My Version of the "Christmas Newsletter"

As the holidays approach, the cards are starting to come in and with those, several of my family and friends are sending “newsletters” which spell out how wonderful their year has been. Money they raised for charity, marathons that were run, awards their children received and so on. Well, big fucking deal (sorry if you sent me a newsletter). Here’s my version:

Wow, I started this year off with a bang! My New Year’s Resolution was to stop cussing. That didn’t work out too fucking well. In fact, my daughter has followed in the wonderful footsteps of her mother and has coined some of her own phrases, such as; “Lock the fucking door,” and “You smell like shit.” Not only did I not keep my resolution, I have taught my little girl to also talk like a sailor. Yeah!

Then my cat, Tiffany died. She was poisoned by some kitty food manufacturer in China who have yet to take responsibility for so many untimely deaths of household pets. Her kidneys failed and I watched her piss and shit all over herself until I finally had her put to sleep. Happy fucking St. Patrick’s Day!

Oh, yeah, then I got pregnant. Found out I was pregnant AFTER I was hospitalized for Ovarian Hyperstimulation Disorder and had 3 liters of fluid drained from my abdomen via a giant needle.

Things were good for a few months. No major events, I even got to participate in a few volunteer opportunities of my own. Unfortunately, that’s where the niceties end.

At 26 weeks pregnant I was placed on bed rest. Boring! Chastised for every single thing that pulled my fat ass off the couch, including going to the bathroom. What do you people expect? Because I was up running around, I went in to preterm labor, was hospitalized and put on Magnesium. They say it’s like being drunk. What they didn’t mention is that it’s the part of being drunk that you don’t want. You know, where you’ve had too much to drink and can’t get the room to stop spinning… That lasted for a week then it was time for our little angels to join the world.

Spencer Louis and Sophia Darlene were born. Oh what a joyous day! Then, two days later, Spencer took his first helicopter ride. And not in a good way. Air evac’d to another hospital so they could better care for his Necrotizing Endo Colitiwhatever which damaged parts of his intestines beyond repair. The Air evac actually cost the exact amount we paid to make this baby. Now, pay attention, this is where the fun begins… Life at that point was filled with blood gasses, blood cultures, IV pokes, PICC lines, blood transfusions, platelet transfusions, X-rays galore, echos, Barium Enemas, intestinal surgery, edema, low blood pressure, high blood pressure, no blood pressure, steroids, nutrition that turns baby's skin yellow, extreme levels of oxygen, steroids, intubation (x3), extabation (x4), every antibiotic known to man, tubes down nose & throat & pee pee, beeping, chirping and blaring monitors, phone calls at midnight, sleepless nights, and stress-induced breakdowns.....need I say more?

November and December were a blur, which brings me to today. I would have to say that this is my BEST YEAR EVER. I have laughed, cried and everything in between, but most of all I have learned what truly matters........which is that I fought to have a baby, ended up with two and watched as one of my babies fought to stay alive. It has taught me who loves me most and who loves me least. It has been a bitter-sweet struggle that I HOPE will have a happy ending. HOPE, I suppose that's what it's all about.

Well, our little one is home now after 59 days in the NICU. Everything should be ok now, right? Except, at least one baby is ALWAYS awake. Which means I NEVER sleep. I haven’t returned phone calls to my family and friends, mostly because I’m so tired I can’t see to dial the phone. Oh, and I have nothing good to say.

Did I mention the bonus hospitalization for abnormal heart rhythm?

We’re all dealing though. Except Jim. He was dealing, then he got sidetracked by the pretty lights.

Happy New Year.

Marla