moved – from South Carolina – and that ended up a good thing for me – I have people interested in me and I made good money with the Nat. Geo Wild network. But then, there was leaving Pol Vet. I was miserable – as you can read in my blog “Growing as a Veterinarian” – too much time given to work, too little time with my little ones. I was angry, always miserable, didn’t have many friends due to having kids and always being busy, no family, and was quite honestly, lonely despite being surrounded by people ALL the time. My therapist kept telling me over and over to just leave, get a new job somewhere else where the environment was better for me.
I was scared. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find a job somewhere else and what if I did and it were even worse?! At least at Pol Vet, I knew what the struggles were, a new place could be worse. Unbeknownst to me until more recently, God sent a very indirect message that, sure enough, got me moving. I had been going to see my doctor on a relatively regular basis and had always gotten along with him pretty well. After we became Facebook friends, I realized we had a lot in common from sense of humor to political views. I talked to Tony about it, and though he thought it was a bit weird, agreed to hanging out sometimes. I invited the doctor and his wife to go out for a beer sometime. He agreed, though he and his wife were separated. My other best, good friend, Dr. Sharkey had already been swooped away (mentally and emotionally) by my brother – which was also cool.
We all hung out a few times at a local brewery, having a ball; talking, laughing, swapping horror stories about our professions. He and I chatted on Facebook messenger often (I even showed Tony our conversations as they were always just silly and fun and I’m, like, the most honest person you will ever meet and didn’t want to be thinking Tony might be thinking anything weird was going on) and I got some good laughs while at work which totally brightened my day. We met up with our kids and his for play dates and had him over for dinner and game night. Eventually he would tell me that he had a girlfriend – I was ecstatic for him! I tried to invite her out with us too, but she was frequently breaking up with him and then making up – I couldn’t quite figure it out until a message from him greeted me one morning at work that just said that his girlfriend was jealous of me and that he wasn’t allowed to be friends with me anymore.
And just like that, he was gone. I was blocked from contacting him at all, complete black out. One moment we were joking, then next, he was gone from my life. I was crushed. I hadn’t had a good, consistent friend in so long and now I was back to being lonely. That whole day sucked, then a Tom Petty song came on the radio “Time to Move on” and it hit me full on. I knew that it was time to get out of my situation. I can only now look back at that time and see that as the final push to get me to pick up and move out. God knew I was scared and hunkering down, clinging to anything I could to not have to make a change, then he just shoved me off the cliff. And I’m very thankful that He did, though I still secretly wish my friend would be my friend again.
The next story is a little silly, but I still give it a lot of credit due to the timing and odd occurrence. I was dating Tony and still wondering about God, did He exist, did He not? We were vacationing with my mom’s family at Pawley’s Island, SC, staying in The Penguin as my family had since my grandmother was adopted at 16 years old (orphaned with her brother due to alcoholism and suicide). Fishing and crabbing were activities we sincerely looked forward to every year. We would surf fish – wade into the ocean, holding the fishing pole high over our heads as we battled waves, just to cast as far as we could past the surf and would usually pull in anything from the regular spot or pinfish, mullet, bonnet head shark pups, and the occasional sting ray or particularly stubborn crab who wouldn’t let go of the bait.
One night, I had convinced Tony to go night fishing – same thing, just in the dark of night where it feels like the ocean just might swallow you into the swirling blackness. I had done this activity several times with my brother and cousins, and we would catch about the same things as during the day, but sometimes bigger sharks – 2-3ft sand sharks. I cast my line and, after awhile of not getting a bite, I decided to reel back in. With surf fishing, the rhythmic tugging and releasing of the line can hide bites and strip the bait off the hook. I reeled and reeled, and finally saw my lead on the beach, but it looked like there was something on it. When I got up to it, sure enough, there was a fish on the hook – not a very active one, but a decent sized fish that I did not recognize. I needed to know what kind of fish this was because, one, I am a scientist and need to know, and two, I had made a rather silly request to God about a week earlier. I had been praying about whether or not God exists and had jokingly said “if you exist, maybe I can catch a mackerel so that I can then say “Holy Mackerel!” – not actually knowing what a mackerel even looked like.
Well, I ran up to the house, grabbed an empty trash bucket, ran back down to the beach, grabbed some seawater, put the strange fish in there, then ran it back up to the house to ask around with the other “fish experts”. No one had seen this fish before – in the years and years of fishing there, night and day. Defeated, I returned the fish to the ocean and proceeded to catch nothing else that night. The next morning, eating a bowl of cereal, I had found a book on the ocean somewhere in the house and was flipping through to see if I could find my mystery fish. Then, I saw it, my exact fish – a King Mackerel. I dropped my spoon.
My last story is a little dark, and looking back, I realize it could have easily been a figment of my imagination/eyes playing tricks on me, but it scared me enough to definitely not discount it. I was in high school and going through one of the hardest times in my life so far. My parents were getting a divorce, but staying together until I graduated. My brother and sister had already moved out of the house at least 3 years prior. The news of my parents’ divorce was a shock and devastating. I suddenly felt like all of my childhood memories, no matter how precious they were to me, were lies, and if not lies, were too painful to revisit and therefore, slowly disappeared from who I was as a person. I was not a popular person in high school, I was a weirdo (still am) and most people steered clear of me. I was dating Tony at the time, but he was about an hour and a half away at a Christian college (Brewton Parker) and we were dealing with long distance, which I hate.
I don’t remember if there was any particular incident that triggered that night, but I was deeply depressed, hated myself. I wanted to die. I considered all the ways to die and thought if there was a handy gun in the house, that would have been the easiest. But, all my dad had was a shotgun that wasn’t loaded and I didn’t know if we even had any bullets. I was too scared of doing anything else for fear of the pain I would inflict on myself, so I came up with, what I thought, was a full proof plan. I prayed. Not the kind of prayer most would tell you about though. I prayed for God to kill me. I figured if there was a God and if He is all-powerful, he could certainly (if not easily) smash me like a bug. I was laying in my bed, crying my eyes out, praying over and over for God to kill me, listing all the reasons I deserved it- over and over.
I don’t know how long I was begging for God to take my life, but against the very dull light coming from through my open door, I saw them coming. Dark shadows, creatures slowing crawling from the far corners and the end of my bed. They did not have a lot of definition, but were simply black with long claws that pulled them closer and closer to me. My tears dried up immediately, I went silent. I thought I was seeing things and tried to open my eyes larger to adjust the light but the dark creatures just kept creeping toward me radiating pure, cold evil while they approached. The fear took over every ounce of sadness I felt and I knew that death was NOT what I wanted. I quickly prayed again, this time apologizing for my earlier request and begging for God to take these dark creatures back to where they came.
Immediately, the darkness receded and I had the most overwhelming sense of relief. I thanked God over and over and apologized again and again. It took me a little while to fall asleep after that, but I was happy and content when I did.
I know these stories sound crazy and even silly, but they stick in my mind as powerful times in my life. I STILL definitely have moments where I question His existence. It doesn’t seem to matter how convincing one or more scenarios are and I still feel guilty every time I know God has taken such effort to convince me and I still doubt, but I think that’s pretty natural and have come to accept that’s just how it’s going to be. Maybe one day, after I die, I will come back and tell someone what happens, unless it means not making it to heaven, in which case; Bye, good luck to you!
*Side note: all the art work on this post (except the mackerel) is my original work and all inspired somehow by spirituality.
