Month: November 2009

  • Originally written on Thursday night/Friday morning...

    Where is home?

    It’s 2:00am. As I lay here in my childhood home, alone in a king-size bed with only a dozen ornate pillows to keep me company, I can’t help but feel desperately homesick.

    It doesn’t make sense. This is where I made most of my childhood memories. This is where I experienced life through my preteen years. My family and I built this house with our own hands. I remember the summers when all my neighborhood friends were out riding golf carts and jumping on trampolines while I was busy drying and staining cedar siding. The smell of the wood was so luxurious and I was amazed that it had been shipped from the somewhere far away. With my dad’s knowledgeable guidance, I hammered nails into the framework of the wall I’m leaning against now. I remember the weeks and months I spent with my mom and sister painting every surface of this immense interior space. Six thousand square feet of literal love and sweat.

    When I had my accident and endured three months in a far away hospital, I ached to come home to this spot. To this street. I wanted to badly to get away from the harsh white walls of the rehab center, the terrible smells and sounds of fellow patients weeping in frustration and depression at night. When I finally came home to a small room on the first floor of my house, I worked hard to get well enough and strong enough that I could move back upstairs to my big room full of my beloved 1950’s antique mahogany furniture.

    But this place feels foreign to me. My family is as wonderful as ever, but I just can’t feel completely comfortable here. Not while they’re away and sleeping. The sheetrock has all been replaced since the fire of 2007, and the paint colors are all new to me. The wooden floors are all new, and the familiar wood details have been replaced with strange new ones. The family room furniture is nicer, more comfortable, and way more functional—yet it bears no scars from childhood forts gone awry nor memories of sneaked late-night kisses with the boy I would someday marry.

    I forgot my toothpaste and face lotion. I had to brush my teeth with water since everyone was already asleep, and I followed it with flossing and gum in an effort to achieve the same effect. There were no towels in the bathroom closet so I used a rough paper towel to dry my face and hands. My entire nighttime routine was damaged. Now I can’t sleep. Those habits were formed in this house, yet tonight I couldn’t even complete them. I feel…off.

    I can’t remember where the light switches are. I stumble around in the dark looking for them and when I find one, it rarely achieves the desired result. Even many of the lighting arrangements have been changed since the fire. There are new can lights in new places and ceiling fans once operated with the flick of a switch are now at the mercy of a mysteriously hidden remote. Once I finally find what I believe to be the correct light switch, I often realize I can’t reach it. A new or shifted piece of furniture is blocking my grasp.

    The house just isn’t as wheelchair friendly as it used to be. It doesn’t need to be. I’ve been gone for over five years. But it still makes me feel uncomfortable. The guest bathroom and bedroom were actually remodeled after the fire to make them easier for me to use, but somehow I still feel trapped. My stair lift that used to take me upstairs is gone. I don’t even know where it is.

    Memories are fading. Like the one from when I found got the news that I made the cheerleading squad in 6th grade, and I couldn’t contain my adrenaline and excitement. The gaudy rose-colored carpet covering the stairs took a beating as I ran up and down it over and over again while shouting in delight at my good fortune, telephone still in hand. The two-toned carpeting has since been replaced with beautiful wood and stone, but the memories don’t seem to be as vivid in the grain.

    It is oddly quiet here. There are no occasional fire truck sirens. There are no young married couples laughing and talking outside my window. There are no TiVo bumps and chirps drifting down from the friendly neighbors above. There are no happy babies squealing out on the sidewalk.

    There is no sidewalk. Only a very dark street.

    I can only hear the ticking and hourly chiming of the large living room clock. While growing up, that clock was such an integral part of my daily white noise that I often didn’t even hear it. Since I’ve been here, it has pealed out four times. And every time I jump at the surprise. It is no longer a comforting tone of home; it is the distant, frightening gong of a stranger.

    Outside I can hear the wind and rain beating against the house. The tall evergreen trees rustle chillingly and my body reactively tenses up.

    I’ve always been terrified of the wind.

    I remember sleeping in the room above me—MY room with the light lavender walls and deep plush purple carpet—the same room where my younger sister is sleeping now amidst bright pink walls and cold hardwood flooring. I can't even bear to go up and see it because it makes me so sad that it's gone. The wind would whip and whistle around my corner of the house, and cause me to run panicked down the stairs screaming about tornado nightmares and snapped pine trees that were certain to fall upon me at any minute. This house is certainly the safest house in town. My dad built it to withstand almost all of the natural disasters possible in this area. The basement has it’s own tornado room, a fort of cinderblock reinforced with poured concrete and rebar. There were even bunks for sleeping, and during particularly scary storms, I would sleep down there in an uncomfortable bunk, happy to be in silence and far away from the screams of the wind.

    Often I would squeeze my eyes closed and fantasize about the day that I could have a strong husband to share a bed with, one that would protect me from the wind and make me feel safe. I’d pray for guidance to find him, and to be blessed to find him quickly. I imagined he was far away, in some distant land I’d never visited. I waited for him to suddenly appear in my life. I didn’t realize he was sitting right behind me in class every day. I never knew he was merely across town, listening to the same eerie wind through the thin walls of his family’s modest home.

    My heart aches to have him here. This king-size bed in this huge room is so very lonely. I’m cold and there’s no one to snuggle with. I’m hugging a pillow with a myriad of annoying little tassels instead of a warm, breathing human whose mere breathing pattern makes me feel safe and loved.

    As ridiculous as it is, I find my self crying real, stinging tears even as I think of him. I can see him alone in our smaller bed, in our smaller room, in our much smaller house—our little kingdom that we built together.

    It’s an elegant though humble space, but it is unquestioningly, undoubtedly home.

    Not so much because of the walls we painted or furniture we bought, but because that’s where he is. He IS my home. If he were here, I know this bed would not feel so empty, this place would not feel so unknown.

    I sat with my parents in their room tonight and came up with any excuse to sit and chat. I didn’t want to come to this room alone. I knew the despair I would feel. My mom could sense my distress and offered to watch Big Bang Theory with me. This was comforting, watching a show that Jeremy and I watch together every week. I laughed and immersed myself in the silly nerd stories. But every mention of Battlestar Galactica or technical computer lingo only reminded me of who I was missing—my brave, heroic, funny, kind, gorgeous geek of a knight in shining armor. After three episodes my mom was too tired to continue, and I grudgingly brought myself here to this spot. Alone.

    Now it's 3:00 and I’ve had my cry, and convinced myself—somewhat--that the gusty winds will probably not get me tonight. The little life inside me has woken up, and every little kick and stretch is a comforting reminder of her Daddy, the very same amazing person whose absence is currently flooding my being. I know she misses him too. I know she is missing his voice telling her goodnight through my belly, and missing his warmth as we snuggle together as a family. I don’t think I’ll separate us from him again for a very long time. Maybe never.

  • Just a random blurb...

    Life has been a little rough and stressful recently. I tend to clean, and I mean DEEP clean, when I'm angry. And let me tell you, I have a sparkling clean kitchen tonight! I didn't even watch GLEE! I needed to let off some major steam that has been building for several weeks and I feel a little better. Me and Jeremy are fine though, it's not about him. I know you can all sleep better tonight knowing me and Jeremy are still completely, unfailingly, immovably, and disgustingly in L-O-V-E. My marriage is my favorite thing in my whole life right now. That and my baby. And really, my problems are small compared to many people. But not that small. It takes a lot to bring me down.

    It's hard because I can't really talk to anyone about it except Jeremy and sometimes my parents. And I hate that. I much prefer my life to be an open book.

    So I'm going to pass on the big 24 Weeks update. Just not in the mood. Nothing has changed really. She moves around and squirms all the time now and still, every single time I am shocked and entertained. Every single time I feel a twinge I want to interrupt me and Jeremy's conversation and scream, "SHE MOVED! FEEL MY BELLY!" But if I did that we'd never get any talking done because I'd constantly be giving him baby movement updates...haha. Today while researching for a paper in bed, I had the laptop on my belly, and she would move it! That was really cool. I was impressed.

    One really exciting piece of news is that we booked the Disney Cruise to Alaska in 2011! Whoo hoo! We were very blessed and were able to work it all out. We have about zero disposable income for the next two weeks but we'll survive. I'll just eat enough at the baby shower to hold me over for a week. Haha. (Like I could even eat enough to hold myself over for an hour these days!) I'll talk more about the cruise later. But the best part is that my immediate family is coming too. I hope more and more extended family members end up coming though. The more the merrier!

    Another thing keeping me looking on the bright side is my baby shower on Saturday! My mom and a few other ladies in the family have made this thing a lot bigger than I expected. Bigger is better in this case. I'm so excited! It will be so great to be able to just hang out, eat, and catch up with so many friends and relatives. I can't wait!

    I'm actually leaving for the airport in about 5 1/2 hours and I still have to take a shower, finish my paper, do another load of laundry, and finish packing the toiletry stuff that has to wait for the last minute. Yeah. Probably not gonna get to all of that...

    Anyways, that's it for tonight! Pray that I have a safe landing in Raleigh. Former Hurricane Ida will be there causing 24 mph winds. I know that won't bring a plane down, but I'm sure it will be bumpy enough to make me nervous. Which is bad because I'm also nervous that we'll crash some other way, that the baby will freak out from the pressure, that I'll go into pre-term labor, that uterine pressure changes secretly cause autism or something, that I'll have to pee and not be able to get to the airplane bathroom, and a myriad of other concerns. Ha! At least it's not Friday the 13th yet. I don't have a good track record with those either.

    Until next week!

  • 23 Weeks...and a political tangent.

    The big event this week has been...movement! I feel the baby kick every single day now. And a lot! She's become my special little friend that lives in my belly. And she has definite patterns to her routine. I sometimes go a few hours in midday without feeling any nudges, but after meals and especially during prime time television at night, she is all over the place. That's nice because her Daddy is sitting right next to me on the couch and is able to feel and see her kicks. Sometimes she punches me so hard that I flinch in shock or yelp a little bit. It still catches me off guard. Wouldn't you jump back in surprise if some invisible being punched you completely unexpectedly? Now imagine that coming from inside of you. It's crazy. Another thing I'm noticing is that I feel movement in a larger area of my belly, not just the one spot that I've been feeling a while. She's taking up a lot more space in there than I realized.

    I think I enjoy it more when Jeremy gets to feel a kick. Even more so than just feeling it myself. Last night I'd had my last Pepsi for a while. (Jeremy and I made a pact that we will NOT drink ANY soda. I don't know how long it will last, we didn't really set a goal, but I'm hoping for at least 6 months. Once we get used to not drinking it, it should be easy to give it up all together. It's just hard because it's EVERYWHERE in our culture.) I guess the sugar in the Pepsi set the baby on a little dance routine. She was punching and kicking, really hard. We paused the show we were watching to just feel her move. It's really one of those special moments that make me wonder how anyone can ever be satisfied with one child. Or even two. (I'm sure I'll understand that better once I have a screaming toddler to deal with, haha.) But for now, this seems so addicting. Whenever I'm bored I can seriously just sit quietly and feel her move and be completely entertained. It's a little easier to understand why some people have a dozen kids when you experience something like this. It's so special and unique, especially when you are so crazy in love with the person that got you pregnant in the first place.

    It makes abortion even more hard to understand. Cases of rape and incest, and health of the mother are one thing, but abortion in general just seems even more heinous now that I've felt this little life growing within me. I know they don't usually do them this late, but even during the first trimester, the babies are so sweet and human. I just can't support it. I feel adoption should always be the first choice for "unplanned" pregnancies. Of course the real problem is the horrible, casual attitudes we have about sex in our culture that CAUSE the unwanted babies but that's another blog post entirely. I feel like if you are in a position that you would abort a baby that might result from the sex you're considering engaging in, then that should tell you that you aren't in a responsible position to be having sex in the first place. I think that is your choice. Once you're pregnant, there's no more choices. You're having a baby. That's a controversial and often unpopular stance, but that's the way I feel. It's probably my most, and only, staunchly conservative opinion. People having sex without being willing to take care of the possible consequences are making such an incredibly selfish and immature decision that it blows my mind. Sigh. Can you even imagine a world where EVERY baby is born to two loving parents that lovingly raise them into adulthood? What a drastically different world we would live in.

    Anyways, after being pregnant once, I kind of can't wait to do it again. Don't tell my parents though! Haha. My Dad is already worried for me to have any more, and my Mom is worried for me to have more than two. It's true that pregnancy is hard for me, but as far as I can tell, it's not really damaging my body yet. We'll see how labor and delivery goes. And I will do my best to avoid getting pregnant again right away, but geez, the good times, like feeling her high-five her Daddy last night, make all the morning sickness and discomfort SO WORTH IT.

    I just always saw myself having 4 or 5. But I'd be happy with whatever I get. Frankly I'm just thrilled to get one when I was always just a little unsure sure if I'd ever have any. I'd like to have at least three though.

    My appetite is out of control. I'm amazed at how much food I'm eating on a daily basis. Yesterday I had two sandwiches in a row. I don't think I've ever done that in my life. I'm still completely grossed out by fast food, or even heavily processed foods. It's great for my diet and general health, I'm sure, but not very convenient. Ramen noodles and Easy Mac just aren't cutting it. I tire of eating them halfway through, and my body feels like it got about as many nutrients as if I'd eaten cardboard. It's very unsatisfying and I end up having to find something else more substantial to eat just to feel like I've eaten anything at all.

    So yeah. Pregnancy is weird but awesome. Parts of me never want it to end, but most of me would still LOVE for March to hurry up and get here so I can experience her outside of my body. (Getting rid of the backaches would be nice too!) Jeremy said the same thing last night, that he just can't wait for her to be here. The cool thing is that she IS here. She's right here kicking my laptop as I type this. She responds to voices sometimes I think. When we saw This Is It, she sat still the entire time, but danced all the way through "The Way You Make Me Feel" and "Billie Jean." The girl's got good taste.

    My joy is bittersweet tonight though. An old friend is going through her second miscarriage tonight and my heart just aches for her. I've never experienced a miscarriage, and I sincerely can't imagine the devastation, but I do know many of those emotions that go along with any kind of infertility, having dealt with it for a long time. It's kind of a battle scar that so many women silently share. One thing my neighbor told me when I was worried to death about miscarrying was helpful. She'd had four or five miscarriages, but was mere days away from giving birth to her adorable, perfect little boy. She told me, "Don't worry! Even if you DO miscarry, just remember that someday you CAN get to this point." And she pointed to her huge belly...haha. That stuck with me. And I think that's true. All anyone can do is stay calm, keep the faith, and hope for the future.

  • Nothing Cures the Dumps like a Disney Cruise!

    So I've been really depressed recently. Just so overwhelmed with school, family stresses, finances due to Jeremy's hours cuts, pregnancy hormones, more school, my church calling, constant back pain, everything. I've been extremely unmotivated and fallen behind in school due to my back being impossible. Yesterday was kind of the breaking point and I just had to cry all over Jeremy for a while. He was very patient and rubbed my back. I love him. He didn't even tell me to stop crying! He was perfect.

    Well today my mom plants this idea in my head about a Disney Cruise to Alaska. It was kind of exactly what I needed. A reason to be excited, something to think about besides all my other worries, something to plan, etc. I love planning! She calls going on and on about how wonderful it would be and has already come up with all the prices for my little family to go along with the rest of my family. She figured that the cheapest available room that Me, Jeremy, Joey, and Baby Girl Swafford could stay in for the 7-night Alaskan Disney Cruise would be just under $5000. We would only have to save up about $300 a month to pay for it by the due date. It would require sacrifices, especially with Jeremy's large pay cut, but I felt we could do it. The sacrifices would be worth it. I got VERY EXCITED. And VERY HAPPY.

    So I call the Disney Cruise Line (DCL) about a wheelchair accessible room. You can't get that info anywhere online, you have to call. And guess what? There are BARELY any handicap rooms left. FOR A 2011 CRUISE! I was shocked. Every single cruise we could potentially go on (all 7 of them) only had the expensive, large, staterooms with a veranda. And not many of them. Some dates only had ONE wheelchair room available on the entire ship. The rooms that ARE available are the exact same rooms me and Jeremy had on our honeymoon. Sure, it would be magical to have breathtaking views of Alaska's mountains and glaciers, not to mention the memories of being in the same room from our honeymoon, but did I mention they are expensive? I wasn't planning on having a room that nice ever again in my cruising lifetime. However, that's all that is left. That bumps our total cost up to about $7700. Making our monthly saving requirement about $460.

    OUCH.

    I wanted to cry again. I wanted to scream at how unfair it is that I have to have an expensive wheelchair room. I wanted to complain to DCL for having so few wheelchair rooms. I was angry that I ever got my hopes up only to have them stomped to little bits. I considered getting a normal room and crawling through the tiny doorway on the floor and crawling into the tiny bathroom for every shower and pee break. Then I remembered that I will already have a child crawling/tottering around and requiring constant attention. I can't be trying to drag myself AND my baby in and out of my room and the bathroom on the floor. I just can't. It's not safe. For either of us.

    But you know what? I want to go on that cruise. I NEED to go on that cruise. It would be the perfect graduation present. (I'm graduating December 2010. Fingers crossed.) I need a reason to stop eating out so often and cook healthier, cheaper food at home. I want something to look forward to after the baby comes when I'm sleep deprived and dying for human interaction after spending most of my days stuck on bed rest. I want a prize to focus on while I'm desperately trying to finish school with an infant. I need motivation more than I've ever needed it in my life.

    Our baby girl will be at such a great age. 16-17 months. Sure, she won't remember the cruise when she's older, but I will remember her face lighting up when she gets to meet her favorite princess, character, or even Mickey Mouse! I will have so many precious photos of a time when she's old enough to recognize and love the character, yet young enough to believe they're the REAL THING. I can't imagine many things better than that. I SO WANT THAT.

    I made a short term room reserve. The agent practically forced me to. It's a free courtesy to reserve a room for three days until you come up with the initial deposit. ($1800 for us.) It's impossible, but she was adamant. She asked the name of the infant that will be on the cruise and I told her she didn't have a name yet because she isn't born yet. The agent just thought that was the sweetest thing, and I think it's pretty cool too, to book a cruise for a passenger that hasn't been born yet! It got me excited again. It made me want to make it happen. I want to see my baby meet Ariel, The Little Mermaid, for the first time. I want to see Alaska, for the first and probably only time.

    Actually, I would gladly switch to a cheaper cruise, something in the Caribbean or Bahamas, but my family is definitely going on the Alaskan cruise and I don't want to be left out. Again. My family has already done six of the Caribbean/Bahamian Disney cruises--without ME--so they aren't really interested in those. They're spoiled...haha.

    So I'm going for it. We may not make it. We may not come up with all the money. And if that's the case, so be it. What will likely happen, is even if we can eventually scrape together the $1800 for the initial deposit to permanently reserve the room, the wheelchair rooms will be all gone by then. I have one reserved now, but only for a few days and we'll definitely lose it cause there's no way we can come up with $1800 by then. According to my calculations, we can barely scrape together $800 within the next few days, assuming we eat off the food we have stored up in the house and only spend $100 on groceries and toiletries for the next three weeks.

    But if we ARE able to save up a lot of money, and still not make the $7700 cruise, or not in time to reserve a wheelchair room, then I will try to do something else equally awesome with the money. Maybe a short little 3-day cruise on the new Disney Dream ship? It won't be nearly as meaningful as having a large chunk of my extended family together, but it will be something fun for my new little family. I need the motivation, a little bit of pixie dust. Some MAGIC.

    And a Disney Cruise with my wonderful family is just that.