Here in CT, we are preparing as best we can for the oncoming hurricane Irene. We've got our bottled water, candles, and basic supplies. We've cranked down the temp in our fridge and freezer. We're currently making a hot dinner, and planning 2 other meals made tonight that will be good cold in the next day or so.
For all my readers and friends in the path of the storm, we're praying for your safety as well as our own.
Til next squeak,
Well, I'm stuck. My brain feels like goo most days, and although I participate (or at least lurk amongst) many fantastic intellectual conversations online (mostly Facebook), the idea of blogging about, well, anything beyond the random family update confounds me. Maybe it's the summer heat (91 today in Connecticut). Maybe it's still adjusting to life with 3 kids. Or maybe I'm just too dumb to continue acting as though I am not. *shrugs*
I'm kicking around the idea of starting a new blog. Not abandoning this one per se. Just a change of pace. I often wonder if anyone still comes here and reads this blog. Now that I have either been banned from or simply left 99% of the message boards I once frequented, I doubt word gets out about what few new posts I make anymore. I tell myself I'm ok with that. I'm in a new phase of life. Perhaps this is God calling me to more "IRL" friendships? That is admittedly a terrifying prospect.
Since April of this year, I've felt as though I've lost my moorings. I've never once felt as though I fit in anywhere, and much like my 4th and 3rd grade aged sons, that hurts my feelings. I think that deep down, everyone wants to belong. Even those who stridently claim "I'm confident in who I am and I don't need anyone!". I just can't believe I'm 30 years old and still haven't found my way.
So, yeah. If you're reading this, thank you. We'll see where this new path takes us, yes?
Til next squeak,
A week and a half ago, our lives changed forever. My husband, my heart and soul, was hospitalized for 4 days. He was diagnosed tentatively with cardiomyopathy, and congestive heart failure. Prayerfully, we will find out more when he has an angiogram which will be scheduled at his cardiologist appointment later this month.
While I believe with everything in me that God only gives what we can handle, and that He has a plan far greater than our own, I admit I am having an incredibly difficult time facing this. I'm terrified, as is Mr. P. I'm angry, not only at myself, but at God. These last 7 years have been trying for us, both as a couple and as a family. God must think we are super strong people. Personally, I have my doubts.
It's hard to face the future, knowing nothing more about my husband's diagnosis other than it is not reversible, and that it will shorten his life span. I've always been the kind of person who needs to know, even if only vaguely, what the future brings. Not my best quality, to be sure. The thought of losing Mr. P. really spikes fear into my heart. I know he is probably sick of me constantly asking him if he's ok, and telling him how much I love him. I heard this song on the radio while running errands with the kids today. I was unable to curb the urge to call home and tell Mr. P. just that. Just to make sure he knows not only does he have my heart, but that he is my heart.
I think of the 2 friends I have who are widows, and how I've admired them so much for their strength. Staring into that possible future makes me wonder if it came to that, would I be as strong as them? Could I hold it together for our kids? And would I ever be able to forgive God? I just don't know. Fear is speaking now, even though I know fear is not of God.
This all seems so much to bear, especially for a little family who has already endured so much. So many of our friends and family have said if they can do anything for us, we need only to ask. I wish I could just ask, and have them take all of this away. I wish I could just ask, and have them make everything magically better. I know it doesn't work that way, but oh how I wish it did. I worry about what else God feels like dumping on us, what more He thinks we can handle.
My mind cannot think of an eloquent way to close this post out. It's late, and my fear and sadness are overwhelming tonight. If you think of us, please pray. Maybe God will hear you more than He hears me right now.
Til next squeak,
1st, I want to thank you all for your prayers and words of encouragement. These last 2 weeks have been quite stressful, and knowing friends were lifting us to the Lord made all the difference. Ladybug had her weight recheck this morning. According to both our pediatrician and all I could find online/in books, a breastfed baby of Ladybug's age should be gaining 1/2 ounce a day. Some quick math told me that she would have had to be 9 lbs. 11 oz. to be on track for weight gain. I was a complete wreck this morning, my stomach in knots. We got the boys off to school, and tried to get on with our morning. Mr. P. fed the baby some mashed up banana mixed with my milk while I got a shower. I have to admit, it was nice to take a hot shower without a screaming baby in the background. For some reason, she always gets hungry as soon as I step under the spray. We got to the doctor's office a little late (par for the course for our family) and the nurse shepherded us into one of the exam rooms. After asking us what we've been doing for her weight issues, she had us strip Ladybug down and pop her on the scale. The moment of truth had arrived. I thought I'd puke. Our sweet baby girl weighed in at... ...9 lbs. 12 oz.!! Mr. P. and I fist bumped. The doctor said to just keep up with what we've been doing for her. And with that oh so sage advice, we left. I feel as though a literal weight has been lifted from my shoulders. It's been many years since I've been that scared and stressed out. I'd forgotten just how horrible it is to feel like the fate of your family rests on 1 little choice that could go wrong in a heartbeat. I'm glad that's over with. Again, thank you so much for your love and support. Ladybug thanks you too. Til next squeak,
The last 2 weeks have been quite trying around here, and after much thought and prayer, I've decided to share about how we've been doing. On 3/25, we had Ladybug's 4 month well-baby visit. Although I had thought she was healthy and otherwise fine, she was labeled as failure to thrive (FTT). She had gained only 10 ounces in 2 months' time. According to him, that was less than half of what she should've gained. The doctor ordered us to give her 2 ounces of formula at least twice a day in addition to nursing on demand. Upon hearing that dreaded "F" word (formula), I became pretty hysterical. I can admit that I didn't hear much of what the doc had to say after that. Thank God I had Mr. P. with me! Honestly, I praise God for him all the more during these last 2 weeks. He has had patience with me while I burst into tears every few hours, while I questioned every choice we made, while he literally held me up at Walmart when we bought bottles. I think it's safe to say that Mr. P. has had his fill of my tears for quite awhile. We spent that first weekend after Ladybug's diagnosis in a real panic. She utterly refused formula, no matter what we tried. A variety of bottles, droppers, syringes, cups and other infant feeding devices, and several brands of formula all ended with the same results. Her little face covered with formula she'd spat out, and tears of failure and self-loathing streaming down mine. The week began and we called our pediatrician's office. A return call from the nurse made things seem just that much more dire. We were slowly starving our daughter to death, and if we did not get formula or at the very least, rice cereal, into her, she would not survive. If I was freaking out before, now I was essentially not able to function for the fear coursing through me. Mr. P. and I decided to try following the advice of our mothers and some friends. We started Ladybug on solids. Some she likes (yogurt, sweet potatoes) and some she doesn't (carrots, rice cereal). While I am not terribly thrilled, our sons are beyond excited. They have each had a few turns feeding their baby sister. We have also stepped up the nursings. Currently, I offer the breast every 45 minutes. Some days, we nurse 18 times! My sheer panic has died down a bit, but I'm still struggling. It's so hard not to hate yourself for failing to provide all your baby needs. There is so much contradictory information out there about babies with FTT or slow gainers. I'm fearful of her weight check this Friday. If she hasn't gained enough to satisfy the doctor, what is the next step? Hospital admission? A DCF referral? No one will tell me, which of course makes the fear worse. Many have advised us to find a new pediatrician. It's something I am considering, but knowing me, I won't go through with it. Mr. P.'s family has used this practice for 3 generations now. I think my in-laws would utterly flip out if we switched. Our sons receive great care there. It's just hard in the first 2 years, especially if you breastfeed or are picky about vaccinations. The question becomes one of if we can live with going against our gut instincts? I'm not sure what the answer is. If you think of us this Friday, please pray for our family. Fear is not of God, and living in fear like this leaves me feeling distant from Him. Hopefully (prayerfully), this weight check will relieve this near constant panic over my daughter's well-being. His will be done. Til next squeak,
My recovery was pretty easy, and breastfeeding got off to a great start. Once we got home, things got a bit crazy. The boys have adjusted well to having a baby sister.
Now, we are finally getting in a groove. Life is good, and God is even better! It's my goal to come post about our breastfeeding journey at some point next week. TTFN!
FAIL I SAY!
Seriously, I don't know what I did but my last entry just got nommed up by teh intertubes.
A good editor I am not. Clearly.
I must say that I'm somewhat ashamed of myself for letting this blog go so very long without being updated. *totally embarrassed*
A lot has happened this year. In March, we found out that God had chosen to bless us with our 3rd child. I'm due November 6th, but will be having a planned c-section before then.
So much has changed in my heart after going through this trial of secondary infertility. In the coming weeks and months, I hope to share with you all some of the things God has taught me.
We've settled into a church that has helped us grow in the Lord. What an amazing thing to find!
Even though it's been quite awhile, I'm confident that I will break through this darn writer's block. Who knows, maybe you'll even get sick of hearing from me!
Til next squeak,
Welcome to Random Rambling 101. No, you haven't lost your mind. But clearly, I'm losing mine. 
I'm known for my mouth. As in my mouth tends to get me in deep trouble. Each time I go through these periods where I am no longer able to keep my pie hole shut, I find myself praying. I usually end up telling God that I don't wanna be this way, that I want to be able to have the grace to shut the frig up in all situations.
Heh. Careful whatcha pray for. Lately it seems that even on the days I'd like to yammer the day away, I can't. After many years of sticking my foot in my mouth, apparently, God decided to duct tape it shut while said appendage was jammed deep in there.
It's been awhile since I last blogged. There's been a lot going on both in my head, and in my life lately. And since I am sick while typing this, chances are, not much will make sense. But hey, that's alright. I think sensical wordings are for the weak, and oddball trips into the fantastic for the brave hearted. Or just those trippin' on NyQuil.
So like I said, I'm sick. We're all sick here at Casa de P. (note to self...house of P does not sound so great actually) It's been a fun week.
If you are a regular reader, or care to look back to last month, you'll know I recently took my GED test. Good news, I passed. With honors. I'm stunned. Looks like this lil mousie will be moving on to college in the fall.
Mr. P. and I have had some great outings in recent weeks. We've gone to see Watchmen, gone to the casino, and spent a lot of time together just enjoying each other's company. In true gamer-dork fashion, our best moments have been while playing video games together. Hey babe, there's no place to put that!
While all these things have been going on, what goes through my mind the most is that I am nearing my 28th birthday. Somehow, I feel old. I never thought I would even feel adult, never mind elderly. Perhaps it's some of the stress I've been under, or perhaps it's the emotional turmoil. Maybe it's just that ol' specter of the big 3-0 looming over me. After all, it's only 2 years away.
March is not only the month of my birth, but also the month of my rebirth. It's been 3 years now since I fell into Jesus' arms. Somehow, I feel worn out. I've noticed that this can often be a hard confession to make in the Christian community, but here it is. I've backslidden. Hard. I know that at this point, I'm not where I should be in my faith. Now there's a tough realization to come to. Mostly because once you admit it, it then becomes a case of what do you do then?
Honestly, I am not sure. The obvious answer would be to go back to church, pick up my Bible once again, get back down on my knees before the Lord. And yet somehow that all seems so difficult. It's not that I love my Savior any less. It's more that life now seems so big. Between the kids, my husband, our home, the economy, my overblown emotions, my mother, my friends, and this wildly crazystupidaddicting thing we call the internet, making time every day for Him always seems to take a back seat.
Now I know I'm not the only one in that respect. Many mothers have similar issues. Our lives of caring for our kids and homes seem to take up so much. It's more or less universal. It's just that so many moms make it look effortless to maintain a full and growing spiritual life while nurturing a full and growing family. Covet not thy neighbor's mad organizational and time management skills, I suppose.
So some days I feel old. Creaking in my joints kinda old. Then again, I also know that I rarely act my age. After all, I am confessing to choosing video games and comic books over the Bible and prayer time.
Honestly, I'm not sure how to move on from this point. A worldly bit of advice that was tossed around in my childhood was to pick yourself up by your bootstraps and hop to. I've been under the impression that when it comes to matters of faith, trusting on the Lord to pull you up is of far more import than hauling your own sorry butt around.
Well, all that to say that I am in a not so great spot mentally, but pretty rawkin' spot in every other sense. Unfortunately, it's probably gonna effect my blogging. I do apologize for any tantrums and whining rambles that may come forth in the next few months. It's all a side effect of trying to act my age.
Til next squeak,
Well, that was quick. I'm done with the basic outline of the board.
Here we go.
http://christianmomsunited.freeforums.org/
Go check it out if you're interested. See ya there.
Til next squeak,
So I've decided to do it. Yup, I'll be starting my own message board/forum for Christian mothers.
God, what am I thinking?!
I've gotten a tremendous amount of positive feedback from friends, and I think it has the potential to be something wonderful. Right now, I'm feeling somewhat overwhelmed with all that needs to be thought of when designing your own place. I'm hoping to have it up and running within the week.
So, stay tuned for the addy! I'm hoping that many of you will be able to join us. It should certainly prove to be interesting, if nothing else.
Til next squeak,
Then don't say anything at all. 
Remember, 'tis my Maze, and I decide what comments go through or not.
SIL popped the question, and K accepted. We're thrilled to have her as part of our family.
It's funny to think of being young and in love again. Mr. P. and I were the same age when we got engaged, and it seems a lifetime ago. Yowsa, we're old.
Anyway, I wanted to share the happy news. Weddings are always a joyous time, and I know this one will be no different.
I don't know about others, but I've always dreaded this scenario. The phone rings in the dead of the night. The tears, the sirens, and the words:
"There was a fire..."
Well, that was my reality tonight. 
My mother called just after 10pm with those very words. And as much as I don't get along with my younger brother, my heart dropped into my stomach just then. Oh Lord. Did my brother make it out? What exactly happened?
They both got out, although the rear of the building was engulfed in flames. My next thought, cat lover that I am, was for their 3 kittehs. My mother informed me that only 2 of them were saved.
God in Heaven above, I know that's not a reason for tears, but I wept. Hysterically. Praising God for keeping my family alive, and yet grieving for what their reality would soon become. I knew it hadn't hit them yet.
Mom asked me to call the Red Cross and find out what I could. Meanwhile, I asked my friends and sisters in Christ for prayer. Silly as it may seem, God indeed hears even our smallest prayers.
Shortly thereafter, Mom called back. A fireman found my brother's cat Guiness. She was alive!
God heard our call in the night.
Til next squeak,
I've been debating with myself over talking about this. I'm forever second guessing myself. So, I'll take the plunge, and what will be will be.
This past week, I had a word from God. That word was quite distinct. God told me to MOVE! Ah, but not move in the way I want to. Oh no. 
I prayed about it. I asked my friends their opinions and for their prayers. I asked Mr. P. and whined to him over it. In the end, God won. Isn't that often how it goes?
And what on earth caused me so much turmoil you ask? Ahhh there's the rub.
I started school this week. No, not college, as most people my age mean when they say they are going back to school. I am going for my GED.
Yuppers, I never graduated from high school. In fact, I dropped out twice!
This is probably one of the more nauseating, stress-inducing, ripping my hair out, crying out at night kinda things I've done in a long time.
Then again, I am forever second guessing myself, so maybe I'll adjust to this all a little closer to the actual test date.
Til next squeak,
of post-op, my stitches sent to me...
a nasty lil pic to share with you all. 
Til next squeak,
Well, all went well. Beyond anyone's expectations! I'm thanking God for being with me today, and providing for the ideal (dare I say...perfect?) surgical experience. Actually, if I weren't so stoned on percs right now, I'd be dancing with joy. 
Aside from feeling like I have a normal human hand again, the very best part was being treated delightfully human. Until you've had the horrible experience of being treated like nothing more than monstrous numbers on a scale, it's hard to imagine just how grateful I am to my medical team at UCONN right now. I somehow doubt they often get patients weeping with gratitude as soon as they wake up. 
Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers, Dear Squeakers. Keep 'em coming as this first week post-op will prove to be challenging.
Til next squeak,
Well, today's the day. I'm leaving in about an hour for my surgery. While I'm excited at the prospect of not living in pain anymore, I'm nervous about the recovery. I've never been the type to rely on others for help in my personal care, and unfortunately, these next few days will leave me no choice.
I'm also wondering now just what have I gotten myself into. Those ol' demons of self-doubt are raging like you wouldn't believe. I didn't realize just how much of my life I'd put on hold because of my paw. And now? Once I'm healed, I'll have no more ready made excuses.
Ruh-roh.
So, all that to say that these next 2 weeks should be interesting. Well, interesting in that I'll be learning more about myself, and what I'm capable of. Am I capable of letting my loved ones care for me as I've often cared for them? Am I capable of truly trusting God as I have longed to for awhile now? Am I ready to start this new chapter of my life?
In case you're wondering, I'm not actually nervous about the procedure itself. After years of living with these hand/wrist/arm issues, it'll be pure relief to have it done and over with. Somehow, God has given me a healthy dose of that ol' peace that surpasses understanding about all of the actual slicing and snipping. (mmmm sounds great huh?) With how swiftly this was all orchestrated, I trust that it's in His hands.
So Dear Squeakers, I'll keep you updated as often as I can. Until then, enjoy your holiday shopping, and preparing for this glorious season of love and goodwill.
Til next squeak,
Mwuhahahahaha! 
Dear Right Paw, soon you will be sliced open and violently rearranged!
Mwuhahahahaha!
In case you can't tell, I'm formally announcing my surgery date! 
I'm so excited to finally be getting this stinkin' carpal tunnel syndrome taken care of!
I had my orthopedic appointment on this past Wednesday, and the doc greatly surprised me by getting me in for the surgery ASAP. Like Monday kinda ASAP.
So, my Dear Squeakers, after noon on Monday, I'll be out of commission for a bit until Doc Rodner gives me clearance to type again. By the time I'm back, I'm sure we'll have much to talk about.
Til next squeak,
