Jury Duty

But then again, I was thinking about this post before I was called to jury duty.

 I've been thinking lately about the fact that there are more than two sides to every story. There is obviously my side (the important side!) and there is your side. But there will always be other people's outside views on what they see/hear/feel/think. It bothers me a little. I think because I want to know exactly what people are thinking (here I am, of course, thinking about things relative to my life). I want to know what people think about the things (however random) I say. The things I do. I want to know because I want to be perfect. Yes, I said I want to be perfect. And I know how stupid that sounds. But I want to know all of the facets to the story of my life, and I can't. I cannot know these things because I can only live my side of my life. Am I making any sense at all here? I want to know why I've lost some of my friends. I want to know their side of the story. I want to know what I said/did/implied that made me the "bad guy". I am rolling my eyes right now. I am not the bad guy. I have been, yes. But really, I am only trying to live my life. And if I kick someone because they are lying in the road I am crossing.. Well, it's only because I am in a hurry to become the whole me.

 I've always wished I could see through another person's eyes. (I don't want to walk in their shoes because I'm pretty sure they smell bad.) I want to see the world differently, sometimes. I want to know what a complete stranger is thinking about when they see something that *I* think is beautiful/amazing/ugly/terrifying. I want to understand things that I cannot possibly understand. And I know that I am rambling. I want to know how someone could possibly listen to a Tori Amos song and not find it haunting and beautiful. I want to know why someone can listen to and make any sense at all out of rap. I want to *know* these things. Really know them, feel the truth inside of them.

 And I had jury duty this week, and it made this come full circle. I know we come from all walks of life. But it amazed me how this one story, this one night, could have so many different sides. There was the girl. There was the boy. The neighbor. The police officer. And there is the baby. And there are the outsiders. We hear the story and we all make up our own versions of it. I guess this is why I read so much. I can read a book and the story I read will be different than the one you read in the same book. This fascinates me. And it terrifies me. Right now what terrifies me is that this is not making any sense at all, even to me. I have to make sure Sophia is still breathing, because that is my job. To keep watch over my perfectly healthy little one. Maybe that is why I am so tired. And why I cannot understand my own rambling for once. I will fix this.

House of Representative Bill 5979

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I thought I wanted to say to the world with this blog. I believe my random thoughts should have some kind of point. But then I think, maybe I should really let it just fall out of my head and be as confusing to readers as it is to me.

 Last night I was trying to get Sophia to sleep, and I was looking into her eyes. We don't know yet if they will stay blue like her daddy's, or turn brown like mine. They look really blue, but we know things can change overnight. And I started thinking, what color would Charlotte's have been? I always picture her at 3 years old, with curly brown hair and big blue eyes. I picture her running around and getting dirty, having mommy and daddy make her scrapes and bruises better. The entire 9 months I was pregnant with her, I thought she would grow up to be a little tomboy in pigtails, like I was. She was such an active baby, I knew she would have hit the ground running and not ever stopped. I believe she would have walked and talked early. I think her first word would have either been "dada" or "pizza".  It's funny, the things you assume. When she was in the womb, her dad and I made up an entire life for her. We planned things, we prepared things. By the time her heart stopped beating, she had a fully stocked room, and my bags were packed to go to the hospital. With Sophia, I didn't pack a bag until the day we went in to be induced. With Sophia, everything was different. Although I still believed that pregnancy was an awesome, almost magical thing, it was also nerve racking and terrifying. Every little thing frightened me. When we would talk about our plans for her, I would want to close my eyes and cover my ears. To make plans was to lose them, and I was so afraid of that. But we knew that our life couldn't stand still and hold its breath while we waited for our second daughter. We did make plans, we did prepare. We got to know her. We knew she would be a princess. We knew she would have a personality different from that of her sister's. And she really does do things on her own schedule. With Sophia, I don't assume that she will walk and talk early, as her sister might have. I believe that she will do things when she is ready to do them and no amount of coaxing will hurry her along. She is pretty much right on track for a child her age, and I can only hope that she will keep up. But I also believe that she is stubborn like her parents, and that no timed milestones will convince her to sit up or roll over until she thinks it was her idea. I am in no hurry for her to do these things either, but I will be waiting with the camera for when she decides she is ready. And when she takes her first steps, I believe her big sister will be holding her hand and helping to steady her.

 On another note, a representative in NY has proposed a stillbirth bill that I need to look into. I will be calling/writing my representative to ask him to co-sponsor this bill. You should look into it and see what you can do to help prevent other little girl's big sisters from slipping away. Our babies are worth it.

My Day So far

My daughter is 16 weeks old today. She is perfect, and she is healthy, and she is finally taking a nap. A year ago, I was praying daily to become pregnant again, and I was grieving deeply for my Charlotte, the baby we lost at 36 weeks. A year ago, I don't think I believed in miracles, or happy endings. A year ago, I was a mommy without a baby. Now I know that sleepless nights really are "that hard", and that they really are worth it. I know the sound of my daughter's laugh. I know the sound of her cries when she is waiting for a bottle. I know that she is having another growth spurt and will soon be moving into bigger clothes, diapers, and beds. I didn't know how torn I would be, wanting to keep her my little baby forever, while at the same time, being so proud of her every accomplishment. Wanting to teach her things, wanting her to  learn from her mommy and daddy. I read to her, I sing to her. I tell her about her big sister, who would have been her best friend and fiercest ally. Today I take it one step at a time, and I take a lot of big, deep breaths. Today I decided to start a blog about my family, my friends, and my life so far. I have always thought long and hard about my blogs before I post them on Myspace, but I figure here I will have more options to let it flow as it comes. Without outlines and notes. This is my life in words. Sometimes they will not be very intelligent, and I do have the tendency to ramble. But this is who I am.