three scars remain

Just like the post about my dad, I feel like I am finally to the point where I can share this story. If nothing else, this blog is alot a memoir for my daughters and they need to know how they came to be.

But this is not their birth story ~ but of the sibling that came before them.

The baby I never knew I was pregnant with.

In the spring of 2002, Gregg and I had been married right at two years. Baby fever hit me with everything I had. Before that time, I would have twinges but when it the fever just didn't go away, I knew it was time.

In April I met with my ob/gyn for a consultation about getting off of the pill. I left the office with some prenatal vitamins, books and pamphlets about getting pregnant and basically was given the "green light" to go get pregnant.

Funny, it was like I went to that appointment wanting Dr. Largoza to tell me that at 25 years old, I was old enough, mature enough, and married long enough to have a baby. She just started handing me literature and pills and I was like, "she must think I can do this!"

So, that month we tried and come May, I got my period. So in May we tried again, and in mid-June (it was Father's Day), I got my period again.

One of the techniques we applied to conceiving was the every-other-day approach. Meaning Day 1 was the day of your period ~ and start "trying" on Day 7. And continue for every-other-day until about Day 19.

I remember Day 7, Gregg and I were painting our master bedroom and bathroom that day. I started bleeding (my period was over a few days before) and I called my dr. We were to start trying and here I was bleeding again!

The nurse had a quick, simple answer for me that I accepted. She said that I might be ovulating and one of my ovulatory cysts might have ruptured so that is why I was bleeding. Since I was painting and exerting myself in different ways, I chalked it up to me overdoing it.

Oh, well. No trying that month.

It was the end of June that my dad was diagnosed with Leukemia and we thought it was the end for him (again). In early July is when he was admitted to MD Anderson in Houston to begin the isolation to get him physically ready for his bone marrow transplant.

I was in Houston with my mom for a couple weeks in July. I'd go the bathroom one day, I'd be bleeding. A couple of days later it would stop. Then it would start over again. I also had cramps that I associated with the bleeding.

It was an inconvenience at the most but my mind was preoccupied with everything with my dad.

Flash to lunchtime on July 22.

I had dropped Bo off at the vet for the day probably for allergy testing or something. I was at home with my parent's dog, Daisy.

We had a two story house and I remember walking towards the half bath downstairs. I ended up laying down on the floor in sheer pain in my left side.

I don't remember how long I laid there. I ended up going up to my bedroom to call the dr.

The nurse asked if I was pregnant.

I was like, "no...I had a period on Father's Day and I've been bleeding on and off ever since. And we hadn't "tried".

She told me to go take a pregnancy test and call her back. Good thing I had one on hand.

It was positive. I knew that I was either pregnant or miscarrying.

An appointment for later on was scheduled so I took a shower. I remember I chose to wear khaki shorts and sleeveless light blue Liz Claiborne sweater with a white flower on it.

As I drove myself to my appointment, I chose not to call Gregg and tell him anything. Perhaps, there was a chance that I was pregnant, I wanted to surprise him.

At the appointment, Dr. Largoza did a trans vaginal ultrasound on me. I was off looking for something in the screen not knowing what to look for.

She told me that I was pregnant but my baby was not where it was supposed to be. Instead of being in my uterus, it was in my left tube. An ectopic, or tubal, pregnancy.

I'm thinking, "ok let's have a procedure to put the baby where it needs to be".

Not quite. She told me that I would need to go to the hospital next door and she was admitting me for emergency surgery.

The next 18hours or so was a blur. I remember calling Gregg and telling him to meet me at the hospital ER. Poor guy didn't even know I was at the dr, so he wasn't prepared to hear that I was about to have emergency surgery. And that we had lost our first child.

When I walked up to the ER check-in, the attendants were waiting for me. Dr Largoza had called ahead to tell them I was coming. I remember needing a place to sit immediately. I think someone brought me a wheelchair and found a bed for me. I bypassed a waiting room full of people.

I remember changing in a hospital gown and the nurses putting pads under me because I was severely bleeding.

In fact, I was hemorrhaging. I was later told that if it had continued, within hours I would have died due to my internal bleeding.

Gregg got there just before I was taken off to be prepped for surgery. I vaguely remember the anesthesiologist and then I have flash of remembering being in recovery.

Gregg waited for what he said took well over an hour. He sat by himself in the waiting room waiting for me to get out of surgery. He was worried about losing me and worried that we might not be able to have more children.

Back then, it was just Gregg and me. Our families were distant so there was no one to call to come to sit with him. He didn't call any neighbors either. He just waited to call people after the surgery when he knew what to tell them.

Dr. Largoza came out to meet Gregg. It was the 1st time that they had ever met. She said the laparoscopic surgery went well. She couldn't save my left tube because it was severely damaged. And there were pictures to prove it. (I later saw them too). She said she thought I should be able to conceive more children with just one tube.

Apparently, my tube must have been damaged from the start and I had to get pregnant to find out. there was an abnormality.

Yearly physicals and pap smears don't rule out this. It should be required that every woman be given an ultrasound for all of her parts. A woman shouldn't have to get pregnant 1st to find out that something is wrong.

I laid in bed that night in sheer shock of it all. I had been pregnant. I had dreamed of being pregnant and this right of passage.

It was gone.

Gone with my severely damaged left tube. Which meant to me, half of my chances of conceiving again was gone.

I had surgery. I had never had been in the hospital for anything in my life. But I had been in this particular hospital before. It was the hospital I was born in.

So to have gone through emergency surgery, to remove a baby that was in one of my fallopian tubes was traumatizing.

I was put in a room with a woman who had a hysterectomy. I remember talking with her throughout the night with the white curtain between us.

Gregg came the next morning and I was able to check out around lunchtime.

I had to be wheeled out to the car in a wheelchair due to hospital policy. On the way to the parking garage, I passed a woman being wheeled out with her newborn.

I wondered if I would ever have a newborn to wheel out.

My mom and sister(who was visiting from Mississippi) drove to San Antonio from Houston the next day for a couple of hours.

I showed my mom my three scars and she pulled down her pants to show me her scars from where she had her tubes tied.

Not.quite.the.same.thing.

My sister, who was dealing with infertility, told me that "at least you know you can get pregnant."

Seriously. that is what I deal with with those two.

The next few weeks became increasingly difficult for me emotionally. Gregg and I struggled as a couple. While I mourned the baby and our loss, he was just so thankful that I was alive.

He didn't see the baby as a "baby" but rather just a "spirit". But, in that examining room on July 22nd, Dr. Largoza called the image on the ultrasound screen a baby.

I will always be grateful to her for validating my pregnancy.

One night while out at a restaurant while my 15 year old sister-in-law was in town, I ran out of the restaurant crying. While Gregg and Lindsey were happily eating their chips and hot sauce, I had images of my baby being pulled out of my belly button.

At my post-op appointment six weeks later, we were given the "ok" to start trying again.

Macy was born on May 22, 2003 ~ 10 months to the day of losing my 1st baby.

I was fortunate to get pregnant with both Macy and Paige the very first month of trying with one fallopian tube.

We are immeasurably blessed.

My mind does wander though to the baby that would have been born probably in February of 2003. Would it have been our boy?

And if I had that baby, I sure wouldn't have Macy Lynn. And what would I do without my Roo-Roo? And my Pumpkin?

It irritates us when people assume we (or Gregg) might be disappointed that we don't have a son. Healthy babies is all we cared about. We've had too many friends suffer infertility, had multiple miscarriages, one friend deliver a stillborn baby at 22 weeks, and one friend deliver a full-term baby only for him to die 19 hours later. (And we went to that precious baby's funeral and let me tell you ~ it was excruciating. Tears were rolling down my neck ~ I cried more then then I did at my dad's funeral.)

Two children is all we have ever wanted. And as Gregg likes to say, "you're just rollin' the dice" every time you get pregnant.

It has been six years today and I still feel that "loss". Sure, when I talk to someone face to face, I could matter-of-factly tell my story. I've done it a million times.

Then, there are times I allow myself to "go there". To remember. To feel terrified. To grieve. It doesn't happen often but it is still makes my eyes well up and my heart race, feel heavy and takes my breath away.

Just in writing this post, I couldn't do it all in one sitting. I've had to sike myself up enough to finally write it. I had to take many breaks over the past couple of days and almost talked myself out of writing it at all. I was going to write about it on Mother's Day but I wasn't ready.

I do feel fortunate to be able to celebrate Mother's Day because I am a mother. I was a mother in July of 2002 and I am a mother today.

In a happy place in my mind, I cling to the hope that heaven has a special place for little babies gone before they ever had a chance. It is a coping method that I chose to use and I will until I go to heaven to see for myself.

the history of a gift

In June of 1994, it was a high school graduation gift for a clueless 17 year old.

In June of 2008, it is a rocket and a hot tub for an imaginative 2 and 5 year old.

rejoicing in the hope of the glory of God

Today marks 4 years since my dad died. Last night I wasn't sure if I was going to blog about it. I turned off the computer for the night at 7:45 to tune out the thoughts in my head of thinking about blogging about it. Maybe I'd wait another year and then I'd be ready.

Then this morning, I had a ecard from Lisa who sweetly remembered that this is the day.

Where to start? How much do I want to say? Tell a bit of the story now? Save some for later?

Ray McNew was my step-father but I knew him from the day I was born. Ray and my real dad, George, were in the service together in Massachusetts in the sixties. That is where Ray met his 1st wife, Jan, and my dad met my mom. The couples got married. Ray and Jan moved to California, then to San Antonio, Texas. My mom and dad moved to New Mexico and then to San Antonio as well. The Berich's (my maiden name) even visited the McNew's out in California.

The families all lived in San Antonio and would get together with all of the children. The McNew's had three boys ~ Jay, Michael, and Brian. My parents had Susan and then I came along in August 1976. Jan McNew signed my baby book as a hospital visitor...

George was an abusive alcoholic that beat my mom. Apparently, my sister and I used to hide in my sister's room when he would be in a rage. He didn't want my mom to work (she did sell Avon), get out of the house much, or have friends of her own. He kicked her out of the house Labor Day weekend 1978. She said she grabbed her Avon money out of her car and walked to a friend's house. She eventually had him arrested and a plan to divorce him was in place.

At this time, Ray had already separated from Jan due to other issues. George sent Ray over to our house as a "go between". My mom was like, "let me tell you what has been happening for the past 14yrs..." (My parents had been married for 10 years and dated for 4 years before that ~ she knew what she was getting into.) Ray had known that George was abusive to women because he had seen him do that while they were in the service together. Ray later said that he hoped George had changed.

Ray moved into our house and they lived together until they were married in our living room in November 1979. Susan grew up with major issues about Ray being her dad's friend one day, and living in our house the next. For me, I never knew any different ~ I was two when they got together and Ray was always my "daddy" in every way. If George would've treated my mom right, then they would've stayed together. Period.
1979

George had his issues as well. He would call Ray "the shackup" long after my parents were married. Ray's nickname was "Mick" for "Mickey McNew" because he was so talented he could "Mickey Mouse" anything ~ fix cars and later build houses. Susan continued to call Ray "Mick" until the day he died while to me he was always, "dad". George would get set off if we were with him for the weekend and we wanted to go to "McDonald's". George never remarried and remained bitter and alone until the day he died in Aug. 2005.

Jay, Michael and Brian continued to live with their mom and we had them every other weekend. It was almost like the Brady Bunch. Michael and Susan were the same age and me and Brian were only a year apart.

My parents were always close and loving as a couple but weren't like that with us. It's like they had their "thing" and we were secondary. It's like they loved us at arms-length.

My dad was very "old-school". He grew up in West Texas ~number 10 out of 11 kids~ practically working from the day he was born. He raised us with that mentality ~everyone had chores, everyone was to be up at the crack of dawn like he was, and he was a firm disciplinarian. My dad worked a good job at IBM and we always had a nice house but they always drove old cars. We never took vacations and we weren't given money for clothes, cars or college. He was tight but in reflection, I am grateful for that because in the end, he left my mom with plenty.

Growing up, my dad would leave IBM, stop on the way home and get a beer. Everyday, he'd come home with the beer in a small paper bag around it. He'd sit at the kitchen table and finish it while my mom cooked dinner. He'd go change and then head outside (where was able to smoke) until dinnertime. He'd eat dinner, leave his plate on the table and head back outside until after dark. He'd piddle in his workshop or in the garage and come back into the house about 9. Then he'd stay up and watch the news and go to bed.

On some Sundays my mom would take us girls to church. My dad would stay behind and either go fishing, hunting, or do something at the house. He never went to church with us unless I was in a program or it was a holiday.

Everything changed in May 1997 when my dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer that metastasized to his brain. He was given 4 weeks-2 months to live "if" he "chose" to treat. He was 52.

My dad chose to be a fighter. Within a week, he started massive chemo and radiation treatments, quit IBM (can't drive while on seizure meds), stopped smoking and drinking beer (didn't taste good w/chemo drugs). I was living in Bryan at the time and would come home alot and go sit with my dad at chemo.

Within a week, my dad also turned his life over to God. From that point on, he never worried about cancer and lived everyday loving life. He would tell us that he wished we had the peace that he had. He became a faithful member of the country church down the road and would tell his testimony to anyone. He would go to Brotherhood breakfast, Promise Keepers, volunteer and just be a walking miracle. And he was affectionate! He even would hug other men and tell him that he loved them!

I believe my dad got cancer so he could finally be the man he had the potential of being.

Within a year, my dad was declared "in remission". Then a couple years later, he had something come back in the brain. He had out-patient gamma knife surgery to remove it. He made FIVE years (remember he had two months to live!) and my parents celebrated by going on a cruise.

Within a month, in late June 2002, my dad was diagnosed with leukemia. Leukemia was a result of all of his chemo and radiation over the past five years. My dad needed a bone marrow transplant and a donor. He was sent to MD Anderson in Houston and put in isolation for a month. It was like visiting someone in jail, we could only talk to him and see him through a glass window. He was so sick and they were breaking his body down to it's lowest to be built back up with healthy bone marrow. My dad's brother, who was 20years older than him, was a match.

My mom rented a house in Houston and by December he was released to that house. They still had to be close enough for him to receive treatments and testing. Then he was free to come home to Georgetown that spring.

Macy was born in May 2003 and he was there for her birth. After having three sons and two grandsons, Macy Lynn was his first baby girl!. It was a large room which had a sitting area off to the side. At the very last moment, I asked him if he would like to watch. I thought for someone who has been so close to death, it would be cool to see birth.

Within a month, he was back in the hospital. He'd fall at home, have seizures at home and at church and was basically a very sick man. Everything came to a head when my parents went to my brother's wedding in early October 2003. My mom had to wheel him around in a wheelchair and his health was steadily going downhill. When the plane touched down in Austin, she took him straight to the hospital. Susan's 1st son, Tyler, was born that night.

It was the beginning of the end ~ for real this time.

Amazingly, Gregg, Baby Macy and I had just moved to Temple the week before. We were 45 minutes away from Georgetown, I wasn't working anymore, and I could just pack my baby up and we'd go spend time with my dad. Clearly, God's hand was all over this.

From the hospital in Austin, it was decided that he needed to be at MD Anderson again. Baby Tyler was just three weeks old when my sister and her husband drove to Houston from Mississippi. She needed Tyler to meet his Papa and Macy and I came that weekend as well. Susan and I said our "goodbyes" to him because we were certain he wasn't going to make it.

God wasn't finished with Ray McNew yet. Since there was no further treatment that MD Anderson had to offer, it was time to leave. With his health, his seizures, his falls and being in a wheelchair, my mom could not care for him at their home. In November, at 59 years old, it was decided to put him into a nursing home in Georgetown. He was the youngest person there.

Macy and I went a couple of times a week to see him. He lit up and was so good with Macy. Her third word was "Papa" which she always said in a whisper to him. He thrived, had rehab and always had a smile. He was in and out of the hospital a couple of times with pneumonia and in January he was put on hospice. Then they took him off hospice because "he was better." Such a roller coaster.

The end came the week after Father's Day. His poor body just started shutting down. He was put on hospice again and we were given a book that detailed all of the signs of death. Wednesday was when he had his "sudden burst of energy" as the hospice book describes. It was the last day he ate anything or that I heard him speak. The last words that I ever heard come out of his mouth were "I love you Tracy." (My mom had already told him goodbye for the night). Precious words to me.

The next day on Thursday, he slept and we didn't even attempt to have him eat or drink anything. Two of my dad's sisters came to be with my mom and between the four of us, we rotated staying with him. I was able to say anything and everything to him, just hold his hand and love him. I even sang to him over and over the first hymn that came to mind:
I love you Lord,
And I lift my voice,
To worship You,
Oh, my soul rejoice.
Take hold my King,
In what You hear,
May it be a sweet, sweet sound in Your ear.

On Friday, hospice told us he wouldn't make it through the weekend. We left Friday night to go home and get a good night's sleep because we were going to come back and stay the entire weekend. I went home that Friday night and at 10:30 before I went to bed, I began to feel guilty. My dad was alone, in a nursing home, dying. I felt compelled to jump in the car to go sit with him. I talked myself out of it because I knew I'd be there the rest of the weekend. I called the nursing home before I went to bed to check on him and then went to bed. The sooner I fell asleep, the sooner I could go back to be with him.

The phone rang at 1:10 am and it was my mom. She said, "we lost Dad." I threw on clothes and sped to the nursing home in the middle of the night. My mom and my aunts were there and they had already been in to see him. I went in and stood at the end of his bed and finally went to his side and kissed him. He was finally, after 7 years, at peace.

We waited at the nurses station for the funeral home to come get him. I will never forget him being rolled away covered up in a black tarp. It was excruciating.

I have often wondered if I should've gone to be with him that night. I wonder if he was by himself when he died. One of the nurses said she was with him and I hope that is true. As my mom has reassured me, he would not want us to see him that way. It's like he knew we were gone, so he could go.

We buried him on June 28th and it was a blazing hot day. Two days later, we went back to the cemetery again before my brother and sister left town. And it had just rained and guess what? There was a rainbow, like he was giving us a sign "look what I can do from heaven". We were comforted through our tears. I saw more rainbows that summer (and even double rainbows!) than I had ever seen in my entire life.


It is no accident that I am married to Gregg. Gregg lost his mom eleven years earlier so he knew my loss. (And Gregg's sister Melinda's husband lost his father after they married: his other sister, Lindsey, is engaged to a boy that has lost his mother). Gregg has been such a comfort to me all of these years.

For well over a year, I couldn't go to sleep on Friday nights. And I would wake up almost every night around 1am. It haunted me for a longest time. I kept crying and asking Gregg, "time has gone by, when is it going to get better?? Because it's not better yet!"

It has been four years now. The tears are fewer and farther between. My heart is still filled with sorrow and I miss my dad terribly. But I am happy that he is finally has a healthy body, a clear mind and is with God.

God blessed us with 7 extra years with my dad. One would think of all of the chemo, radiation, tests, blood draws, hospital stays, and then living in a nursing home, that he would complain. Let me be clear ~ he never once complained or felt sorry for himself. He was so glad to be alive!

From May 1997 until June 2004, my dad spent every minute of every day loving life, loving everyone in his life and most of all, loving God. He was a walking testament of faith and God used him for His glory. His story inspired everyone who ever was around him. I hope you are inspired as well.

May God continue to bless each and every one of you.


June 2004 ~Macy in Papa's arm~ just the way I imagine God holding all of His children

I found this scripture shortly after my dad was diagnosed and it remained my anthem:

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perserverance: perservance, character: and character, hope. And hope does not dissappiont us, because God poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. Romans 5:1-5

Barbie got herself a tatoo

The other day, Gregg and the girls were busy out in the yard. And, in my attempt to NOT* to be in the yard, I decided to organize the playroom. Go through every basket, drawer and bin and make sure everything is in the right place. Throw away old Happy Meal toys, broken toys, and I even threw away the ginormous Barbie head stylin' thing Macy got for Christmas. It's one of those things where you style Barbie's head and do her makeup. Well, Barbie didn't come with makeup remover and when a four year old decides that lip gloss is a good eyeshadow (apply and reapply daily for 5 months), that is a whole bunch of funk. It's been at least 10 days and she hasn't even asked about it.

I got really crazy and grabbed my beloved black Sharpie Ultra Fine Point marker. I decided to go through the girl's Barbies and label whose is whose. Because I remember such details. On all 18 Barbies. And then I moved onto the baby dolls. If they had a tag, I wrote on the tag the baby's "given name" and which daughter it belongs to. If the baby does not have a tag, I wrote the name on the back of the head, under the hair. The whole process really brought me alot of joy and satisfaction. I roll like that.

When my daughters are grown, I want them to have what is theirs. My sister and I always fought over our Christmas stockings every year. I said mine was the one with the Christmas tree on it. Susan said that it was HERS and mine was the one with the red plaid ribbon. My mom never remembered so there you have it. When the "stuff" was divied up several years ago, Susan got the tree stocking. We had to rack our brains over who had Papa Smurf and who had Smurfette, who had the boy Munchie-chi, and who had the girl. (I had Smurfette and the girl :-)

Christmas 2001

My mother always told me that when "you're the mother, you can do things my way." Well, I guess "labeling" is one of my many, neurotic ways.

*I hate doing yard work or really anything much outside where I might get dirty (even picnics). I've made it 31 years and have never operated any piece of lawn equipment. My hands start getting itchy, the eczema flares, the eyes itch, the snot starts flying, the sweat starts seeping and I become a big, helpless mess. Not a good combo for me. So, I go inside and find me the biggest project I can and "busy myself". "Yes, husband, I'll bring y'all some water but you and the kids - y'all just stay outside b/c I've got a mess I'm going through in here..."

I'm still here and still smiling

Tonight we were driving past the spot where we took bluebonnet pictures last year. We started talking about how they didn't grow back there this year and now all of the bluebonnets of the season are gone.Gregg stated how many buttercups there are this year and how we could take a buttercup picture instead (in theory - we really won't do that...).

Then he randomly started singing a song he used to sing to me:

My little buttercup,
has the sweetest smile.
Sweet little buttercup,
won't you stay awhile?

The song is from the movie Three Amigos and he said the three amigos sang it while they were out in the desert. I take his word because I've never seen the movie.

I told him how I hadn't heard that song in years! He said, "Honey! That was before we had a dog and two little monkeys running around!"

clarity, it is a good thing

For weeks I've been obsessing about Paige's birthday party. I knew I wanted to have it at the mall carousel but when was the dilemma. Friday night of her actual birthday or Saturday afternoon? So, the evite needed to go out and a decision had to be made. So, we went to the mall Friday night to scope out the scene.


"I can see the whole world from here!" Yeah, she did. The child has been on planes, trains, boats and automoblies but bygolly she can see the whole world from the 2nd level of the mall.

Carousel delight!


The evite is out. The party will be the night of Pumpkin's birthday. So, in two weeks you'll see pics that look just like this except we'll all be in different clothes. But my eyes might be blotchy and my mascara smeared from me bawling at Paige being two. I got weepy at Macy's second birthday so who knows how I'll handle this.

But, I've got 11 days left of her being "a baby"!

because if she hadn't, who knows where I would've put the ballie

I had picked out Macy's clothes for her to wear to school. I told her to go put everything in my room so I could iron them. This is what I found:

complete with the "ballie" (ball-e) on top

All dressed for school

inching her way along the hall as I snapped pics

**Just out of curiousity, what do you call the "ballie"? That is what my mom always called them because most of them are just round balls. This particular one is fancy...**

He's A Mean One, Mr. Grinch

As you read in Christmas Randomness post, I related all my Christmasy favorite things to a holiday song. I finally got that post posted and then hit my head against the keyboard for leaving Grinchy out. No worries because Grinch deserves a post all to himself.

It is no secret that I like my Christmas decor fairly simple. No red and green and classic, white lights outside. There is an exception to every rule...

Gangsta' Grinch and Max

Gregg laughs at how sometimes the littlest, silliest, things make me shout with sheer joy!

This is not the best pic ~ our 11yr old neighbor took it. Notice how Paigey is giving the reindeer some holiday love.

The Grinch has always been a favorite of mine. When the Jim Carrey version came out, I couldn't get to the theatre fast enough and then I bought the DVD when it came out. That next Christmas I opened a Grinch DVD from Gregg. I'm thinking, "fool, we already own this movie." I ate my words because there was a gold bracelet inside (oooohhh, the days before children). He was still cracking up at that story even today of how he fooled me.

I've never thought I'd own an inflatable character. Kinda goes against anything classic. But, we love to look at lights several nights a week and will practically spend a tank of gas searching for a house that has a Grinch. So, I suggested that we just buy one and see him whenever we want! There's the logic on that one.

Except when Grinch is deflated and Paigey goes, "uh, oh Ginchy, uh, oh" (repeat, repeat)

Mr. Grinch is not for everyone. Some people these days prefer this...

Macy says that Santa riding a motorcycle hurts the reindeer's feelings.

We are off on a road-trip this weekend and Grinch is already in the truck DVD. You can guarantee that I'll be whittling myself between the two car seats to watch the feast of the roast beast!

Flashback Friday

The truck came yesterday and picked up our old appliances, Paigey's exersaucer and highchair. My eyes did well up with tears as I saw the baby things get loaded up. At least we still have the crib and you can bet that Pumpkin will sleep in it until she is 18.

I tell the girls often "we had a good time but the good time is over".

Paigey making a highchair mess were good times and precious memories for sure.

Interruption

This blog will be interrupted tonight by the CMAs. I may not get to listen to the radio very often b/c kiddie movies are always playing in the car. I don't own an ipod or care to. But, every fall when the CMAs are on, I am glued to the tv. It was something that I always enjoyed doing with my dad growing up. We'd watch it together every year and I'd get to stay up late past bedtime to watch it. When I went to college, we always talked on the phone about it at some point of the broadcast. But, gracious ~ this music is nothing compared to the music in heaven! I'm back to the couch with a smile on my face...

It Is What It Is

This is a long one...

I've been asked many times how I have the time to blog. Everyone has downtime, it's all about how you choose to use it. People might wonder why I'm on the computer blogging instead of hanging out with husband. The truth...it's 7:45, both girls are asleep and husband is on his way to an 8:00 meeting at AA .

Gregg is an alcoholic. Not the abusive, violent, wife-beating kind (that my biological father was). But rather, the sneaky, I can handle -it, random binge drinking kind.

Of course I knew this when I married him. I knowing went into this. When Gregg and I were 1st dating, we'd watch a movie and he'd go through a 6pack. I'd be like, "hello, you are just drinking to be drinking - you are not even thirsty." When we first dated the summer of '97, we dated for three months. We broke up for a year and got back together in Oct. of '98. We didn't break up b/c of his drinking ~ there was other "trash in the past" that he had to deal with.

When we got back together, we knew it was for GOOD. We had "made it" and it was just meant to be. But soon after, I found out about a DWI he had gotten the summer we had dated. Soon, after that he got another one. So here we are were engaged, paying money for his probation and he was attending mandatory AA meetings. At one point I even went to an Al-Ala-non meeting but just once.

In an effort to quit the habit before our wedding, Gregg started drinking non-alcoholic beer. That seemed to work or so I thought (led to think). We got married in March 2000, I was teaching and Gregg was still in school studying for a degree in engineering with supposedly one year left. One day in May, I came home from work and found Gregg drunk (he should've been at Lowe's at 4) and then he proceeded to tell me that he had quit school that day. WHAT!!! I was livid for both reasons as you can imagine. Yes, it was ultimately his choice to quit school. I could not go take those classes for him and I sure didn't want him taking out any more student loans! He said he'd work his way up w/Lowe's and one day he'd be a store manager and I wouldn't have to work. (Ok, he was right about that one...)

Here's the timeline: Gregg was Valedictorian of his high school class of '92(55 people)and got a major 4-yr chemical engineering scholarship to A&M. His mom passed away from cancer the end of his freshman year. Then started the heavy drinking "because at this point he didn't have to be responsible to anyone". Once his scholarship ended, he basically became a "recluse" and sat at home and drank and went to the bars and drank. He ran out of all money possible, had to get his 1st job ever at 23 at Lowe's. Within a week, I started and the rest is history.

Things were drastically better when we left Aggieland in 2001 (and the bar scene and drinking buddies). We moved to San Antonio and that is where Macy was born in 2003. Of course I wanted the drinking to be 100% gone before we brought a innocent child into this. But, I hadn't mentioned that Gregg had also quit smoking (through a study before we were married) and we were still battling the dipping. Yes, he used to smoke and dip "back in the day". With the baby coming, my biggest issue was the lying. I was going to be damned if he would ever lie to our child.

But that is Gregg's baggage ~ he was TAUGHT to lie. He was raised by a manic-depressive father and his mother that literally worked herself to death to make ends meet for their 3 kids. Gregg's dad basically has not worked since Gregg was 3 years old. Gregg was raised to lie to "keep the peace". Lie to his little sisters about how bad things really was. In the 3rd grade, not telling his mother that a skunk sprayed his shoe b/c they couldn't afford new ones. So, he wore his skunky shoes until his mother found out. Many sad stories there. You see why Gregg went nuts after his mom died?? He had been the "man of the house" beginning at 3 years old!

Since Macy was born, the only drinking had been when he's been out of town (on business). (Starting to leave out details b/c I'm getting tired) We moved to the city from Temple so no more traveling! The big Lowe's annual sales meeting in Feb (now in Vegas - ugh) has been our biggest trial. He went in 2005 and 2007 (Paige was born in Feb. 2006 so he missed that one -whew!) Both times, I am psycho momma tracking him down after he didn't call to say goodnight (immediate red flag). I'm thinking, he is going to lose his JOB b/c of this addiction!

Then the most recent event back in April. We started going to our new church in March and joined our homegroup soon after. It was our turn to host one Sunday night in April. But, Gregg had already had free tickets to go to the "Race". So, ok - prior engagement, I could do homegroup by myself. Seriously, I was making my taco and the phone rang in a kitchen full of my new, Christian friends. Kids running around, Paige in the highchair, people making their plates. I'm like, "hello, are you on your way home?" He started to tell me how the traffic was so bad they had to spend the night. I didn't have to "listen to how his voice sounded" b/c he was telling me insane, drunkin' stories that I had to leave the room of my guests and hungry baby to decipher. All I could do is just pray that he and his friend got home safely b/c I didn't know what was going on or who was driving.

I immediately went out and told my homegroup what had happened. And this is the deal. You get to know us, it comes out. Gregg's alcoholism is not in any way a secret. It is a fact. Gregg could care less if I drank but I have no desire to. We'd get together with our neighbors in Temple and potluck and they'd BYOB. Gregg would have Dr. Pepper. People at 1st assumed that we were just religious. We are but not prudes! So, we are not the people to invite to wine tasting etc...

Back to that night. Homegroup left and I quickly got the girls to bed before Gregg stumbled home. I had barely got Paige down and Gregg and his friend pulled up. My reaction - just get inside and take a shower. I stood outside and talked to his friend. I looked in the bed of the truck and there is a grill and found out that they had tailgated! Hello, this binge was PLANNED! Sneak, lie, drink.

Come to find out - Gregg was missing for like 7 hrs. Like he went and passed out somewhere and his friend couldn't find him. They finally found each other in the parking lot.

This is the worst ever with Gregg. When we talked the next day, he said he has never gone that long with time not accounted for. That really scared him. What really freaked him out more is I told him when I came inside, he was rocking Paige. So my drunkin' husband was rocking my precious baby. In the past, I would've demanded answers right then and there. But I told him to go to bed. I thought I was "handling" things better by not having the explosive reaction I've had in the past But, you see, with Gregg, I've been through all of the emotional tactics with all of his addictions - crying, begging, screaming, hitting, repeat and repeat. Then a friend said that when there is no reaction - numbness - that is the worst of all.

It was decided that Gregg would try AA. Recall, he had to do it 8 years before. He always stated that "AA wasn't for people like him - he didn't need to hash his problems." I accepted that at the time b/c Gregg is not a kum-ba-ya, let's hold hands and love each other kind of guy. We also decided to see a Christian therapist, Judy, as a couple. She told Gregg straight up, that he needed to be taking care of his drinking at AA on his own and counseling wasn't for the drinking - but our communication.

Gregg immediately started AA and a general addiction support group through our church. He goes to 8:00 meetings so that doesn't take away from family time and we get the girls down early so I don't have any inconvenience of him being gone. He has a sponsor that he meets with weekly as well to go through the Big Book. So, Gregg is gone Tues, Thurs and Friday nights. He is just doing AA now b/c the church group was at 7:00.

He has been sober for six months now. He was surprised how spiritually based AA is. He is leaning on God and not himself to guide him. I have really seen such a change in him.

Gregg just got home and read over this post. He knew I was going to post it and he is not in the least bit embarrassed or ashamed. Alcoholism is apart of who we are both as individuals and as a couple. Gregg is a terrific public speaker and he can see him self as a mentor one day or a guest speaker. AA will be apart of our lives until the day we die. There is no cure for alcoholism. It is not going away. Relapses likely will occur. It is what it is. We hope to reach out to others by sharing our story and making it our ministry somehow. Gregg early on said, "wouldn't it be great if I could turn all of this bad into something good by helping others." I am so proud of Gregg and of this "high" he has maintained. It is a journey, our journey ~ I chose this man to marry. Thank you Lord for Gregg Glover.