So everyone has been worried about me since the miscarriages. I'm working hard on being okay. In the midst of grief, I KNOW how blessed I am for the people God has brought to me, and especially for the husband and children He gave me. I've struggled with the fact that close family members have jumped in with their opinion on what this all means. "Oh, this must be God telling you....." What? What is God telling me? And why did He tell it to YOU? My poor sister has had to listen to me complain about "all these dummies butting into my reproductive business!" I know that my family means well, but I'm a little touchy about this. So I imagine that it was with some trepidation that my sister tried to inconspicuously check in with me, to see how I was doing, so she could report back to family.
I thought I was doing pretty well. I'd gotten cleaned up, makeup on, and had driven Evie and I an hour across town to the Outlet shopping center, determined to replace the beloved purse I'd had stolen a few weeks before. I was going to do something positive, exercise a bit, be appropriate in public, and enjoy my kid's company. I visited the purse stores, and picked out a screaming pink, really obnoxious Coach bag from the Poppy line. It's not even remotely appropriate for an almost 40 year old. It's it perfect?? Evie was adorable the whole time. Since my iphone was ALSO stolen a few weeks prior, my crappy little replacement phone is all I had available, but I took this photo. Look how INTO the handbags she is!!
After this, I took us over to the pretzel place for a snack. The pretzel place shares retail space with the cookie company, so ... why the hell not? We added some cookies to the order. While waiting for the pretzels to cook, we munched cookies and took a look around at the displays. CHECK THIS OUT:
To illustrate to all who cared that yes, I still had a sense of humor, I sent this pic out on my crappy little phone with the caption "Ghost sperm haunting a cookie!"
Shortly thereafter, Hell broke loose.
Those of you who know me personally know that I bake. A lot. And when really stressed, my favorite outlet is in the kitchen. My dearest sister saw this giant cookie, and thought that I had baked it and decorated it. And she was seriously worried. I mean, think about it... Your sister has a series of 2nd trimester miscarriages... she's got 4 kids already and a pretty heavy daily schedule that she rarely gets a break from. And then your sister sends you a picture of Ghost Sperm, haunting tiny little tombstones in a graveyard.... tiny little tombstones that might be the size you'd use for a baby who broke your sister's heart and came too early. Or maybe 2 babies who'd done this, one right after the other.
So, what I'm saying is... I see how this could have happened. But I was too busy being all healthy and shit to think about what this might mean to my family. You can imagine the panic, confusion, worry, and pure "what-the-fuck-edness" that would have arisen, had you called your parents to report back on said sister's mental health.
Poor JJ - everytime the parents talk to her, they ask "how's Shan doing?" Just like every time they talk to me: "How's J doing?" and we feel sort of obligated to throw them a little nugget of information that makes them think they're in the know.
For the record, J, I'm kind of insulted. My cookies are so much better looking than that. That cookie looks like a bunch of thug sperm busting up a fence. Which could be a metaphor for sperm busting down egg defenses. But I am declining to clarify this point, because I want EVERYONE OUT OF MY REPRODUCTIVE BUSINESS!
See? I'm okay! No, really! I'm OK! I'm sarcastic, random, foul mouthed, completely inappropriate and relish the opportunity to tell people to back off when they overstep. I carry a juvenile hot pink purse, about which I get endless compliments. The things that are supposed to hurt really do hurt. The things that are funny still crack me up. Pretty sure everything is where it's supposed to be, and that it's downhill from this point. And I wouldn't be where I was if so many of you hadn't prayed for me, sent positive thoughts, and generally lifted me up. For that, I offer you all a giant cookie with icing sperm. Love you all, so much.