May Day

I'm tired.  The steroid treatment is over for my swollen hand and I kinda miss the overdrive if I'm being honest...  Instead of burning through more household piles in an organizing frenzy last time I found myself kid-free, I instead caught myself still sitting in my mini van, vaguely observing my gluten-free neighbor doing yard work while I ate a muffin.  She has had the nerve to get super-skinny.  I feel I've lost the unspoken over-sized-tee-shirt camaraderie we once shared from across the street.  Sigh.

So as you can see, I've been busy.  Started the weekend off at Dave and Busters, also kid-free, attending a function called "Grill the Priests."  An awesome open-forum event where the crowd could ask anything they wanted about Catholicism from a panel of brave priests.  Sold out, packed event room.  Afterwards you could play arcade games with a Dominican in full garb while everyone whispers comments.  Wicked cool.  :)

On the not so great side, a favorite tree in "my" playground across the street is being terminated... seems Earth Day was sooo last week.  :S  More negative playground news: it seems I lost my necklace ("the" necklace) at a playground in... another state.  This has been a perfect excuse for online Mother's ring shopping whenever I miss it now.  Hoping to get all my kids' birthstone on a ring a tad too small for my finger--maybe one I kinda have to jam on--so there isn't a chance of it coming off and getting lost...

One positive playground note: a motherhood milestone was passed with my preschooler used a porta-potty for the first time! She did not touch anything disgusting, nor did she panic that "the toilet wasn't flushed."  Proud of her.

Those of you checking in for actual news will notice, no doubt, that I have not given any.  This is because I have none yet.  On May 1st, as scheduled, with a wonderful friend watching my kids and my wonderful husband taking a day off, we sat in the self-same office I'd been in in March (the one with the kinda creepy Ann Geddes babies emerging from sunflowers) and was told the following:

"Pathology isn't finished with the autopsy results from your D&E yet.  I'm sorry.  But don't worry, they still have slides of the brain, liver, kidneys, heart, and everything else.  They just aren't finished yet."

You can just imagine my "relief" at this non-information after a week's sleep full of odd nightmares like: "Perpetua died because you consumed too much mayonnaise.  Those are the autopsy results.  In future pregnancies, please refrain from the consumption of condiments."

I was assured I would be called when results were in, apologized to for the office keeping an autopsy review appointment when no autopsy results were available, and told to expect a call "soon."  I went home and dug in the freezer for the "Chocolate Therapy" a very dear friend had given me for just such an occasion.  Mmmmm.

Then this morning, as I was contemplating how to communicate my "non news" in this post, the phone rang with "OBGYN" on the caller ID.  Now, I had been planning my writing in the place I write best: the shower.  But this phone call was probably "the one," so I jumped out, grabbed my phone, lost my grip on it, fished it out from a puddle on the floor, frantically patted it with my towel, and said "Hello?!?" while trying to shut the shower off.  I was in "pre-rinse" stage.

"Is this Katherine?"  Cue screaming 1 and 3 year old at door.  "Yep, it's me."  I pull the door open, hoping I could quiet things down quickly.  A very dangerous diaper was drooping around little knees.  Swearing interiorly, I grabbed wet wipes and laid out fussing toddler on the towel I was supposed to be standing on.  With no other option, I tapped "speaker on."

"We have the pathology results.  The doctor would like to discuss the findings with you, and make sure you have your genetic blood work done prior to..."  Wiping furiously, I looked up at Cecilia, who was admiring herself in the mirror.  "Mommy, you are wery wet!" she loudly proclaimed.  "Mommy, you have soap on your arm!  Mommy!!! You have nothing o..."

I tossed a towel I had grabbed for myself over her head, and she roared in delight at the new game. "Speaker off." 

"Ha ha, I'm so sorry.  Please go on."

Felicity was upset not to be part of the game, and her wails necessitated a call back several hours later, after an 8 minute wait, to reschedule what May 1st was supposed to be.  Now, it's May 8th.

Groan. 

To go along with my little playground theme: this is exactly how I feel about finding out:

I want to know, because maybe I could fix something for the future for my own health or, possibly, for another baby should I be so blessed.  But that would mean I could have fixed something, possibly, for her.  Either way, this is going to be hard, and I'm not looking forward to it.  Either way, I'm definitely finding out, despite certain family member's encouragement not to.  I want to know everything I can about this child, whatever it is.  Especially with all this fuss and turmoil to get the information.

"Not knowing" is not terrible meanwhile, though, not really.  Trying to remind myself of that.  When I was in church choir as a teen, we sang this song once...  I haven't heard it before or since, but the words struck me.  It's loosely based on Scripture, written by Dan Schutte... who is not exactly my favorite songwriter, :) but the words give me something to think about during this time.  Here's the refrain:

Holy darkness, blessed night,
heaven's answer hidden from our sight.
As we await you, O God of silence,
we embrace your holy night. 

Basically, while I'd sure like to know more, I don't need to know everything right now.  But I'm glad He does. 

For your further entertainment, I'm attempting to attach a link here.  The song's pretty.  The words are profound at times.  The crucifix is apparently backlit by a Dreamlight... a kid's toy that changes colors every minute or so.  Still... :)  Enjoy if you will:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6NWR08ts_w&feature=player_detailpage