Gummy Bear: 28 weeks
Baby is: measuring 1 lb, 14 oz, putting her in the 36th percentile, as of last Tuesday. My pregnancy app says she's the size of iceberg lettuce and approximately 14.8 inches long
Cravings: Nothing really. Still prefer soft foods to anything that requires a lot of chewing though
Aversions: Meat by itself. Eggs.
Drinking: Water and Decaf Frappuccinos
Clothes: Comfy!
Gender: It's a girl! Full steam ahead on the hairbows, headbands and ruffly bloomers!
What I miss: My brain. My energy!
What I’m looking forward to: Wrapping up the last trimester!
Went to the doctor last week. They took a few pictures and said she is head down. Everything is on track. I'm healthy, baby's healthy. Blood pressure is good. AND, I passed my glucose test. This felt like such a huge accomplishment. I've been trying to be careful about what I eat. Making sure to get in some fruits and veggies. Staying away from sweets. Not 100% of the time, but mostly. I feel like pretty much everyone fails that first glucose test and has to take the 3 hour. I've been so carb conscious, even when that's all I wanted to eat. Plus my doctor...the fat people need c-sections doctor...I feel like she just wants something to be wrong. Like she's just waiting to say "I told you so". I may projecting, but that's how I feel. But after the ultrasound when we saw that the baby is smaller, she was like, I don't think you really have anything to worry about. You've been watching what you eat and the baby's size is good. I think you're fine. And then for the test results to come back and say everything is fine, on top of having a smaller baby...man that felt good. That felt like victory. And for the first time I think I started to unclench and think "I may just get my way". That test felt so huge to me. Like it was the last obstacle standing between me and having a natural birth at the birth center with the midwife. I know it's not. I still have to be good, drink my water, take my vitamins, all that jazz. And anything could happen at any time. But it feels like a big "I told you so" to everyone who didn't think I could do this because of my weight. Once again- fat does not mean unhealthy.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Monday, August 5, 2013
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free
We held a memorial for mom this weekend. It's still really hard for me to believe she's just gone. I think it's harder for me to accept because she wasn't here and I didn't see or talk to her everyday. It's easier to imagine she's just over in Kilgore and I'll talk to her in a few days. It still just doesn't seem real.
I'm super thankful my for Big Sandy family. They took all of us in (even the dogs!), made sure everyone was fed, and took care of a lot of the preparations. I was thankful to not have to do a whole lot. What I did decide to do, was the memorial service. I decided I didn't want to deal with the hassel of finding someone to come out and having a stranger say something about a woman he didn't even know. The pastor who did dad's funeral was not only the hospice director, but one of dad's old customers. It meant a lot to have someone who knew him doing the service. It was more sincere. I felt like I just needed to do this.
The biggest problem, besides dealing with it emotionally? My (lack of) filter. I'm honest. I think you all know that. I'm not good at sugar coating things. I didn't want it to be disrespectful or inappropriate. But I did want it to be honest. Let me tell you- it's hard to find the right words to memorialize anyone I think. Have you ever thought about what you would say if you had to do someone else's eulogy? What about what your own would sound like? How do you eloquently sum up someone else's life? So I set off to accomplish the impossible.
Craig and my boss were the only two people to read it prior to Saturday. Craig thought it was sweet, but honest. My boss teared up a little. I was anxious to see what everyone else would think.
Saturday came. I was more anxious that I anticipated Saturday morning, but calmed down once things got busy. I was hoping I could fall back on my college speech skills and hopefully detach myself from it and make it through. When it was finally time, I could feel my voice shaking. I took a few deep breaths, but I made it through. Parts that I didn't expect to be hard were hard to read, and the part I thought would be hardest (the part I cried on when writing) wasn't at all. Afterwords, her husband came to give me a big hug and thank me. He thought it was perfect. He was crying. I was relieved. I didn't really care what her friends thought, but I hoped he thought it was ok. Then all night people told me how perfect it was. It felt good to know that I could honor my mom. I felt like I would have made her proud.
So here it is- the draft of my speech. (BTW- my step dad's name is also Craig)
First I’d like to thank you all for being here today to celebrate the life of the person I called Mom. I know she would have appreciated the special attention for each of you. The family and I appreciate your support.
My mother had an unmistakable presence. She had a way of making sure people knew she was there. She didn’t blend into a crowd. She was never one to do something quietly. You definitely knew when Lori was involved with something. She made sure she wasn’t overlooked.
For this reason, it’s ever more apparent that she’s not here anymore. By now, I should have had at least 4 of 5 calls from her. Some of you may be missing even more. Craig is probably so lost without her nagging when he gets home from work that he probably can’t fix dinner for himself without her telling him how she wants it done. I can tell you no Mother’s Day, no Thanksgiving, no Christmas, no Birthday will ever been the same for us. No benefit, no rally, no accident will be the same without my mom there to send food or make sure that people are being taken care of. She had so much concern for people around her that it was like she was experiencing exactly what they were going through. She felt deeply and loved fiercely. Her absence has been, and will be felt by each of us in this room.
She could be loud, she would talk your ear off, and had a special way of making a scene when things weren’t going her way. She loved music, particularly listening to husband Craig play. She loved to dance. She loved to have a good time. For many of you, this is the Lori you know and love. Cherish the good times you had with her.
Some of us, however, knew a different side to Lori. This side struggled my whole life with emotional battles that sometimes got the best of her. Sometimes the emotional battle manifested itself physically like when she had her last car accident. Battling physical and emotional wounds can be a heavy burden to carry. Those of us closest to her often had to stand by while she suffered- unable to offer assistance or relief. It was a heavy burden for us to carry also.
I’m here to tell you today, than for maybe the first time in my life, my mother is truly happy and pain free. She isn’t suffering. She is finally free of all the burdens she carried with her on this journey here on Earth. For that, I am thankful. Thankful that he knee doesn’t hurt, her ankle doesn’t hurt, her head doesn’t hurt. Thankful that she won’t call me late at night because she’s worked herself into a tizzy, dwelling on something until she’s blown it out of proportion. Thankful that all her wounds, both physically and emotionally are finally healed.
But I’m also sad. Sad that she’ll never get to reuse the dress from my wedding that she loved so much to attend my brother’s wedding. Sad that now Craig, who has built a life and home with Mom for the past 10 years, has to carry on by himself now. Sad that her brothers don’t have a big sister anymore. Sad that her dad has lost his only daughter. Sad that she won’t be there the next time I want to call her for one of her recipes. Sad that she won’t be here in November to meet her first grandchild.
For those of you who don’t know, Kyle and I lost our father to cancer almost 3 years ago, just 6 weeks from the time he was diagnosed. We can’t help but compare the two situations. As heartbreaking as it was to lose our father, we had time. We had time to tie up loose ends. We had time to make sure he knew how much we loved him. We had time to say goodbye.
There is no sense of closure for us right now. Craig feels the same way. It’s all very surreal to think that she’s really not here anymore. We didn’t get to make sure she knew how much we loved her. We didn’t get to hold her hand. We didn’t get to say goodbye.
The fact is, she’s gone too soon. She still had a lot of living she intended to do. We all still had a lot of plans that included her in some form or fashion. We never imagined we’d wake up that morning to find she had gone.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-4 says:
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.
July 20th was unfortunately my mother’s time to die. Today, for us, is a time to remember. It is a time to weep. Right now, is the time to mourn.
However, it’s important for all of us to know this is just a season. We are not meant to linger here. In a few moments we’ll lead anyone who wants to go to the cemetery to give us time to say goodbye. We’d like everyone to stick around though and have a bite to eat with us so we all have a chance to mourn together. A time to share stories. I know you all have a good story about my mom that I haven’t heard yet! Tonight, we remember.
But then, it’s time to heal. Time to laugh. Time to dance! Celebrate who my mom was. Each of you are here because she touched your life in some way. Focus on that. Focus on the light. Focus on the good. Carry on her legacy by making too much food at the holidays for your family. Help your brothers and sisters in need, even when you think you don’t have anything to give. Call family you haven’t talked to, even if you don’t get along. And then, when your good deeds are done, take a shot and shake your ass on the dance floor. That’s what Mom would do. That’s what Mom would want.
Thank you.
I'm super thankful my for Big Sandy family. They took all of us in (even the dogs!), made sure everyone was fed, and took care of a lot of the preparations. I was thankful to not have to do a whole lot. What I did decide to do, was the memorial service. I decided I didn't want to deal with the hassel of finding someone to come out and having a stranger say something about a woman he didn't even know. The pastor who did dad's funeral was not only the hospice director, but one of dad's old customers. It meant a lot to have someone who knew him doing the service. It was more sincere. I felt like I just needed to do this.
The biggest problem, besides dealing with it emotionally? My (lack of) filter. I'm honest. I think you all know that. I'm not good at sugar coating things. I didn't want it to be disrespectful or inappropriate. But I did want it to be honest. Let me tell you- it's hard to find the right words to memorialize anyone I think. Have you ever thought about what you would say if you had to do someone else's eulogy? What about what your own would sound like? How do you eloquently sum up someone else's life? So I set off to accomplish the impossible.
Craig and my boss were the only two people to read it prior to Saturday. Craig thought it was sweet, but honest. My boss teared up a little. I was anxious to see what everyone else would think.
Saturday came. I was more anxious that I anticipated Saturday morning, but calmed down once things got busy. I was hoping I could fall back on my college speech skills and hopefully detach myself from it and make it through. When it was finally time, I could feel my voice shaking. I took a few deep breaths, but I made it through. Parts that I didn't expect to be hard were hard to read, and the part I thought would be hardest (the part I cried on when writing) wasn't at all. Afterwords, her husband came to give me a big hug and thank me. He thought it was perfect. He was crying. I was relieved. I didn't really care what her friends thought, but I hoped he thought it was ok. Then all night people told me how perfect it was. It felt good to know that I could honor my mom. I felt like I would have made her proud.
So here it is- the draft of my speech. (BTW- my step dad's name is also Craig)
First I’d like to thank you all for being here today to celebrate the life of the person I called Mom. I know she would have appreciated the special attention for each of you. The family and I appreciate your support.
My mother had an unmistakable presence. She had a way of making sure people knew she was there. She didn’t blend into a crowd. She was never one to do something quietly. You definitely knew when Lori was involved with something. She made sure she wasn’t overlooked.
For this reason, it’s ever more apparent that she’s not here anymore. By now, I should have had at least 4 of 5 calls from her. Some of you may be missing even more. Craig is probably so lost without her nagging when he gets home from work that he probably can’t fix dinner for himself without her telling him how she wants it done. I can tell you no Mother’s Day, no Thanksgiving, no Christmas, no Birthday will ever been the same for us. No benefit, no rally, no accident will be the same without my mom there to send food or make sure that people are being taken care of. She had so much concern for people around her that it was like she was experiencing exactly what they were going through. She felt deeply and loved fiercely. Her absence has been, and will be felt by each of us in this room.
She could be loud, she would talk your ear off, and had a special way of making a scene when things weren’t going her way. She loved music, particularly listening to husband Craig play. She loved to dance. She loved to have a good time. For many of you, this is the Lori you know and love. Cherish the good times you had with her.
Some of us, however, knew a different side to Lori. This side struggled my whole life with emotional battles that sometimes got the best of her. Sometimes the emotional battle manifested itself physically like when she had her last car accident. Battling physical and emotional wounds can be a heavy burden to carry. Those of us closest to her often had to stand by while she suffered- unable to offer assistance or relief. It was a heavy burden for us to carry also.
I’m here to tell you today, than for maybe the first time in my life, my mother is truly happy and pain free. She isn’t suffering. She is finally free of all the burdens she carried with her on this journey here on Earth. For that, I am thankful. Thankful that he knee doesn’t hurt, her ankle doesn’t hurt, her head doesn’t hurt. Thankful that she won’t call me late at night because she’s worked herself into a tizzy, dwelling on something until she’s blown it out of proportion. Thankful that all her wounds, both physically and emotionally are finally healed.
But I’m also sad. Sad that she’ll never get to reuse the dress from my wedding that she loved so much to attend my brother’s wedding. Sad that now Craig, who has built a life and home with Mom for the past 10 years, has to carry on by himself now. Sad that her brothers don’t have a big sister anymore. Sad that her dad has lost his only daughter. Sad that she won’t be there the next time I want to call her for one of her recipes. Sad that she won’t be here in November to meet her first grandchild.
For those of you who don’t know, Kyle and I lost our father to cancer almost 3 years ago, just 6 weeks from the time he was diagnosed. We can’t help but compare the two situations. As heartbreaking as it was to lose our father, we had time. We had time to tie up loose ends. We had time to make sure he knew how much we loved him. We had time to say goodbye.
There is no sense of closure for us right now. Craig feels the same way. It’s all very surreal to think that she’s really not here anymore. We didn’t get to make sure she knew how much we loved her. We didn’t get to hold her hand. We didn’t get to say goodbye.
The fact is, she’s gone too soon. She still had a lot of living she intended to do. We all still had a lot of plans that included her in some form or fashion. We never imagined we’d wake up that morning to find she had gone.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-4 says:
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.
July 20th was unfortunately my mother’s time to die. Today, for us, is a time to remember. It is a time to weep. Right now, is the time to mourn.
However, it’s important for all of us to know this is just a season. We are not meant to linger here. In a few moments we’ll lead anyone who wants to go to the cemetery to give us time to say goodbye. We’d like everyone to stick around though and have a bite to eat with us so we all have a chance to mourn together. A time to share stories. I know you all have a good story about my mom that I haven’t heard yet! Tonight, we remember.
But then, it’s time to heal. Time to laugh. Time to dance! Celebrate who my mom was. Each of you are here because she touched your life in some way. Focus on that. Focus on the light. Focus on the good. Carry on her legacy by making too much food at the holidays for your family. Help your brothers and sisters in need, even when you think you don’t have anything to give. Call family you haven’t talked to, even if you don’t get along. And then, when your good deeds are done, take a shot and shake your ass on the dance floor. That’s what Mom would do. That’s what Mom would want.
Thank you.
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