We Need A Beach

Last night I packed this:

Those colors just *scream* Summer! Mmmmm!

This morning I woke up to this:

In case you have trouble telling what that is, it is SNOW.  It is March 25, 2013 in Virginia!! 

It's a good thing that in a week, I will be on this:

via

The Bigbys are in desperate need of a beach, and our trip could not come at a better time.
Those who know us know that this will be a bittersweet trip for us.  We try to go on an annual family vacation.  It is one of the things I look forward to every year.  Last year, we went to Thailand and had quite an adventure!  This year, we want to be super lazy, so we booked a trip to Aruba.  It’s bittersweet for us, though, because it purposefully coincides with the anniversary of Mike’s death.

Ever since Mike died, I have been dying to go to a beach.  It’s always nice to have the warm sun hit your face and seemingly take away your cares (even if temporarily and superficially); to feel the sand between your toes.  I have mostly wanted to go to the beach to be near the ocean.  The ocean has always been very symbolic and significant for me.  It reminds me of God, and the beach is where I feel closest to Him.  Being that this tragedy has ripped me apart and I’m experiencing the most difficult time of my life, being close to God has been my only and best option.  I guess I could have turned away completely, but I didn’t really consider that for more than a few hours.  I yearn for the ocean.

To me, the ocean is representative of God.  It is strong and powerful yet calm and beautiful, too.  It is life giving and can take your life away.  It can get angry, but is peaceful and tranquil and provides a loving shelter (for all of the fish).  I can’t wait to be face to face with such power and beauty.

If you remember, please say some prayers for us next week -- for sun and happiness; comfort and healing.  Prayers are particularly appreciated on April 3rd.  Mike was very much a part of our family, so this is not only difficult for me, but for my parents, too.  Dad still gets mad at the fact that despite all that he did, nothing could help Mike.  Walking by his golf clubs in the garage makes him particularly sad since Mike had planned to teach my dad how to play a game he loved so much.  My mom misses him spending many a weekend at our house and the bowling challenge that was always discussed, but never materialized.  My parents also hate to see me sad, so that can unnecessarily complicate things.  Above and beyond my family, Mike’s family and friends also covet your prayers.  As one of his college roommates told me the other day, “It will never make sense and it still hurts”.  To some degree, it will always hurt, but April 3rd might be a doozy.

All of us directly affected by this tragedy know deep grief and intense pain.  We also know incredible love and unwavering support.  For me, the beach will hopefully ease some of this pain. I’ll speak for all of us, family and close friends alike, and say that we greatly appreciate the support. We move forward with faith, strength, courage and love knowing nothing will fill the void in our lives and the hole in our hearts.  But we will make it.

For more than weather related reasons, we need a beach.

ABSURD! Where is SPRING!

It's Just Not In Me

After the man I loved deeply, my best friend, dies by suicide
The amount of strength it takes to keep going is incomprehensible. 
The amount of pain, heartache, devastation, confusion, and overall feeling of fear and failure is indescribable.

How am I ever supposed to move forward and what on earth does that even mean?

It’s just not in me.

After I embark on a “new” path to go to law school, spend thousands of dollars on tutoring because I have always been told I am “a bad test taker” and want to put myself in the best position to nail the LSAT.
After I bomb practice test after practice test and then proceed to spend hundreds of dollars to have educational testing only to discover I have actually had a learning disability my entire life.  One extremely common in people with my physical disability.

How was this not discovered before the age of 30? 

It’s just not in me.

After LSAC denies me the accommodations I need to be successful on the LSAT….twice.
And I bomb it. For real.

How will I ever get into law school?

It’s just not in me.

After talking to my top choice law school and being given the name of a disability attorney to work with in an attempt to get my accommodation denial reversed.
After spending even more money and time to prepare case after case for LSAC and for my prospective law schools.
After learning that Department of Justice has a class action lawsuit against LSAC addressing their repeated denial of accommodations. And then learning this will not help me right now because the suit will likely end up at the Supreme Court and will take years to be resolved.

How will I ever get these accommodations to get a decent score?

It’s just not in me.

After receiving rejection letter after rejection letter.
After being waitlisted at my top choice law school; communicating with them on a regular basis and being told that they are impressed with how I am handling this extremely unfavorable LSAC/LSAT situation.

Will this ever work out? Will I be able to fulfill a dream that I have put on hold for far too long?

It’s just not in me.

After my dad, my hero, was rushed to the hospital, and spent the night in the cardiac unit. After being told he will be having heart surgery soon.

Will he be okay?

It’s just not in me.

It’s just not in me….to give up.
It’s just not in me…to do anything but keep on going.
To live the life laid out before me. To the fullest.

Desserts Spelled Backwards

Desserts spelled backwards.  You know what that is?  STRESSED!!  That's what I am.  Sure, the last time I checked in on this blog, I wrote about how I felt I had a little bit of my groove back.  Then came Sunday.  Dad got rushed to the hospital after having a cardiac episode out at breakfast with my mom and former neighbor.  He almost face planted straight into his scrambled eggs.  Twice!  And, scared my mom and neighbor to death.  After a second episode, it was straight to the emergency room for the three diners!  They didn't call the ambulance because Dad would have been taken to the hospital my mom hates (she never known anyone to come out alive), so the neighbor transformed into Mario Andretti and raced to Arlington! 

They got to the hospital and Dad had a third episode.  His blood pressure shot up to 209!  That's sky high, folks, but this father of mine is too cool for his high blood pressure.  He didn't feel or notice a thing!  All of the monitors are going off, doctors are racing in, injecting medicine after medicine in his IV trying to get something to work, and Dad is just chillin' out watching tv, oblivious to everything going on around him.  The good part is he doesn't feel any pain.  The bad part is he doesn't feel ANY pain!  He had no idea what was happening and continued doing things as normal within seconds of coming out of his episode while those around him were busy trying to wipe the horrific looks off of their faces.

I was spared from all of this drama, enjoying a peaceful lunch with my new neighbor.  As I enjoyed my thai food and froyo, I had a hunch that something was amiss.  Shortly after returning to my condo, I get a phone call saying Mom is coming to pick me up to take me to the hospital to visit my Dad.

What?!  We are going to visit Dad in the HOSPITAL!!

In the CARDIAC unit!!!

@#%! just got real.

After crying for a second and then getting angry because my dad does not take the best care of himself and he is getting older, I pulled myself together, and was excited to see my dad even though it meant visiting him in a sterile room, laying in a bed, dressed in an unattractive hospital gown.  By the time I entered the room, he'd been stablized and the doctors were pretty confident that he was going to make it.

But, MAN, that was S-C-A-R-Y!  It also made me realize that this is sort of my future.  My parents are only getting older and while I hope these hospital visits will be few and far between, they do have the tendency to be more frequent.  I not so politely reminded my parents that at age 67 (yes, my parents are that old.  If you know them, I know they don't look it.  That's the problem.  They think they are as young as they look -- their body says otherwise!) they have officially been senior citizens for over 10 years and they need to stop eating fried chicken, Hershey bars, and sweet potato pie! They don't like to be reminded that they are getting older, but those two get big 'ole grins on their faces when they receive their senior citizen discounts! I sat in the hospital room and thought how they are getting older -- and that is scary.

I thought losing Mike was the worst thing that could ever happen to me!  And, quite frankly, I think it is.  And, I thought it had prepared me to deal with anything.  And, in some ways, yes it has.

But, when you are about to lose your daddy in a blink of an eye -  you are not prepared - especially when you think that the loss would mean losing both of the most important men in your life within a year!  Thankfully, I lost one, but God has spared the other.  Daddy will continue to be a part of my life on earth.

We're not out of the woods yet.  Dad still has to have a stress test tomorrow and he will need to have some minor heart surgery.  We have to monitor him closely because he is oblivious to the fact that his heart is beating out of control when it does.  The doctor said had he not been taken to the hospital he could have died. God spared him.  I am thankful.

But, I'm still stressed....

(and want to eat lots of dessert)

Thank you for your continued prayers for us.

A Hoppy Birthday

I wasn't too excited about celebrating my birthday this year.  I didn't have anything planned.  That's quite unusual for me because I love birthdays, but this year I just wasn't into making it anything special.  My friends and family know me much better than that and decided that despite my ho-hum attitude, I deserved something very special.  Here's how it all went down:

These ladies (my small group) always know how to make me smile and completely surprised me with the sweetest birthday card and a s'more cake.

Please excuse the mess. The cake looked bizarre zoomed in.

That's right!  It's what you think it is! One, big s'more!  We actually had s'more dip for dessert that night, so I took this baby home and ate it for breakfast the next morning.  YUM!

On my actual birthday, my parents and I went to a fancy, french restaurant called Le Ferme in Chevy Chase, MD.  We normally only go here once a year, so it was really special.

I had the dover sole, which happened to be the most expensive item on the menu. Ooops! I guess that is what "market price" means.  It was so delicious, though.

 For dessert, the waiter brought me a chocolate souffle and wished me a "hoppy birthday"!!

Even though my parents hate ice cream cake, they also surprised me with a chocolate cake with mint chocolate chip ice cream. 

Mom was funny and put trick candles on the cake.  She said after the year I've had, I'd want to have more than just one wish!  She was right.  I had a lot of fun making many wishes and questioning my lung capacity as those flames continued to reignite over and over.

My third and final celebration was with our family friends.  We just had a quiet dinner at home, but Kim was so sweet to make my favorites.  She made this ceasar salad that is just to die for.  I have never had anything like it before.

Then she also made cookies and cream pie which has now replaced the Baskin Robbins ice cream cake as my favorite.  This pie was amazing!

As for presents, my parents gave me a brand new Spyder ski jacket that I am hoping to get some good use out of this year. Kim, Roy, and Ryan gifted me with two beautiful Lenox crystal votive candle holders as a symbol of bright, new beginnings.

Thank goodness my friends and family didn't listen to my bah humbug birthday mumblings. They all did what they could to make it very special.  A hoppy birthday, indeed.  Thirty-one has started off oh so fun!

My Pants Don't Fit

If you know me, you know how much I like to eat! It's really kind of embarrassing, but Thanksgiving is a holiday made for me. Food, family, football, thankfulness....I'm there! Apparently, I like Thanksgiving so much, I felt it necessary to celebrate it 5 times this year!

It all started out with my prayer group Thanksgiving. The only Thanksgiving I have photos of.

Kathryn always has the best centerpieces!

 

We had turkey, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, stuffing, and mashed potato casserole (code for fattening, but Jen made sure to let us know all of the ingredients used were low fat or fat free! Tasted like full fat to me!)

Yes, it was as delicious as it looks.

For dessert, Julia made a pumpkin pecan cake. It was so "light" and yummy!

Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture of the company, but here we are at my birthday. We missed Ashley because she was on a mission trip in Ethiopia. I am so thankful for all of these ladies.

After prayer group Thanksgiving, the very next day, the cafeteria at work offered Thanksgiving dinner. It wasn't the best, but still good. Then my dad's office had a Thanksgiving potluck. Man, was that delicious! Those people can cook! I wasn't supposed to participate in that one, but Dad knows how much I like to eat, so he snuck me a plate!

By the time, Thursday rolled around, I'd already had three Thanksgiving feasts, but the real deal did not disappoint! Normally, we spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with our friends who are like family, the Collins. Typically, they come to our house for Thanksgiving and we go to Annapolis for Christmas. This year we switched it up and gobbled the feast in Maryland. We had a wonderful time, but like always, there aren't many leftovers, so Mom ordered a Thanksgiving dinner for us to have at home. Last night, I had my fifth and final Thanksgiving of 2012!

I didn't work out all last week thanks to some scheduling conflicts. I am headed to Aruba in April and need to get it in gear now, so I don't have to go crazy to get into shape later. My regular trainer, Jen, will be back this week so I know she will kick my butt!

After five feasts, my pants don't fit, my heart is full, and I am one proud Redskins fan!!




  

Happy Birthday. Er, Happy Homecoming

Today was supposed to be my birthday.  It's not, though.  My birthday is in January. I decided to come into my parents' lives 13 weeks early. Every January 17th, my parents recall the story of my birth and I am reminded of it once again in the middle of April.
My arrival into the world was certainly unexpected.  Nothing was prepared.  The day I decided to enter the world was the coldest day of the year.  It was so cold that the car engine would not start.  Dad had to push the car out of the way in order to get another car to drive my mom to the hospital.  He pushed so hard in the freezing weather that he ended up with frostbite on both of his hands.  The frostbite required medical attention, but my dad was not able to receive treatment at the hospital where I was being delivered.  I was born at Columbia Hospital for Women, so because my dad is not a woman he was refused treatment.  My mom would try to squeeze his hand during her natural labor. She wasn't allowed to have drugs because the doctors were not sure if I would live through the birth and didn't want anything to interfere. My birth caused pain for both of them thanks to the huge blisters covering both of my dad's hands.
I was born at 2:56pm, weighing 2 pounds, was long, skinny and covered in hair all over my body.  I looked so foreign that as soon as the doctors presented me to my parents my mom commented "Oh my God, I gave birth to a monkey!"  My dad had a puzzled look on his face thinking he had NEVER seen a baby that looked like that!  Thankfully, the doctors explained that babies grow hair all over their body while in utero and I hadn't stayed in long enough to lose any of it.  They assured mom and dad though, that if I lived, I would lose it over time.
My parents explain that the day of my birth was not a celebration but a nightmare.  Nobody was sure that I would live and a name had not been picked out for me.  Shortly after my birth, Dad had to rush off to another hospital to be treated for his frostbite.  When he returned, the two of them watched TV trying to distract themselves from the fact that they might not leave the hospital with a live baby.  My parents asked a pastor to come and give me last rights, but he refused.  He had faith that I would make it, so my parents had to name me.  Television played a large role in the two of them coming up with a suitable name.  The news had just reported that Jessica Savage, a reporter, had driven off a cliff, straight to her death.
"Jessica, that's a nice name." they thought.  Following the news, came the comedy "Facts of Life".  One of the main characters was named Blair.  And, voila! There was my name:  Jessica Blair.  I had a name, but the nightmare that was my birth continued for the next 13 weeks.
I spent the majority of my time in an incubator trying to develop, get strong, and fight for life.  My lungs were not developed like they should be and they kept closing. Oxygen became my best friend, but it didn't always keep me out of the woods.  The doctors determined that in order for me to be in stable condition and to keep from "crashing", they had to give me a drug.  If I was not administered the drug, I would surely die.  However, the drug had side effects.  If I showed one sign of distress (like a cry), I would have a bleed in my brain, otherwise known as a stroke in a baby.  I was a baby, so of course, I cried.  My outburst caused me to have a stroke which later resulted in my cerebral palsy.
My parents spent so much time in the hospital that they received the employee discount in the cafeteria. Once there was more certainty that I would live, Dad would leave to go prepare my nursery for me.  Thank goodness I stayed in the hospital for 3 months because my extended stay gave him time to get everything ready for me at home.
My family also became friends with another family of a little boy born early.  His name was Little Ed.  When Ed was born you could see straight through his skin.  Doctors were able to visibly see all of his organs.  Since Ed and I were so small, the hat babies are normally given right after birth to keep them warm did not fit our heads.  Nurses advised Ed's mom to use an egg as model for his cap and a clementine as a model for mine.  She made hats for us so we could keep warm during our "free" time outside of the incubators.  After 13 weeks, I was strong enough and able to go home with my family.

Time out on parole.  No incubator.  Time with Mom and Dad

This didn't scan in the best but I spent the majority of my first three months in this incubator.

Would you please stop checking on me?  WHAT are you looking at?

April 15 was supposed to be my due date, but it is now known as my homecoming.  This is because my due date was the day I was released to enjoy life with my family outside of a sterile environment.  Every January 17 is a bittersweet day for my parents.  If you know me, you know how much I absolutely love birthdays (mine and those of my friends and family)!  I will proudly proclaim starting New Year's Day that my birthday is coming up soon.  There is always a big celebration, but I am always reminded of the underlying nightmare of that day in 1982.  Every January 17, my parents and I reflect and it becomes "Happy Birthday!  Thank God you are ALIVE day!"  It truly is a miracle that I am alive.  It is a day to praise God and to celebrate!  I try to celebrate my homecoming every year, but it has not worked for the last 29 years.  Maybe one day...
Little Ed and I were reunited a few years ago.  We hadn't seen each other since we were babies.  His skin is thick enough to cover all of his organs and you would never know the trauma he went through at birth.  Interestingly enough, he is engaged to a wonderful woman who is in a wheelchair.  She has cerebral palsy.  He is truly an amazing person in the way that he cares for and loves her.  I was thrilled to reunite with Ed and to meet Kelly.

I truly am thankful to be alive.  I think I came 13 weeks early because I was so excited to get a jump start on the adventure that is life!  I have never been one to miss out on the fun.  Not to mention, I am a little claustrophobic so staying in the womb for 40 weeks just wasn't going to work for me. God has blessed me in many ways and I look forward to what the future holds.  Right now,  I am going to eat a cupcake s'mores to celebrate my homecoming!

Thank you for serving

My best friend is in Afghanistan.  It is only for 10 days.  Jess travels a lot for her job. (Yes, my bff's name is Jess.  So original, huh?!)  I am accustomed to her jetting off to Serbia, Nicaragua, Mozambique and other obscure places that many of us would not choose as a vacation destination.  Normally, we talk on the phone before she goes and I look forward to the stories and the souvenirs she brings back.  This time she stopped by my parents' house before heading to the airport.  The three of us were waiting by the front door to give her hugs, kisses, and to say our "See ya laters!" Not goodbye.  I am terrible at goodbye. This time it was different.  This time she was going to "hang out with the chickens" in a warzone.

{"Hanging out with the chickens" is how my family and I jokingly refer to Jess's job.  She does wonderful work educating and training third world countries on food safety.  She probably never sees a chicken.  It just started as a joke and has stuck!}

She is excited for the experience.  I am thrilled that she is getting to serve our country in this capacity.  But, I do pray everyday that she comes home safely....I look forward to that day.

Everyday, I work alongside people who have served or are preparing to serve our country in Iraq or Afghanistan.  Some are military; others are civilians who voluntarily deploy.  Curious me eagerly awaits every detail when they get back from their deployments.  My eyes and ears open wide when Jim laments about how he got violently ill from a parasite.  Or when Mack recalls that food was often left out too long and not properly sanitized so many in the camp came down with food poisoning.  Hopefully, Jess will help rectify this problem while she is over there.  Claudette leaned over my cube and bravely recalled the ground attack she experienced.  Not everyone made it into the bunker, but thank goodness nobody was hurt.  On Wednesday, I overheard Leslie communicating with Roger, the guy she is replacing in Afghanistan in a few short months.  Roger warned Leslie to bring a sleeping bag and a flashlight.  Why?  Always check your bedsheets before you decide to retire for the night.  The scorpions, snakes and BIG spiders like to cuddle with you!!

{When I was younger my grandparents used to call me "Killer Jessica".  I would run around my parents' screened in porch with a rolled up piece of newspaper, swatting at all of the bugs I could find.  I doubt this technique would work well on the creatures in the desert.}

Deploying and/or serving our country is a sacrifice.  My colleagues and Jess are not on the front lines.  They have experienced some hardship coupled with some very intriguing stories.  The blessing is they come back to tell the stories.  Some do not return; some return having sacrificed not only their time but their bodies too.  Jess is only over in Afghanistan for 10 days.  That is chump change compared to what military families experience.  This short stint of having her in a foreign, far away, dangerous land has further confirmed the fact that I could not be a military wife.  I owe a debt of gratitude to those who serve and their families, though.

Say a prayer for all of those serving our country overseas.  Thank those who risk their lives to keep us safe.  Say a prayer for America.

Jess is accumulating a lot of frequent flier miles right now.  Maybe she'll want to take a vacation with me when she gets back!  With or without a little jaunt away from DC, our reunion will be sweet.

Hurry home, Jess!  I miss you.