Saint Charles,IL 
Partly cloudy High 41FLow 23F
  • Temp: 31F
  • Hum: 69%
  • W: 14mph NNE
Partly cloudy
High 45F
Low 25F
Partly cloudy
High 45F
Low 32F
Moderate or heavy snow showers
High 45F
Low 18F
Patchy moderate snow
High 38F
Low 29F

Headed home.


Everyone @ Thanksgiving lunch/dinner. I'm hiding in the back, with Chris. 

Jon (Chris' brother) and Chris and Grandma Parker. 

Today we're off to Utah to attend Chris' grandmother's 90th birthday and some sort of a family reunion, as well as a Thanksgiving gathering. 

I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to going. I'm not. Chris knows this. We've shortened the trip already, and we'll be making our return trip on Saturday. 

I *was* excited about being Chris' lovely pregnant bride. I no longer feel lovely. I just feel horribly obviously pregnant with our defunct child that is dead (?) or dying, or slated to die upon birth. I think I'd know if the baby passed away already, but... maybe I wouldn't. 

Spoke at length to a friend at work yesterday that suffered through a similar tragedy 17 years ago. She cried when we talked like it was happening to her  right now, instead of me. I think this is the kind of thing you eventually get through, but it stays with you forever. Like any loss. Her baby died in utero around 16 weeks. She went to get her ultrasound and they didn't find a heartbeat. She had no symptoms at all. She delivered the baby. It was terrible. 

Thanksgiving. Ugh. I don't know. Thankful? How can I be thankful right now? Maybe I can get my shit together by tomorrow and be thankful then. I've got one more day. 



Another day. 

I realize there's nothing you guys can do change this situation. And there's nothing *I* can do to change this situation. There's simply nothing that can be done to change this situation.

So, for a little while, or maybe longer, this blog may be quite depressing. 

But, you know, I heard something yesterday... said by a guy whose house was blown away in the Washington IL tornadoes... 

"Sometimes bad things happen to good people. It's just our turn." 

Everyone is touched by tragedy at some point in their lives. No one gets out unscathed. Death, disappointment, disaster,  disease, divorce... (It seems bad things start with "D") Everyone's got something, no doubt. Remember that basket poem by communicatrix? 

Right now, when I look at my basket, it sucks. But it won't always suck. And it hasn't always sucked. It's just our turn.


Everyone has her basket.

And in that basket
are all the things
a body gets
in a lifetime:

The long legs
the natural grace

The way with words
or people
or numbers
or animals

The force field that makes money
or love
or ideas
or children
come to them first

The gene soup
that makes eyes blue
stomachs sturdy
loins fruitful
brains prodigious

Even the luck,
the ponies
the Kojak parking
the pair of pants on sale
or the person of their dreams available
at the exact moment
where need and want meet,
even that
is in the basket.

There will be days
when you look down at your basket and marvel
at the wonderful
things inside

And there will be days
when you cannot bring yourself to look
at all
or rather
where the only place you can look
is at the basket next to you
and with longing.

But every day
someone is looking at your basket
with longing

Every day
someone would trade baskets with yours
sight unseen

I have been
in all of those places
and mostly
I am grateful
for the grace
that forgave my foolishness

This is my basket
to carry
and uncover
layer by layer
day by day
year by year

And sometimes
story by story.

May your basket overflow
with beautiful things
of incomparable joy
and wonder

And when it does not
may you be visited
by the same grace that sat down beside me
to show me the beauty
and the joy
and the wonder
I could not see



Today I will get up. Put on clothes that fit, but don't make me look too pregnant, and go to work. 

We got the Harmony results online finally, and I can see them myself now. It says "T18 -- High Risk, probability 99/100."  I've heard of false positives when the results say 1/850 or 1/300 or whatever, but 99/100 does not seem like there's a whole lot of room for error. 

It is what it is. Shitty. No matter how you slice it. 

Chris has been the most supportive, most patient, and most kind companion during this shitstorm. He's taken the time to take care of me while he's grieving and hurting himself. He feels it. She's his daughter too. His daughter received this death sentence too. 

Today I took a shower, put on regular clothes and spent time with sentient beings other than Molly, Quentin, Orbit and Chris. My good friend Dara came over, forced my ass out of the house, and took me for an eyebrow wax and a movie. I'd all but forgotten about my eyebrows in recent weeks, and they'd grown into bushy and disorganized messes. 

Seeing a movie took my mind off of my own circumstances for exactly 2 hours and 4 minutes. 

This weekend was supposed to be full of fun things to do... such as my High School 25 year reunion... but I forgot about it. (I literally didn't remember it was happening.) And today, Trudy had a Cyclocross Race, which was preceded immediately by the Ride-N-Tie. I mentioned to Trudy last weekend that I would volunteer @ the Ride-N-Tie and then go with her husband to her CX race to cheer her on. But I forgot about that too. 

None of it happened. 

But at least I took a shower. All that time in bed was making me smell like armpits. 


Whizzzzz's Training Log

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