I kept my windows shuttered Locked and barred and under cover While excusing your every intrusion.

I stayed there deficient and wishing Ignoring the light and the warmth I was missing While you stood there, a welcome delusion.

I sat there for years . . . → Read More: Becoming an Illusion [Words From The Olden Days]]]> I sat there for years, being real
While you became an illusion

I kept my windows shuttered
Locked and barred and under cover
While excusing your every intrusion.

I stayed there deficient and wishing
Ignoring the light and the warmth I was missing
While you stood there, a welcome delusion.

I sat there for years beneath your inhibitions
smiling and seething, supporting your mission.

I stood there immobile and static
Stuck to your web of fictitious fabric.

I was standing there waiting to feel less subdued
While you lingered unseen and untrue.

As silly as it feels to say, I like to think that Fiona was right there with me in some of my darkest moments. I am so glad she is back and making music.

Sometimes you don’t really think you are allowed to talk about them on your blog, because, all of the sudden, you might have to go to court and stand right in . . . → Read More: Recycling some old words ’cause I can’t find any new ones today.]]> Sometimes the things you are the most afraid of pop up in your face and poke you in the eye when you aren’t looking.

Sometimes you don’t really think you are allowed to talk about them on your blog, because, all of the sudden, you might have to go to court and stand right in front of them and tell someone why you and your child should be free of them forever.

So since I can’t put anything into words, I decided to recycle some old words: Here. Something I wrote years and years ago seems appropriate today.

It’s Nights Like This

Its nights like this that I feel it slip
times like these that I stumble.

Its when the chaos
begins to subside
that it sneaks up on me
That my calm starts it slide.

It’s the places with silence
that are loudest to me.

It’s the times when you’re settling
that are unsettling to me.

When you smother me with order
and alphabetize my mess
When there’s no more urgent danger
No more brokenness
That’s when I start to loose my grip
that’s when my hold on me
starts to slip.

And I felt better. For the first time I felt – about that subject – that I had put it all in a safe, healthy box and put it away. I guess that’s why it pisses me off so much when the top of the healthy box pops back open . . . → Read More: Amends.]]> So I wrote this story.

And I felt better. For the first time I felt – about that subject – that I had put it all in a safe, healthy box and put it away. I guess that’s why it pisses me off so much when the top of the healthy box pops back open and pours shit all over my clean, healthy floor.

And if we are being honest – I guess I was waiting for the part where the villain ends up broken or in prison or dead. I had this plan of being all stoic and mature and posting something like “I guess the story does end with fireworks” or just “it’s over.” – and you know, linking to the news story that outlines how someone finally got pushed too far and threw him off a bridge or burned down his house.

But I don’t live in a big budget film – much to my every-day-surprise – and that kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me. And then -you know-there’s the part where you aren’t supposed to hope for that kind of stuff.

So anyways.

Here you go: he made amends to someone else.

Someone else.

He apologized for all the bad things he did to someone else. Granted, someone else deserved it and needed it and is probably able to move further from hell because if it.

To be clear: Not one tiny part of me wants any amends or conversation or even consideration – I’m out. I’m thousands of miles from anywhere near there. It wouldn’t be a safe or sane thing to do. It would make things worse. If whats happening is some kind of ninth step amends quest – this would be what they refer to as “except when to do so would injure them or others”.

But knowing about it just pisses me off.

The morning that J.D. had his wreck (almost a year ago now, wow..) I can tell you exactly what I was thinking before I got the phone call – I was following a schedule, making appointments, listing to-dos, being in control. Everything was . . . → Read More: Something I learned in 2010..]]> Sometimes it feels better to not be in control of everything.

The morning that J.D. had his wreck (almost a year ago now, wow..) I can tell you exactly what I was thinking before I got the phone call – I was following a schedule, making appointments, listing to-dos, being in control. Everything was ‘normal’ and moving along as planned. We were 100% certain what was coming tomorrow – next week – next month. And then it totally didn’t.

Suddenly, we were no longer 2 able-bodied adults pulling in 2 separate, comfortable incomes, supporting 6 kids. J.D. had a broken neck (and back, and ribs) and couldn’t get around at all without help.. I was 4 months pregnant and lifting him in and out of a recliner after strapping him into this awful plastic brace. We had 6 kids – one only just turned a year old. I was shell-shocked – to say the least. It felt like every time we tried to take control of this insanity and make decisions, it would get crazier – we finally left the hospital and settled in at home and they made him come back in and put a halo on him. Life had gone completely upside-down.

And – as crazy as this sounds, the worst part of the whole thing was not knowing what was coming next. Not calling the shots. No one asking us how we wanted to handle the ‘next steps’.

When the neurosurgeon called me with the decision to place the halo, he wasn’t exactly presenting it as an ‘option’. It was pretty cut and dry.

“The broken sections of the C2 bone have shifted since the last x-ray – we’ll be placing him in a halo. When can you get him into the hospital?”

“Um, he’ll probably want to discuss that. Um..”

“There is nothing to discuss. It’s not up for discussion. He has a broken neck.”

“ok.”

Sometime after my natural reaction to that conversation, I caught myself saying “Thank God I didn’t have to make that call.” – and then throughout the entire rest of the crazy situation and several times over the past year, I have grown quite comfortable uttering “Thank God it was not me who had to make that decision for us.” – “Thank God that decision was not left up to us.”

Turns out I kind of like not being in control.. not trying to call all the right shots is sort of freeing.

Seebach was born on Dec. 5, 1929, in Minneapolis to John and Harriett Seebach. He was the middle of three children. He graduated in 1947 from Backus High School in Backus, Minn. After high school, Seebach began his 27-year . . . → Read More: RIP Grandpa Bill.]]>

Bill Robert Seebach of Ione, Wash passed away suddenly in Bouse, Ariz., Thursday, Oct. 21, 2010.

Seebach was born on Dec. 5, 1929, in Minneapolis to John and Harriett Seebach. He was the middle of three children. He graduated in 1947 from Backus High School in Backus, Minn. After high school, Seebach began his 27-year career serving his country by joining the Army Air Corps, which later became the U.S. Air Force.

In his time in the Air Force he was stationed at many SAC (Strategic Air Command) bases. Seebach was a flight engineer on the Globemaster, the B-29, the B-36, and the KC-97 airplanes. He served in the Korean War and did two tours of duty in Vietnam. His last tour of duty, without his family, was in Thailand. He took great pride in his service to his country and retired as a Master Sergeant.

After retirement from the USAF, he worked for Louisiana Pacific and he drove cement trucks for Mitchell Trucking. He then went to Spokane Community College studying appliance repair. For many years, in North Pend Oreille County, he was known as Grandpa Bills Appliance and Electrical repair.

He also took pride in being a Lion’s club member. Seebach belonged to the North Pend Oreille Valley Lions Club and was a continuous member for 36 years. Wherever he traveled or lived he would visit and work for the local Lions Clubs. He took responsibility for selling the Lions mints for Selkirk scholarships each June. Seebach held many offices within the local club and also at the district level. He was awarded the prestigious Melvin Jones Fellowship award and a Life Time Membership.

Seebach had a strong sense of duty to his country and his community, but his biggest love was for his family of28children, 75 grandchildren, 73 great-grandchildren and five great-great-grandchildren.

In 1949, at the age of 20, Seebach married his first wife, Nancy Goebel, and had two children, Bobby and Nancy Lynn.
He later married Faye Coomes on July 9, 1954. They had six children: Timothy, Deborah, Johnnie, the twins Carrie and Victoria were born on Seebach’ birthday, and Denise. The children were raised at various Air Force bases including: Dyess AFB, Dover AFB, March AFB, Goose Bay AFB and Beale AFB. Bill and Faye were married for 21 years, and now there are 13 grandchildren and 26 great-grandchildren.

He then married Lila Hill Smith on June 5, 1976. Lila brought an additional nine grown children and 23 grandchildren to the marriage. They were married for 26 years and now there are 30 grandchildren, 41 great-grandchildren and five great-great-grandchildren.

On Jan. 11, 2008, he married his high school friend Anita Edwards Thompson. He added 11 more grown children, 32 grandchildren and six great-grandchildren under his wide wings. Bill and Anita lived in their motor home. They spent winters in Arizona and summers in Ione. Their three loving years together were spent sharing traveling adventures, sightseeing, great potlucks and enjoying time spent with family and friends. Seebach loved the mountains in Ione and the changeability of the Arizona mountains; he even gave them names.

Seebach was preceded in death by his parents, brother Richard Seebach, wives Faye and Lila, his sons Johnnie, Tim and Dennis Smith, son-in-law Bob Dawson, and two grandchildren.

3 Generations of Tall Tales

He is survived by his loving wife, Anita; daughters Debbie Dawson of Phoenixville, Pa., Carrie (and Dale) Garner of Yelm, Wash., Victoria (and Steve) Johnson of Round Rock, Texas, and Denise (and Mike) McDonald of Everett, Wash.; the Smith family from Ione: Wesley (and Bonnie) Smith, Elton (and Kristie) Smith, Dale (and Marilyn) Smith, Dean (and Ronnie) Smith, Danny (and Carey) Smith; also Willetta (and Doug) Hylton from Randle, Wash., Donna (and Frank) McCullar from Eatonville, Wash., and Randy (and Danita) from Stanwood, Wash.; the Thompson family from St. Paul: Thomas (and Gail) Thompson, Carolyn (and Richard) Nordstrom, Karen (and Tony) Cardarelli, Sharon (and Richard) Whelan, James (and Paulette) Thompson, Teresa (and Denny) Blackstone, John (and Julie) Thompson, Paul (and Melba) Thompson, Jeanne (and Mark) Masanz, and Linda Thompson; also Mary (and John) Thompson-King from New Jersey. Seebach is also survived by many grandchildren.

I have always enjoyed your newsletter and have been subscribed through 2 of my 4 pregnancies, and have been enjoying both sets of milestone newsletters (one for my toddler who is 2 next month, and 1 for my infant who is 4 months old). Over the years, there have been articles here and . . . → Read More: An open letter to BabyCenter]]> Dear BabyCenter,

I have always enjoyed your newsletter and have been subscribed through 2 of my 4 pregnancies, and have been enjoying both sets of milestone newsletters (one for my toddler who is 2 next month, and 1 for my infant who is 4 months old). Over the years, there have been articles here and there that I may not have agreed with, but I realize that not everything is for everyone, and simply moved on. Today, however, I was disappointed and offended. I will be unsubscribing from your newsletters, and I need to be sure that you know why that is.

I am proud to say that I exclusively breastfeed my 4 month old, and plan on doing so for -at the very least- 6 months; but a year and beyond is my goal. I feel that successfully breastfeeding a healthy baby is one of my greatest accomplishments as a mom, and I only regret not being able to give my older children the same start. 13 years ago, when my first son was born, I had zero support, zero knowledge and zero encouragement – needless to say, I did not succeed at breastfeeding him past 1 week (I now know that what I had was mastitis and that I should have continued to nurse him, but was told at the time that I continuing to nurse was doing him ‘no good’). The same thing happened 8 years ago when my daughter was born – no support, no positive models to look towards, no knowledge regarding breastfeeding. 2 years ago, I ended yet another breastfeeding relationship feeling like I was just not equipped with ‘what it takes’ to breastfeed.

When I found out that I was pregnant with my 4 month old, I decided to take every measure to succeed at breastfeeding him. I educated myself, surrounded myself with support, read every article and book I could find. I threw out samples of formula and trashed Similac and Enfamil coupons so I wouldn’t be tempted when it got difficult. When I was told that he was not gaining enough weight back quick enough and appearing jaundiced, I supplemented for 2 weeks, but pumped and nursed and pumped some more to keep my supply up – so I was able to eliminate the need for formula and continue to breastfeed. At 4 months old, he is at the 75% percentile on the growth charts and is as healthy as can be. I am just now beginning to realize that we have “a successful breastfeeding relationship”. For the first time in my life, I am proud of my body and what it can do. I set my mind and my heart on doing something and it worked! Every single day I am able to look at this baby and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am doing right by him. I get to look at this baby every day and *know* I am doing the right thing. As the mother of 4 children (as well as a step-mother of 2), I can tell you that knowing for certain you are doing the right thing is a luxury not often afforded.

I tell you all of this because I need you to understand what I felt like this morning when I opened your newsletter and read that it is time for me to transition my 4 month old to formula, along with tips of how to get him used to taking a bottle and what to do if he refuses it (waiting until he is ‘really hungry’ or leaving the house so I don’t get temped to nurse him when he gets upset??).

Why would you encourage me to do that? Why, if my baby is 4 months old and successfully taking breast milk, should I transition him to artificial breast milk? Why would you tell me to “Provide as much affection and physical attention when you give the bottle as you would when breastfeeding” but not actually breastfeed? The Wold Health Organization recommends breastfeeding every baby for at least 6 months, and encourages continuing up though 2 years. Why would BabyCenter recommend something completely different?

Isn’t that irresponsible? I mean really – how many moms subscribe to the WHO’s newsletter? If I didn’t know any better, I might have just went with your recommendation to wean my baby at 4 months from real breastmilk to artificial breastmilk. What if I didn’t know enough to recognize that one of the resources I had specifically chosen to support me in being a good mother had just completely bypassed any concern for the health and well being of my infant and recommend something not recommended by the World Health Organization and the American Association of Pediatrics?

Thank you for helping me make another responsible move as a good mom: please unsubscribe me from your newsletters and cancel my membership to your website and all of your web services.

So, yeah. It’s been awhile.. Hmm.

*blush*

ANYWAYS.

Since we last spoke, this happened:

Very, very pregnant.

..and it went on like that for another 7 days.

On June 29th, I was having real, live contractions, but refused to believe in them due to the fact that I was 5 days over . . . → Read More: Jonny’s Birth Story (or) ‘The one where I pretend that I didn’t disappear for 7 months’]]> Um.. Well.

So, yeah. It’s been awhile.. Hmm.

*blush*

ANYWAYS.

Since we last spoke, this happened:

Very, very pregnant.

..and it went on like that for another 7 days.

On June 29th, I was having real, live contractions, but refused to believe in them due to the fact that I was 5 days over due and convinced that I would not, in fact, be giving birth at all. I went to bed figuring that if the contractions they really meant business, they would have to wake me up and convince me.

The next morning (June 30th) I woke up around 7am with what could only be described as shotgun-explosion-contractions but they only lasted about 15 seconds, so I dug my heels into my denial and sent J.D. to work, promising that I would call at the first “real” sign of “labor” (complete with the sarcastic finger-quotes).

At around 9am, I called my midwife to check in and tell her about the not-labor pains I was having and beg for another pep-talk; I was determined to have a natural labor but was quickly loosing faith that my body even worked that way. She’ been talking me off the please-for-the-love-of-God-just-break-my-water ledge on a daily basis. Fortunately, she is well trained in crazy-pregnant-woman and convinced me to drop by the birthing center “just to be sure”.

Since I was positive that I was not in labor and incredibly annoyed that anyone would have the nerve to think that I was (I am a *peach* when I’m 41 weeks pregnant), I left Billy in charge of the younger kids and had my mother drive me and Jack to the birthing center.

At 10am, Joan told me that she had a pretty good feeling that I would be having a baby that day, and that I should call J.D. – I disagreed and said I wanted to go back home. After much moaning and groaning, I finally compromised – mom and Jack and I would go walk around for an hour and come back – if there was any changes, I would stay and if not, I could go home. I called J.D. at work and told him to start meandering toward the birthing center, but not to hurry.

20 minutes into my hour of walking, my short, bursting contractions turned into real-live, HANG.ON.CAN’T.WALK.MIGHT.DIE contractions, so we started to make our way back to the center. Somewhere in there, I called J.D., and told him to go get the kids where they needed to be, (T & V would still have to go to their moms’ and but B & B would have to come to the center, where they and Jack would go to my moms)  but still told him not to hurry.

Exhibit A: Red Light Camera... He hurried.

As soon as we got back to the center, Jean checked me and said I was at a 6 and that I wasn’t going anywhere.

This is where things really got moving.

Jean said I should go ahead and get into my comfortable clothes and start to try to do some relaxation breathing while mom went out to the car to bring in my stuff and called J.D. again.

I went from denial to ready-to-push in a matter of minutes – but I was still determined to wait for J.D. to get there. All I could think of was ‘he already almost missed this’ and I was getting panicky at the thought of doing it without him.

When Jean came back into the room, she knew by looking at me that we were out of time and moved the birthing ball to the bed – I draped my top half over it just as my water broke.

Just as Jean started telling me that I was going to have to stop trying to hold back the urge to push, J.D. came flying into the room yelling “I’M HERE-I’M HERE-IT’S-OK-I-MADE-IT-I’M-HERE!”

And (very) shortly after that, so was Jonny.

Jonathan Jude Darley - Born June 30th, 2010

All 10 pounds and 22 inches of him.