Return of the Blog

So sorry for leaving you hanging, my little bloggityboos. I am very happy to tell you I am back! The big news is that I am pregnant! This is a very exciting thing for us and our friends & family.


Doing the Happy Dance

Seems it was a bit too exciting for my back, so there was a stay in the hospital with no computers or anything. I would not have been coherent, but it might have been interesting - somewhere between four year olds hitting the keys and abstract art, I think. So, it is too early for a lot of info yet. I'll have some next month - health, gender.

What I have to share today is a glimpse into the exciting world of drug-induced nightmares. Oooooh..... Ahhhhh.... Mind you, I am no stranger to drug-induced weirdness in dreams. I took pamelor for several years and many folks will tell you it messes with your dream cycle. All night REM is suppressed, so that when it wears off in the morning -- Wham! -- REM kicks in with wild, colorful, vivid dreams. The recent unconscious adventure was with Remeron. It did what it was supposed to do, helped me fall asleep, stimulated hunger, calmed some of the anxiety. You know, except when it was completely freaking me out. Hmm... and in that light, isn't helping me fall asleep playing right into its agenda?

The worst of them was actually the last one. I was in bed awake and heard the front door, then someone coming up the stairs. I called, "Stephan!" then thought the footsteps didn't sound like Stephan's. Then the person turned the corner and it was some stranger that broke in. I woke up as I was sitting up gasping, and it took a long time to stop listening for footsteps. As a story, though, its not that compelling.

My brother, David, told me today that the first nightmare could be a movie. Stephan & I were in Ireland and in need of some money so we took a job sinking some caskets in a bog. Note that neither of us has been to Ireland or been a gravedigger/sinker and I can think of a lot of other jobs I would sooner take, say, dog grooming or parking cars. Someone was paying us to do this at night and in the middle of nowhere because the city where they lived did not like these people. We peeked in a few coffins once we were alone and saw these were Black people, wearing many necklaces with chicken feathers and bones and one had on a blue enamel cross that I can still see clearly. The bog was incredibly green, with solid sections to stand on and goopy sections where we sunk the coffins. Later, a private investigator (whose outfit I coveted) broke the story that these people had been practicing Santeria, and they never did find out who buried them. There were police and news reporters all over the bog and we slipped away like confused tourists.

Before you ask, I was not reading anything remotely like this. It's not like I sit around and give Santeria and its unlikely practice in Ireland a lot of thought. This was a Remeron DreamTM, with incredible detail that made even this improbable plotline realistic. I can still see the weave of the dead man's shirt who was wearing the blue cross, still remember the reporter calling the sink spots in the bog, "Jesus Holes," still recall the cool boots the PI was wearing.

So, yeah, no more remeron.

My waking life is becoming less of a nightmare. I still hurt, am still incapacitated beyond what I feel I can deal well with, but it seems to be s-l-o-w-l-y improving. I am using every pillow in the house, except one "guilt" pillow for Stephan to sleep on. I am so grateful to my husband & brother, my mother-in-law & mother & friend Gary for tons of help they are giving me, that all I can think is how glad I am this is my family and this is our baby-to-be's family.

And on a final note, remeron bad, ambien good. ;)

More soon!