Feelin' hope

I remember my pregnancy vividly. I remember the good, the bad, and the bad.

Let's cut to the chase: I hated almost everything about being pregnant. I was HUGE (upon seeing me, Mrs. Metheny shouted "My Lord, you're as big as a BARN"); I was miserable (I was nauseous until oh, week 35 or so); I was clumsy (I fell and had to be hospitalized); and I was anxious (and my high blood pressure nearly sent me into early labor). I had shingles near the end of my pregnancy (how a "rash" could be so painful, I will never know) and I felt an exhaustion I have never experienced. I used to tell people that I felt like my body had been rented out to horrible renters - and they weren't being very nice to the place.

Honestly, the one thing I loved about being pregnant was feeling that baby inside. We were on a plane, flying back from Indianapolis the first time I felt her kick my belly and I was immediately in love with the that tiny being stirring in my womb. From that moment, it didn't matter how tired or miserable I was...when I felt that stirring, I stopped, felt and listened to what was shifting inside. And almost every time, I smiled.

In church this morning, our minister mentioned the wonderful birth that is before us during this season. But he also reminded us that childbirth - while wonderful - is also scary, painful, nerve-wracking and exhausting. I haven't stopped thinking about that all day...as it relates to my life.

The last few years have been hard for me. I have been forced to look at myself from all angles and I've been presented with some obstacles that have - at times - made me throw up my hands and ask God, "what is the damn lesson here?" I have - at times - been nauseous, miserable, anxiety-ridden and, of course, exhausted. Kind of like being pregnant. I only rarely felt out of hope...and the hope was kind of like that stirring in my belly.

At the risk of sounding silly or somewhat dramatic, I have felt a big shift within me. It's not unlike the feeling I got when Ellie moved her little body inside of me while waiting to actually meet us. I feel hope...I feel as if something good is about to happen. I realize - somehow - that the hard work I've done in the last few years has been for good reason. I don't know what it is...I just know that settling into me and the reality that is me, who I am, is good. It's been a long journey but I feel like maybe, just maybe, I'm getting there.

I was her person

People have written for hundreds of years about losing loyal pets and confidantes. And now it's my turn: I have lost my best friend.

I always tell people that Cagney picked me. When I entered that room full of puppies, she's the one who jumped at me. She did her little hop-hop dance right into my lap. I had no choice but to take her home. She totally picked me.

And for thirteen years and a half years, I was taken care of by the best golden retriever I ever met.

She was a jumper. And a hopper. There was a period of time when I didn't feel all that great about inviting people to my home because Cagney would become so wildly excited that she would hop on all fours, trying to get closer to the PEOPLE.

She loved people more than dogs. For at least ten years, she submitted to ANY dog that walked by, lying on the ground as if to say, "please don't kill me." I remember her encounter with a miniature dachsund that was so pathetic. She actually cried as the dog sniffed her, nose to tail and was so relieved when her attention turned to the person holding that dachsund's leash. It was the people she loved...

Yes, she irritated me sometimes. I thought for awhile that she wasn't really deaf...she was just ignoring me. And it might have been true for a minute, but she really was deaf.

And people loved her. Matthew was raised with the dog who let him dress her up (in Sleepy's mailman clothes), run his Hotwheels up and down her back, all the while looking at me as if to say, "I'm just supposed to sit her and do this, right?" When Matthew would sled down the hill behind our house, Cagney ran with him every step of the way, making sure he was ok. She loved her boy.

When Cagney was a year old, I put her in my car and moved us to Colorado. We knew few people, but Cagney helped me make friends. We'd walk around Wash Park and she'd introduce me to all of the fabulous folks there. It was easy to make friends when Cags was around. When I arrived at my friend's Lynn and Leeanne's house on my first day in Denver, Lynn opened the door to greet us and Cagney just high-tailed it and jumped into bed with Leeanne. All I heard her say was, "well, who is THIS?" Cagney could win over even a slumbering soul.

Cagney's best friend, Teddi, loved her, too. We don't live in the house down the street from Teddi anymore, but when Teddi got scared (as she often did), she'd run to Cagney's house, looking for her best friend.

So my heart is incredibly heavy. I've lost my best friend. I know she's with Teddi now (who we lost not long ago, too) and they're swimming like they used to. Cagney used to swim so far out onto the lake that we had to send Teddi to get her. I imagine they're doing that right now...big, happy smiles as they swim and play and share a big stick to chew on. I like to believe they feel better than they've ever felt...just like they used to.

The right dog chose me and I will be forever grateful for her presence. I hope she knew how much I loved her...

Our Time is Now

Everyone knows the lore about Indiana basketball. Jimmy Chitwood (c'mon you Hoosiers fanatics), Steve Alford, Bob Knight, Damon Bailey...should I go on? It's a basketball-crazy state and I'm one of the, well, crazies.

It's such a good time to be in Indianapolis. I am a life-long basketball addict: former player, former coach, forever fan and ardent supporter of women's basketball, in particular. Just ask me about the 80's, when Bill Benner wrote a scathing article, chastising the women's game...my blood will boil. Talk to me about any women's coaches, teams, league standing - I can talk for days on end. I can absolutely talk X's and O's, too. And I do. Some have called me crazy but I do not care. If I could choose one thing for my daughter to be or do, it would be basketball-crazy, just like her mama (unfortunately, I don't see that happening).

The Indiana Fever are on the verge of winning the WNBA Championship. People, do you hear me? I am so excited, I can barely sit still.

And the best part? It's a team full of quality women, coming together to kick some basketball butt. Tamika Catchings has always been one of my favorites. She is one of the most amazing players on the court and off...and twice now, she has taken the time to take a picture with my kid AND talk to her about how basketball is WAY better than cheerleading. Wink, wink.

This team is so approachable - we high-fived every one of them when they came off the plane from Phoenix the other day...and they genuinely appreciate their fans.

I'm a little crazy right now...but it's the best kind of crazy...

Single mom, only child

I've decided that I've done Ellie a disservice here and there by cultivating such a strong bond and dependence on one another. I've been a single mom for two years...she's an only child. We depend on each other for, well, everything.

As she starts to blend with others and as we both forge new relationships, her ability to share and include others is not her strength. And me? I created that...so it's hard to watch it be a battle for her. Her struggles are because of my weakness. I hate that I have done that.

So I guess it's time to make some gradual changes that will give her the tools to depend less on me and more on herself, to whine less and suck it up more. I want her to begin to understand (if she can), that she's not the center of the universe...even though I have treated her as if she is just that.

It's hard for me to admit my mistakes but I know I need to change some things - for Ellie's sake. All I have ever wanted is to be a good mom and sometimes it's hard to realize that we just took a turn down the wrong road for awhile. Time to get back on the right route now. Wish us luck!

we're not talking about Britney's circus...

Sometimes I feel my life is a bit of a circus. Not just your run 'o the mill circus, either. There are days when the craziest things happen and I just stand back and watched, amazed at the reality that surrounds me.

Now, the good news is that most of the circus happens AROUND me, not IN me or even in my house (although I did willingly take two dogs to a WATER PARK yesterday - with FOUR CHILDREN in tow - maybe I brought that one on myself)...and I did find myself fully participating in the shenanigans that went along with celebrating someone's sister's 21st birthday on Friday night. But the good news is that the circus happens two blocks away...mostly.

On Friday I learned that my 10 year old nephew was going to go spend the day at XFest on Saturday. Basically, it's a heavy metal, hardcore music-fest and Alice in Chains was headlining. My sister's boyfriend was taking him because Jeff is the heavy metal (and other musical varieties) guru. But wait, a 10 year old (with active, raging cancer) going to a crazy fest? I had my concerns!

Little did I know that Alice in Chains (AIC) became the hugest fans of my nephew! Those guys - all of 'em (he knows them by name now - I don't) embraced that Calvin like nobody's business and adopted him for the day. I can't wait to post the pictures of Calvin and the "bikini girls" (that's what he called them). I'm not sure who was more stoked about how the day went: Calvin or Jeff. Either way, I'm a new fan of AIC. They treated my boy RIGHT.

This comes on the heels of Calvin's visit to IU football practice. Unfortunately, my sister, the not-much-of-a-sports-fan sister (I'm not bitter) was the one to take him to Bloomington for the day. Those 105 football boys again treated my nephews like kings and I grin from ear to ear every time I think of it. I also laugh when I think about my sister, who so naively pointed to a "big, pretty building" next to the football field and asked, "what is that?" Amy (their host) said, "now THAT is Assembly Hall...and we all bow to that shrine." When Karen told me the story, I had to have a moment of silence, merely thinking of her standing in the presence of the great Assembly Hall.

Carter went to the Colts game yesterday with my dad, courtesy of a friend who has season tickets (and though Cal's younger brother could use some attention - an incredible gesture). This 6 year old, however, will never fully appreciate those 10th row, 50-yard line seats at Lucas Oil Stadium. He made it to half-time and was ready to go home...

I hate Calvin's cancer, but I love the stories that come from people reaching out, showing incredible generosity and just hoping to brighten the days of a few kids who are struggling. Calvin feels so isolated, like no one understands. My sister's going to find him some talk therapy, but the fun-therapy can't hurt either. He's getting loads of that and I love it.

and then...reality

A visit to the hospital. His bald, bald head. The little ones seeming confused sometimes...I guess reality hits after a relatively solid first round of chemo.

At first, I think Cal kind of enjoyed the attention, the "fun" stuff that goes along with being a sick kid in a kid's hospital in a major metropolitan area. Riley Children's Hospital does it great - they had a backpack full of amazing things for Calvin when he arrived for his first infusion day. He got gifts galore during his overnight stays.

But yesterday - in the middle of chemo, round 2 - reality hit. He had another big meltdown and wonders if anyone understands...if anyone realizes what a black cloud has permanently fixed itself to the space above that bald head. I can only imagine...I cannot fully understand, but I'm sure it must, well, SUCK.

So I try to distract. I say bad words occasionally, because I know it makes him giggle (adults aren't supposed to say that stuff - are they?). I tell jokes that are stupid and I watch him kill stuff on the video game screen, imagining that it might be decent therapy to kill bad guys for pretend when you have real bad guys in your body...

I can only imagine how anxious he is to get this over and done. I'd give anything to fast-forward a year or so...

Hoosier at heart...

I've officially become a Hoosier again. The indoctrination occurred on Friday night at, ahem, the Indiana State Fair.

I take a lot of pride in the fact that I grew up a Hoosier, but I also take tremendous pride in the fact that I lived - and thrived - in Colorado for ten years. It's a very different place, Colorado, and much more - well, civilized, in many instances - than Indiana. I felt like a bit of a snob when I moved back to Indiana...like where I'd been was oh, so much "cooler" and "hipper" than Indiana could ever be. Well, dammit, I'm back. I've embraced my Hoosier once again.

Here's how it went:

We arrived at the State Fair around 8:00 pm and immediately got our hands on some fried pickles. Spears. Not chips. Who can eat 6 fried pickle spears in one sitting? I can't even eat six un-fried pickle spears in one sitting. We should've shared it with like ten other people.

Then we walked through the balloon glow. I totally dug the balloon glow - all those cool and colorful hot air balloons, lit up while Kelly Clarkson (more about that later) sang in the background? Very cool. And Hoosier-ish.

Next, we hit the fried mozzorella stand and finished off about ten pounds of cheese before heading to get a steak sandwich...right next to the cow barn. We ate the sandwich BEFORE we went to visit the cows because somehow that makes sense. It was 9 pm or so by this time and all the cow-keepers were either bathing their animals or getting ready for bed. Sleeping in a tent in the cow barn at the fair is likely something I will never do. God bless those people who can...

*I did learn that dairy cows are WAY taller and bonier than beef cows. I think the dairy cows look sadder than the beef cows, though. Perhaps ignorance is bliss?

After working up an appetite in the cow barn, we ordered the queen mother of desserts: the deep-friend combo. For $7, we got a deep-friend Snickers, two deep-fried Oreos and a deep-fried Reese cup. While I love all-things-fried, I admit: this was a little much. I think next year I'll go straight for the Oreos and leave the rest behind. The other stuff was great, but it was just TOO much, even for a died-in-the-wool sweet tooth like me. (what does that died in the wool phrase mean, anyway?).

To top it all off, we found a bench outside the Kelly Clarkson concert and waited for all the teeny-boppers to bop out. When they did, it was a fun-fest of making-fun. I know, I know...I'm probably going to hell, but there's no better people watching than the State Fair. Add Kelly Clarkson fans to the mix, and watch out!

THAT, my friends, is a perfect Hoosier night...