My 2-day Matt Damon journey

I'm still on this huge high! It almost doesn't seem real that I saw all the filming that I did and that my determination paid off with getting to see and meet a huge celebrity. Wow, what an AMAZING moment.

Here's a little bit more about the movie and the characters in it. A really big lineup of celebrities!

This taken from cinematical.com:

"There have been some questions raised about the accuracy of Kurt Eichenwald's account of Mark Whitacre and ADM, but whatever might be the truth, The Informant should make for a pretty darned entertaining drama. Imagine a man who becomes the highest-level whistleblower in US history, switches sides to work for the FBI for three years, defrauds his company, lies, and ultimately reveals that he suffers from bipolar disorder.

Paul Greengrass' film already has Matt Damon signed on to play Whitacre, and now The Hollywood Reporter posts that more cast have hopped onboard -- all of which, surprisingly, have notable comedic work. The new players are: Scott Bakula, Joel McHale (The Soup), Mike O'Malley (Yes, Dear), Andrew Daly (Semi-Pro), Adam Paul (Hollywood Residential), Melanie Lynskey (Two and a Half Men), and "comedian-actors" Tom Wilson, Rick Overton, and Tom Papa.

If you think this looks like more comedy than could possibly be coincidental, you'd be right. A source told THR that Soderbergh wants the thriller to have "dark comedy elements. He chose comedic actors who haven't been overexposed on film, planning to have them play their roles seriously and have a humorous tone emerge naturally."

Bakula and McHale play FBI agents working with agri-business insider Mark Whitacre (Damon) to stop a price-fixing scam. Eddie Jemison plays Kirk Schmidt, a guy my husband, Neil, works with! It's crazy in a really cool way!

{ I took down the slide show because it was just slowing things down here. You can still see all pictures at my flickr. }

Timeline Tidbits (to help you with the quiz!)

Late 80's - Early 90's - I was in love with this band. Obviously, you say? (FYI --- answer to a "trick" question)




Early 90's - I bought my first pair of boxers from a certain favorite catalog which for umpteen years has been my favorite place to shop. (Hint: see the Sassy magazine post.)





August 1996 - Even though Neil was one year behind me in high school (yes, we were high school sweethearts), he went to SIU before me. He went straight there in 1995 and I finished up my 2 years at community college. It was in 1996 that I packed up my Ford Escort and drove it 3-1/2 hours to school with Neil. I actually liked my Escort. It was small like a VW Cabrio so I pretended that it was a VW I was driving and not the Ford.



October-ish 1996 - Two of my best friends, Kalina and Natalie, came down to visit me at school quite often. One thing we did a few times was go out to Giant City National Forest and go through "Fast Man's Squeeze". Southern Illinois is very hilly. It's so different from the rest of Illinois where it's completely flat. Down in Southern Illinois there are lots of glacial rock formations, geologic faulting and erosion. It's an amazing thing to see which is why just about every weekend Neil, myself and friends journeyed out there to explore.

"Fat Man's Squeeze" is a small opening in between two sandstone walls that create the feel of soaring city streets fit for a giant. The actual area that you "squeeze" into is about 10 or 12 inches wide. You have to crawl up and through a tiny cave-like area between the soaring rocks which leads to the tiny infamous space called "Fat Man's Sqeeze".

Meanie I was, I always told my friends that they had to go through it and every time I laughed my behind off while TAKING PICTURES of them doing it. I am so so bad. Natalie told me that she was going to get me to go through it one day. (Yeah, right, you'd have to put a gun to my head!) Here are Nat and Kalina "squeezing" through the "Fat Man" opening to squeeze out. Natalie got out just fine but Kalina's breast-area got a little stuck. She had a panic attack and went the other way. You can see the panic on her face!





1997 - I move into a house with these 2 guys, seen here with Frankie, the doggie Neil and I still have.
Rusty and Dan are their names. I don't quite know how in the world I lived with these insanely crazy guys, but I managed to . . . somehow. (Just kidding, guys, I love you!) I went to grade school and high school with these boys. They were two of my dearest friends, and to this day I would never leave them out of any part of my life, and the same goes for them with me, I think!

But look what I dealt with! :c) (And look at that couch!!!!)


I hope they don't use it against me that I'm posting these pictures, but what great memories. I had the absolute best time living with them. Neil was over a lot and the 4 of us hung out together. We (they) cooked a lot of meals together, too. It's a blurry picture, but this is what I saw a lot. 3 guys in the kitchen?! Hard to believe, eh?! I was soooo lucky; a girl doesn't live see it often!:)





September 1998 - One Saturday Neil took me back out to Giant City at the exact area that we had these pictures taken a year earlier. It was our favorite spot. (And yes, that's Frankie, who today is 11!)



We had a picnic and in the bottom of the food was a container with our dessert (Farley snacks - what a dessert, eh?!) and in the bottom of that container was a ring box. It was a great day :) 9 months later we were married. A picture from the day he proposed taken by a tree :c)







Summer of 1999 - My grandma Libby was one of my best friends. She was my inspiration and role model. During this summer we had a surprise anniversary party for her and my grandpa. It was a great time. The parrty happened after her chemotherapy and radiation treatments for breast cancer. She still didn't have a whole lot of energy but was gaining a lot of it back. I hadn't seen her smile so big and so much in a loooong time. Her hair was still coming back in and she looked so beautiful without hardly any hair. She was proud to be a woman and to be a survivor. I was so very proud of her, too. So was mom. Grandma got to see me married and then in February of 2000 she was admitted to ICU for leukemia (and then pneumonia) that she developed which mom and I think was caused by her chemo treatments. That chemotherapy kills cells and so of course it has to have an impact on healthy ones. The chemo did extend her life, but the last month of her life was an intense battle. She died the day after my birthday, on March 17, 2000. She was taken off life support on my birthday. I prayed to God that she wouldn't die on my birthday. He allowed her to live till the morning of the 17th. I miss her greatly. This picture was taken at her anniversary party just months before she left us.

"15 Years Ago . . ."

I like to head back to my old blog at Yahoo 360 that I started back in 2006 from time to time. I ran across one post that I thought I would post o'er here. It's called "15 Years Ago". Hope you take the time to read . . .

15 years ago I moved, at the age of 15, from the place I was born and raised, R.R. #1 Box 317. A place that will always be my "home". A place that will forever hold the most amazing memories growing up. A place where I had so many "firsts". A place I will never forget.

My dad was a farmer. He had some really great years of farming and some really bad ones as well. Even though there were more good years than bad, it was those few bad years that brought our lives on the farm, under. We lived through a couple intensely straining years of droughts, making us next to no money, and it was those years that made us unable to thrive there any longer. I can still remember vividly the moment dad sat us down in the living room as a family to tell us the news that we had to give up the farm, and that dad had to find a new job and most likely we'd be moving far away. Until that point in my life, the experience of moving was the hardest thing I had faced I think because it was the farthest thing from my mind. Being an emotionally attached person to things and memories (like my mom), it was a really difficult experience. One that is pretty cemented in my heart and soul. One that will probably always have an impact on me. I learned without certainty, where my heart would reside forever. I absolutely loved the farm and those memories are forever cherished.

Tonight I had a family picture session in Argenta, my hometown. Afterwards I decided since I didn't have my kids with me, that I'd go down memory lane. I drove by my old high school. Well, what was left of it. Most of it, but the old gym, has been torn down and rebuilt. I hadn't seen it yet, and it was a big shocker to see it totally revamped like it is. It's really really nice. The 2-year wait was definitely worth it for the kids and teachers that are there now. The hardest thing for me, again, are the memories that I have in those buildings. My grandma and grandpa went to school there. They met there. Neil and I met there. There's a lot of ancestory in those buildings. I'm very proud of that. Not many these days can say they went to the same school that their grandparents (and other family members) did.

After going by the school, I decided to drive by Neil's old house, and then my old house. I stopped at the end of the lane to my old farm house and sat there, thinking, should I just drive on up? Knowing that the man who lived there died a few months ago, I went up the quarter-mile lane. I'm really glad I did.

The corn was high so I couldn't see the house till I drove the whole 1/4 mile. When I first saw the house I was in disbelief. I expected to see it how I left it 15 years ago. It was still the same house, but it was extremely run down. A few of the barns were gone, many of the trees were gone, the bridge over the creek was gone, the pump house was gone, lots of the landscaping was gone. It didn't look very good at all. I got out of my car and started taking pictures of things that I wanted to remember visually. So I walked around the entire farm. It took me about 45 minutes, but it was perfect. Just me and my camera, walking around the place I once ran around as a naive little girl.

I saw the old basketball hoop that my dad put up for Chris and I. The old pumps were all still there in various places. The sidewalks were the same, as well as the big rock in the front yard that my dad found many many years ago. My tree, which was once a seedling in 4th grade, was there and bigger than I had ever imagined. I guess that's what happens when you see it as a tree that's now 21 years old. I saw the old tree house and the steps leading up to it. They just hung from a single nail. I could not believe those were still there. I peeked into the machine shed and saw dad's old work bench. I also peeked into the house itself and saw our old wood-burning stove that Chris and I went with dad to get when we were tots. The kettle was still on the top of it. I also saw the stairs leading up to my bedroom and the front porch with the same old wood door. That porch is where I first saw my first bike, where I stood with my pumpkins that I called "bumpkin" at 1-1/2 years old, where I housed my kittens when it stormed. Oh the memories.

The house is not lived in. And the owner, the same one who owned it when we lived there, is in his 90's. I wonder what is going to happen to it? Neil and I have on occasion talked about it, wondering if it's worth looking into buying perhaps? Nothing in the house is really salvagable, it's that run down. But the structure is probably good. I would be tickled to death if that's something we could do. I guess it doesn't hurt to check into it. Through the tears I thought to myself this evening how amazing it would be to raise my own kids there. Maybe just maybe this is why I went out there? To discover that "this" is where we are meant to be?

Anyhow, I just had to share my little 45 minute experience. Even if I never ever go back there again, I feel at peace now. I've always had a hard time dealing with the move - we literally auctioned 15+ years of our family's life away - and I never ever thought I'd go back. But going back was like saying goodbye one last time. And I felt really good doing it this time.

The reason why I posted this is that our farm house has finally been put on the market. My mom asked me this past weekend if I wanted to go with my dad to the open house. (She couldn't even fathom thinking about going.) At first I thought I wanted to go . . . to go with dad and see it with him. But then I thought about it and decided not to. I already made my peace. I don't need to see it again looking as sad as it is now. I don't remember it as a sad place but as a very happy one. I want to continue remembering it like that. But I did want dad to be able to go so that he could make some peace with it, too. I know that the move was probably harder on him than anyone, he just never expressed that. I have a feeling whoever buys the house and the out-buildings, that they will tear the house down. I think that will be one of the hardest days of my life when I hear that it's no longer there. I wish it were us buying it and making it live-able, but we just can't. Not at this time in our lives.

It just amazes me as I grow older, how things change like they do. When you are younger, you never anticipate change ever happening. I don't even think as a child I knew what change was. You don't see yourself ever growing older and you don't see memories ever fading. Life. It's a confusing crazy ever-changing thing. But a good thing.

This is me in front of the house on the farm. * sob *

Cold cold cold cold memories.

I shot my last wedding of the year on Saturday. It was a really good wedding and I can't wait to share more later. The bride was gorgeous, I got to finally wear my dress and shoes, I got to see my Johanna, (oh!) and I shot a couple hundred (more like over 1,000) pictures.

So I'm a teensy-weensy tired today still. (More like super exhausted!) My legs and arms are soooo sore. Both things regularly happen after a wedding from standing on my feet (in heels) for hours on end and holding my camera with one arm like I so often do. (Ah-hem, yes, I know, that is also a sign that I'm way out of shape. I know it, so no rubbing it in. I consider my weddings major work-outs!)

One of the strangest things about the wedding was the weather. When I left my house at 9:30, it was freezing rain. I got on the interstate and it was a sheet of ice. The windows on my car started freezing. I had to go 30 mph on the interstate. Some cars passed me but most of them stayed in good distance behind. Cars were swerving all over and some were going in ditches. If I wasn't photographing the wedding, I would have turned around. It was so bad and so scary. But, I persevered! (Yay, Val!)

It took me over an hour to go about 30 miles or so. Thankfully, right about when the ceremony started, the weather started warming up and the ice began to melt. The craziest thing of all though, was that it was exactly one year ago that we got the ice storm of the decade. The ice storm that set my husband, kids and I out of power for 9 days. The craziest of it all was that the reception was held at the same place that we called "home" for those 9 days. Talk about deja vu. It was so so so so . . . strange. I kept thinking about one year ago. And I kept praying "please, Lord, don't let it happen again."

As Neil and I talked yesterday and agreed, one year ago was really really hard for us. It was a scary time to not have power in our home for 9 days. For temps to be below freezing for that entire time and to be living somewhere out of your norm, in a strange place without any of your belongings around. It was hard. All 4 of our pets were still living back at our house. Neil left our "home-away-from-home" to go to work, but I rarely got out with the kids. I went back to our actual house once or twice. It was hard to go back, to see it so frozen over and lifeless, and then to have to leave it again was difficult, not to mention, it really confused the kids (who were just a year old and 3!). We went stir-crazy . . . just slightly. It was really hard. It was definitely a time in our lives that I will never ever ever forget.

Just yesterday we put up all our Christmas decorations in our house. It made me think about how last year, the NIGHT that we put up our decorations and tree, the ice storm hit. Here's my kiddos on that night. Who would have thought that we would not get to enjoy our tree and decorations for 9 days? Not I.

The night the ice came, that had to have been the scariest night ever. The weight of the ice on the telephone wires snapped just about all of them or brought them down completely on top of trees. When this started happening, we knew we had to get out of there. Our power went out, the house began getting cold very fast and it looked like the 4th of July out our windows. We thought our house was going to catch fire. So we drove to Neil's parents and slept overnight there. When we woke up the next morning, we drove home and this is what we saw.

The next day, Neil's dad got us a place to stay at. Here is a picture of my kids looking out the window of our "apartment" at the ice from 3 floors up.

In those 9 days, we got pretty bored. We did a lot of running up and down the halls. :c) (Maia was JUST learning how to walk, so she was constantly pretty wobbly!)
When we got home after the 9 days, what work we had to do! Our yard was a complete disaster area. With the amount of branches and trees down, it almost looked like a tornado had swept through. Here's part of our pile of branches.
I am so so so so glad all this is now a distant memory, and I can only hope and pray that it's the only ice storm I ever have such strong memories from. We'll definitely never ever forget.

Were you affected by the storm?????

Missy-Poo, I love you!

My baby girl . . . she is a year older today. She is 2.

So many things are reminding me of 2 and 4 years ago, when I was pregant with my little dootles. Not just the fact that it's the week they were born, but because so many of my friends are having their babies or announcing their pregnancies or coming around me with their big ol beautiful bellies.

It's bittersweet because I absolutely loved being pregnant. I loved the kicks that I felt, even the ones that kept me awake at night, and believe it or not, those kicks never ever kept me from sleeping. I slept very well during my pregnancies (except towards the end, of course) and those kicks were theapeutic for me. They kept my heart and soul from worries . . . kept me knowing that my babies were okay. If my babies hadn't kicked and hiccuped like they did inside my belly, I would have gone ballistic.

I loved how I looked being pregnant. I loved being able to show off my belly because for once I felt it was beautiful. I loved the glow I had. I loved how my hair and skin and fingernails were stronger and more radiant. I loved that I got boobs.
Me, about to have my baby, and Jen, 6 months (exactly) behind me, pregnant and beautiful.

Of course there were things that I hated, like the high blood pressure (I was pre-eclampsic with Noah) in both pregnancies, the sciatic nerve pain, the weight gain (over 45 lbs with both my kids!) and my forgetfulness (like forgetting to take the pump nozzle out of my gas tank, then driving away and pulling the hose off the pump and driving over it --- yes, I did that), but I dealt with those things just fine. I love love loved being pregnant. I'd do it again. But I can't. Doctors orders.

So my birth, with Maia, not easy either. I had a doula (Leann, my angel and my forever friend!) and she was amazing. She helped get me through 31 (yes, 31) hours of labor. I went overnight with labor and could have gone into another night, but after a sonogram shortly after my epidural, it showed that probably nothing was going to get Maia's head engaged. She wanted to come out and her heart rate was going down. After 31 hours she was getting tired and I was getting tired. So we (all together) decided to take her by c-section before it became a true emergency again like it was with Mr. Noah.

I was awake this time. Of course my arms were strapped down and what I remember most is that feeling of having to throw up and feeling so very hot and sweaty because of the anesthesia. I remember the nurses saying "go ahead and throw up", but I couldn't. I remember Neil sitting behind my head. I remember the doctor saying "look at that hair" and I remember the nurses all guessing her weight before they pulled her out. (They were guessing 9 lbs and the doctor guessed 8 lbs 13 oz. She ended up being 8 lbs 3 oz.) I remember them bringing my baby girl to me and showing her to me. I could not hold her. I could not see her being cleaned off. I had to go down into recovery. So again, my birth experience sucked, but what could I do? At least she came safely to us and what I did experience was 1,000 times better than what I experienced with Noah.

But then I still didn't get to hold her for 2 whole days. Can you imagine? It was really rough. So she remained nameless for 2 days also. They thought she had a severe heart defect. After numerous tests with doctors in Peoria, they found that she has a boot-shaped heart, but nothing that will affect her -- we hope and pray. So they took her off oxygen and the feeding tubes and the heart monitors and we finally, finally, got to hold her.The closest photographic memory I have of either of my children being cleaned up after birth. Then she gets swiped away to Level II :(

And now today, all that is just a memory, but a very strong memory. Another one to make me, and our family, stronger. And future memories I have I hope will be even stronger. She is my 2nd little miracle. She is my baby girl. She is my princess. I love her more than words can say. And today, I wish her a very happy 2nd birthday. I am just amazed at what we have been through to get our children, but I'm even more amazed . . . incredibly blessed . . .just to have them here. It's all been a miracle.

Love you, Missy-Poo. Happy Birthday!

Baby Maia and mommy with grandpa. He passed 1 year ago. We really really miss him.

Sand box messes & Reminiscing

I think Maia is trying to wean herself out of her naps. Some days I find her fighting me to go down, even 3 hours past the time she normally takes a nap, and other days she goes down perfectly, like today.

Yesterday was one of those days where she would not go down. She "talked" in her bed for an hour before I finally got her out. So instead of sleeping yesterday afternoon, she played.

We have a sand box at this house and the kids love it. Because of the messes that it creates, after they are done playing in it I always immediately take them to the bath. Yesterday was another sand box afternoon.

As soon as they were done in the sandbox, Noah went next door with his new little best friends, Lucas, 5, and Brevin, 4. He is in safe hands with Nikki, so I left him over there and gave Maia her bath.

After her bath she decided she wanted "on the couch" to watch "Bunge-bob" with her "towel" (she strangely loves towels). So I did. I went to clean up a few things in the house and came back 5 minutes later with clothes to put on her and I found her like this:Curled up on the couch . . . naked. It was 5:00 when I found her like this, so needless to say, she didn't sleep long. It was a long night for her last night without a much needed nap (we had mom's group in the morning and she played there, too). Neil did great putting up with her grouchy-ness while I worked.

So I've been reminiscing a lot the last week or so. This weather makes me remember being pregnant. I was very pregnant with both my kids this time of year in 2003 and 2005. Noah was born on the 15th, and Maia on the 18th. I remember going to the pumpkin patch both years very preggo and even shooting weddings, both years, the first weekend in October (38 weeks pregnant and swelling like you wouldn't believe). That was rough. Really rough. Thank God for patient clients and great friends like Mike, Nora & Heather.

Last year I wasn't able to reminisce too much. Grandpa was sick. Very sick. A year ago today he was in the nursing home. It was just last August that he went to the doctor where they found he had an intestinal cancer. So so quickly after that he went down hill.

I'm having a difficult time right now as I think about him a lot right now. I tried to visit him every couple days in the nursing home. Maia and Noah went with me a lot, also. It was hard. But I'm so glad I did it as often as I did.

Anyway, because grandpa was so on my mind every day, I didn't think much about the prior Octobers or even think about my children's birthdays. I was suppose to have a Halloween party last year and 2 kid birthday parties. They all sorta failed. They'll never remember that, and I'm not upset about it. More than anything I wanted to be there for grandpa. I knew I would not have him this year. I knew he wasn't going to make it. I knew I had to get ready for that. All parties and reminiscing could wait.

So this year I reminisce a lot. I remember all of the last 4 Octobers very very well:

4 Octobers ago I was very pregnant with Noah.
3 Octobers ago we celebrated my first child's 1st birthday -- and grandpa was there. I still remember it like yesterday. What a great celebration!
2 Octobers ago, Maia was born.
And last October grandpa died.

On a happy, funny, oh-my-gosh-look-at-Val note, this is what I looked like just 2 years ago:
Yeah, I was big.

Hope everyone has a great weekend! Miss you all still as I try to put my life back in order. Hope to be back sooner than later. Happy October!!

Pleasant discoveries

We are still unpacking. We still have dozens among dozens of boxes in the garage. We just got our storage cleaned out right before the weekend. It frustrates me because all I want is more time so I can finish unpacking and do my best to organize.

If I concentrated solely on unpacking all these weeks, I would have been done way before now, I can guarantee it. But with my job, it's been impossible. When Maia takes naps, I've been working. Most days when Noah is at school, if I'm not running errands, I am working. I am thankful Maia is good at keeping herself busy during that time. She sees it as a couple super fun hours that she can play with all the toys Noah won't let her play with when he's around! :c)

Anyway, we still have tons and tons and tons to do. Like, it's not even funny. At first I was taking it all with stride, and now I'm just beyond stressed out about it. I'm stressed, Neil is stressed and I think our stress is impacting the kids. How could it not, ya know? Anyway, I know we'll deal. This is more of a vent outlet for me right now than anything.

And what I'm really trying to get at is, I found some really cool things when unpacking a tub last night!

I thought this tub only contained pieces of an unfinished afghan that my grandma had began making before I was born. We found it when going through her things when she passed away (after her long fight with breast cancer -- oh I miss her still) in 2000, so mom gave it to me. I packed it away, but not too far away, thinking I would eventually find someone to finish it for me. No one seemed to want to help me. You know, we're all so busy these days, so I understood.

When I opened it and took out the afghan pieces last night, I also found another afghan (well, pieces) she had started on, and then I also found other crafty things started but never finished. It was like finding a pot of gold for me because I love hand made things and I love vintage things, but even more, it was something I found of my grandmothers that she had her hands on - a lot.

Take a look:
In the bottom of the tub, were probably 10 or 12 unfinished pieces of embroidery or cross-stitch (I think they're called??). This one was a "Merry Christmas" piece. According to the sticker, "A Keepsake". (Makes me giggle.) And to hold the yarn is a butterfly, seen here, made of plastic? (Crafty friends, do you know what I'm describing?)
How to draw trees. Anyone want to know how to draw trees? I can teach you literally by the book now!
Then I found these. Knitting needles? And lots of them.
And then more knitting needles. I guess I should learn how to knit, eh?
And then some handy how-to guides. Now I have no excuse but to re-teach myself! Anyone want to join me?
And then I found this beautiful piece of embroidery. If I were to only finish one thing, I think this is what I would finish. I don't think I could do as good of a job as she did, though.
And then a baby book! I guess I could make something now for my new niece or nephew, which by the way, we find out tomorrow what the sex is!!!
And then another unfinished piece. Those of who who know me well now know where I get this annoying habit of starting things but never finishing them (with good intentions to, though, of course!).
And then one of the afghans. So pretty! I guess she thought I was going to be a boy?
Look, the needle is still in it and everything.
And then the pretty orange one. I would love having this one done also. It's in thin rectangular pieces. I guess this is how you put an afghan together?? There are quite a few pieces. I really don't think there's much more to do than just knitting all of the big pieces together. Here's a piece. Hard to tell, but it's long, as are all of them.
Can you believe how there was so much unfinished? And I seriously had no idea she was so crafty! I never saw her do anything artsy ever. She was a grade school teacher, so I knew there was some creativeness in her, but not like this! It's so special to me finding out new things about her even after she's been gone 7 years.

And then, drumroll . . . I found in a different box some nostalgic things of mine. My "My Little Ponies"! (I gave them to Maia and she's now been carrying them around all day today. They even took a bath with her last night.)
And then I found piles upon piles of letters. I love to write letters, and I always have. It began with my pen pals when I was 8. My friend, Amberley, was one of my pen pals. But she wasn't just a "pen pal" but was like a sister to me. We met when we were infants (we were born on the same day . . .our moms were best friends), she move to Northern Illinois, but we stayed friends forever. This is one of probably the 500 letters I have from her . . . these back in 1989. How fun!!! (Cute Amberley, eh?!) I can't believe were have been friends since birth, and now here we are, 31 years later, the closest we've ever been, with 6 kids among us of our own. (Happy sigh . . . )

Foto Friday ~ Going down {cousins} memory lane

The girls last summer . . . favorite cousins, Ella and Maia . . . just 7 weeks apart . . . we can't wait to see you all again in November!

Wordless Wednesday ~ Barbies Revisited

MLM ~ Finding out you're pregnant

I thought I would start "Memory Lane Monday", brought to us by MomsBlogging, a great great mommy blog site.


This week’s theme:

Share your feelings and story of when you discovered you were pregnant for the first time.

When I discovered I was pregnant for the first time, I was so so excited. We had been trying for an entire year prior to the pregnancy. I never thought it would happen at that point, so to get a positive, I was shocked and elated! Who wouldn't be? But everything after that is really a blur. I honestly don't remember any exciting points. Because there wasn't any, except for when I saw the two lines on the pregnancy test. I do remember telling friends online at my "trying to conceive" pregnancy board. A lot of people and friends sent cards or books. I honestly cannot remember, though, how I told Neil or how I told my mom. They may remember, but I don't remember one single thing.

It was 12 weeks into the pregnancy that I had my first ultrasound and it was there that I had the horrible gut-wrenching feeling that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

The ultrasound techs cannot tell you a thing. And that just seems so insensitive, even though I do understand why. But can you imagine the feeling the woman goes through when she is 12 weeks pregnant and the ultrasound tech cannot find a heartbeat, let alone any sign of pregnancy?? It's not fun, and possibly the worst moment in a soon-to(-hope-to)-be mother's life.

What I remember most about my first pregnancy is driving away with Neil in tears, shaking, bawling, in disbelief. Because she couldn't find a sac or heartbeat, the tech told us that according to the ultrasound, I was more like 6 weeks pregnant. So on the drive home, I was trying to put together all the pieces, and it just didn't make sense. Nothing about it made sense to me. I felt ok. I felt pregnant. I kept thinking "I'm pregnant, I'm okay, they just messed up." But all I remember is that moment, driving home. We saw a big raccoon get hit on the road by an oncoming car. That right there was a pretty good sign that this whole thing was a really bad dream, and I prayed I would awaken from it.

It was Friday that we had the ultrasound, and Monday (yes I had to wait an entire weekend), when I was at work, that I found out I was going to miscarry. They told me OVER THE PHONE. At work. Alone with 25 girl scouts. It was the hardest moment of my life. I remember sitting out in the grass in a park by myself sobbing into the phone to mom with 25 girls in the hazy background looking on wondering what was wrong with me. It was that moment that I remember more than anything else.

It was Wednesday that my miscarriage actually happened. That Saturday I was in my brother and sister-in-laws wedding. I was at that wedding, but my heart and soul was not. All I could think about was my pain, how bad I looked physically, and what people were probably thinking about me.

That whole week I don't want to remember, yet I do. And I think it's because God wants me to. It was a point in my life that was the most trying. But it was the biggest life lesson I could ever learn as a "student". And it was this loss and the two losses following, that made my finding out I was actually pregnant with a healthy little dootle, Noah, an incredible celebration.

It was finding out I was pregnant with Noah that I remember like it was yesterday.

When I took that pregnancy test when I was pregnant with my miracle baby, I was sure, in my mind, that this was another failed pregnancy. But a teeny tiny part of me thought maybe there was some hope. A teeny tiny bit. So I clung to it.

At that time I was seeing a Reproductive Endocrinologist, Dr. Elizabeth. I loved her. She was meant to be that kind of doctor with the compassion and hope that she, herself, had for each one of her patients.

It was when I saw Dr. Elizabeth for my 6.5 week appointment, an internal ultrasound, that my life changed. Neil was away on business traveling, so Alexis went with me. We still joke today about how she saw my "crotch". She and I, and Dr. Elizabeth, saw Noah, for the first time, together. It was the most exciting day of my life. I was in shock. Alexis cried, then I cried. i will never ever forget that moment. I remember it more than the day I found out I was pregnant with him. I remember it more than his birth itself. That is how predominant that moment was in my life. And Alexis shared it with me. And then we celebrated afterwards. She, herself, was also pregnant, with Sami, who would later go on to be one of Noah's very best friends. How good is God? Very.

Everything about that pregnancy was scary, but I knew, after Dr. Elizabeth told me that since we had seen the healthy sac and heartbeat, that there was only a 2% chance of a miscarriage. Since my chance of miscarriage the pregnancy before was over 50%, I knew everything was going to be okay. I knew that that little "flitter-flutter" on the screen was my baby, and my baby that was going to make it. That baby was Noah William.

Why am I even telling this story? I'm not sure why exactly, except when I saw the topic for Memory Lane Monday, I didn't think of how I felt when I found out I was pregnant with my first, but how I felt when I found out I was pregnant with a healthy baby in my 4th pregnancy.

I haven't talked about this in public, and well, I feel I'm finally at a point where I can whole-heartily, and know that I can because I'm at peace with my three losses. And, that I'm at peace with knowing that what I went through only made me stronger. That it brought Neil and I closer together. That it made me appreciate my healthy baby "bumps" so much more, and made me cherish every breathing moment of that pregnancy (and the one following, little Miss Maia). But also made me appreciate all of what our short mili-second of time in this life has to offer. And made me appreciate my little miracle more. Every time he screamed during his 8-1/2 months of being colic, I would think back to how he was my miracle, and it seriously made the sleepless nights and the all-day screaming all better for me. It was he that made me not take life for granted and appreciate every single second of it.

. . . those are silver, these are gold

Time for a somewhat sappy post from me. I know you are thinking, "come ON Val, ALL your posts are sappy. You are the sappiest person I know!" I know, I really probably am. I try not to be sappy all the time, but somehow it always seems to come out.

Anyway, here we are in our new home. We will have been moved in for almost a week come this weekend. I've felt at home from day 1, but the past few days it started hitting me how different and not the same it will ever be again.

I so easily get caught up in the repetitious life that I live in. After some time I really start to feel a connection with my life and things around me.

Growing up on the farm as a child I got attached very quickly. As a child you don't ever see a change coming. You think it will always be the same. You think that "this" is what life is going to be like forever more. When my dad told us we had to sell the farm and move when I was 16, I felt like my life was ruined . . . I felt crushed. All my memories resided there. We burried everything from fish to pet deceased doggies on that land. I raised kittens who were abandoned by their mothers. I walked the acres and acres of land barefoot all 16 of those years. My bare feet probably felt every blade of grass. I loved being outdoors there. While I became attached to my house, most of my memories took place outside. It's those things that I remember most.

But that's it. They're all just memories. When I was 16 I thought a memory was a memory if those material things around you were there. But what happens if you move? Or if those material things burn down or are taken away by a tornado or what if you die? It's taken me 30 years to really honestly realize that memories are just that -- good (and bad) times of your life that you hold and keep in your heart forever. It's those things that make you who you are. It's those things that you carry with you to Heaven. None of the material objects truly matter.

With that said, I am definitely missing some "things" at our old house on Westlawn and I won't pretend I don't. And most of those "things" are things like the mural I painted on Noah's wall, the writing I put in the cement when we built our garage (which read "Neil, Valerie & Noah 10/17/05" which was the day before we had Maia!), my landscaping that we did all by hand, especially my perinnials that I worked so hard on and spent so much money on, my tomatoes that were just blooming, the lilac bush that one of my dear friends (Katie) gave me as a house-warming gift when we moved there (and finally was getting big but still never flowered!), the beautiful patio Neil built himself, the long driveway that Noah loved riding his "motorcycle" on, the front porch that we sat on to photograph many of our family pictures, where I shot many pictures of the kids playing, the gutter that a neigbhorhood dog literally chewed up, the fence where I stood chatting to "Mimi" or Lisa all the time, the same fence where I handed the kids off to Mimi or Lisa, the back yard where we held Noah's 1st birthday party, the grass where we blew up the small pool for Noah to play in for the first time and for me to sit my feet in while 7 months preggie, hot and tired. The memories out there just go on and on and on.

Neil and I sitting on that memorable front porch when Noah was 8 months old . . . in 2004.

Then inside . . . I could name things that would take all day for me to name, but the biggest thing in my 6-1/2 years of life there were our 3 years of infertility, my 3 miscarriages, and then our 2 miraculous pregnancies and bringing those little miracle babies home. I cry right now as I write this because, well, I never ever thought I would see the day where I would bring home one of my babies there. There came a time when I was beginning to accept the fact that I wasn't meant to bear any children. It was that time that Neil and I grew the most as people, especially as husband and wife. We learned the most about each other. We became the closest we had ever been because we only had each other through that time. A time that no one else could possibly understand. It's a time I don't want to relive, but then again, it's a time I am so very thankful for. It was that time in my life that I really became "me". It was that time that I learned so so much about life. It was that time in my life that will probably be the most profound time in my life. And it all happened there on Westlawn. I won't forget any of it.

I will also miss the day-to-day normalcy, those things that were repetetive. Like chatting to Randy across the street when he was home during the day. He was the absolute best neighbor and always will be! And then his wife, my friend, Vickie. Who I love to pieces. She started out as a neighbor but became a great friend. (And of course, Randy, you are my friend, too!) This last year had been the absolute best when we'd camp out in their front yard, blow up the pools, let the kids play and we (the parents) would sit and drink 'ritas and beer and just chat our evening away. It was perfection! It's those memories that I take with me forever, and will forever and ever remember. But the best thing about things like this, like the friends we made and the friends we left, is that they are still our friends and will continue to be our friends. We'll still visit and we'll still drink margaritas. We just can't walk home afterwards or run across the street to the house for something really quick. That will be the hard part, remembering that we can't (and don't) just walk back across the street anymore. But we'll get through it as we begin to love our home here more and begin to fit in more with the neighbors and community. We'll just have to drive 35 minutes to get there . . . not walk 35 seconds.

I do love this house here A LOT but I miss Westlawn A LOT. I could never argue that! I miss the "things" about Westlawn a lot. But I honesty can say I feel okay about leaving because we've left for all good reasons and it was just time to do so. But I hold in my heart forever all the memories that were made there. Not one, no matter how bad or good, will ever be forgotten. I really truly lived while living there.

As silly as this sounds, I think of this verse from a poem from Girl Scouts (yes, Girl Scouts, I was a Girl Scout . . . "On my honor, I will try . . " go ahead and laugh, I give you permission) . . .

Cherish friendship in your breast-
New is good, but old is best;
Make new friends, but keep the old;
Those are silver, these are gold.

Love you, Vick, love you, Randy, love you, Chloe, love you, Mimi, love you, Lisa, love you, (and miss you,) "O", love you, Darby, love you, Rachel, love you, Heidi, love you, Dreiers, will miss you ALL so so much. Don't forget us!

Foto Friday ~ 8 years ago

Holy cow . . . 8 years ago I graduated from college! Actually, both Neil and I did, from the same great school. Hearing about so many people graduating . . . kids "graduating" to kindergarten, junior high, etc., has made me think about my last graduation. Maybe also, however, because I had the wackiest dream last night. I dreamed that I was back in school and suddenly decided to stop going to half my classes because they just didn't interest me. At the end of the year, I realized that I was going to fail every class and I freaked! (Duh!)

So here's my Foto Friday . . . some fun memories of college and then the actual graduation day . . .

(The clarity and quality of these photos aren't so good after they've been scanned and transferred over and over from computer to disk to computer . . .)


There's nothing quite like your college days . . . I really miss it sometimes . . .