And for the second time in my life, I’ve learned that Santa is not real

Emma Hope Craig and Abigail Grace Craig were born April 13 & 14, respectively. They were born gasping for air and nourishment for which their bodies were not yet developed to receive. They came from my body which was not healthily enough to sustain their development. And on that day, my heart shattered. I’ve been picking up the pieces ever since. I’ve most of them gathered, but there seems to be a large piece missing. I think, perhaps, that it may be buried in the Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery in a little white casket with two beautiful, perfect angels.
I experienced grief before April 13 & 14. I suffered two miscarriages before I was pregnant with the twins, but that grief was different. I didn’t see their beating hearts; I didn’t feel their kicking feet, and as painful as those losses were the connection wasn’t as strong as it was with Emma and Abby. I had suffered family members passing away. They were old or involved in activities detrimental to their health. It was part of the plan right? We come here to die, but first we must live. Why would God take my two daughters before they even had a chance to live in the world?
Do you remember the moment you learned Santa Claus was not real? I remember as a child hearing things from my friends and wondering about the reality of Santa. My suspicions were confirmed after asking my mother about St. Nick in church (because, “you cannot lie in church – right?”). However disappointing it may have been that the jolly ole’ man wasn’t real, it didn’t affect me terribly because I would still get presents! The Santa concept still existed: if you are good you get presents, if you are bad you do not.
And doesn’t that concept hold true for most things in our lives? If you break the law you go to prison. If you work hard at school you will get good grades. Do onto others as you would have done to you. Cause and effect. So what did I do to cause this, what rule did I break, and what crime or sin did I commit to have the two most precious gifts ever received taken from me? This has been the most difficult hurdle to overcome in dealing with my grief, in putting the pieces back together. Since I know it was not Santa who originally gave me these gifts, my questions went to God. Because aren’t children blessings? Doesn’t everyone say, “We’ve been blessed with X children.”?
Jim and I visited our pastor to help walk us through these questions. She recommended I read, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, by Harold Kushner, and for the second time in my life, I learned that Santa was not real. This time the disappointment was profound. I don’t know that I was raised to believe this, but I had been living with a God who was in control of everything. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, right? But how can I live with a God who doesn’t follow cause and effect? My image of God did not answer my questions about losing Emma and Abby.
Kushner suggests that God is not in control of everything. That God would not intentionally hurt people or cause grief by taking innocent children; that God does not need “more angels”; that it is Nature, bad-luck and free will that causes bad things to happen in our lives. I struggled with this concept; because if God does not cause bad things, how can we praise him for the good things in our lives? If God doesn’t cause the good things in our lives either, then what is His role? Kushner says that His role is to give us the strength, Hope, Grace and nourishment for our souls to continue in the face of grief. And still I struggled with this. Then I thought about all of the pieces I’ve already picked up. How did I do that? A few weeks ago, the pieces were too big. Their shattered edges hurt too much. Hell, I didn’t even want the pieces anymore – keep them! But here they are, almost back together again.
I recently read a fiction book (I forget the title), and the main character likened experiencing the death of a family member to joining a club. It’s not necessarily a club you wanted to join, but by joining you have a greater knowledge than those not in the club. However, the price you paid for that knowledge is great and you would do anything to not have the knowledge. Unfortunately, once you’re in…you’re in. I certainly would do anything to not be a part of this club. I would give up my knowledge that the Santa-God of my adult life does not exist; that my God does not control everything and I have to believe that, because if I don’t believe that, I think it would be difficult for me to believe at all. But I’m in, and I’m missing a large piece that I don’t think I’ll ever get back, but at least I know now the truth about Santa.

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! (Psalm 27:14)

It's been a rough year...but our wait was worth it.

I ended up having a second miscarriage in Oct; it was a very early one, but devastating none the less. However, God certainly does work in strange ways. I had a positive pregnancy test Dec 4th as I was getting ready to head to the airport for a business trip. It was a week before my birthday and I was ECSTATIC with my present. Of course, we had apprehensions and it was nerve-racking to be out of town and not able to visit my doctor right away. When I returned they checked my progesterone levels and everything looked good. And then we had our appointment...

Dec 22:

Jim went with me. The doctor's office was behind schedule. We listened to the same Christmas CD at least 3 times in the doctors office and tried to keep each other entertained and calm. A couple walked in with infant twins. As they juggled carseats, bags, children and maneuvered their way through the waiting room, Jim said to me, "Oh, that would suck. Can you imagine? Watch it happen to us because you watch all that Jon and Kate + 8 crap!". And I responded, "Whatever - it's not contagious!". And then we were called back...

The doctor immediately said congrats and prepped us for the ultrasound. He pointed out the baby and the heartbeat. We both started crying to see our little peanut alive and doing well. And then the doctor said, "Let's see something here...here's a second heartbeat! You're having twins!". With which Jim responded to our very Catholic Dr, "Holy @$%!". We were in shock and laughing and shocked and THRILLED.

God has truly blessed us. While he decided that he needed our two angles in heaven, he blessed us with two peanuts to have and hold. I've still been a nervous wreck, but everything has been going well and both babies look healthy.

My belly at ~11 weeks:

My belly at 19 weeks:

Our greatest love we never knew

Dear BB,
I’m sorry that you had to leave us so soon. Our time together was too short, and we waited a long time for you. Dad and I were married in 2005. We decided to wait a year before we tried for you; a year to be selfish and enjoy one another and our marriage. Then your dad was sent on a short notice deployment to Iraq. He was gone for 7 months of our first year “together”. We decided we needed another year; a true year to enjoy one another.
Finally, we were ready for you and all the joy you would bring. We thought it would be easy for us to get pregnant. Surely, it would happen on our first try! Well, God wasn’t quite ready to let you join us. I started to get worried that something was wrong, and even though we didn’t have to wait as long as some moms and dads, it sure felt like eternity.
We were elated when we found out you had joined us! We decided to wait before we told a lot of people, but your dad and I were so excited that we couldn’t hold it in long (your dad will tell you that I spilled the beans first, but he was just as excited in his announcements). We told your grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and second cousins, friends and neighbors, “We’re having a baby!”
I didn’t have a lot of pregnancy symptoms and worried that you were okay; I guess I had a mother’s instinct that you were having some troubles. On July 23rd we were finally going to see your first pictures and listen to your little heart. Our new doctor would be the director for your first cameo. I was so glad your dad was able to come with me. The doctor first showed us where you were living; your home inside me that should have been growing bigger every day.
It didn’t take long to realize that something was wrong. He showed us where you were, but I knew that something wrong. You were still so tiny, and the doctor was looking all around for your beating heart. Your dad and I started to cry when we finally realized what was happening. The doctor said you stopped growing about 3 weeks earlier, but my body and my heart didn’t want to let you go.
Even though we never got to meet, I’ll forever keep you with me. I have a bruise on my hand from the IV during my surgery. It’s starting to fade now, but I wish it wouldn’t. It’s one of the few physical reminders of your short time with us.
We had big plans for you BB…I guess God had bigger plans. I often wonder what His plans are. Surely, you’ll be angel for all of the other little babies who couldn’t join their moms and dads. Maybe you’ll help God pick the perfect sister or brother to join our little family soon.
I do know that I’ll miss you for the rest of my life. You were our first child and we wanted you so badly. It broke our hearts to have lost you so soon. You were our hopes, our dreams, and our future. You were our greatest love we never knew.

Love forever,
Mom and Dad

I'm a rockin' baller...

What a week! You'd think I would have blogged throughout the week with some of the things that have happened, but I've come to realize that this blogging stuff takes some serious time. Here's a brief recap of this past week:

1. Jim's car did not need a new transmission. Some thingamabob had to be replaced and was, thankfully, under warranty.

2. We survived The Great IL Earthquake of 2008. I woke to what I thought was my dog shaking the bed due to a very serious itch behind the ear, only to realize that the entire house was shaking. We scored a 5.2 on the Richter scale and later in the day a 4.5 aftershock. It was all very cool.

3. I learned that the MO Air National Guard is offering a bonus for new military members. For those of you who didn't know (though I doubt random strangers are reading my blog) I was laid off of active duty almost 2 years ago due to overages in my career field. I thought I was completely done with the military stuff but now I'm beginning to wonder. More on that later...

4. I learned that I can kick some major behind at demolition ball . For those of you inexperienced demolition ballers...it involves bumper cars, a lacrosse type thrower/catcher, and a basketball hoop. Since my fore mentioned glasses have created in me a lack of hand-eye coordination, I played defense. I rocked. I got rocked. I got bruised. I was bad-@$#!


Disclaimer: Please ignore the chubby thigh...concentrate your eyes on the battle wounds caused by my very aggressive DEFENSIVE Playing Skills.

Forgettful Jones

I have a strange memory. I can remember the names of Madonna, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Gwen Steffani’s children. I can remember the appropriate gift for someone’s 1 year anniversary. I can remember that the guy in the office next door drives a red Chevy, likes Diet Cokes, and his daughter is expecting her first child in June.

I can’t remember when Columbus sailed the ocean blue (1492?). I can’t remember how to compute algebraic equations (don’t even get me started on geometric equations). I can’t remember the name of prominent Generals during the Civil War, or (ashamedly) the years of the Civil War. I can’t remember the name of the guy in the office next door.

I know people say that the mind will forget things that you don’t want to remember, but really, is it so harmful to my subconscious chi that I remember when the free world was discovered?!

Here are a few of my still retrievable memories:

First Memory:
I think my mom, sister and I had gone to the pool while we were stationed in ND. I had fallen asleep on the drive home, and I had sweet tarts in my hand. I had SO wanted sweet tarts but was a little disappointed to find out that I didn’t like them that much. Anywho, when we got home my mom left me in the car to sleep a little longer. I woke up in the warm car with my package of sweet tarts in hand and no one around. (Note: Please do not call a child protection agency; the windows were down and we lived on a military installation. Also, my mother vehemently denies this ever happening…but her memory is about as good as mine.)

Favorite Memory:
This one’s hard to pick. I have so many fond memories of my childhood with my family in Europe, tomfoolery with my H.S. friends, camping trips with the Guenins and underwater pool routines with my cousins. Right now, my favorite memory is my wedding day. Not only because of the symbolism of that day, but I really had a blast!

Most Moving Memory:
I have two that still move me when I think about them.
1. My father coming home from Desert Storm after 9 months. We met him on the airfield and I remember balling. Well, everyone was balling.
2. Visiting the Dachau concentration camp. I was only a child (1st or 2nd grade), but I distinctly remember feeling like I shouldn’t talk and that it was a very sad place.
(*Erleeece, you got me going when you mentioned Dachau in your blog.)

Saddest Memory:
My Grandfather’s death and funeral.

Scariest Memory:
Realizing I was lost in the Munich railway station during Oktoberfest. ‘Nuff said.
(Really, before you call a child protection agency you should know that I have a wonderful mother and it was not her fault that the lady leading our tour did not know which train to go to. I was also a Curious George growing up and did a lot of people watching under those thick glasses. It sometimes got me in trouble…or lost in Munich.)

Well, I think I was going to write something else but I can’t remember what it was.
By the way: did you know that the average human head weighs 8 lbs?

I don't *car* where the thingamabob goes!

Jim and I have had some serious car maintenance issues lately. My beloved Honda recently reached the 100,000 mile club, and she was due some maintenance for her milestone birthday. We spent approximately $700 two weeks ago (hoses and stuff like that I think...). Last week we sent the MANLY car in for some extremely overdue tires. Another $700 in the car bucket. Today, we dropped off my car for new tires and brakes. Thank you very much Marriott rewards visa -- we can now officially stay in the Taj Mahal with the points we've racked up.

All of this to return home and notice on our garage floor: the MANLY car is leaky transmission fluid. Ta-da!

There are girls out there who appreciate how their cars run, who know what thingamabob is what, and where the windshield wiper fluid goes. I do not subscribe to their club. I've always despised car maintenance and being "involved" in it. Just ask my parents. They've received many a panicked/sobbing call from a younger George in her college days when car problems struck. I just PANIC!

I'd like to think of myself as an independent woman. I know that I can take care of these things on my own. I can mow the lawn, I can use power tools, I can do home repairs, I know how to change a tire. I just don't WANT to think about that stuff.

Jim was deployed a few years ago. I was fairly new to the city and got a flat on a major interstate during morning traffic. I did not attempt to change the tire. I promptly turned off the car (to conserve gas), turned on my flashers (because that's the safe thing to do), and left my radio on (because there was a really good morning radio show on). I called my sister-in-law and her boyfriend to come and help me. In the meantime, a MO DOT road-side assistance man pulled over to assist. Who knew these guys existed?! Awesome! While he was getting all of his gear to do the tire change thingy, I started to get a little cold. So I attempted to turn on the car...yeah, it was dead. I killed the battery with the flashers and the radio. "Ahem...Mister, do you happen to have jumper cables too?"

The moral of the story: goodness, I don't really know. I just hate car maintenance. I really just want to get in my car, spend a small fortune on gas, drive away and be merry. Thank God for patient parents, accommodating husbands, and my state taxes that provide for Mo DOT workers. I would still be struggling with the whatchamacallit trying to change that tire.

A George by any other name would not be the same...

My first BLOG! I highly doubt that life as I know it today will produce enough material to maintain a constant blog, but seeing as I've recently become a.d.d.i.c.t.e.d. to reading blogs, I figure it's about time for me to join in. I must admit, I'm becoming pretty handy at this computer stuff. I even have a Myspace page...I know, I am so incredibly uncool.

I guess the best place to start is explaining the title of my blog. My birth name is not George and I am not a tranny. As a two year old child I was prescribed glasses. Said glasses were cute tortoise rimmed glasses that just so happened to resemble those of one George Burns. My father, upon seeing his sweet child in glasses, was quick to point out this resemblance. The name stuck. While some young girls might resent their fathers purposely trying to embarrass them at school, around friends, when they receive an ever-so-important phone call in their teen years by calling out "Hey GEORGE", I embraced it. I loved that my father and I had (and still have) that special connection. My glasses made me.

(And okay, I wasn't going to admit this but it helps explain who I am today. I had a lazy eye. OKAY -- I technically still do, but you can only see it if I turn a certain way. I had to have surgery; I had to wear a patch; I had to wear glasses that made me look like the little Asian lady from The Incredibles. Kids stared at me. They pointed at me and said to their parents, "MOM, LOOK AT HER EYES". And, I realize EVERY kid is made fun of and ridiculed by their peers, but I'm not necessarily complaining about it. I think it made me a more compassionate person. But I digress.)

I wear contacts now, and I'm still George. I hope to use this blog as a place to remember who I was as a child and young adult, to reflect on where I am now, and to dream about where I'm heading.

Thanks for reading! (And okay, you'll be quick to learn that I'm still a geek in glasses, somewhat lacking confidence, and I'm constantly going to be simultaneously worrying that 1. you are reading and gagging at my grammar and content, and 2. you are not reading. Such is the dichotomy of my life - in and out of glasses.)