Almost perfect

During the last couple of weeks on my Facebook feed, there have been friends of mine who have “liked” several news stories about babies that showed up on my newsfeed. Being a mother I clicked on them, even though I knew they weren’t pleasant topics.

The first one was a blog post about OB nurses and the hell they go through helping deliver babies. Just about every thing the blogger talked about I had experienced in the delivery room, except one. I read in angst as the nurse described a mother losing blood and flat lining. One sentence stuck with me, (although I don’t remember exactly what it said) but it was to the effect that the new baby will never get to be held by its mother. I about cried and I’m not a crier.

What if that had happened to me? I am a worrier and I play out situations in my head with various outcomes. With my youngest son, busy nurses didn’t get me up in a timely manner after my c-section and I couldn’t get out of bed when they finally did return. I get light-headed thinking about how hard it was to stand up and the overwhelming nausea I felt when I finally did. I nearly passed out trying to make it back to my bed. The nurse kept telling me she was going to have to give me the smelling salts. Let me tell you that stuff was awful. I was completely out of it and apparently my blood pressure had tanked. It reminded me of the time I got a lung full of anhydrous ammonia when dad was farming and I was helping switch tanks as a kid and the hose popped off.

The second link that I clicked on was about a couple who had a decided to go ahead and have their baby who had a genetic disorder, trisomy 13. Always fatal, the disorder doesn’t allow children to live more than a couple of days if they survive birth at all. As I watched the video of the couple with their final moments with Thomas, I nearly cried. The dad was so gentle and tender, explaining all the things they could fix on his little boy. I remember with my first son feeling the trepidation of getting tested for trisomy 13. I was 32 when I had Shaun and with age there are more chances for birth defects. I was relieved when we found out he was perfect as far as chromosomes and genetics go. Although I was now 35, I had less worry with Chance taking the test. I think it was because I had been through the agony of waiting before. Our second test again was a good result.

Yesterday I noticed someone had liked a page on Facebook called Prayers for Shane. Of course I had to go look. Not knowing what anenecphaly was I went searching for an explanation. I was taken aback by the photos and what the disease does to the poor babies. But none the less, the little ones were beautiful. Last week on the Prayers for Shane page they had photos of the young family and the new baby Shane. The little guy passed away within hours of his birth. My heart ached for them. Made me want to squeeze my babies a little tighter when I get home tonight.

At some point I will have to stop reading all things related to babies and pregnancy. Being a worrier, those kinds of posts will likely get the best of me. My boys are perfect in their own ways and I need to remember that. Regardless of what they do to annoy their mother, they are mine, they are here and I love them. I don’t like the word blessed because it gets overused, but I am truly blessed. My boys are healthy, happy and pure joy.

Chance and Shaun showing off their pumpkins.

Chance and Shaun showing off their pumpkins.

 

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Shopping around

Whenever I’m in a parking lot or driving down the highway, I notice the license tags on cars. It’s interesting to me to see where someone is from. At a couple of stores in my town I tend to pay particular attention to the counties on the tags.

A bigger town west of here just got their very own Hobby Lobby (among other stores) and the grumblings going on here in Dodge City are that our store is likely to close. Someone even said the employees are “trained” to say ours will remain open. Today when I stopped in HL for some sewing supplies, I noticed an older lady with a Grant County tag on her car. Garden City is a lot closer to Grant County than we are I thought to myself. Wonder why she’s shopping here? While walking up to the doors, I thought maybe she doesn’t like crowds, or she doesn’t like driving in Garden City. I’m with you there ma’am. The added traffic and people in the stores can be a little overwhelming.

As I started down the main aisle to find the velcro I was looking for, it occurred to me if those same people doing the grumbling would SHOP in our town, maybe our stores could stay open. Your pennies spent in our HL will help keep it open. Maybe if they supported the community we would get some of the stores Garden City has. It doesn’t have to be every time you are shopping for something, but make a point to buy something local. On the other hand, do we want the added development that Garden City has experienced? I’ve heard property taxes are going up in Finney County among other things.

I’ve also heard our city and county commissioners are out to sabotage progress in Dodge City. I’m not exactly sure if this is true, but the only way to change how something is run in a city is to get involved, go vote and participate in local government. Only the commissioners know their agenda and what the future is for our town. They have no idea what the locals think and want unless the voices are heard. If you want something to change (as the morning radio DJ I listen to says) – stop complaining and  change it.

I’ve always believed the notion that those who complain the loudest do the least amount of work. I feel like this applies to people and businesses in this town. You didn’t like the service at ____ restaurant. Did you speak with a manager? Did you file a complaint with corporate? Boycotting a restaurant may or may not help the situation, but is it a solution? What is the solution to bad customer service?

I tend to shop in my town or in towns I am traveling through. If there’s not XYZ store in my town, but in another, I will likely stop if I’m in the area and occasionally buy if the price is right. If the neighboring town happens to have the same store we do, I will shop in my town (even though the sales tax is cheaper else where). While I do like looking online for purchases and use it as a comparison tool, often times in the end shipping always seems to cost entirely too much and the mail carriers not being able to find my house or they won’t ship to a P.O. box make it not worth the hassle.

In the end, shop where you want, but if you have something to complain about, take it somewhere else. I get enough whining from my two boys. I find myself telling my three-year-old if you’re going to whine, go in your room, I don’t want to hear it. Stores can’t survive if you don’t spend money there and shop somewhere else. Communities can’t survive if it’s residents don’t support it.

My boys and their horses

At our house we have three mares. They are very similar to one another – two bays and a brown – all with not a noticeable amount of white on them. If you didn’t know the differences you would be hard pressed to figure out who was who.

There’s Kate, my husband’s old mare. I’m not even sure her age, but she’s a tad grumpy, fat as a hog and will remind me how hungry she is during evening feedings by bumping the gate if I don’t move fast enough. Then there’s my mare, Mare. I never really had a name for her and always just called her Mare, Sis or Sweet Pea. I’ve had her for a long time, and my heart jumps a beat whenever I can’t see her from the window. The youngest of the three, Baby, as my husband calls her, is just that. She’s a little wild, hasn’t been rode much and is full of it. I’d like to start riding her, but I’m scared..

Most every night oldest son and I will go feed the horses. He get’s rather upset if he can’t “help.” Recently he’s gotten better and wants to carry the buckets and dump feed. He still doesn’t realize how powerful the horses are and how they could hurt him. I have to remind him to get his head up and watch where he’s going.

Chance is nearly 8 months old and LOVES the horses. His eyes get big as saucers when he gets close to them. He gets all excited when he gets to sit on them. I adore his excitement when he’s sitting on the back of my old brown mare. She takes it all in stride as he’s screaming “riding” her and pulling on her mane.

The other day, on a night when I actually go to ride, Shaun wanted to ride too. I asked if he wanted to trot and he was confused. “Do you want to go faster?” I asked. I received an enthusiastic, “YES!” We had to video it to show his dad. I think he was pretty proud. I hope some day the boys will enjoy horses as much as I have.

Chance on the old brown mare.

Chance on the old brown mare.