Saint Charles,IL 
Partly cloudy High 54FLow 32F
  • Temp: 55F
  • Hum: 45%
  • W: 15mph ENE
Partly cloudy
High 61F
Low 41F
Moderate or heavy rain shower
High 54F
Low 31F
Patchy rain possible
High 56F
Low 36F
Partly cloudy
High 59F
Low 47F

Some pix from our week day weekend:

Me, in front of the Art Institute. It was so damn cold. SOOOO DAMN COLD! 


Me, wearing the BEAN on my head like a hat. Haha. A "beanie".

We stayed at Trump. I had to take my boots off for a moment and let my weary feets rest in the SPA SLIPPERS. Unfortunately we didn't have room in the bag to bring the slippers home. Boo. 

We suffered through the view from our room. 

It was horrible but we were just the people to take it on. 

We saw "Wicked" --- which I'd seen before but honestly didn't remember. I had no idea of the plot, the songs, or the ultimate outcome of the show. I did remember that "DEFYING GRAVITY" song... and that was about it. I have an uncanny ability to wipe my mind of certain things. Apparently Wicked, much like the 1990s Depeche Mode concert, got erased. At least I had a vague recollection of seeing Wicked. Unlike that Depeche Mode concert. 

LATE dinner @ the Gage with Tony and Monica. This was several drinks in, right before we left. Probably a little after midnight. 

Bundle it up, sister! It's 1 degree outside! 


We're back.

Today is my last day of un-scheduled "freedom" from work, as I return to the grind on Monday. Am looking forward to getting back to some sort of a routine. These free-form days give me too much time to linger in bed. Lingering in bed = crying sometimes and that's not necessarily productive. 

I find the mornings and the evenings (in bed) to be the hardest. Right when I go to bed I lay down and start to cry. I guess it's more like weeping, because I'm not sobbing or wailing, but just shedding tears for our tiny little girl. Tiny. Tiny. I keep saying that but that's the adjective that best describes her. Tiny. Delicate. Small. God. How I wish things would have turned out differently.

When I cry, I'm crying not only for her, but selfishly for myself too. I'll never get to know her personality, or see her graduate from College or watch her get married, or hang her drawings on the fridge. She will never get to do those things and neither will I. When you lose a baby like this, it's the death of POTENTIAL that hurts the most. What COULD have been. What SHOULD have been. What's simply NOT GOING TO BE anymore. 

A big big love for a tiny little girl, who was born too soon.

11:18 AM: Will update with the rest of the past couple of days later on. Have errands to run and things on the list to accomplish today. Keeping myself occupied and busy.  

5:50 PM: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm back. Got a much needed pedicure. (My feet looked like the prehistoric claws of something we saw @ the Field Museum yesterday) Also put together an outfit for a wedding we're attending in the end of January, returned a couple of skirts, bought a couple of tops, and got Chris a couple of Christmas gifties. Also finally FINALLY F-I-N-A-L-L-Y bought a bedskirt. Not sure what my issue was with the bedskirt but time and again I found myself either unable or unwilling to commit to the thing. Today, I walked into Pottery Barn, pulled one off the shelf and bought the damn thing. Life is too short to hem and haw over a bedskirt. 

Exercise & diet modification begins ASAP. However, I can't exercise til I'm done bleeding. Yes, I'm still bleeding. And still wearing pads. Which means I'm still wearing grandma panties, which means I'm super hot to trot. (Nevertheless, it should be over soon!) Never never never take tampons for granted, ladies. NEVER! 

So, I'm going to get back on the wagon. No Dunkin Donuts & a good, protein rich breakfast. Salad + chicken breast for lunch and a decent dinner. Carbs be damned. Time to get this shit back under control. 


Field Museum all day today. 

My feet. Ache. 

As always, I'm on the lookout for good shoes (no matter the expense) that I can wear for LOOOOONG walking days. 8+ hours of walking/standing. These boots did a decent job, but I've got to believe there's better models out there. 

I don't want to wear running/gym shoes. 

Today's boots were Aquatalia short boots. They cost a small fortune and are similar to these. They are comfy and I did pretty well in them all day yesterday walking from train to Art Institute, then all over Art Institute, then to the hotel. I wore them again today, and again walked and stood all day. I think they need to be stretched EVER SO SLIGHTLY up by the toes. I might put a shoe tree inside to see if that helps. 

Otherwise, these look comfortable... just seems like a lot of $$ to spend on a pair of non boot shoes. 

We've got tickets to see this tonight:

I can't tell you how nice it will be to get into the car and go someplace together other than a doctor's office, a blood draw, or a hospital. We're planning to spend the early afternoon at the Art Institute. Then we'll check into the hotel, fluff ourselves up, and go see the show. We're meeting Tony & Monica after the show for a late dinner and maybe some drinks. OK, definitely some drinks. 

A great deal of my depression and anxiety yesterday came from a single phone call we made in the morning. Chris called the funeral home to find out when we'd be able to pick up Kara's ashes. Turns out the funeral home did not have Kara or her ashes, and they had not heard anything about picking her up at the hospital. My stomach dropped. Where was our tiny tiny little girl? 

Phone calls here and there and everywhere. We called the doctor, the funeral home (again), the S.H.A.R.E coordinator, and Chris finally called the Pathology department directly at the hospital. 

We ultimately were able to determine that Kara was still in the morgue, awaiting pickup. Apparently we were supposed to call the funeral home to arrange this whole thing. *sigh*

We asked on a number of occasions last Wednesday how we should handle the cremation and the remains, and time and again the staff told us that they would contact the funeral home for us. Apparently that's not how it works.

So we got that all sorted out yesterday. Actually Chris did. While I cried, ruminated on the couch, and paid the Visa bill. 

Looking forward to getting out of the house today. 

12:28 PM: Unmotivated today. 

Got out of bed, but that's about it so far. 

Paid some bills, logged onto the bank website so I could see what sort of disarray my finances were in. I haven't logged onto the bank in quite some time, so there was some untangling to be done. And there were bills to be paid. I honestly can't say that I care about the bills. I realize this is real life and I have to pay the bills, but... meh. It got done. Better late than never. Isn't that what they say?

Chris is headed over to the funeral home to pay them and select an urn. 

I could use a shower. 


  • 1h 27m 57s
  • 3.87 miles
  • 22m 43s /Mi

16 degrees. Chris says "Let's go for a walk, it will be fun!" So we bundled up from stem to stern and trudged nearly 4 miles through the snow down by the river in Batavia. Dare I say I think I may be sore tomorrow?

I am forcing myself to get up, get out of bed, and do some things on my "to do" list each day. So far I have:

  1. Cleaned the master bathroom
  2. Put all laundry away.
  3. Washed the rugs in the guest bathroom. 
  4. Washed the rugs in the master bathroom. (TWICE -- feline fuckers keep peeing on them) 
  5. Returned maternity clothes to Target + packed up maternity shipment from Ann Taylor Loft and got that off to the UPS store. 
  6. Bought some new items to wear to work that accommodate my chest, yet hide my fibroid, which still has not deflated. 
  7. Gotten a little bit of exercise (the snow walk)
  8. Had my nails done.

Overall, I'm doing alright until someone mentions her name. Or I read her name. Or I do so much as think of her name. See, writing this right now, I'm starting to cry because I'm thinking of and writing her name. Tiny little delicate Kara. 

I can't understand why this has happened. I wish I could say "Well, it's all in God's hands, it's God's will... it's part of the master plan..." But I don't know I believe that. I am baffled. What could God possibly want with our little girl. Our little "last chance" girl. It just doesn't follow. 

I've been reading blogs about parents raising severely disabled children. (Children cannot walk, cannot talk, cannot sit up straight, and cannot, in some instances breathe on their own) These are not necessarily Trisomy 18 kids, because like Chris said... There aren't many T 18 blogs because there's nothing to say when your baby doesn't make it to delivery. Or if you're specifically "lucky", your child may make it  2-3 hours post delivery. What does one blog about then? There's not much to say, so it makes for some very short T18 blogs.

The fortunate (I am not sure that is the appropriate use of the word FORTUNATE)  T 18 families have a child with partial T 18 or mosaic T18 so the child may display only some of the outward symptoms of T18, accompanied by some, and not usually all, of the T18 medical complications. Those families may have something to blog about, but that was not to be our experience. 

Luckily (For you? For me?) this is a triathlon blog so hopefully I should be able to continue to provide scintillating material beyond the tragedy at hand. 

Regardless, we're keeping it together here. Barely, but it's getting done. Chris worked a half day from home, and I was able to coherently answer the nail guy when he asked me if I had any kids. I said... "Not yet." and managed not to cry. I think I may have even appeared to look "mostly normal".

In good news: I laughed today for the first time in a looooong time. Like an actual laugh. Watching an Ellen segment... where she had this woman in Best Buy walk up to customers (and employees) and speak song lyrics to them. It was hilariously weird. I can't believe she was able to do it with a straight face. Genius. 

Wanna Laugh with me?

This is not the actual clip I saw today, but it turns out Ellen does this all the time with varying degrees of success. The clip above was in CostCo a couple of months ago. 



Blue period, black comedy 
Such a joke I've played on me 
I let you go 
And now I know a world of uncertainty 

Now I think about the days 
When I let you down in so many ways 
That's the time I want to cry 
And the time I wonder why and pray 

My apathy is tragedy 
I'm content to stay inside 
This emptiness is killing me 
I can run but I can't hide 

And you loved me all along 
When I always did you wrong 
That's the time I can't forget 
And it fills me with regret always 

when you think that you have won 
Then your heartache's just begun 

Blue period, black comedy 
Love's a clown, now laugh my way 
I think of you 
Much more than I'd ever be willing to say 

Now I don't want to pretend 
I was glad to see us ending this way 
That's the time I want to cry 
And the time I wonder why and pray 

Blue period, I'm looking for someone who 
Is just like you, to help end this blue period

Whizzzzz's Training Log

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