Wow

So, I received a text message from a good friend I met through FF. She wanted to make sure I was OK, and informed me that there were many people who were worried about me because of my prior post. Before I say anything else, I must thank each and every one of you who rallied to show me love & support. I am truly humbled.

As for the poem I wrote and published, I cannot lie; the feelings expressed in the poem are very real. However, I didn't realize it was so poignant. For months, I have told people who are around me {IRL} that I feel this way, and they never even batted an eye. So I guess I didn't expect that anyone would actually understand or even care for that matter. I certainly didn't mean to cause any alarm. For that, I am sorry.

It has been a tough month. There was pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day. That hurt quite a bit {remembering all my miscarriages, and my beautiful Angelo}. Then, there was the "anniversary" of when my water broke {on that day, I had gone to the emergency room explaining that I had a gush of fluid; the ultrasound had showed everything to be ok..that ultrasound was wrong}. Next was the anniversary of when I was told that it was true; my water had broken, Angel had no fluid, and I was admitted into the hospital for 11 days of torture. Memories of doctors running into my room and screaming at me to abort the whole pregnancy played out in my mind. Basically, it was as if I relived the "death sentence" of my Angelo 3 times within 2 weeks. And the loss of my other pregnancies. And the feelings of guilt associated with all of it.

It also made me remember how many "friends" and "close family members" were in my life before shit got bad. Way to go dickheads. Be in a person's life until things get tough. Then conveniently DISAPPEAR like a coward. The one that hurts most of all is my IMMEDIATE FAMILY MEMBER who used their fucking IF as an excuse to distance themselves from me because they said it "hurt too much to see me have something they can't have". {this was as I lay in the hospital the first time not knowing what would happen, then as I lay on bed rest at home not knowing what will happen, then sitting back in the hospital being told my son shall be a monster, and then giving birth to the twins, losing Angelo, and watching Boxer fight for her life in an incubator}. Talk about taking things WAY too far. How is it that I have "virtual" friends battling IF who supported me, and care for me, but the "in real live" sibling deserted me? How is it that women I met on FF who have undergone NUMEROUS failed IVF's were able to remain friends with me, but the CLOSET BLOOD RELATIVE I HAVE {who didn't want to do IVF because it might make her GAIN WEIGHT or RUIN HER SUMMER} couldn't stand by my side? Fucking bullshit. And fucking painful.

To top it all off, we are still in the shack, even though our offer on the new co-op was accepted back when Marie Antoinette still had her head {July for those who don't remember}. Thanks to SB's laziness, and the incompetent assholes he deals with, we STILL do NOT have a closing date. Living in a 400 square foot apartment that doesn't have heat in the front "room" {it's really one big room with partitions to make it seem like 2} with a storage area that floods every time it rains {and it rains ALOT} has not been good for Boxer, and has not been good for me. Also, due to all the complications with the move, Boxer's Early Intervention has been interrupted {she still hasn't had an OT come to treat her as they won't assign me one in Queens when they know I will be moving soon}, and her Synagis shots are all fucked up because of the same thing; they are sending a 5 month supply of the shot to her pediatrician now {already behind..she should have been getting the shot this week} but because we will be switching doctors soon, we will have to get authorization for it all over again {which may cause a lapse}. Those of you who are familiar with Synagis shots know how imperative it is to have them given once a month. To add more fun to the moving disaster, SB's parents packed away all my cooking utensils and such {including my toaster!} almost 2 months ago, so I have been in a 400 square foot apartment filled with boxes and not a pot to piss in {literally}. Space is limited, so Boxer's toys are limited, as are places for her to just lay on the floor and kick about {especially now with the cold weather upon us and the bad heating situation}. It breaks my heart that I can't give her fun and cool things to play with, especially ones that could help with the HUGE delay she has in fine-motor skills. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.

Ok. Enough. I have dragged out the "woe is me, pity party for one" crap.

And just to let you know....despite all that I have written in this entry....despite my loneliness and sorrow that was clearly coming through in my poetry...I am still eternally grateful for my miracle girl, {who is the light of my life}, and I do EVERYTHING in my power to make her as happy and as comfortable as can be. I go to extreme lengths to mask any sorrow/panic/depression so that she does not feel my stress. And I think I'm doing a great job. Cause she's a happy little camper, who is doing great. {and still never sleeping. And still always whining. But she does smile in between those whines!} I know that things could have been so much worse. I know that I could have lost both of them. I know that I could have lost my own life too. I know that there are people who have it FAR worse than I do. But I am human. When I get a cut, I bleed red. And when I have spent close to 17 months of my life almost ALWAYS alone, I get lonely. That poem was my way of letting those feelings out.

Thank you so much for caring.

I shall update again soon, I promise!

And here is Ms Boxer girl saying THANK YOU FOR MAKING MY MOMMY FEEL LOVED! {this pic was taken when I made a make-shift "pumpkin patch" in my mom's backyard for Boxer, since we couldn't take her to a real one. I'll have pics from that day, as well as her Halloween get-up, on my next entry}...

I stare at walls.

I stare at walls

I talk to walls-

This is all I’ve done;

I begged for help

I screamed for help-

And I have received none.

I’m dead inside

There’s nothing there-

An empty soul remains;

A hollow heart

I begged for help-

And not one person came

Left all alone

Within the walls-

That listened to me cry;

I screamed for help

And was ignored-

And so, my soul has died.

Um...this is about 5 entries in one...

Part 1 {first attempt at an update}

So, I seriously think that the complete isolation has caused me to basically lose my mind. 16 months of being in a house 90% of the time, and ALONE in the house 99% of the time, can do that to someone....

It can also give a person WAY too much time to think, thus resulting in serious panic attacks AND the realization that the majority of the world's population totally sucks.

Anyhow, before I update, I have to add onto my handy "list" that I've been compiling. I think it's beyond pathetic that this list even EXISTS, let alone continues to grow longer as the days go by...{see above realization!!!}

7) When you have been close friends with a person for 20+ years, DO NOT continuously tell them that you are going to come and visit to help "cheer them up" and "give them a shoulder to cry on" when you have NO INTENTION OF DOING SO.

8) If you've been unemployed for like, 6 MONTHS, DO NOT use the job you've had for like, a whopping 3 WEEKS as an excuse for why you've been too "busy" to call/visit.

9) DO NOT say things like "You're always so negative", "you always look troubled" and "You still look fat" as a greeting to a woman who has been depressed, alone, and through hell. {Matter of fact, don't say these things to ANY WOMAN AT ALL!}

10) When entering a woman's home, especially if she has had a tough year, or has been ill, or has recently given birth, DO NOT look at a picture of her from the year before and say "Wow, you USED to be really pretty!" {again, as a matter of fact, don't say this to ANY WOMAN AT ALL, even if it IS true!}

Dumb.as.a.pile.of.rocks I tell ya.

Anyhow, that wackjob Mackenzie Phillips and her memoirs or whatever the hell you want to call them sparked a bunch of songs from "The Mama's and the Papa's" in my head. {BTW..that bitch be nuts, and her dad was just as nuts}. Every time I look in the fucking mirror, I hear a line from "Creeque Alley" play over & over in my head, with yours truly starring as Mama Cass. Seriously, what the fuck is up with this weight thing? I BARELY eat, and when I do eat, it's usually something that tastes like cardboard or comes in a box marked "LOWFAT FOOD FOR FAT-ASSES". I exercise as much as I can; yet the mounds of fatty flesh continue to cling to my bones, and appear to be concentrated on my face, arms, and belly {3 areas that are VERY tough to hide, especially the whole FACE thing}. It's come to the point that I don't even want to look into a mirror, lest it crack in two from the fugliness OR I start googling articles on how to wear a bag over my head while in public and have it deemed "fashionable". I was never a size zero, but this is ridiculous, and I'm not surprised that I haven't been riding the hobby horse as much as I should be...why would SB want to be suffocated by the likes of Jaba the Hut? I think even slutty men have their standards.

For those of you that aren't dorks like me, here is a clip of that song, just in case you have never heard of it. Now stick me in a yellow dress and call me Big Bird II.

Part 2

Once again, several days have passed since I began this entry. It seems to take me weeks to complete ONE paragraph due to Boxer Girl, the biggest insomniac baby of the century. It's as if she still receives caffeine intravenously {she used to be given this in the NICU to help with her apnea episodes; very common "medication" for preemies}. She has no idea what a nap is. She believes this to be completely unnecessary. 10 minutes of her eyes closed is about all I can get during the day, 3x a day if I am lucky. Within that time that she is "napping", I have to cram all housework, bottle cleaning, showering, and other day to day jobs. Doesn't leave me much time for anything else, and has also has led my shack to resemble the garage from "Sanford & Son". {damn am I dating my old, fat ass}. Boxer is still VERY uninterested in toys; she is entertained for about 5 minutes by her exersaucer, maybe 15 minutes by her light up toys if I put her on a blanket on the floor. She likes rattles and crap, but only if I am holding them and giving them to her. She has also developed a new habit: NEVER.ENDING.WHINING. I thought it could be teething, but when my mother inspected her mouth, she told me that there was nothing there. So I have no clue what all the whining is about. And when I mean NEVER.ENDING,, I am not exaggerating. It's all day, even while eating, or with a binky in her mouth. She has mastered sleep-whining; don't ask me HOW she does it, she just DOES!

As for her progress, she is walking in the footsteps of her mother and becoming a Fatty McFatson. At her last doctor visit, she weighed in at 15 pounds 3 ounces, which is fabulous for her adjusted age, and even put her VERY close to the 5th percentile for her actual age. Way to go Fatty Pants!! She is also doing very well with sitting up, and still loves to stand. However, she has yet to roll over, and she is continuing to make fists with her hands. She also really sucks at reaching/grabbing. This is now becoming worrisome to me. She has an evaluation with the Occupational therapist tomorrow and sessions should commence shortly.

As for me, I have had a rough week. The crimson tide was very late to pull on in, but when it did, it was HIGH. And PAINFUL. And it's STILL THERE. In the midst of all that, Boxer & Angel's 8th month birthday passed. Right after that, I had to go to my BFF's baby shower. Now, let me say this first: I love my BFF to pieces. She has been the ONLY fucking person to show concern for me, to listen to me, and to come see me whenever she gets the chance. Major props to my BFF {the other "BFF" can SUCK IT right now, cause I barely remember what she looks like}. And this is why I went to her baby shower, even though I knew it would depress me. Why? Well, for one thing, I have no idea what it's like to have a "normal" pregnancy. I also have no clue what it feels like to have people look at you with happiness and joy while your pregnant {most people looked at me with fear or sorrow in their eyes}. Celebrations for the impending arrival of a little one...what in the fuck is THAT? Support from your sibling? HUH? And, to top it all off, she is expecting a little boy.

And so I went. I sat in the private room in the fancy restaurant {ironically, the VERY SAME room and restaurant that Boxer was supposed to have her baptism party, until fucktards messed it all up} and stared at all that was going on. I looked at the cute little boy gifts and the little boy paraphernalia all over the table. I watched people hug her & kiss her & rub her belly. I looked at how happy she is, how fabulous she looked, and how excited her mom, dad, brother and hubby are. And then, I wanted to puke. Not only because I couldn't help but be envious, but because I felt GUILTY for even ALLOWING myself to FEEL envious. Or sad. Because I WAS sad. I am supposed to have a son here on earth. And I do not. BUT DO NOT GET ME WRONG. I am over-the-moon happy for my BFF. She is seriously the BEST FRIEND on Earth and a fabulous person overall. I just couldn't help the darkness of own demons from flooding over me...it's just.too.soon.

Part 3 {will I EVER finish this update?}

What the hell DAY is it? WHEN did I start this update? I can't even remember that far back! I think I may have still been wearing flip flops and blasting out the a/c. Now I am freezing my fat ass off and have a space heater taking up half of the shack.

{Speaking of the shack, we were supposed to have been OUT of here by now, but thanks to incompetent real estate people, lack of money, and the LAZIEST man on Earth {SB for those who do not know him personally} we are still rolling ghetto-style in our 400 square foot piece of crap. Poor little Boxer barely has any toys because frankly, there isn't any room! And the shack is old, and drafty, and just plain sucks. I am hoping we will be out of here before the leaves fall from the trees, or I get a call from Jenny Craig asking me to be their "Before" spokesperson {which ever comes first}. }

So, I have much more to say, but I think that this particular entry is already WAY too long, and I'm sure nobody has time to read a blog entry that rivals the length of "War & Peace". So, I shall close this up now, with a few updated pics of Ms Boxer, {actually, they're from a few weeks ago, but then again, so is most of this update!} and a promise to update again within the next few days because I have MUCH to tell, and MUCH on my mind {don't all faint at the same time please! I know that hearing me say such a thing is quite shocking!}

So here is Ms Boxer eating her PABLUM {in this pic it is Oatmeal mixed with some applesauce}

Ms Boxer laughing at Mommy while she dances like an idiot in the kitchen trying to keep her entertained!



Til next time {which will be REAL soon! I pinky Swear!!!}

I need to find my "happy place". And friekan stay there.

First off, I would like to thank all of you that sent out prayers and good vibes to the woman I wrote about in my last entry. She is still having a tough time dealing with the loss of her son, whilst trying to keep her energy and spirits up to cheer her little girl on. So far, her little chica is following Boxer's lead by kicking some serious ass in the NICU. Please continue to keep her and her family in your thoughts.

Secondly, I have a few more "handy tips" to add to the list I started a couple of entries back.

4) When a person who has experienced traumatic events is having a rough time, and calls you crying, DO NOT hang up on the person because you "don't want to hear it". Also, if someone is crying to you in person, do not walk away while saying "I do NOT believe in depression".

5) When you have twins, and you're chatting with another mother in the waiting room of a doctors office, and that mother mentions that their child was a twin, but sadly, their brother/sister did not survive, do NOT say "Believe me, you have it easier".

6) When a parent has lost an infant, DO NOT get annoyed when the parent is still having a hard time dealing with the sorrow/pain. DO NOT say "it's in the past". DO NOT say "It's been "x" amount of months, you need to move on". And DO NOT ask "when will you stop thinking about it?". Because the answer to THAT one should be fucking obvious: NEVER.

I'll have more tips for you in my next entry.

Moving forward.

Ms Boxer girl is continuing to kick ass in monumental ways. She is now up to a whopping 13 pounds 8 ounces, and is 24 inches long! Although she is still below the 5th percentile for her actual age {7 months}, she is in the 40th percentile for her adjusted age {which is now 4 months!}. She has made fabulous progress with her physical therapist, and can now hold her head up at a 90 degree angle while on her tummy, and can even do some "push-ups" before throwing a fit. She has not rolled over yet, but damnit, she is trying! She also has been VERY slow in reaching for objects, but she actually reached for a few this week {after her Mommy diligently tried to show her over and over again how to do it!}. She is still fisting her hands up, and shows a big delay in this area, but her PT has recommended an occupational therapist to come and see her and help her along {although she commended me for all my hard work...thanks!!! I LOVE Boxer's PT!}. Boxer also had her first visit with the developmental pediatrician, and it went VERY well. After a thorough exam, he told us that she is doing PHENOMENAL for a micro-preemie, and once again, we were commended for all our hard work. He told us that she does have weak trunk and delayed fine motor skills, but is only off by a month or so. However, she is WAY ahead in speech! He put her at a 6 month old level! Boxer never shuts the hell up, and tries to imitates EVERYTHING that I say to her. She responds to different voices and is EXTREMELY social. {like my BFF said, she believes that Boxer cannot wait to sit at the table and have coffee and a long-ass conversation, just like her mother}. She has also found her "scream" and discovered consonants and "razzing". She says "A goo" and "A gaa" and desperately tries to say "HI!" and "Hello" just like I say to her. She also is learning how to put her lips together to say "Mamamamamamama". She has learned what "kisses" means, and will actually pucker and smack her lips together! Of course, along with all these fun things, come the scary things..like her wicked temper {I sit here innocently batting my eyes, not comprehending where she would inherit such a trait}, her stubbornness {I continue to bat my eyes innocently} and her drama queen antics {eyes still fluttering away....}. This can make for some LONG nights and even LONGER days. She still is not very interested in toys, and would rather play with ME, which means my days revolve around coming up with new and exciting ways to entertain her. She also HATES to be restricted, so things like bumbos, bouncy seats, high chairs, exersaucers, etc, are almost useless for a period of time longer than 5 minutes. I'm still afraid to use the Bjorn {flashbacks of that awful fall!} so I'm usually carrying her around most of the day. The beginnings of teething also continue, which makes for increased temper tantrums and excessive wardrobe changes due to drooling and chewing. Her reflux is still as bad as it ever was, so I am normally covered in spit-up and curdled formula, as is Boxer {resulting in even MORE wardrobe changes..who thought I would need so many onesies!?} She has been fighting her bottle, usually batting it out of her mouth and punching it, so she can either talk, laugh, or scream. We just started feeding her some cereal in the morning {or PABLUM, as my parents like to call it. Because of their incessant use of the word PABLUM, I now call it the same thing}. She's taking to the Pablum well, and will eat about 1 teaspoon of either rice or oatmeal in the morning. She "wears" the rest of it. I am going to try Barley this week and see how she does.

Bottom line is, my little girl is a friekan miracle, an absolute treasure, and a pain in the ass all in one. And I love her more than anything!

The upcoming flu/RSV season has had me in a fit of paranoia for awhile now. That paranoia became more prominent this past week when her pedi informed me that New York State has made "cutbacks" with the synagis shots {Synagis shots are a vaccination to help protect preemies and high-risk babies from RSV}. Apparently, New York has decided that preemies born after 30 weeks are only "allowed" to get 3 shots {RSV shots are supposed to be given monthly, from October to April}, and those born under 30 weeks {like Daniella} MAY be allowed to get up to 5 with special "permission". And the shots won't be distributed until November.

What.the.fuck.

I have no idea why New York State is doing this, especially during what is being predicted as the "worst cold & flu season in a century". These asshats sitting in a fucking office building with suits on drinking goat-milk lattes make me want to vomit. I know..I JUST KNOW..that this has something to do with insurance, politics, and money. The fact that these dickheads want to CUT BACK on a vaccination that is meant to PROTECT babies with weakened immune systems proves that they REALLY.DONT.CARE.ABOUT.A.CHILDS.HEALTH. Especially since they did not give a VALID REASON as to why they were doing this. So, these goat-milk latte drinking fucktards should STOP trying to SHOVE the H1N1 vaccine down my throat..among other things...

Speaking of the H1N1 vaccine, Boxer will not be getting it. I do not trust it. I also, will not be getting it, as I have a weakened immune system myself. I will be getting the regular flu shot though, and so will Boxer, IF she proves not to be allergic to eggs. I have to mix in some eggs with her Pablum this week to see if she has a reaction or not. However, SB WILL be getting the H1N1 vaccine, as he rides the nasty-ass subways and buses that are crowded with the decay of human civilization on a daily basis. I'm a bit nervous about him getting it too.

As for me, I have been depressed, panicky, and...you guessed it...ALONE...since I last wrote. The amount of time I have spent ALONE in the past year is disgusting. And the reasons WHY I have been alone are disgusting. Seriously. What in the HELL is wrong with people? Friends...family...HELLO...WHERE ARE YOU!??? These people make it seem like it is a goddamn CHORE to come and see me, or Boxer for that matter. I have spent many hours/days/weeks crying over this. And the crying usually gets worse when I am given flimsy-ass excuses as to WHY nobody wants to come here. Give me a fucking break. Boxer could come up with a better excuse than these people. My friekan one-eyed CAT could up with better excuses. For a long time now, I have allowed this to hurt me. But I really DON'T WANT IT TO HURT ME ANYMORE. I somehow need to find my happy place, and chill out there. Even if Boxer and I are the ONLY people IN that happy place. So be it. Screw these people. I am sick and tired of BEGGING people to come and visit. And I am also sick and tired of people telling me to GO THERE when they know that I cannot for various reasons {too far of a ride for Boxer who still has apnea episodes ESPECIALLY in the car, they smoke in their house, etc etc}. And don't get me started on the LIES that spew out of people's mouths. Holy crap. If we bottled up all the LIES I have been told, we'd have enough to fill all the oceans on the earth, and the craters on the moon. Forgive me if you feel that my shack is BENEATH you. Forgive me if you think that visiting a beautiful child and her lonely mother is TOO MUCH HASSLE AND WORK. Forgive me while I tell you to go fuck yourself in the ear. UGH. It's amazing how much you realize people suck when it comes down to it. Whatever! Their loss, not mine. Boxer is beautiful and fun to hang out with, and I'm fucking cool too.

Speaking of things that piss me off, Boxer was baptized a few weeks ago. Let's just say that it did not go as planned, and once again, PEOPLE AND THEIR BULLSHIT ruined what should have been a special day for my daughter and I. Thanks a lot, PEOPLE. You have now carried over your lies, selfishness, and outright stupidity into a CHURCH. Give yourself a pat on the back as you rush to confession to make penance for your crap.

Oh, how I wish I could write the actual stories. Oh, how I wish. But I shall not. As I have respect for people, even when the TOTALLY and BLATANTLY disrespect me over & over again.

Damn I had a lot to say in this entry. And this entry probably sucked because it's pretty random..and all over the place...and hostile..!

Without further ado, here are some updated pics of my little Boxer. I think she's one of the most beautiful sights in the world. But I'm totally biased here....

Boxer wearing Mommy's entire 4 layered Christening outfit from the Middle Ages.. {or, early 1970s, to be exact}. She wasn't impressed with all the layers



Here she is wearing only the slip & the first layer of the dress



Sisterly love! The only time Boxer will cooperate fully while doing tummy time is when Juniper is there to cheer her on. She adores Juniper!



Til next time

Prayers/Good Vibes requested for a follower of this blog.

I received some very sad news yesterday about a woman who has been following my blog, and basically using it as a guideline for her situation which was very similar to mine.

Quick back-story: A friend of mine on a charting website {FF} had emailed me asking if I could possibly give some hope and sound advice to a good friend of hers who was going through a difficult pregnancy. The situation was eerily similar to mine; IVF , boy/girl twins, pPROM, being told to terminate the pregnancy, etc. She was scared and didn't know what to do. I agreed to speak with the woman, and said I would try to give her some hope while at the same time being completely honest regarding the risks involved when forging ahead with a pregnancy such as this. Here is what I had written:

So sorry to hear about the trouble your friend is having. I know exactly how it feels to have doctor after doctor urging you to terminate without a good reason. It's always because of an "if". I have no problem with her emailing me...is she here on FF? Or do you need my private email? Is she in the hospital? She should be on strict bed rest and if she is at 24 weeks she should go directly into the hospital. I hope I can answer any questions she may have, and also give her a little bit of hope...remember, I was told that Daniella's chances of surviving were "less than 1%". And there she is, in my siggie. It was very hard to lose Angelo, and a Miss him every day, but he had NO FLUID AT ALL, starting at 13 weeks, so the fact that he was born alive and lived for an entire day does show that doctors are not always correct, as they insisted he could not grow without fluid, and would surely pass away in my womb. I'd love to talk to her. She has to be VERY careful now that she has has a pPROM; she could develop sepsis and lose her own life. I knew this, and kept a VERY close watch on my temp, cm, pains, etc. I kept a journal about all my symptoms and what my temp was every 4 hours. I also took extreme precautions to protect myself from developing any type of infection, period. So much to say....

My friend copied and pasted the above and sent it to the woman. In a strange twist of fate, this woman KNEW who I was, as she had researched pPROm and stumbled across my blog. She had read it from beginning to end, as did her entire family, and even had a list of questions set aside for "blog girl" that she was going to post as a comment. This blew my mind, and also made me feel an immediate connection. We emailed each other back and forth for a while, and I tried to be as supportive as I could. Then, for the past week or so, I became very busy and didn't check my email. Sadly, when I logged onto FF, my friend had sent me the bittersweet news. This woman {i do not want to give out her name as I do not have permission}, at exactly 28 weeks, gave birth to her twins. They weighed in at 2 pounds 2 ounces, and 1 pound 12 ounces {EXACTLY the birth weights of Boxer and Angel, except reversed as her boy weighed the 2 lb 2 oz}. Sadly, her son only lived for 10 hours {just like Angelo} and passed away in their arms. At this time, their little girl is fighting for her life in the NICU. And all fellow NICU moms know what a long, hard road this baby girl has ahead of her.

This woman was an absolute sweetheart, and it truly pains me that she is suffering like this. I cried when I read this news, and I immediately began to pray for her little girl to kick ass and take names in the NICU. I know that the outpouring of love and support I received from people following my story helped to not only keep me sane, but give me the strength to survive everything {and I shall forever be grateful to ALL of you for that}. Without you guys I may have crumbled. And I STILL look to you guys for love and support. And I am still in AWE at the wonderful kindness of "strangers". So, I ask you to PLEASE keep this woman and her little girl in your prayers {or send out good vibes to the universe, etc, whatever it is that you personally believe in} and also keep her beautiful son in your thoughts as he looks down on his family from above...

And to this woman and her family, if you are by chance reading this, please know that I am deeply sorry for your loss, and I pray that your little miracle grows healthy and big and strong!

When Angelo had passed, there were many songs I would sing about him and/or to him. This is one of those songs. I know that he welcomed a new friend into heaven, and they are up there with all the angel babies, watching over us.

And to my Angelo: Mommy loves you. And misses you every day. Fly on my sweet Angel.

A Long over-due update, and a handy list for readers!

I know, I know. It's been way too long. I suck at updating. It is official. You may now crown me "The world's worst blogger"!

Moving ahead...

Before I get into the actual update, I felt the need to compile a list of "do's and don'ts" for those of you that follow this blog. I know that many of you do NOT need a list like this; you already have full knowledge of the difference between right and wrong. However, people such as "anonymous" {no, I haven't forgotten about his/her ass!} and other shitheads may need a handy guideline. The list is very LONG, so I will only post a few of them now, and the rest in my next update {which will hopefully be long before the year 2525 approaches}.

The first are FOR TOTAL AND COMPLETE FUCKTARDS:

1) DO NOT use your IF battle as an excuse to shun a close family member who battled IF also, just because they now have a baby.

2) DO NOT claim to have "tried really hard" to conceive a child, when you refused to take any medications that might make you "fat", and refused to do injections because it would "ruin your summer", and refused to do IVF even though you were covered by insurance for it, because you wanted to be able to drink alcohol by the pool.

3) DO NOT call a child who passed away a "THING", or refer to the child as "not a REAL baby".

4) DO NOT make other family members and friends feel too "guilty" to ask about a family member's child, just because it "offends" you. DO NOT scare them into never going to see the baby.

5) DO NOT miss a child's funeral because you were out partying the night before and have a hangover, and then use your status as a "college student" as an excuse as to why you missed the funeral, cannot handle your alcohol, and never, in a 6 month period, went to see your other cousin who survived.

These are for BIG ASS FUCKTARDS

1) When speaking with a woman who had twins, but only one survived, DO NOT say, "At least you got one".

2) When speaking with a woman who is a mom to a preemie, DO NOT tell them that their child is "no longer a preemie", just because they weigh over 10 pounds.

3) If a mother who has experienced a tragic event asks for help, OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN, and cries to you OVER AND OVER AND OVER again, and admits to feeling anxiety and depression OVER AND OVER AND OVER again, DO NOT let their cries fall on deaf ears, and then continuously ask "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?" every time they look sad or anxious.

Ok. That's all for this entry.

Now onto important things. Like my Boxer girl.

Whenever I am feeling defeated, or weak, all I have to do is peek into Boxer's crib, and look at her face. This little girl KICKS ASS. She doesn't know what weakness is; she is a fucking survivor!! Although she is still battling some difficulties due to her premature birth, she is doing FANTASTIC for a 28 weeker. Seriously. At her check-up last week, she weighed in at 11 lbs 11 ozs, and measured 24 inches long!! Go Fatty McFatson! She is pretty much on target for her adjusted age of 3 months. She continues to have physical therapy twice a week, and although she doesn't WANT to lift her head, she CAN. Boxer is a stubborn female with a quick temper and a penchant for dramatics {it's almost as if she were adopted, for I have NO CLUE where she gets these traits from}. She can also be quite lazy when she has to do things that she is not interested in {that now clears up the thought of adoption, because SB is one lazy shit, so there is the reason for THAT trait!}. The physical therapist claims she is a bit behind in how HIGH she CAN raise her head, but we're working on it. She also told me that I will have my hands full with Boxer, due to her tantrums {yes, a 3 month adjusted preemie can throw a tantrum! The proof is sitting in my house right now}. She is also nowhere NEAR rolling over, and she still does not reach or grasp for toys. So we have a bit of work to do. But every now and then, when I pass her crib, I see her trying to do it on her own. We already have a Ms Independent on our hands!

Daniella does not like sleep, nor does she like to entertain herself for more than 5 minutes. No matter where I put her in the shack, she hates it, unless I am there talking to her, or I am carrying her around. She is one curious little cookie. She can't get enough of looking around, and she also never shuts up. I'm not kidding. She talks all the time, even in her sleep. She has mastered all the vowels, and is even coming VERY close to saying her first word, which will probably be "hi" or "hello" {or so I'm guessing}. She is also a MAJOR fan of Mommy acting like an idiot {which is easy for me to do}. This makes her laugh out loud. And she also adores me singing to her. She has 2 favorite songs and she will squeal in delight as soon as I begin to sing them. One of them is a drinking song for sailors, and the other is a theme song from a 70s show with 2 stoned hippies on swings. SHE.LOVES.THESE.SONGS. Which SB claims will turn her into a drunken hippie. HA! At least with the drinking song, I changed up some of the words... {for example "I had a little drink about an hour ago and it went right to my head" is cool, but for her, I say "formula" in lieu of "drink".}...

{Speaking of formula, may I also add in a little rant about moms who are FANATICAL about breast-feeding. Don't be an asshole and point fingers at me for not breast-feeding any longer. I pumped my poor, cracked, bleeding tits for 10 weeks to give my baby girl as many antibodies as I could. My body just gave up. And this does not mean my child will be dumb...yes, this has been said to me!!! Breast-feeding is great, but don't be an asshat about it}.

So, Daniella continues to be high-maintenance, which is why my entries are so far in-between. My life is all about being her entertainment. Plus, she is beginning to teethe. No teeth pooping through yet, but we have enough drool to fill the Atlantic Ocean, along with fussiness, screaming fits, and eating everything from her hands to her clothes. Add that in with her already over-the-top dramatics and you have one crazy baby on your hands.

Her reflux hasn't gotten any better, but thankfully, it hasn't gotten any worse. Also, we had a horrible scare with her a couple of weeks ago. We had put her in her carrier {which was a cheap imitation of the BJORN carrier} and, due to the cheapness, it broke open, causing her to fall out. She hit her head on the top of the crib, then on the bottom of the crib, and then fell flat on her back. It was fucking HORRIFYING. I was scared shitless for her. We rushed her to the pediatrician, and he said she looked ok {aside from a HUGE ASS bruise on the side of her face & head, and a lump}. I had to monitor her closely for 48 hours, and wake her up if she slept longer than 2 hours. She was also horrified and traumatized, and would lie in her crib, throwing her hands out as if to brace herself for a fall, and then SCREAM at the top of her lungs. I don't think I will forget that fall anytime in the near future, but she seems to have let it not bother her any longer, and is now enjoying her time in her new pricey BJORN carrier.

Another scary event was when we drove out to SB's parents house, which took about 2 hours. I didn't think she was ready for the trip, and unfortunately, I was correct. She had episodes about every 10 minutes in the car seat, so her monitor was constantly going off, which made me jump into the back seat in a panic throughout the entire ride there and the entire ride back. This did NOT help my panic disorder at all, and I have now banned all long car rides until she is completely off the monitor.

As for life in the shack, it sucks as bad, if not worse, than the last time I wrote. The ant invasion has continued, and has now spread to our make-shift living room. These little bastards are everywhere. They have taken up residence in my couches, for no reason whatsoever. I am not a fan of ants crawling on my baby, or on me for that matter. The shack is also WAY too small now, especially with Boxer accumulating more & more shit as time goes on. We're in the process of finding a new place.

And lastly, I am not doing too great {SHOCKER}. My panic disorder has gotten increasingly worse, and I am now also showing some signs of post-traumatic stress, as well as mild depression. I continuously have flashbacks of bad things. I have called every.single.psych.doctor in my plan, and NONE of them offer evening hours. Plus, most of them are not even accepting new patients. Being that NOBODY will babysit Boxer, I have been unable to get any therapy at all. And this goes for physical therapy as well. After months of bed rest and a major surgery, my body was thrown completely out of shape, and I have been unable to get back on track. Walking 2 blocks wipes me out. But I try to do a little bit of exercise every day, and I'm eating as healthy as I can. I'm still as fat as a beached whale though, which amazes me, since my calorie intake is under 1500. I guess it's old age. I'm living large. I heard on the news that JFK airport was beginning to re-route planes to my house, as my back is certainly large enough to land a 747 on. Also, while driving out to SB's parents house in the Hamptons that day, our car was chased by fishermen who shot harpoons at the window, because they believed to have seen a rare beached whale riding in the passenger side of our car.

I have much more to say, but this has already turned into a novel, and it should teach me NOT to let this much time pass in between entries.

And now, some updated pics of my Boxer Daniella

First, a comparison shot. Here is a picture of Boxer when she was still in the NICU. She is wearing a shirt, but it fit her like an evening gown. If you look all the way to the left, you can see her foot sticking out of the shirt. She was about 2 pounds here.

And here she is wearing the same shirt now with a pair of bloomers on. MIND-BLOWING!!!



Daniella TOTALLY not impressed with her first 4th of July!



Happy girl, laughing and talking with Mommy!



Til next time.

This post has taken an eon to publish...

Ahhhh....at last, the sun shines in NYC....it has rained here for the entire month of June...each day just melted into the next....it was hard to differentiate between night & day at some points...endless raindrops falling to the floor, causing mold spores to sprout up through cracks in the pavement, and mushrooms to spring forth from my 2 x 4 patch of grass...there was a constant chill in the air, and a stench in my shack, as it literally flooded, ruining much of what was in my "storage area", aka the "basement".  

Ok, I began this blog entry awhile ago.  Last week?  Week before?  Tough to recall, since it is once again POURING as I write this.  However, today it hasn't been as bad as the ENTIRE MONTH OF JUNE was!  What a wash-out!  As I mentioned before, my "basement" did flood, thus ruining several of Boxer's things, and mine as well.  Lovely!  When it rains, it pours huh?  {ugh.  I should smack myself for being so corny.  I would have kicked my own ass in High School!}

This entry will be a tough one, as I'm not my usual self.  I have been feeling so down, so low, and so ill lately, that I barely recognize my own sallow face in the mirror {sallow and FAT, that is.  Holy hell with the fatness.  Will it EVER go away?  I don't even EAT! }

So first things first.  The important stuff.  Like Little Miss Boxer.

One word to describe this child.  AMAZING.

She continues to kick ass in monumental ways.  I tell you, this little girl is a friekan miraculous wonder!  Her Fatty McFatson status continues on the upward trend; at her last check-up she is a whopping 9 pounds 2 ounces!!  She is finally outgrowing her newborn clothes, and moving into 0-3!  How fucking phenomenal is that!??   Her ROP has gone down to a stage one, and although it is technically still there, it appears to be working itself out.  She is also making major improvements with her neck; she has physical therapy 2x a week and is beginning to move her head in BOTH directions without assistance!  Woohoo!  And although she despises tummy time, she has just started to lift her head up to an appropriate height!  Way to go Boxer Girl!

Her reflux had actually gotten worse, so the NICU doctors had switched her medication from Zantac to Prevacid.  Well, Prevacid usually works wonders for reflux, especially in preemies...however, not with Daniella.  She became VERY ill from taking the medication; it actually made her WORSE.  Projectile vomiting; gagging; tons of apnea episodes; constipation; constant screaming; it was a rough week to say the least.  The Doctors refused to believe it was the Prevacid causing these symptoms.  I knew better. {figured she either didn't tolerate the medication, or, it was not working AT ALL for her, since many of those symptoms are SEVERE reflux symptoms}  I took her off it myself and within a week or so, she was back to "normal".  Still has the reflux, but nothing NEAR what was happening to her on the Prevacid.  {Poor baby had been so dehydrated while taking the Prevacid that we had to give her Pedialyte...and even THAT she puked}.  

::::It is once again MANY days later, and I wonder if I shall EVER finish this entry....perhaps the lack of rain today is a sign that since the rain has finished, Dee will also finish her update::::

Hmm...now where the hell did I end off??  Oh yea, the Prevacid.

Since then, my little Boxer girl has continued to be her feisty self, and has also gained a bit more weight.  As per her last doctor visit on 7/7, she is now a FAT FAT FAT 10 pounds 5 ounces!  Holy Crap!!  We are ecstatic!

And speaking of crap, she has been having some difficulties in that area.  She goes from being the poop Queen, to the Queen of constipation.  There is no in between. Either she is pooping 5x a day, or she doesn't poop for 5 days straight.  I am not a fan of suppositories, and neither is she.  But alas, we have had to use them here and there.  Right now we have incorporated a slight mixture of 1 teaspoon brown sugar &  1 ounce of boiled water, mixed in with 2 of her feeds per day.  It's helping..a little bit..at least we have some play-doh looking stuff appearing here and there..

Ok, enough of that shit.

Ms Boxer is also quite an insomniac.  She hates to sleep.  Seriously.  I'm not kidding.  All she wants to do is talk, kick, talk, kick, punch her fists, kick, talk.  My father claims it always looks like she has the "heebie jeebies".  I believe I mentioned this in my last post, although I cannot remember, for that was back in 1885 or something.  I asked the NICU nurse about this and she said Boxer is most likely over-stimulated.  Sometimes I believe it, and sometimes I do not, for even when I close the lights and take all her toys away, she is still going bonkers in her crib, with nothing there to stimulate her other than the wall.  With the way she acts, I'm guessing these walls have a lot to say....she just keeps on talking!  She loves to chat.  I love the way she imitates me..she seems to be far-advanced in the speech area..or so I've been told.  She has almost mastered imitating "hello".  Not bad for 2 months 2 weeks adjusted huh?  She babbles constantly.  I honestly have NO IDEA where she gets THAT from....{see sarcasm dripping off your computer screen....}

She is still behind in a few things too, such as lifting her head.  She did it for ne week, & then stopped.  She just DOES NOT WANT TO DO IT!  I know she has the ability..she is just not interested.  And man, can she throw some AWESOME fits while the physical therapist attempts to do tummy time with her.  She has got a TEMPER!  Just like there is no in-between with her poops...there is no in-between with her moods.  Either we are happy, laughing, talking & hyper...or we are pissed off, screaming, crying, and hyper.  There is no down-time.  Again, I honestly have NO IDEA where she gets THAT from either {more sarcasm dripping off your computer screen right now, you may need a bunch of buckets to collect it all at this point....}

She is also not too interested in toys.  She will talk to them for a bit, but doesn't try to reach them or grab them.  She seems more entertained by me.  I am convinced that she believes me to be one big, giant, FAT, goofy toy for her to play with.  Most of my day is spent trying to amuse her...{hence, why this entry has taken me a century to complete}.

As for life in the shack?  Man does it SUCK!  This place is so small, I'm sure most of you have cars that are bigger.  It pains me that we do not have enough room for Daniella's things.  Her play-gym takes up 3/4 of the shack.  I could probably shower and watch her in the crib all at the same time if I wanted to.  Hell, I could shower, watch her in the crib, clean the couch, and chat with the people walking to the bus stop  all at the same time.  It is THAT.SMALL.  SB & & I have been trying to look for bigger places; however, I am convinced that all people selling  houses, condo's or co-ops in the NYC area, are either totally insane, or the GREEDIEST LITTLE SHITS on the face of the planet.  I'll try to be nice about it and just assume that they require hospitalization and a Thorazine drip.  Sorry Mr. Nut-job, but I just don't think that your 450 square foot house with a fabulous view of the gas station is worth $800,000. {and don't get me started on the taxes!}.  

We have looked into renting, but those people also need SERIOUS medication.  Who comes UP with these "Final offers/asking prices"???  It's a joke I tell ya!

If it were up to me, I would leave NYC.  Hell, I wonder why I ever came back!  But SB doesn't want to leave, and even if he did, he claims he CANNOT leave, because the type of work he does is only available at a decent salary in NYC, or LA.  And I'm SOOO not a fan of LA.  So, in the shack we stay...{hmm..that rhymed!}

Now, returning back to the beginning of this entry {which I started when Grover Cleveland was still in office}, my mood has been that on the "down" side.  I am depressed about many things; missing my son, of course, is first & foremost.  The lack of visitors for Daniella is second.  It pains me that nobody seems interested in even MEETING this beautiful little miracle.  And my sister, who should be given awards for her selfishness, meanness, and stupidity.  Other family members should also be given these awards.  It fucking disgusts me. LONG STORY which I do not have the time, nor the energy, to talk about.  I have also been depressed about my health, which NEVER seems to get any better.  My body continues to fail me, and I am officially the Typhoid Mary of the 21st century.

So, before I forget, here are a few updated pics of Boxer girl.  And, 2 of the memento pictures I received from "Now I lay me down to sleep" for Angelo.  Those are the ones in Black and White.

Til next time. 

Angelo's hand print & foot prints



A "card" from Angelo, to Mommy, Daddy & Daniella, with a lock of his hair



Boxer Girl, Ms Daniella, posing for a picture!



About to throw a fit, 'cause she knows tummy time is next..but she looked so pretty!



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