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Inspired by Niobe, I bring you cat picture.

Who doesn't want to kiss a sleepy cat?

And an update on the post below - I sent Christmas cards, concentrating on out-of-state friends and folks who needed an update. Or at least those I wanted to have an update on us. Three simple paragraphs which I've posted about in this blog: 1) our grief this past year and our isolation and how people don't know what to say, 2) our family business, 3) our pets. Surely not a comparison to the "She is now turning over and forming sentences, and next week she'll get her license," or "He looked so cute in the Santa outfit you would just want to pinch his cheeks." Someday.

And I bring you a stream of consciousness.

Otherwise, no changes to my physical state. Could I sound more detached, please? I told my mom how freaked out I was about this pregnancy. In her infinite wisdom, she replied:

"This pregnancy can make you scared, I understand, but look at it in a positive way... that you are still able and given another chance to conceive and so be thankful for the opportunity. Everything will be allright. Your baby is with you to help along the way. If you get worried and agitated, he/she will, too. Be calm, just be yourself (my giggly wannabe mom, I know, so full of life, a joy to everyone) to give him/her the peace of mind to go on growing with comfort in your warm loving womb. With wannabe dad's support and with our prayers, enjoy your blessed condition and let God do the rest. Only He knows what is best. Please embrace that deep faith in Him."

And it's true, I am so thankful that I was able to conceive. Hmmm, three years, three pregnancies. Please, no more dead babies. As for my faith, which is questionable right now, I could slowly be working my way back to that. Could. I have problem with God doing the rest, because he did such an awesome job on the last one. Like a car repair guy, if he fucked with my car, would I ever go back? And I'm thankful for my husband, who is picking up many of my Kaleo-walking shifts and just being his loving self.

On a side note, we have made some new friends (they know about the girls but didn't know us pre-girls). We've gotten together with them on several occasions to drink and sing (in that order), and they are good peeps. When I was up at the mike (singing L.andslide of all difficult songs, and not concert-quality by any means), backed by a guitarist and drummer, I didn't feel like such a freak. When I'm around my family and in-laws, and some friends from before, I place an imaginary arrow above my head that says "my babies died and you know it and it defines me." I suppose I'll be like this for a while. I wonder why it is that with some people I actually feel normal, and not like the other shoe could drop at any minute. And I can't help that such a horrifying experience defines me. Is there a point that I should get off my grief horse? Does anyone ever get off?

In my quiet moments of falling asleep, changing lanes, choosing what ill-fitting clothes to wear for the day, telling myself to buy some new underwear, touching my bumpy scar, I think of my girls. I think of their tiny fingers. I think of their tiny toes on my fingertip and their long legs involuntarily kicking in the air due to the pain. I think of how they struggled to breathe, this loud machine near their heads helping them, the IVs in their feet, the constant beeping, the masks on their face, the blue lights, their momentary gasps for air when they were off the ventilators. I don't cry (like I'm doing right now), and I remember holding them and loving every inch of them. I still regret that I didn't see them naked or insist to the nurses that we bathe them after they passed away, but I shouldn't keep obsessing about that.

Whew. Christmas is near. I find out today that wannabe dad wanted to decorate (we don't have a drop of shiny anywhere), but blamed it on our being away for Christmas and wanting to respect my wishes. Some miscommunication happened, because I distinctly remember asking him if he wanted to decorate, and he said no because were were going to be away. Now he's wanting to buy presents for his brothers' families, when we already told them no presents. I think he wants to hold up his end of the deal of being the fun uncle, but our (my - ha) priority is the mortgage, office rent, and payroll. Such a woman.

Wait a minute, I know exactly what this is. It's that gd C.atho.lic guilt!! And he's also stressed about having to speak to his father (after a 6-month hiatus) before us all getting together on Christmas eve. This is going to be fun. I'll take pictures.