<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607</id><updated>2011-04-21T23:51:10.065+02:00</updated><category term='weaning'/><category term='illness'/><category term='kids with colds'/><category term='polite young men'/><category term='Michelle'/><category term='Cloth Diapers'/><category term='constipation'/><category term='getting kicked in the nose'/><category term='Burg Vischering'/><category term='cancer survivors'/><category term='german women have lots of patience'/><category term='Bremen'/><category term='citroen'/><category term='Amazon'/><category term='death'/><category term='thanksgiving'/><category term='naptime'/><category term='Berlin'/><category term='homesick'/><category term='sick husbands who admit they like it when their wives take care of them'/><category term='GD'/><category term='but silence can be too much'/><category term='BJD'/><category term='Julie'/><category term='home'/><category term='bridging'/><category term='finding yourself again'/><category term='baking'/><category term='family'/><category term='baby girl'/><category term='a question'/><category term='Pyrex'/><category term='eye drops'/><category term='Oktoberfest recipes'/><category term='Denise'/><category term='music theory'/><category term='Charly'/><category term='great BP reading'/><category term='voting'/><category term='Ms. T and T-Boy&apos;s Adventures'/><category term='halloween'/><category term='penguins'/><category term='24-hours'/><category term='high-risk pregnancy'/><category term='tannenbaum'/><category term='dogs'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='broken DVD player'/><category term='wildpferd'/><category term='intense german language course'/><category term='poop'/><category term='grief'/><category term='manmade lakes versus natural lakes'/><category term='24-hour urine collection'/><category term='depression'/><category term='wordpress'/><category term='recipe books'/><category term='sleeping alone'/><category term='WEBMU'/><category term='Moist'/><category term='beautiful tree colors'/><category term='memoriam'/><category term='insurance coverage'/><category term='2 year olds'/><category term='preemie parenting'/><category term='anniversary'/><category term='yelli'/><category term='My thankful list'/><category term='punk wannabes'/><category term='monsters'/><category term='well i don&apos;t like being alone for too long'/><category term='choices'/><category term='taking a day off'/><category term='sore butt'/><category term='pure bliss'/><category term='Duelmen'/><category term='blogging'/><category term='sadness'/><category term='thankfulness'/><category term='GI Joe'/><category term='cooking'/><category term='moving'/><category term='homeopathy'/><category term='Megan'/><category term='I have no patience'/><category term='medical care'/><category term='Jeff'/><category term='glasses'/><category term='preeclampsia awareness video'/><category term='flats versus sharps'/><category term='help'/><category term='can&apos;t breathe'/><category term='patience is a virtue'/><category term='german wannabes'/><category term='locks of love'/><category term='bubba joe'/><category term='death anniversary'/><category term='G'/><category term='i love being alone'/><category term='lullaby'/><category term='Crystal'/><category term='very very very very tired and dealing with a sick and cranky kid'/><category term='Random Facts Tag'/><category term='prescriptions'/><category term='Bubba Joe&apos;s loves'/><category term='girl scouts'/><category term='food porn'/><category term='meme'/><category term='U-K doctors ROCK'/><category term='a lesson learned'/><category term='junior'/><category term='nothing is simple'/><category term='car bed'/><category term='Donna'/><category term='gladware vs tupperware'/><category term='photo tag'/><category term='bronze award'/><category term='not juice - so don&apos;t drink it'/><category term='Heather'/><category term='baby recovery'/><category term='pee'/><category term='rock on'/><category term='Simpsons'/><category term='getting kicked in the ribs'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='family bed'/><category term='Mamma Mia'/><category term='breastfeeding'/><category term='eating'/><category term='patience is supposed to be a virture'/><category term='preeclampsia'/><category term='running away'/><category term='U/S'/><category term='cadet'/><category term='snow'/><title type='text'>My life in Germany</title><subtitle type='html'>Thoughts on life in Germany, dealing with death and surviving preeclampsia.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>86</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-9065959649294819987</id><published>2009-01-19T15:17:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T15:18:28.225+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wordpress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving'/><title type='text'>Moving</title><content type='html'>my blog that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out: &lt;a href="http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.wordpress.com/"&gt;http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.wordpress.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-9065959649294819987?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/9065959649294819987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=9065959649294819987' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/9065959649294819987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/9065959649294819987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2009/01/moving.html' title='Moving'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7508118342798096535</id><published>2009-01-14T21:37:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T21:50:26.823+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='intense german language course'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preeclampsia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bubba joe'/><title type='text'>Home.  My German-language-filled Holidays.</title><content type='html'>I've been home now for 1 week.  Where was I?  Someplace warm? Someplace exciting?  Well, no, not really.  I was admitted on the afternoon of December 24th, just as I was beginning to prepare the evening meal to share with my inlaws, to the Uni-Klinik in Muenster for observation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minimum 2 day stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did not like the 24-hour blood pressure test results.  What is that you ask?  Because I am high-risk, the perinatologist (high-risk OB) wanted me to track my BP for 24-hours.  I went to my local Hausartzt (regular doc) who fitted me with a BP cuff and a machine that would track the measurements.  It went off every 15 minutes during the day and every 30 minutes at night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was admitted, they placed an IV.  Thankfully, the doc who placed the IV admitted it would hurt.  And it did.  They started a magnesium sulfate drip - to prevent strokes and seizures for  my sporadically high BPs.  (We're talking 5 times in a 24-hour period of 180/130 BPs. Yikes!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they sent me up to ICU.  Where I was hooked up to all kinds of machines for monitoring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They ran lots of lab work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And came back and explained they were treating it as severe preeclampsia and would back off appropriately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed there for 2 weeks.  Of the 2 weeks, I was on an IV drip for 12/14 days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During that time, my german language skills improved so much that I was able to watch german TV AND understand it enough to laugh!  Seriously.  Of course, I tended to watch cartoons - Sponge Bob is still funny in german.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After nearly 1 week of good labs, I begged them to let me go home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been home now 1 week and in a state of hibernation.  I guess you could say I was/am in shock from it all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While there, we toured the NICU, met with the neonatologists who explained what we could expect from a baby born at 28/29 weeks gestation, met with the anesthesiologist, was re-explained what a c-section is and how it is done in Germany, had daily NSTs (sometimes more than one when little girl was sleeping) and shared a room with strange German women. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a follow-up appointment today at the Klinik.  My dx is officially mild preeclampsia.  I'll be seeing the peri every 2 weeks and my regular OB every 2 weeks - basically one appointment per week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, I'm okay and little girl is okay.  Tomorrow is 31 weeks gestation.  I'm so thankful to still be pregnant but recognize that the road ahead is quite long.  Lots of time for lots (either good or bad) to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've ordered 2 prenatal yoga dvds to help me STOP stressing (he he - yeah, if you know me you can imagine how obsessed I've become with this all).  Hopefully they'll arrive within the next 2 days - amazon.de and amazon.co.uk ship amazingly fast. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I'm enjoying my time with Bubba Joe.  Oh - and loving the household help that has taken over all household chores - laundry, cooking, cleaning, etc.  I really am able to just relax and enjoy my family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7508118342798096535?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7508118342798096535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7508118342798096535' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7508118342798096535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7508118342798096535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2009/01/home-my-german-language-filled-holidays.html' title='Home.  My German-language-filled Holidays.'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4736347081306584390</id><published>2008-12-21T20:39:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T21:02:37.782+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Weihnachtsmarkt Muenster 2008</title><content type='html'>BJD and I by the Nativity Scene at the Aegidimarkt in Muenster&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gDZR6ImI/AAAAAAAAAJY/WX4DGkbOxS4/s1600-h/SNB12105.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282335393138221666" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gDZR6ImI/AAAAAAAAAJY/WX4DGkbOxS4/s320/SNB12105.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, in front of the Nativity Scene&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gCC0X1BI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/S3D-YO07fOo/s1600-h/SNB12104.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282335369928889362" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gCC0X1BI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/S3D-YO07fOo/s320/SNB12104.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;BJD, eating a krakauer wurst.  The guy behind him, with the braids, called me BJD's verlopted - his fiance.  How sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gBiMslSI/AAAAAAAAAJI/UHseQF8yaOI/s1600-h/SNB12110.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282335361172542754" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gBiMslSI/AAAAAAAAAJI/UHseQF8yaOI/s320/SNB12110.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the things I love most about Muenster - the musicians playing.  Most were good (these were very good).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gBTB1elI/AAAAAAAAAJA/S5vwALbquvc/s1600-h/SNB12117.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282335357100456530" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gBTB1elI/AAAAAAAAAJA/S5vwALbquvc/s320/SNB12117.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; BJD standing in the center of the city, looking his best!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gA26kYrI/AAAAAAAAAI4/lwQu1KvWc7s/s1600-h/SNB12121.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282335349553783474" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gA26kYrI/AAAAAAAAAI4/lwQu1KvWc7s/s320/SNB12121.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4736347081306584390?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4736347081306584390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4736347081306584390' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4736347081306584390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4736347081306584390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/12/weihnachtsmarkt-muenster-2008.html' title='Weihnachtsmarkt Muenster 2008'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SU6gDZR6ImI/AAAAAAAAAJY/WX4DGkbOxS4/s72-c/SNB12105.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-930299495004940481</id><published>2008-12-18T04:14:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T04:18:06.345+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My thankful list'/><title type='text'>What I'm thankful for today</title><content type='html'>A short list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) My newfound friendship here in Germany with the aptly named G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Medical technology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) My husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Germany's socialized healthcare system that recognizes the importance of work/life/home balance (and will be providing us with daily household help for the next 4 weeks, paid).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) My amazing son who reminds me that faith is there and has not left me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Knowing other mamas who've been there, with varying outcomes. And no matter what the outcome, still come by and cheer me on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Being up for 2 hours in the middle of the night (can't sleep but man and I tired!) so I can share this list with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) ANTIBIOTICS! People, they work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-930299495004940481?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/930299495004940481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=930299495004940481' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/930299495004940481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/930299495004940481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-im-thankful-for-today.html' title='What I&apos;m thankful for today'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6875668748072933075</id><published>2008-12-15T20:42:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T20:48:39.331+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='can&apos;t breathe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not juice - so don&apos;t drink it'/><title type='text'>Quick update</title><content type='html'>Because I haven't written in a few days, just wanted ya'll to know I'm still alive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm miserable, but alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; got this cold. But it's progressed from sore throats and generally feeling like crap to my inability to use my nose for breathing.  And when my nose does decide to work, my lungs don't - so I end up coughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the joys of cold, wet, German weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least keeping the windows open (and the heat on) keeps the air cool enough to breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba Joe is still coughing but is generally much better.  BJD was also sick - but his cold was gone by the time he went back to work.  (BTW - here in Germany his doc took him out of work for 3 days for his cold for him to get better.  His company must honor the docs writeup.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is that I finished my 2nd 24-hour urine collection.  BJD bought me some test strips a few weeks ago when I started not feeling well just to check my protein levels (should be 0).  Before sending in my sample, I took a dip test and yeah! it was 0!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw the OB Friday.  She thinks little girl weighs 1kg now.  Wow.  I'm 26 weeks.  I have no clue what it will be like to hold and nurse and take care of a full-termer.  But I'm hopeful!!! and planning on it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6875668748072933075?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6875668748072933075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6875668748072933075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6875668748072933075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6875668748072933075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/12/quick-update.html' title='Quick update'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-552353446969454313</id><published>2008-12-10T22:38:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T22:53:56.888+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Denise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Facts Tag'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Donna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michelle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Charly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crystal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julie'/><title type='text'>Random Facts Tag - thanks Crystal!</title><content type='html'>Here are the rules:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Link to the person who tagged you (check out &lt;a href="http://brightestnightsdarkestdays.blogspot.com/"&gt;her&lt;/a&gt; beautiful belly!)&lt;br /&gt;2) Post the rules on your blog (copy and paste 1-6)&lt;br /&gt;3) Write 6 random things about yourself&lt;br /&gt;4) Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them&lt;br /&gt;5) Let each person know they have been tagged and leave a comment on their blog&lt;br /&gt;6) Let the tagger know when your entry is up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I used to be scared of the dark. I'm talking I shared a room with my sister and if she got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom I'd wake up from a dead sleep and cry until she came back in. To this day, I try to be "brave" and not be scared. But sometimes, I'm still pretty freaked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I've always had vivid dreams. Not just during pregnancy (although this time around they are a bit more extreme). I've dreamt about my great-grandmother just after she passed away. I've dreamt about my dad. But one of my most memorable dreams was as a little girl. I dreamt I was playing in the backyard and there was a hole in the ground. I loved dressing up, dresses, heels, the works. I dreamt I accidentally lost a heel in the hole. Then the devil himself came up from the earth angry and violent. He blew down my house (like the wolves in the three little pigs). And being a weird dream, it was only the front of the house. The framewas there - you know, like a dollhouse. And there was my family, doing what they would normally be doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I love cartoons. And dry humor. And mindless humor. One of my all-time favorites is Dude, Where's my Car? BJD has even taught our son to say, Dude! Sweet! and I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I have strong religious convictions. But I don't believe in pushing them on anyone else. I was born and raised in a Christian home, but did not understand what it meant until college. It was there that I first really learned what it meant to be a Christian and began following Christ. I've always found it interesting that some of the most horrible critics are those in our own faith. And perhaps that's why I don't push. I sadly met too many people right after being a Christian that were highly critical and judgemental. That life is not for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) I'm learning to embrace life in Germany. I've spent the first year comparing good versus bad, what's better in the States and just missing things. Which I find odd. While in the States, I tried hard to incorporate more German things. Now that I'm in Germany, I try to incorporate more things from the States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) I'm watching The Simpsons right now. As is Bubba Joe and BJD. We're a family of fans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So who to tag ... who to tag ... let's see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister, at &lt;a href="http://lifeuniversecamp.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Life, the Universe and Camping&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em's mom, yet again, at &lt;a href="http://steepedinsanity.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;steeped insanity&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Donna, at &lt;a href="http://lifewithamelia.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Life With Amelia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Denise, at &lt;a href="http://awomanwithhobbitfeet.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;A Woman with Hobbit Feet&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff, at &lt;a href="http://jeffreykahl.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Inklings of Faith&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and lastly, Charly, at &lt;a href="http://charlysommers.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Throck Manash&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have fun ya'll!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-552353446969454313?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/552353446969454313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=552353446969454313' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/552353446969454313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/552353446969454313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/12/random-facts-tag-thanks-crystal.html' title='Random Facts Tag - thanks Crystal!'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-9100206180749895665</id><published>2008-12-10T22:22:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T22:36:48.563+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Megan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photo tag'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michelle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='G'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Heather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julie'/><title type='text'>Photo Tag ...</title><content type='html'>Oops. Guess I should be checking my blogs, er, tags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather over at Bubbles and Ducks tagged me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fourth file, fourth picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I just rearranged my pictures folder!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a picture Bubba Joe's Dad (aka BJD) took on his new camera phone. I think it's a nice profile of our little man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SUAzXv_C43I/AAAAAAAAAII/-JL7-qcBvFQ/s1600-h/IMAGE_010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278275246389126002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SUAzXv_C43I/AAAAAAAAAII/-JL7-qcBvFQ/s320/IMAGE_010.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And what I realized after I posted is this picture shows Bubba Joe's right ear.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;While his right ear may not seem so different from his left ear, the truth is that his right ear is slightly more pointed than his left.  Why?  When he was in the NICU (remember, he was born early due to &lt;a href="http://www.preeclampsia.org/"&gt;preeclampsia&lt;/a&gt;) I unknowingly replaced his hat without checking his ears.  This meant his ear was slightly bent under his hat.  I don't think it hurt him though (certainly not like the daily blood tests he went through).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;His ear is much less pointy than in his baby pictures (it really was quite noticable) but it is a constant reminder of his NICU experience ... just like the permanent scarring on his left foot as a result of the hospital bracelet rubbing his skin raw (he was so tiny they put it on his leg).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So who am I tagging? Hmmm, let's see. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister, over at &lt;a href="http://lifeuniversecamp.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Life, the Universe and Camping&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em's mom, at &lt;a href="http://steepedinsanity.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;steeped insanity&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G, at &lt;a href="http://bigappletobigbear.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;From the Big Apple to the Big Bear&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and Megan, at &lt;a href="http://theworcesterfamily.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Worcester Wonderland&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, have fun! Remember, fourth file, fourth picture. And tag four people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I've got at least one more tag out there I've got to do ... I promise I'll get to it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-9100206180749895665?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/9100206180749895665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=9100206180749895665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/9100206180749895665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/9100206180749895665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/12/photo-tag.html' title='Photo Tag ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SUAzXv_C43I/AAAAAAAAAII/-JL7-qcBvFQ/s72-c/IMAGE_010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-3541820720410944060</id><published>2008-12-05T22:52:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T22:56:02.541+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flats versus sharps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music theory'/><title type='text'>7 sharps or 5 flats?</title><content type='html'>I often find myself trying to remember all the facts I learned in undergrad about music theory. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I found myself pondering in the middle of the night just why a piece would be composed in say, C-sharp versus D-flat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that when you play it there's a difference.  (or is there?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for me, I always found it easier to read music when there were flats, not sharps.  Why is that?  In fact, one of my favorite key signatures to play in has always been G-flat (NOT F-sharp).  Hmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm sitting here struggling to figure out why a composer would prefer sharps over flats ... is it just a preference?  Is there a tonal difference? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-3541820720410944060?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/3541820720410944060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=3541820720410944060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3541820720410944060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3541820720410944060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/12/7-sharps-or-5-flats.html' title='7 sharps or 5 flats?'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6298310360454119557</id><published>2008-12-05T22:42:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T22:51:45.718+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='illness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tannenbaum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cloth Diapers'/><title type='text'>What's going on ...</title><content type='html'>Well, Bubba Joe and I are both sick.  We have been.  ALL. WEEK. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me just say that one or the other, I could handle.  But both of us?  Come on.  Seriously?  And while his fever finally broke, he's still coughing like mad.  And for the first time in over a year, he's fighting us to take any medicines and for breathing treatments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I went to the doc today to confirm that it is just viral and hasn't gotten worse.  I'm allowed Tylenol (which surprisingly is helping me feel more human).  And some sinus-plant-based crap that made my BP skyrocket.  No more of that for me.  Oh yeah, and breathing treatments.  I'm on breathing treatments too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My head is full.  My nose is running.  I'm not really coughing, but I just feel like crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Bubba Joe - well, so long as he gets what he wants he's okay.  And before you go thinking we've got a spoiled little brat on our hands (which maybe we do), if he starts crying then he can't breathe and starts coughing all over again.  So, we really do try to appease him (within reason of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh to be healthy again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a more positive note, we've started cloth diapering.  We're using normal prefolds and wool covers.  Pretty much like what I know when I was a teenager and babysitting.  It's working quite well.  Bubba Joe had a diaper rash last week and we switched back to sposies for a few days - but we think it's all related to his being sick.  And oh yeah, we use something called disposable liners.  It's a thin piece of flushable material that catches poo.  Wicked cool.  Without that, um, yeah, not sure how long I could stomach the scraping of poo in the toilet.  Eww.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We put up the Christmas tree today.  We'll be decorating this weekend.  Bubba Joe's Opa and Oma were here - dropping off soup (borscht - super yummy) and Opa helped Bubba Joe's Dad bring the tree down from the attic.  Of course, Bubba Joe wanted to be with the boys.  By the time they all came back downstairs, Bubba Joe was talking all about the tannenbaum.  He won't touch it - oh no!  It's yet another of those texture things with him.  But he loves looking at it.  Hopefully he'll get into decorating it tomorrow and Sunday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is Niklaus Tag - not sure what it really means but it's always on the 6th of December and children get a present.  We picked up something small for Bubba Joe.  And, I'm pretty sure that we're 90% done with our shopping for this year.  Now if we could just get around to writing the Christmas newsletter to go with our cards and boxing up and shipping the stuff for my family back in Ohio ... :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6298310360454119557?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6298310360454119557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6298310360454119557' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6298310360454119557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6298310360454119557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/12/whats-going-on.html' title='What&apos;s going on ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6566313883127391317</id><published>2008-11-26T11:43:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T11:51:11.578+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thankfulness'/><title type='text'>Thanksgiving 2008 - in pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;We celebrated Thanksgiving earlier this year, when Ms. Thaing and her B-Boy brother came to visit at the &lt;a href="http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/thanksgiving-on-halloween.html"&gt;end of October&lt;/a&gt;. I posted previously our menu, but only today realized I never posted the pictures! It was a great meal, with great friends and even the pies (thanks Mom for sending me the pecans!) were delicious!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;I'm learning to make lots of food from scratch here in Germany. We just don't have foods that I considered convenience foods - i.e. premade pie crusts, pecans, canned pumpkin, much less pie plates. Thanks to my college piano teacher, I have a few more disposable pie plates that have yet to be destroyed ... but I'll have to find a long-term substitute as I make lots of pies/quiches lately!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;To all my American friends and family, I pray this this Thanksgiving weekend brings you the ability to take the time to reflect on our lives and all that we have to be thankful for ... good health, family, friends, and for me, a healthy pregnancy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;Happy Thanksgiving to all!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SS0odFXnE-I/AAAAAAAAAHk/_1e5JImoR-U/s1600-h/SNB11939.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SS0odFXnE-I/AAAAAAAAAHk/_1e5JImoR-U/s320/SNB11939.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SS0odscai5I/AAAAAAAAAHs/gXdowbcGsaA/s1600-h/SNB11941.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SS0odscai5I/AAAAAAAAAHs/gXdowbcGsaA/s320/SNB11941.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B-Boy and I both celebrated birthdays at the end of October ... so one pie was for him and the other was for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SS0ods2F7NI/AAAAAAAAAH0/u-MPtVJpfdY/s1600-h/SNB11945.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SS0ods2F7NI/AAAAAAAAAH0/u-MPtVJpfdY/s320/SNB11945.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6566313883127391317?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6566313883127391317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6566313883127391317' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6566313883127391317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6566313883127391317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/11/thanksgiving-2008-in-pictures.html' title='Thanksgiving 2008 - in pictures'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SS0odFXnE-I/AAAAAAAAAHk/_1e5JImoR-U/s72-c/SNB11939.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2281825368463933611</id><published>2008-11-22T13:23:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T13:35:26.996+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BJD'/><title type='text'>What dreams may come ... (one of my favorite movies BTW)</title><content type='html'>It's normal for me to have vivid dreams.  Dreams I remember.  Dreams that scare the crap out of me.  Dreams that inspire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add to that all the wonderful pregnancy hormones and the fear of being considered high-risk and well, you've got yourself one dreaming gal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I dreamt about some past, um, well, let's call them ex-boyfriends.  Well, one specifically.  I've dreamt about him actually often.  But maybe that's because I've often wondered what ever became of him - if he became the man he wanted to be (he was known to be a bit of a player back then) and if his family was still together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this dream, there we are, both of us with our families.  Pretending not to notice the other because of the past (we didn't exactly end our relationship on the best of terms).  And then at one point I walked straight up to him and told him how I had felt about him through the years.  It was an open, honest, raw moment.  I haven't had one of those in a dream in quite some time.  (In fact, I think the last time I had such a moment was after my dad died and I dreamt he and I were speaking while he was in heaven ... I asked him if he could see and hear us, he had to go ask God, who of course said yes.  I asked him if he would continue to be able to do so, he had to go ask God again, who again, said yes.  Then I had this sensation of falling and boom! I woke up.  Very surreal.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my dream last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I confronted this ex of mine and told him exactly how I had felt about him through the years.  I then shared that in spite of the feelings I had, I was so very thankful to be madly in love with my husband and son. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was strange. I've never tried to verbalize feelings for another man other than my husband.  But it's true that I dated before Bubba Joe's dad.  And I had fun doing so.  (I also had my heart trampled on quite a few times, but that was all part of the experience.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized then and there just how much I truly love my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot imagine taking a single step in this life without him by my side. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has seen me at my best.  He's seen me at my worst.  But mostly, from day one, he's seen through all the walls and barriers that I put up, pretending to be someone I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's helped me to see my gentle side as a side that is strong.  And that my weaknesses can be improved upon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's held me up when I fell.  He's carried me what I crumbled.  He's been my source of inspiration on so many levels.  (and all this for a guy who was raised atheist ... not bad, eh?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while I have a tendency to wonder what if about so many things in my life, I do not have regrets.  Nope, I don't regret you, my ex, for all those times we spent together.  Because without you, I wouldn't have found my BJD.  And without my BJD, I wouldn't have found me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2281825368463933611?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2281825368463933611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2281825368463933611' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2281825368463933611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2281825368463933611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-dreams-may-come-one-of-my-favorite.html' title='What dreams may come ... (one of my favorite movies BTW)'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7492205883966793834</id><published>2008-11-22T09:58:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T10:00:21.091+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homesick'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>It feels like home ...</title><content type='html'>We have snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big fat, beautiful snowflakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falling snowly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lightly covering the ground&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's simply beautiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7492205883966793834?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7492205883966793834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7492205883966793834' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7492205883966793834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7492205883966793834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/11/it-feels-like-home.html' title='It feels like home ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-652395466144533048</id><published>2008-11-21T17:18:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T17:22:54.638+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duelmen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Berlin'/><title type='text'>Sitting at home, in Duelmen, instead of in Berlin</title><content type='html'>and why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I'm not feeling that great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been all week, but I just chalked it up to not getting enough sleep.  (I tend to get anxious just before a big event - like getting cloth diapers, or visiting friends, or a big meeting ...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But nope.  I'm just feeling crappy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were supposed to have taken the fast train yesterday out to Berlin to hang out with some amazing (newish) friends and celebrate Thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But nope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're sitting at home, bored out of our minds.  Knowing that had we taken that train, we'd be having a blast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked Bubba Joe's dad to call my high-risk doc today though - just needed to find out what to do just in case.  There's not one specific thing that has me feeling icky - I am nauseous but can eat.  I feel a bit crampy sometimes too.  And at both my midwife and my regular OB appointments they commented that my belly was hard (which I only later learned COULD be an indicator of preterm labor). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They (the high-risk docs office) gave him what to watch out for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***sigh***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I really wanted to be overwhelmed with Berlin ... looking at the wide selection of english books, the sheer joy of being in Berlin, hanging out with amazing people, Bubba Joe having fun too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a headache now too ... I think I'll go lay down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-652395466144533048?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/652395466144533048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=652395466144533048' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/652395466144533048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/652395466144533048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/11/sitting-at-home-in-duelmen-instead-of.html' title='Sitting at home, in Duelmen, instead of in Berlin'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-663487301606076824</id><published>2008-11-11T15:32:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T15:36:03.448+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cloth Diapers'/><title type='text'>I've wanted to do this for a long time now ...</title><content type='html'>and looks like we're finally going to just jump right in and start.  Cloth diapering that is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a 2nd one on the way and Bubba Joe showing no real interest in potty training, on top of finding a company that will give us a "trial" period to see if we really do like it, we're jumping in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that, my dear reader, is why I haven't written anything to you in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been busy researching different types of diapers, from fabrics to covers to how to prepare them for the first use to general maintenance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been busy creating excel spreadsheet after excel spreadsheet, comparing costs from various websites and building up my wish lists - including links and formulas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I've even had a few dreams about cloth diapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're planning on ordering this week so we can prep them over the weekend and start using.  We're almost out of our pampers, so we need to move soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep ya'll informed as to the "end result".  The best part is that if we stick with it, it's SUCH a huge cost savings for our next little one.  Yeah!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-663487301606076824?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/663487301606076824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=663487301606076824' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/663487301606076824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/663487301606076824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/11/ive-wanted-to-do-this-for-long-time-now.html' title='I&apos;ve wanted to do this for a long time now ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-8744713581577102062</id><published>2008-11-04T15:34:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T15:38:27.290+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='U-K doctors ROCK'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby girl'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high-risk pregnancy'/><title type='text'>Halfway there ...</title><content type='html'>20 weeks this week.  20/40 weeks gone and (hopefully) 20 more to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had our appointment today at the Uni-Klinik in Muenster.  Can I just tell you how completely impressed I am with the doctors there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a high-level ultrasound.  It was pretty intense and I was very nervous.  It has the ability to show if something is off - increasing my risks of getting sick again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, it is a girl.  Our regular OB said so a few weeks ago but we wanted at least one more ultrasound before announcing it to the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't think that's what you thought I'd say - so, guess what?  She's perfect!  I'm perfect!  So far, so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, that doesn't mean that things can't go wrong.  This is life we're talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it does mean that we've made it this far and thus far, things are well, healthy.  And that's all I can ask for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still seeing a doc every 2 weeks.  I'm still being closely monitored. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today, just for now, I'm relaxing into the possibility that I might just be able to have the (dare I say it?) pregnancy I've dreamt of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-8744713581577102062?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/8744713581577102062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=8744713581577102062' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8744713581577102062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8744713581577102062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/11/halfway-there.html' title='Halfway there ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-5945645044736959853</id><published>2008-11-03T21:45:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T21:59:44.237+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ms. T and T-Boy&apos;s Adventures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Burg Vischering'/><title type='text'>Burg Vischering with Ms. Thaing and T-Boy</title><content type='html'>The great proposal ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lOw_LZ7I/AAAAAAAAAHY/U6qr4kgIkqo/s1600-h/SNB11875.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264537793761863602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lOw_LZ7I/AAAAAAAAAHY/U6qr4kgIkqo/s320/SNB11875.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba Joe and his Dad trying to lift a sack full of weights that weigh what a full coat of armor weighs (how many times can I use the word weigh in that sentence?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lOkklLpI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/QboSQAKi7HU/s1600-h/SNB11869.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264537790429081234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lOkklLpI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/QboSQAKi7HU/s320/SNB11869.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking a tour of the inside, Ms. Thaing and T-Boy pose with a stranger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lNjX-a8I/AAAAAAAAAHI/FcK2J4QLcXE/s1600-h/SNB11847.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264537772927904706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lNjX-a8I/AAAAAAAAAHI/FcK2J4QLcXE/s320/SNB11847.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba Joe loves his Uncle T-Boy (and Ms. Thaing, being Ms. Thaing, had to get in the picture)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lNHgtGGI/AAAAAAAAAHA/UkTI50ZUaMs/s1600-h/SNB11832.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264537765448325218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lNHgtGGI/AAAAAAAAAHA/UkTI50ZUaMs/s320/SNB11832.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Burg Vischering on the outside (the house itself sits in water ... quite beautiful!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lMvvpnzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/8GEMuAh5UEA/s1600-h/SNB11822.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264537759068561202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lMvvpnzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/8GEMuAh5UEA/s320/SNB11822.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-5945645044736959853?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/5945645044736959853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=5945645044736959853' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5945645044736959853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5945645044736959853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/11/burg-vischering-with-ms-thaing-and-t.html' title='Burg Vischering with Ms. Thaing and T-Boy'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SQ9lOw_LZ7I/AAAAAAAAAHY/U6qr4kgIkqo/s72-c/SNB11875.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4285111600924760710</id><published>2008-10-31T15:59:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T16:01:40.734+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Thanksgiving on Halloween</title><content type='html'>Today, we are celebrating Thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ms. Thaing and her brother, T-Boy, are visiting for the week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our menu consists of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turkey Ballotine&lt;br /&gt;Green Beans&lt;br /&gt;Wild Rice Stuffing&lt;br /&gt;Butternut Squash Soup&lt;br /&gt;Pumpkin Pie&lt;br /&gt;and last but absolutely not least&lt;br /&gt;Pecan Pie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yumm!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I'll remember to take some pictures!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4285111600924760710?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4285111600924760710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4285111600924760710' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4285111600924760710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4285111600924760710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/thanksgiving-on-halloween.html' title='Thanksgiving on Halloween'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-1627017979860907700</id><published>2008-10-29T18:44:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T18:53:57.170+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preeclampsia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high-risk pregnancy'/><title type='text'>The ugly truth</title><content type='html'>I am a mean jealous person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you never knew it (maybe you did).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I'm bitter. Baby, I am one bitter person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is all this coming from?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister in law is pregnant. She didn't know. She wasn't trying. In fact, she was not trying. Her son is well, a difficult child. He's just way different than Bubba Joe - who enjoys reading books and drawing and being creative and playing the piano and running around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and she's almost done with her first trimester before she even suspects that she's pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I hate her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We busted our asses. We've been through hell and back with Bubba Joe's pregnancy. I can't even begin to tell you the number of times we went back and forth as to whether to try again. I mean, the risks may be low, but they're there. They're higher, than say, my sister in law's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, at some point, isn't there a risk that I may lose it all? My life? My child's life? My Bubba Joe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there she is, not even trying and finding herself pregnant. No prenatals taken before getting pregnant. No high-risk pregnancy for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all there for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be reminded of how inadequate my body is during pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm reminded of that daily when I have to take my BP 3x. Or when I poke my finger to draw blood and check my sugar levels. Or of all the many appointments with doctors to keep an overview on my health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there she is - barely 9 weeks behind me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I feel mean and hurtful and spiteful and bitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate preeclampsia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-1627017979860907700?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/1627017979860907700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=1627017979860907700' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1627017979860907700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1627017979860907700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/ugly-truth.html' title='The ugly truth'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4255996448189184505</id><published>2008-10-27T08:31:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T08:33:05.509+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='voting'/><title type='text'>It's amazing to me ...</title><content type='html'>but I really come up with quite a few stunning blog posts in the middle of the night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by the time I wake up, they're long gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure the next blog I write (excepting this one in which I'm writing about nothing) will be about things I like about living here in Germany.  I don't think I've really discussed that much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW - I voted last week.  My first time voting overseas.  Quite an experience.  I liked it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4255996448189184505?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4255996448189184505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4255996448189184505' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4255996448189184505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4255996448189184505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-amazing-to-me.html' title='It&apos;s amazing to me ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7841538915679149003</id><published>2008-10-18T22:43:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T18:18:34.511+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GI Joe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preeclampsia awareness video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preeclampsia'/><title type='text'>The Preeclampsia Foundation - educating families</title><content type='html'>By now, most of you know that I'm very passionate about preeclampsia education.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preeclampsia robbed me of any ideas I had for a normal, healthy birth. Preeclampsia is what I blame for Bubba Joe's ongoing health issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months after Bubba Joe came home from the NICU, I found the &lt;a href="http://www.preeclampsia.org/"&gt;Preeclampsia Organization&lt;/a&gt;. They are an online support group - but they are also so much more than that. Founded by, and supported by, top researchers and victems of the disease, they've produced the following video. Please check it out. And please share it with any woman you know who is pregnant or considering becoming pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As GI Joe once said (at least I think it was him!) knowledge is power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2g_WJDrogo" target="_blank"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2g_WJDrogo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7841538915679149003?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7841538915679149003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7841538915679149003' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7841538915679149003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7841538915679149003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/preeclampsia-foundation-educating.html' title='The Preeclampsia Foundation - educating families'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7083707669103628952</id><published>2008-10-18T17:55:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T18:13:31.637+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wildpferd'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='citroen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beautiful tree colors'/><title type='text'>Duelmener Wildpferd</title><content type='html'>Fall has arrived and unlike last year, the trees are actually showing some reds.  BJD, Bubba Joe and I today decided to go and visit the &lt;a href="http://www.wildpferde.de/"&gt;Duelmen Wild Horses&lt;/a&gt; - one of the only things that Duelmen is well-known for in Germany.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258525444753928002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPoJB_jpL0I/AAAAAAAAAGY/yeNQfc-cQ70/s320/SNB11646.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These horses are slightly smaller than modern horses.  And from what I read online, they are considered endangered.  Their genetics goes back hundreds of years and they have not been mixed with any other horse breed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are stunning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Annually, the horses are round-up and you can buy tickets.  But as we just found out this week, the tickets for next spring's round-up are pretty much sold out - unless you want to stand for the entire 4 hour show ... which of course, we don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPoJCPpwzSI/AAAAAAAAAGg/XWiXlz9eYLM/s1600-h/SNB11615.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258525449074560290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPoJCPpwzSI/AAAAAAAAAGg/XWiXlz9eYLM/s320/SNB11615.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Bubba Joe enjoyed visiting with the horses ... though he had just as much fun walking through the field behind us and stomping on the dirt mounds the local &lt;a href="http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&amp;amp;sl=de&amp;amp;u=http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Europ%25C3%25A4ischer_Maulwurf&amp;amp;sa=X&amp;amp;oi=translate&amp;amp;resnum=1&amp;amp;ct=result&amp;amp;prev=/search%3Fq%3Dmaulwurf%26hl%3Den%26rls%3Dcom.microsoft:en-us"&gt;maulwurfs &lt;/a&gt;had dug up (something he and his dad do often in our backyard).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPoJCsUoE5I/AAAAAAAAAGo/Qb-ZhEZ12-8/s1600-h/SNB11590.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258525456770536338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPoJCsUoE5I/AAAAAAAAAGo/Qb-ZhEZ12-8/s320/SNB11590.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It cost us 2.50 Euro per adult entrance fee.  They're supposed to charge 1.50 Euro per child, but they guy didn't.  He was more interested in asking BJD about our &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Citro%C3%ABn_C4"&gt;Citroen&lt;/a&gt;, which BJD was more than happy to talk about!  They are only open until November 1st, on Friday's and Saturday's, and only if the weather is nice.  Wow.  Those are a lot of restrictions - especially considering the weather here is more unpredictable than that in NE Ohio!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPoJCzAdLVI/AAAAAAAAAGw/Js5G0pqRvnE/s1600-h/SNB11583.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258525458564984146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPoJCzAdLVI/AAAAAAAAAGw/Js5G0pqRvnE/s320/SNB11583.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7083707669103628952?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7083707669103628952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7083707669103628952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7083707669103628952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7083707669103628952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/duelmener-wildpferd.html' title='Duelmener Wildpferd'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPoJB_jpL0I/AAAAAAAAAGY/yeNQfc-cQ70/s72-c/SNB11646.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-311171587669588485</id><published>2008-10-15T21:11:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T21:18:57.505+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathing Treatments</title><content type='html'>Okay, so this is a week old already, but I wanted to share a few pics of Bubba Joe getting his breathing treatments ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257461776320844674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZBoV3MU4I/AAAAAAAAAGA/XNSp4vbsTvU/s320/SNB11543.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZBovds_eI/AAAAAAAAAGI/1Phv7iNQ4SM/s1600-h/SNB11535.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257461783193255394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZBovds_eI/AAAAAAAAAGI/1Phv7iNQ4SM/s320/SNB11535.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZBpbOw20I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/88cn1aeTkEQ/s1600-h/SNB11540.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257461794941754178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZBpbOw20I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/88cn1aeTkEQ/s320/SNB11540.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-311171587669588485?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/311171587669588485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=311171587669588485' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/311171587669588485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/311171587669588485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/breathing-treatments.html' title='Breathing Treatments'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZBoV3MU4I/AAAAAAAAAGA/XNSp4vbsTvU/s72-c/SNB11543.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6666423537880475300</id><published>2008-10-15T21:07:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T21:10:44.494+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='glasses'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bubba joe'/><title type='text'>Where'dya get those glasses?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZABR6H6KI/AAAAAAAAAFw/5Ht7cy0qzss/s1600-h/SNB11576.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257460005732870306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZABR6H6KI/AAAAAAAAAFw/5Ht7cy0qzss/s320/SNB11576.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZABtMyK0I/AAAAAAAAAF4/moDeEaO2rdY/s1600-h/SNB11577.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257460013058894658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZABtMyK0I/AAAAAAAAAF4/moDeEaO2rdY/s320/SNB11577.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6666423537880475300?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6666423537880475300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6666423537880475300' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6666423537880475300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6666423537880475300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/wheredya-get-those-glasses.html' title='Where&apos;dya get those glasses?'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SPZABR6H6KI/AAAAAAAAAFw/5Ht7cy0qzss/s72-c/SNB11576.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6791464242087254881</id><published>2008-10-12T21:28:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T21:51:36.045+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yelli'/><title type='text'>Random Facts Meme</title><content type='html'>Okay. I'm a sucker. I saw this on &lt;a href="http://50percentdna.blogspot.com/"&gt;Yelli's &lt;/a&gt;blog a few weeks ago and have been trying to decide when to write (and what to write).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are six random facts about me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) When I was a little girl, I was terrified of the dark. I shared a room with my sister for many years and if she would get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, I would wake up and cry until she came back. I'm still a bit freaked out about the dark, but I try to be a "big girl" now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I have naturally curly hair. Back in the 80s, when perms were popular, I begged my mom to get a perm just to be cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) As strong-willed and driven as I am, I am a big chicken. I don't like to stand up for myself (or anyone else) but guilt overcomes me and I just do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) When I first met Bubba Joe's Dad (aka BJD), I thought he was boring-looking and not very interesting. Three months later, I couldn't stop thinking about it. To this day, I find him fascinating and intriguing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) My undergrad is in Applied Music because I chickened out of my senior piano performance. I have a minor in Geology. And a few years ago, I finished my MBA in International Management. I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) I am NOT a patient person. Okay, so most of you who know me personally know this. But I'm not patient. And I'm really not a nice person either - I've always enjoyed making fun of people (without them knowing, of course!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to tag people to forward this on, but I'm still not sure how to do that. Instead, if you want, do this meme and follow the rules:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Link to the person who tagged you.2. Post the rules on the blog.3. Write six random things about yourself.4. Tag six people at the end of your post.5. Let each person know they have been tagged.6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6791464242087254881?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6791464242087254881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6791464242087254881' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6791464242087254881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6791464242087254881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/random-facts-meme.html' title='Random Facts Meme'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-8441110625253187722</id><published>2008-10-12T10:09:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T10:15:20.211+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sore butt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='constipation'/><title type='text'>Ouch!  (warning, may be TMI)</title><content type='html'>TMI = too much information&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, my pregnancy has been progessing well, as expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is, up until yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(and here's where the TMI will come into play ...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the bathroom and was horrified when things just did NOT move!  I mean, I spent a good 1/2 hour sitting there, chatting it up with my mom, just figuring things were slow.  Nope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were not slow, they were stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just sat and relaxed, trying to let things come.  I drank water, ate prunes, ate a bit of yogurt with flax seeds ... all things that have worked in the past.  I then drank some non-clear apple juice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I begged BJD to go to the pharmacy and get me something, anything, to make things move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Bubba Joe woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things did eventually, well, come out ... somewhat.  But my butt is sore and I can tell I've still got a ways to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking it might be my new prenatals.  Hey!  Does anyone know what it means ... wait, let me back up ... the prenatals list stuff in either mg or what looks like the greek mu symbol and g for grams.  The iron is in this greek letter and g format.  What is that???  How does that convert to mg?  (I'm thinking it's the new prenatal that has me all, um, yeah, you get it.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-8441110625253187722?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/8441110625253187722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=8441110625253187722' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8441110625253187722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8441110625253187722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/ouch-warning-may-be-tmi.html' title='Ouch!  (warning, may be TMI)'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-3983602319859250817</id><published>2008-10-10T10:00:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T10:01:35.282+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='glasses'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='taking a day off'/><title type='text'>We're off ...</title><content type='html'>well, at least we're up.  BJD took today off, since last Friday (a holiday here) he was working in Hungary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys are in the shower, I'm chillin' out checking my BP, and then it's breakfast and glasses for Bubba Joe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm curious to see what selections for kids they have ... hopefully we'll get him some cool black plastic rimmed framed - just like his dad's!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-3983602319859250817?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/3983602319859250817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=3983602319859250817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3983602319859250817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3983602319859250817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/were-off.html' title='We&apos;re off ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2502043099508029258</id><published>2008-10-07T12:56:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T12:59:24.028+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='glasses'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bubba joe'/><title type='text'>... and the verdict is ...</title><content type='html'>Bubba Joe needs glasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After many many many attempts at him looking through the eye-measuring-machine-thingee-that-has-a-balloon-in-it-that-Bubba-Joe-didn't-care-about, we got him to look through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he needs glasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're home now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's watching dinosaurs (land before time).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm trying to relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for checking my BP 3x daily, much less my sugar.  That's gone out the window since Bubba Joe's been sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully we'll get to order the glasses this week ... and hopefully he'll enjoy wearing his own glasses as much as he does mine or his dad's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2502043099508029258?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2502043099508029258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2502043099508029258' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2502043099508029258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2502043099508029258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-verdict-is.html' title='... and the verdict is ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4317491671119301116</id><published>2008-10-06T21:52:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T21:55:29.776+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eye drops'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='broken DVD player'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Amazon'/><title type='text'>Broken DVD player</title><content type='html'>And we're just too lazy to send it back to Amazon for repair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I promise we'll do it tomorrow ... or the next day ... at least by this Friday when BJD is off because he worked last Friday (German Reunification Day - major holiday here).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, the awesome penguin movie I just purchased from Amazon UK will have to wait - all 3 of our laptops are permanently set to region 1 - for DVDs from the US. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We used the DVD player for all german DVDs (which I think includes all Euro DVDs).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's off to bed ... big day tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wake up early, give Bubba Joe 3 sets of eyedrops to numb his eyes then off to the eye doctor to see if he needs glasses.  Life just keeps getting well, more fun.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4317491671119301116?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4317491671119301116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4317491671119301116' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4317491671119301116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4317491671119301116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/broken-dvd-player.html' title='Broken DVD player'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2990954365108005899</id><published>2008-10-05T16:21:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-05T16:46:22.556+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids with colds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nothing is simple'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='a lesson learned'/><title type='text'>Oh, what a week it's been.</title><content type='html'>We knew it ... I mean, we knew it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After our WEBMU meetup last week in Bremen, we &lt;em&gt;knew&lt;/em&gt; Bubba Joe would get sick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, being a preemie parent doesn't end when the child is big enough or old enough ... at least not for us.  Being a preemie parent is what kept me house-bound for nearly 10 months, numerous trips to the doctor and even a few late-night trips to the emergency room.  And why?  Because dear Bubba Joe doesn't just get the sniffles.  He has only once that I can think of in the last 29 months had what I would call a simple cold - one that didn't turn quickly into an ear infection (or burst eardrum - yeah, that was real fun with a 4 month old) or breathing difficulties).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, we know that he's getting older and the only way to really build up his immune system is well, to expose him to germs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 10 months, he started going out to dinner with us (and grabbing waitresses butts too - thank God he's a cutie!).  He still had colds and ear infections and breathing difficulties, but we exposed him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it has come as no surprise when just this past week, after running around with 3 other kiddies (having TONS of fun I might add) and more importantly (at least in the case of the germs) crawling around the floors of restaurants on his hands and knees, Bubba Joe has come down with yet another cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And BJD and I have learned a few very important lessons about medical treatment in Germany.  BJD was in Hungary this week for work - from Thursday to Friday.  Bubba Joe had a cold in the beginning of the week and we started breathing treatments as preventative.  (From 1 year of age up to his 2nd birthday, he received 3 breathing treatments daily as preventative - when he was sick, it was every 4 hours.  I consider us "experts".)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, as you may have guessed, with BJD out of town, things got worse.  And fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, having lost all confidence in my German language abilities, asked BJD to call, from Hungary, Henry's peds office.  They were on vacation.  He called the on-call docs office.  They were also on vacation.  (It is important to note that BJD was calling on Thursday - German Reunification Day - a major holiday here in Germany.)  He called the Notartzt (Not = emergency, artzt = doctor).  They said if he was having such issues it was best to go to them (in the hospital) to get checked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to go to the hospital.  Certainly not without BJD.  Not yet at least.  Bubba Joe's breathing was troubled, but he wasn't having retractions (really struggling visably) yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My SIL got me in to see a doc here in town.  He was older and commented on Bubba Joe's name.  :)  He was nice and gave us a prescription for cough syrup and said the best thing for a parent to do is expose their kids to germs.  (Dude - I agree completely.  But when *every* single time we expose him lands us on steroids for breathing problems, I gotta problem with exposing him!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Friday, BJD came home very late.  Bubba Joe was having retractions.  We contemplated taking Bubba Joe in at 11:30 pm or taking the wait and see approach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, we got up and were still contemplating - I knew he just needing some stronger medicine for his breathing treatments.  I did not think he needed cough syrup.  Unfortunately, we had used up the stronger stuff a few months ago and forgot to ask his ped for a new prescription. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By early afternoon, I looked at BJD and said we're going.  Mama's instincts have never once been wrong ... seriously.  Not once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So BJD and I heatedly discuss which hospital to go to.  The Notartzt recommended the hospital in Luedinghausen - where his ped is.  I wanted to go to Datteln - where his ped recommended a long time ago when we asked what if and where to go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to Luedinghausen.  Bubba Joe fell asleep on the way there.  And slept up until we walked in to see the doc.  The ER doc was internal medicine only and had no clue how to deal with a screaming child who didn't want anyone to look in his ears.  He advised us to go to a hospital that specialized in children - such as the one in Datteln.  So off we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Datteln was another 15 minutes away.  And it was awesome! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as you walk in, you register.  While BJD was registering, Bubba Joe and I had fun playing in the big boat and then with the animals on the wall (elephant, hippo, bird, etc.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we had to take the paperwork, walk outside, around the corner to door #1.  Seriously, to door #1.  We walked in and were immediately in an examination room!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor there obviously knew how to handle kids and took advantage of Bubba Joe's crying to check out his throat.  He has, once again, a mild ear infection.  She also gave us a prescription for a steroid suppository for his breathing and a different type of cough syrup.  She said to give the suppository first, wait, then give the cough syrup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BJD and I argued about who would give it - I don't really do butts, much more than cleaning them.  And I honestly try to avoid that if someone else is around that can. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won.  During Bubba Joe's diaper change, pop went the suppository and within 1 hour later, his wheezing, the rattling noises, the coughing ... well, it was all pretty much gone.  Honest.  Gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, so good.  No breathing treatments today.  We did give him the cough syrup this morning and he's gotten a bit more of an appetite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are going to his ped for a follow-up tomorrow.  But let me tell you, how awesome that some butt medicine worked SO fast. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah - our ped gave us three levels of breathing treatments for Bubba Joe.  The first is what we use on a regular basis - and is more of a preventative.  The second is when he's wheezing and is mildly stronger - it also has to be stored in the fridge once opened and has a very short shelf life.  The last is for emergencies - I found it today.  The exact same thing the Datteln ER doc gave us.  For her, it wasn't an emergency but was manageable - with a follow-up visit to his ped on Monday.  For our ped - that was an emergency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson learned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2990954365108005899?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2990954365108005899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2990954365108005899' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2990954365108005899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2990954365108005899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/oh-what-week-its-been.html' title='Oh, what a week it&apos;s been.'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4489965791934593382</id><published>2008-10-01T18:48:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T18:51:08.411+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oktoberfest recipes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><title type='text'>Oktoberfest Rezept Needed!!! HELP!</title><content type='html'>I have a dear friend back in the States who's attending a party this Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is requesting a high-end(ish) Oktoberfest recipe that she can take to the potluck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming from cow-manure country, er, I mean Duelmen, we don't really do much so far as I can tell with Oktoberfest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any ideas??? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and she's requesting something without potatoes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks in advance!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4489965791934593382?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4489965791934593382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4489965791934593382' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4489965791934593382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4489965791934593382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/10/oktoberfest-rezept-needed-help.html' title='Oktoberfest Rezept Needed!!! HELP!'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-996506753164406927</id><published>2008-09-29T20:40:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T20:51:51.421+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WEBMU'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bremen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moist'/><title type='text'>WEBMU Moistness: Part 1</title><content type='html'>WEBME = Whiney Expat Bloggers Meetup&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot take credit for the name - but it is accurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After living in Germany for just over 1 year, it's hard not to feel a bit well, I guess a bit like you just don't fit in anywhere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many things that are awesome about living here ... and just as many that we all like to complain about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this posting isn't about "those" differences.  It's about the meetup this past weekend ... so here goes ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday late afternoon, we headed out after Bubba Joe's nap and dropping off Mischka &amp;amp; Maggie at Oma &amp;amp; Opa's.  Typical grandparents they are, they spoil the crap out of 'em!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive went pretty smoothly and we found the hotel rather easily.  At one point, as we were driving into Bremen there was a sign that showed downtown to the left.  We took a right.  Uh-oh I thought!  But Alex reminded me that it didn't mean anything - cities are designed in circles - going right doesn't mean you're driving away from downtown, it just means you're coming in from a different direction!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our hotel was very clean, nice and exactly what we wanted (thanks SO much to Danielle for getting us a reservation, even if we did end up taking your apartment and you got our room).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spoke with J on the phone to catchup with the others that arrived on Friday.  Not only did J start this whole WEBMU, not only does he simply ROCK, he left the restaurant to meet us!!!  J-man - you really are an awesome guy!  I'm so thankful to have met you!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dinner - well, dinner was awesome! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, ya'll might remember that I'm generally NOT impressed with German cuisine.  That's because it is generally not impressive.  But both Adam and Cliff recommended the lamb cutlets and wow!  They were fantastic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while we thought we had brought toys to entertain Bubba Joe, we didn't realize they'd also be used by both Adam and Ian!  Glad we could share the joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't get back to our hotel until almost midnight - where there was a BIG black MB van parked in front of the hotel.  I said to BJD that it was probably our new friends (Danielle and G) in from Berlin.  But we didn't ask.  Soon enough though, we heard kids moving in across the hall and next morning, we learned it was in fact our new friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast at the hotel (&lt;a href="http://www.hotelresidence.com/"&gt;www.hotelresidence.com&lt;/a&gt;) was really good.  We overtook a corner of the dining room and, like the rest of the weekend, tended to scare away others from sitting near us.  Having 4 children, 3 of whom are 2-years old, I guess I'd want some distance too if I were them!  But not our fellow expaters - nope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I can figure out how to add links to their respective blogs I will ... but until then I'll be working on cleaning up a few pics to share.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-996506753164406927?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/996506753164406927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=996506753164406927' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/996506753164406927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/996506753164406927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/webmu-moistness-part-1.html' title='WEBMU Moistness: Part 1'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2071174708976644849</id><published>2008-09-28T20:24:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T20:27:19.580+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WEBMU'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bremen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>What a difference a day makes ...</title><content type='html'>24 little hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, more like close to 72, but still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just got back home a few hours ago from a weekend trip to Bremen.  We stayed in a hotel and ate some of the best food I've ever had in Germany (which isn't necessarily saying much because I generally don't like the food in Germany but this stuff was good!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and most importantly, we met up with about 25 other American/Canadian expats living here in Germany for the 4th annual Whiny Expat Blog Meetup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be posting WAY more later on Bremen itself, but just wanted to share with ya'll that we're back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was amazing to meet, talk and spend time with so many amazing individuals.  You guys are amazing (especially Claire and J!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2071174708976644849?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2071174708976644849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2071174708976644849' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2071174708976644849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2071174708976644849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-difference-day-makes.html' title='What a difference a day makes ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2636809294275898024</id><published>2008-09-25T16:34:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T16:46:57.194+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memoriam'/><title type='text'>Today, 3 years ago</title><content type='html'>This Sunday, September 25, 2005, was different. You see, dad was back at the Clinic after about a week at the "bad place". They thought he had C-Diff. Turns out he was dehydrated and I don’t know that we ever knew for sure the test results for C-Diff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex and I went up to visit dad around 7:00 in the evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before going up to the hospital, I actually prepared dinner AND cleaned up the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived, we were told that dad did not sleep the previous night nor all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His breathing was somewhat shallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex and I sat on either side of dad. We spoke in German because I didn’t want to upset dad if I was just overreacting. I asked Alex if he thought dad’s breathing was due to exhaustion. He said yes and I agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad was fortunately able to drink (nectar consistency) and kept asking for water. I moved the bed to a 90-degree angle for him to drink and noticed that some water would drip from the left-side of his mouth. That was new. Remember, I had been there every day (minus Labor Day weekend) and was very aware of dad’s condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked a little bit. I asked him the year. He said 2005. I asked the month, he first said October, then said August.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him his birthday. He said 10/31/1938. I asked him how old he was. He said that was a lot of addition and subtraction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked for more water. I sat him up again and again noticed that a little more was coming out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked to speak with the nurse. They told me that they had just changed shifts and she would be in when she was done reviewing files.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex and I spoke again in German. I asked again if he thought it was because dad didn’t sleep. Alex said that he didn’t think so. He thought there was something else going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked dad how he was feeling. He said his stomach hurt and kept complaining about the back of neck. Alex massaged his neck and his back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex went to the bathroom then came back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse came in and I explained what I was seeing and how it was different from before. But I mostly told her that dad was complaining about his stomach. She took the wrap off his stomach, cleaned the feeding tube incision, placed a clean bandage over his incision (one was not there before) and adjusted his wrap. She was unsure if dad had a BM or how much he had urinated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She felt around his stomach. He complained when she touched his lower left quadrant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said she was calling the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left to go to the bathroom. I called Joe to find out if he was coming up. He said yes. I said good. You should be here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came back from the bathroom, the nurse had taken his temperature. He had a slight fever and was beginning to sweat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His breathing was becoming heavier and irregular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he was still able to talk. It was difficult to understand him. Sometimes it was because of how he spoke, but mostly it was because he began to make less and less sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked dad to tell me what time it was. He said it was 2:00. It was 8:40. He kept pointing to different things saying close the window, open the door. He began making less and less sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor came in. We explained the history of dad’s stroke, what was done in the hospital. He asked about dad’s shunt. We said it was done about 2 ½ weeks prior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He briefly examined dad, listened to his lungs and his heart. He asked dad if he was having any pains. Dad said no. He did not say that he had stomach pains or that the back of his neck hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor asked us to step out into the hallway to speak. He told us he didn’t know dad. He would need to make more tests to determine what was going on. But his first thoughts were that dad had one of two things going on: 1) he had another stroke, or 2) there was a blood clot in dad’s lung. The doctor explained that both of them are lethal. He then inquired about dad’s DNR status. He checked with the nurse exactly about the DNR. He wanted us to understand dad was very critical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor requested mom’s phone number to call her and let her know what was going on. I asked him if we should bring mom in. He said yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Alex left to bring mom to the Clinic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to dad. He was becoming less and less coherent. At some point, I had asked dad what was going on. He said he wanted to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I explained to dad that in spite of his will to live, the doctor wasn’t sure if his body would make it. At this point, dad’s eyes were fully open, but he was staring off upwards and left. I tried to capture his attention, but couldn’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor and nurse came back in, saying they were taking dad down for a CAT-scan, STAT. I asked how long he would be gone. The nurse began saying that since it was STAT it would be pretty fast. The doctor offered me to go down. I was honored. He said I could be with dad up to a point. I watched as the nurse and doctor finagled dad’s bed out of the room, into the hall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they needed his chart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the doctor briefly disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They tried to figure out who could be the extra one to go down, since the doctor wanted to speak with the technician after that CAT-scan and they would need someone to push the bed. They decided to take the sitter and another nurse said they would stay there until we returned.&lt;br /&gt;I was standing in the hallway, unsure of what to do. I knew Joe was coming, but couldn’t leave my father. I decided that since my #1 priority was dad, Joe would understand. Thankfully, before we began, there was Joe. Walking down the hallway. Joe said that he saw me and then saw the bed. I then motioned for him to hurry up. The doctor said that we could both go.&lt;br /&gt;Joe and I were "patient" (as patient as a Kulcsar is) watching a nurse, a doctor and an aide work their way down to the basement and find the CAT-scan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They took dad into the room, moved him over and closed the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The aide asked if dad was on G-60. We said yes. She sat for him while he was on the regular floor. She didn’t recognize dad because of his weight loss, nor me, but immediately recognized Joe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They finished the scan and the doctor came out. He explained that there was a lot of damage and he was unable to determine if any of it was new. I assured him that dad had numerous CAT-scans done during the previous 6 weeks and they should be in his file.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked with dad back up to his room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His nurse came in to begin an IV. She found veins, but couldn’t get them to work. At the same time, a male nurse came in to check dad’s blood gas levels. Joe remained at dad’s right side (his good side) and I stepped away from the left side for the blood gas levels to be checked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The male nurse said dad’s pulse was 53. Tears just fell from my face. I stood there, holding myself. He looked at me and said I should be there next to dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn’t do a blood gas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn’t start a line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone in the background said something about dad expiring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The male nurse encouraged us to talk to dad. He said the hearing is the last to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were in shock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe just stood there, holding dad’s right hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on his left side, holding his left hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began talking to dad about the dogs, about how Nikita and Max both tried playing with Mischka. Joe quickly started talking about his boys. I told dad how proud I am of him. How strong he has been and how much I love him. Joe told dad that he never told dad enough just how much he loves him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were watching the clock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every minute felt like fifteen. Every second lasted forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad’s breathing was becoming more forced and there were more pauses in between breaths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe stepped out to call Alex to find out how far they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved over to dad’s right side. I took his hand. I told him again how I knew how much he wanted to live, but that his body wouldn’t let him. I cried. I told him again how much I love him. How proud I am of his strength. I asked him if he wanted to pray. He nodded yes. I prayed the Our Father with him. He didn’t verbalize the words. I then apologized because I know we’re not Catholic, but I told him how much I love the Hail Mary and prayed that. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. I realized this was the hour of my father’s death. I began to pray for him. For God to forgive all his sins, to accept my father into heaven, to ease all his pain. I told dad that I would tell mom how much he loves her and that he did his best to hold on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe came back in and said they were just past West 117th. I looked right at Joe and said dad’s not gonna make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just stood by his side, holding his hand, crying. At one point, I placed my ear to his chest and listened to his heart. Instead of a normal thump-thump, it was very squishy sounding. I told Joe to listen to dad’s chest. I told Joe it was an amazing sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The experience of watching your father die, of watching his life pass away, is very surreal. There are no words to possibly contain the different emotions, thoughts, etc. that you’re going through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe and I told dad again how much we love him. We thanked him again and again for all he has done for us and for our family. We told him that we would be sure to tell mom how much he loved her and how he tried to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A neurosurgeon came in. The doctor and nurse quickly followed. They were unable to catch him in the hall. He introduced himself and explained that he wanted to tap dad’s shunt to test the fluid. He asked us to leave the room. I explained that I had been there for so many things, I wanted to stay. Joe stepped out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He cleaned dad’s incision. Put on his gloves and began to draw fluids. He inserted the needle and began to expand it. Nothing came out. He pulled the needle out and tried again.&lt;br /&gt;I told the doctor thank you for trying, but it was enough. I told him that I knew my dad was dying and that I was okay with it. I told the doctor I didn’t want dad to have anymore physical pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked at me gratefully. He shook my hand and extended his sympathies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t think dad would listen. He’s stubborn like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know when, but I realized dad had not taken another breath. I don’t know when his last breath was. I just remember telling Joe, dad’s not breathing. I then said it again, a little louder, he’s not breathing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was nothing special about dad’s last breath. At least nothing I noticed. It was very peaceful. It wasn’t troubled, and it didn’t look any more painful than anything else he has been through in his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wasn’t struggling to breathe. He was just trying to stay with us. At one point, I leaned in and told dad that I didn’t want him to die and that if he would hang in there, I would give him anything he wanted to eat or drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad died shortly. His life passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about 10:15 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex and mom showed up around 10:30. Mom walked in, with a smile on her face, asking how he was. Joe and I had agreed to not tell her over the phone that dad had died. We said dad passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn’t really comprehend. It took a moment. She said, what? We said dad passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve never heard mom cry like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We told her that he tried to wait for her. We told her that it was peaceful. He wasn’t in pain. We told her that he loves her so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She just cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe and I agree. Neither one of us ever thought we could watch someone die, much less hold their hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when my grandma died, my grandfather leaned over her casket and kissed her. I thought that was gross. How could you touch a human that was dead? I now understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, dad’s physical body was the only thing left I had of him. I couldn’t stop touching his arm, sitting next to him on the bed. I didn’t want to leave the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it difficult to believe he is gone. I know, believe me, I know he is better off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a brief moment, while he was dying, I heard someone say that mom said no intubation. And&lt;br /&gt;I thought, why not? That would keep him alive. That would help him breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I knew that’s not right. Dad would be a vegetable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we couldn’t put him through anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know dad is in heaven, watching over us. The only pain he has is from our pain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2636809294275898024?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2636809294275898024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2636809294275898024' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2636809294275898024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2636809294275898024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/today-3-years-ago.html' title='Today, 3 years ago'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-1833144140801204633</id><published>2008-09-22T22:02:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T22:07:19.005+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><title type='text'>Dreadful</title><content type='html'>It's times like these I wish I could turn back the clock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To tell you how much you mean to me just one more time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I did everything I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought the hole would have begun to heal by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it hasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels almost as raw as it did that night you left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can still see your eyes, lifeless, staring, gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can still hear your heartbeat, fading, muffled, slowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can't believe it's been 3 years.  3 damned years of hell and pain and anguish and hurt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I just miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were my rock.  But I didn't know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were my hope.  But I didn't know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were my everything.  But I didn't know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since I no longer have you ... I don't know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live.  I have to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But some days, like today, are harder than others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the wonderful hormones pumping through my body with this extra life growing inside of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the miracle of life itself that makes it hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe it's just that the pain I have felt since you died is much deeper than I realized.  And it will take so much more time to heal than I've given to it yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-1833144140801204633?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/1833144140801204633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=1833144140801204633' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1833144140801204633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1833144140801204633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/dreadful.html' title='Dreadful'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4616811166055803062</id><published>2008-09-21T21:16:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T21:20:39.085+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sadness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pyrex'/><title type='text'>For the love of Pyrex ...</title><content type='html'>I broke my liquid measuring cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It shattered into thousands of tiny bits and pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All over the kitchen floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why did it break?  Because I was playing daredevil - how many clean dishes that were just handwashed can be stacked before they fall ... and the only piece that fell was my one and only liquid measuring cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It shouldn't upset me so much.  Excepting that they measure ingredients here by weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I purchased some great dry measuring cups - metal Kitchenaid brand at Kohl's with my mom before leaving Ohio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't think I'd really need more than one liquid Pyrex. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been indestructable up to now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, I'll have to wait until next summer, when my sis and her fam come to visit to bring another one - it isn't exactly the type of thing you'd mail ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still sad though.  I miss my Pyrex.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4616811166055803062?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4616811166055803062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4616811166055803062' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4616811166055803062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4616811166055803062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/for-love-of-pyrex.html' title='For the love of Pyrex ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6447177807685880281</id><published>2008-09-21T14:03:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T14:06:48.427+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bubba Joe&apos;s loves'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2 year olds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='penguins'/><title type='text'>Penguins</title><content type='html'>Bubba Joe has a new love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not yogurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not even dancing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(and all three of those are things he loves.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves penguins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honest to goodness LOVES them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started with the "Go, Diego, Go" dvd and has since morphed into a love of watching "Happy Feet". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His dad and I both thought for sure that the scary part of the movie, you know, where the seal tries to eat Mumble, would scare little man.  Nope.  He loves it.  (I don't get it - quite frankly, it scares me!)  He sits and makes this grrrr! sound when the bad guys show up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he wants to dance like Mumble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an interesting little man ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6447177807685880281?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6447177807685880281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6447177807685880281' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6447177807685880281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6447177807685880281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/penguins.html' title='Penguins'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4140313746569102888</id><published>2008-09-18T14:38:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T14:40:11.501+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bronze award'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cadet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='girl scouts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='junior'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bridging'/><title type='text'>Bridging</title><content type='html'>My niece, aka Bubba Joe's Cousin, is bridging this weekend for girl scouts.  She's moving up from a junior to a cadet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's also finishing up her bronze award this weekend too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so very proud of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rock on little girl!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4140313746569102888?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4140313746569102888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4140313746569102888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4140313746569102888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4140313746569102888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/bridging.html' title='Bridging'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-8511916998524112319</id><published>2008-09-16T20:31:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T20:39:52.368+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='U/S'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='very very very very tired and dealing with a sick and cranky kid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GD'/><title type='text'>Hopefully brief update ...</title><content type='html'>It was a long day today.  I knew it'd be on the longer side, I just didn't realize &lt;em&gt;how&lt;/em&gt; long it would actually be ... it was a day of gestational diabetes testing (gd) and ultrasounds (u/s).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gd test was the extended 3-hour.  Unlike back in Ohio, they drew blood by an actual finger prick (yeah! that many fewer vials!!!).  And unlike back in Ohio, I had my results immediately ~ I'm &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; over the border.  Yup, I've got gd again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then on to the u/s.  Baby was NOT cooperating.  What should have taken 1 tech and 15 minutes turned into 2 docs and nearly an hour and a half!!!!!  Don't worry though, everything looks great!!! (and NO, we still don't know what it is yet!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the u/s, we headed back down to my high-risk doc, then to the dietician ... oh! that was fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dietician was to be found, where else? but in the kitchen!  Seriously.  As in the kitchen of the cafeteria.  We found our way to the cafeteria (after a wrong turn initially) then were asked to wear paper hats as we walked through the kitchen.  I've kept them as souveniers!  He didn't tell us anything we didn't know from the first time around with Bubba Joe - excepting that he doesn't recommend lots of sugar-free stuff because of the higher calorie content. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then back down to my doc again, then back up to the diebetes specialist - who was the quickest of them all!  15 minutes later and we're back down in my docs office, scheduling my next appointment in 4 weeks and on our way back to sick ole Bubba Joe (he just can't kick this cold ~ and he did NOT nap well at Oma &amp;amp; Opa's - oh the fun we'll have tonight!) with a bag full of papers to fill to weekly fax in and diabetes testing supplies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm exhausted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-8511916998524112319?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/8511916998524112319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=8511916998524112319' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8511916998524112319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8511916998524112319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/hopefully-brief-update.html' title='Hopefully brief update ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7955124459559922934</id><published>2008-09-13T13:43:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T13:47:44.299+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='but silence can be too much'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='well i don&apos;t like being alone for too long'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i love being alone'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='naptime'/><title type='text'>It's quiet.  A bit too quiet.</title><content type='html'>We got up this morning, ate breakfast, got dressed and went to the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is the Potato Fest. Imagine that. A festival about potatoes. In Germany.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We must have gotten there WAY to early, because well, there were no stands and it just felt like a normal Saturday in the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left, went to Lidl (just a notch up from Aldi) because water was on sale and also picked up some milk, wurst (lunch meat, but Bubba Joe only calls it wurst (with a "v" sound for the w)), and dish soap. Oh yeah, and some great puzzles for Bubba Joe, his cousin here, and some Christmas presents for his cousins back in Ohio. (Shhh, don't tell them!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got home and I went upstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I also found peanut m&amp;amp;ms. They are one of my greatest weaknesses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I just finished a half bag of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, as I sit here, I realize I don't hear anyone. I have no clue where the boys are, much less the doggies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh wait, they just got home. Hmmm ... wonder where they went!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7955124459559922934?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7955124459559922934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7955124459559922934' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7955124459559922934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7955124459559922934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-quiet-bit-too-quiet.html' title='It&apos;s quiet.  A bit too quiet.'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6064386681613742179</id><published>2008-09-11T12:32:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T12:33:58.378+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick husbands who admit they like it when their wives take care of them'/><title type='text'>BJD is sick</title><content type='html'>Yup, he's home sick.  Either a cold or allergies, or both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He just got back from the doctor's office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gave him a note - he's not to work today nor tomorrow!  (Isn't that cool?  Your doc can tell you NOT to work?!?  And it's accepted?!?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope he feels better soon ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6064386681613742179?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6064386681613742179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6064386681613742179' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6064386681613742179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6064386681613742179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/bjd-is-sick.html' title='BJD is sick'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4431530147588734781</id><published>2008-09-09T18:12:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T18:16:19.330+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='german women have lots of patience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='patience is supposed to be a virture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='patience is a virtue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I have no patience'/><title type='text'>The waiting is the hardest part</title><content type='html'>(Thanks Denise for the inspiration to find a song to fit my mood!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rescheduled my diabetes testing this morning to take Bubba Joe to his ped.  He has another cold and woohoo!!! it is just a cold!  So far, it's not in his lungs or his ears!!!  Maybe his immune system really &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; getting stronger?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I kept my 11:30 appointment for a high-level ultrasound.  It is at this ultrasound that they will start looking at how the placenta is attached and for early warning signs that preeclampsia might rear its ugly head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too long though ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;around 12:00, we hear another woman complain to the receptionist that she had a 8:30 appointment!  (Dude - that means she was sitting for almost 4 hours!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided that we'd wait until 12:30 to see what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're supposed to call to reschedule but haven't.  Not yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll call tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the waiting, really is the hardest part.  (Thanks Tom Petty for making it all so clear.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4431530147588734781?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4431530147588734781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4431530147588734781' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4431530147588734781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4431530147588734781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/waiting-is-hardest-part.html' title='The waiting is the hardest part'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-5166307552203636439</id><published>2008-09-08T19:04:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T19:15:32.404+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rock on'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='finding yourself again'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby recovery'/><title type='text'>I'm a big kid now!</title><content type='html'>Me, that is, not Bubba Joe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my wonderfully sweet endearing husband has been my crutch for well, just over 2 years now. After 6 weeks of bedrest, recovery from a long labor and subsequent c-section, recovery from the bedrest, recovery from preeclampsia, and dealing with a preemie, on top of everything else life threw in there (just to spice it up a bit!), he's been there for my 110% every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since moving to a country where I'm just not confident in the language, in spite of my natural abilities to pick it up quickly (and quite grammatically wrong, but able to be understood and understand others), I've shied away from anything involving talking to anyone other than family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which has made me lean on "the man" that much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no more, I say!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a good ole pep talk from Kerstin (and BJD saying I could do it all along) I called my high-risk OB on Friday to ask her about taking LDA and breastfeeding. I left a message with the nurse that answered the phone and when the doc called me back, instead of handing the phone off to BJD (which is what I'd normally do), I answered AND talked. Coherently. And with proper grammar! And I said "Sie" and not "du" (formal versus informal - very big deal!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling confident, I contacted a doula and set up an appointment with her for Wednesday this week to meet her. (Hey - insurance covers it. Way cool, eh?) And just like the awesome doula who helped me back in Ohio, her name is also Karen, though spelled with an "i" - Karin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, feeling empowered, I called the local LLL leader to talk to her about taking LDA and BFing (which she confirmed what the high-risk OB said - it is okay), and also took down directions to their next meeting in October.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And did I say - I DID THIS ALL IN GERMAN! NOT ONE ENGLISH WORD WAS SPOKEN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is ... go me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-5166307552203636439?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/5166307552203636439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=5166307552203636439' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5166307552203636439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5166307552203636439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-big-kid-now.html' title='I&apos;m a big kid now!'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4993699103188674183</id><published>2008-09-07T17:11:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T17:15:39.370+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='24-hours'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gladware vs tupperware'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high-risk pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not juice - so don&apos;t drink it'/><title type='text'>Fill 'er up!</title><content type='html'>So there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've done it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Begun my first 24-hour urine collection of this pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, eww, gross. Believe me, I know. I mean, *I* am the one peeing in an old tupperware container (actually, it may be gladware) and filling up the jug the hospital gave me. And *I* am the one that has to make sure every last drop gets measured and that nothing goes to waste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the joys of pregnancy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, at least the joys of a high-risk pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I doing this? (peeing in a container?) To make sure my kidneys are functioning properly. To get a baseline for what my kidneys are doing at the very end of my first trimester. To monitor my organs so we can proactively plan if things go downhill like last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just remember, that orange container in the fridge ... it's not juice!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4993699103188674183?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4993699103188674183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4993699103188674183' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4993699103188674183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4993699103188674183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/fill-er-up.html' title='Fill &apos;er up!'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-3408373433515142592</id><published>2008-09-06T14:45:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T14:50:37.144+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='polite young men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='german wannabes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='punk wannabes'/><title type='text'>Recycling and German boys</title><content type='html'>We went grocery shopping today.  Which includes gathering all our empty plastic bottles and returning them for a refund.  It's usually about 25 cents per bottle so it adds up quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba Joe *loves* pushing them into the machine/scanner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today, we had to wait in line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in front of us were 3 young boys - maybe 11 or 12 years old.  They had their MP3 player playing (quite loudly) and were all dressed like punks.  Their jeans were all saggy, hair messed up and spikey in that "I take more time doing my hair than you do" way, and one was even wearing a significant silver chain around his neck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh it was cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were trying so hard to be punks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they just couldn't pull it off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing behind them, I said to BJD, "oh look at how cute they are!  They're trying so hard to be punks.  Hey look!  One even has a chain around his neck.  Oh, they'd almost fit in if they went to Detroit!"  All in english of course.  Which I know they learn in school because everyone does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what did they do?  Nothing.  Just like the good like punks they were.  They listened to me teasing them and went on their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh - and before they left, little man let out the biggest belch ever.  Way to go Bubba Joe!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-3408373433515142592?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/3408373433515142592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=3408373433515142592' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3408373433515142592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3408373433515142592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/recycling-and-german-boys.html' title='Recycling and German boys'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-845452624241602055</id><published>2008-09-05T15:26:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T15:30:12.281+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='getting kicked in the ribs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weaning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='getting kicked in the nose'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family bed'/><title type='text'>The process of weaning OR sleeping alone</title><content type='html'>It's become a choice.  We've chosen to focus more on weaning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that means that Bubba Joe has slept with us the past 2 nights.  And surprisingly, he's weaning himself!  He's asked for milk but doesn't push when I've ignored him.  Now mind you, he's still getting milk normally around naptime, but the process had begun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He spent a few nights just screaming and crying for me, then his dad, then me, then his dad, then his Maus, his Elefant, or his Ente, or Bob, or Thomas, or ... you get the hint.  BJD is way stronger than I am.  I give in.  He just holds firm (maybe it's his Russian-German thing) and eventually little man crashes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that he's back in bed with us, Bubba Joe just wiggles around a bit to get comfie, then settles in - usually perpendicular to us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least he's getting a good night's rest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-845452624241602055?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/845452624241602055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=845452624241602055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/845452624241602055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/845452624241602055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/process-of-weaning-or-sleeping-alone.html' title='The process of weaning OR sleeping alone'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7612600291050904389</id><published>2008-09-02T10:16:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T10:25:11.989+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleeping alone'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pure bliss'/><title type='text'>The time has come ...</title><content type='html'>for dear old Bubba Joe to start sleeping in his own bed, in his own room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, we've had a family bed for quite some time now.  I think it all started when he was around 4-6 months of age and kept getting sick.  It was harder and harder to get up (I was working full-time +) to nurse him AND he was always sick.  And well, just like his mommy, he just doesn't do things the easy way - it's 110% or nuthin'!  So sick wasn't just a runny nose and a fever and maybe a bit of conjestion - no, sick was a ruptured eardrum, or throwing up or super-high fever that makes his extremities turn blue.  (That's my boy!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, at 2 years, 3 months, it's time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oma and Opa just found his bed and bought it as his baptism present - a car bed!  And Bubba Joe loves his "auto bett" (german, of course).  It's a light blue car that is perfect for him!  He hasn't stopped playing in it since all the men in our family built it last night.  Oh, and Bubba Joe of course had to be part of the action - "baby bauen" - Henry's building too!  Try to take away that real screwdriver with the sharp point at the end and give him one of his wooden ones that are *way* more blunt ... he'll come after you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was the first night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BJD slept on the other mattress on the floor (we took apart our wonderful king-size'ish bed because I refuse to buy another mattress - we have 3 people, THREE!!!).  And with only a bit of crying (that broke my heart) and a few mind games (now I want mommy, no, now I want daddy, where's my Maus?!?, Um, Um, UMMMM (i.e. he's hungry)), he fell asleep for a good 10+ hours.  Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say a prayer for strength and courage to hold strong.  Hearing your baby cry out for you, even when you know he's just trying to avoid going to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW - Bubba Joe calls himself "baby" because that's what Oma has called him.  I try to teach him to say "I" or his name *sigh* but "baby" it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7612600291050904389?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7612600291050904389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7612600291050904389' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7612600291050904389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7612600291050904389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/09/time-has-come.html' title='The time has come ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-8834852607575701612</id><published>2008-08-31T10:39:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T10:40:44.232+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Gustav, GO AWAY!</title><content type='html'>To my Grandma, my uncles and my aunt,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking of you and praying for your continued health and safety.  But moreso, praying that Gustav stays very very far away from your homes!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of love,&lt;br /&gt;Alice&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-8834852607575701612?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/8834852607575701612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=8834852607575701612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8834852607575701612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8834852607575701612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/gustav-go-away.html' title='Gustav, GO AWAY!'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6689986672171056324</id><published>2008-08-30T14:48:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T14:53:23.521+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prescriptions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='insurance coverage'/><title type='text'>Prescriptions in Germany</title><content type='html'>So I've told you before that doctors are big into homeopathic remedies.  They are.  And they usually cost you a few Euro at the Apotheke (pronounced ah-poh-tek-uh) - the pharmacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to have 3 prescriptions filled for my pregnancy stuff - the first two were completely covered by our insurance (one was an anti-nausea drug, since the homeopathic one wasn't worth crap and the other was low-dose aspirin, used as a preventative against that dreaded preeclampsia) and the last one was not - it was the sugary-sweet glucose drink that I had to purchase myself before my 3-hour diabetes test in 2 weeks - it was 5 Euro. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So um yeah - universal healthcare - way cheaper.  (Not to mention that all of Henry's drugs are covered until he's 18.   Yeah, you read that right - we figure in his first year alone, between his operation, ER visits, his oh so many doctor's visits PLUS all the meds he was on we spent anywhere between $3-5k.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6689986672171056324?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6689986672171056324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6689986672171056324' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6689986672171056324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6689986672171056324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/prescriptions-in-germany.html' title='Prescriptions in Germany'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-66950886146016148</id><published>2008-08-28T14:56:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T14:57:49.417+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='24-hour urine collection'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='great BP reading'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preeclampsia'/><title type='text'>My doctor appointment today</title><content type='html'>Well, all I can say is that we're definately delivering at this hospital (which means we're not going to look at the other one my OB recommended).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately, I fell in *love* with this high-risk doc. She's young but super sweet, intelligent and more than competant. Here's the plan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I will see the high-risk doc every 4 weeks, in between my regular OB appointments. That means I'll be seeing someone every 2 weeks (yikes!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I will have three (3) 24-hour collections - one in each trimester. Since I'm at the end of my first trimester, I am to do one for my next visit in 2 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I go again in 2 weeks for the first of my many intensive u/s screenings (I believe they're doppler). At that time I'll also take in my first 24-hour sample (see note below).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I will have two (2) 3-hour glucose testings done - again the first one in 2 weeks when I go (it'll be a loooong morning). The next one will be around 20-something weeks. She feels that the 3-hour is more reliable (as she explained the 1-hour is just an indicator, but the 3-hour is definitive).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) I am to measure my BP three times daily and fax to them once a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) She is on a team of 3 doctors. One of the three of them will deliver me (or be there in conjunction with the midwife). Which makes me feel SO much better knowing that I will be developing a relationship with the doctor in who's hands my life is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTE: Interestingly, for the 24-hour collection ... I do it at home and must keep it in the fridge. BUT - they don't have any hats to collect the urine in! When I asked the midwife if they had anything that went on the toilet (like what I had in Ohio) she kind of chuckled at me! She said she wasn't sure how I was to collect it but that every drop had to be there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am to collect it all and then, after the last collection, shake it up well and take a sample with the syringe she provided to take in for their testing. Yup, it's self-service 24-hour urine collection, in my own home! (I'm thinking ew, gross ... but hey, I'm so impressed with how thorough they are, I can definately handle this!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think that's about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah - when the midwife took my BP at the end of the appointment - get this - it was 120/70. Yeah, 120/70. Wow. I haven't seen numbers that low since I became a nutcase checking my BP all. the. time. :) She also did it manually, which I do think accounts for something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the entire appointment, I could just feel my body relaxing and my nerves settling. I feel good. And that is a very nice feeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-66950886146016148?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/66950886146016148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=66950886146016148' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/66950886146016148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/66950886146016148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-doctors-appointments.html' title='My doctor appointment today'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7591469335280535315</id><published>2008-08-26T17:11:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T17:24:37.059+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monsters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death anniversary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preemie parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='running away'/><title type='text'>Thoughts on a quote I just read</title><content type='html'>I just read this on another blog:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;" Why is it that when we are depressed it doesn't matter what we do to get out of the depression. We stay there until our body and mind decide for themselves to come out of it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year, I ran away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew it then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I understand it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran away from all the monsters.  You know who I'm talking about: Grief, Regret, Anger, Dispair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they followed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only I also ran away from my family.  And being away from them allowed me to find the strength within to fight each of these monsters, when my body and mind were ready to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in the middle of a funk.  It happens every year at this time.  Well, this is only the 2nd year I'm really going through it - 3 years ago I never expected my life to be like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I miss my dad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 years ago we (mom, dad, BJD, my sis and her fam) all went to North Ridgeville's Corn Festival.  Dad and I split some bbq ribs (which is HUGE because I have this meat fetish - I can't eat anything if I know what it once looked like).  They were gu-uuhd.  Then I had some of Sweet's sweet corn, festival lemonade and some sweet stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, dad suffered a massive stroke. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, my world collapsed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't realize it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood by his side, every day, for 6 weeks, praying for my soul to stay strong so that my dad could lean on me and get better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fought with my mom about him coming home - that was all he really wanted - to be home.  Oh to be home and to be able to take a shit in the toilet.  Maybe that's all he really wanted - to not wear a diaper and have someone else wipe his ass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was willing to give up my career, my marriage, my everything, just to make my dad whole again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that bastard of a monster called Regret, still lives on in my head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I know that I did all I could. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that.  (do you?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's just like being a preemie parent - you know there was nothing that you could have done to cause the premature birth of your child (and subsequent health issues) but you sure do seem to enjoy beating yourself up about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is my 3 year anniversary of not having a dad anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my 3 year anniversary of when my mom changed everything she physically could to escape, of having a hellish pregnancy, of my family just disintigrating and me not having a clue why, of losing my faith, of finding it again and of making the decision to move to Germany. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This anniversary will end on September 25th, the day my dad died. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though realistically, it will only end like that stupid Green Day song "When September Ends". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I am SO thankful this next baby isn't due in September.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate September.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only to be followed by October - which BTW, my birthday is exactly 1 month from my dad's death date - October 25th, to be followed 1 week later by dad's bday - Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I'm here in Germany, where autumn is cold and rainy (just like winter) and not in beautiful (and I mean that honestly) NE Ohio, where autumn still remains my favorite season with the vibrant colors and the smell of frost and the preparations for winter and snow ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now my depression from the last 3 years is gone.  My mind is stronger.  My body is too.  And while I still mourn all that I lost, I can live.  Because that's the one thing my dad can't do anymore ... live.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7591469335280535315?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7591469335280535315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7591469335280535315' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7591469335280535315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7591469335280535315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/thoughts-on-quote-i-just-read.html' title='Thoughts on a quote I just read'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-1596230265817470293</id><published>2008-08-25T19:55:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T20:01:47.329+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A German fridge</title><content type='html'>So I've shared before that we're remodeling our kitchen.  Well, we're keeping all our appliances and just adding cupboards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what's important to note, THIS IS A TYPICAL-SIZED refridgerator!&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SLLyRYjfxYI/AAAAAAAAAD8/UIUtf2tDwWg/s1600-h/SNB11155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238515697048339842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SLLyRYjfxYI/AAAAAAAAAD8/UIUtf2tDwWg/s320/SNB11155.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Yessiree.  This is the standard.  Of course, the pic is taken just after we've come back from the grocery store, so it's more organized than say, by the end of the week.  Milk comes in a standard 1 liter size (see the 2 milk cartons in the door).  Everything else is smaller too - the top shelf of the door has sour cream.  The top shelf has some yogurt and well, did you see the freezer? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's because it isn't there.  I still don't get it.  Standard freezers are either really teeny tiny ones on "top" of the fridge, mostly accessible when the fridge door is open.  OR, like ours, is a free-standing unit with drawers.  And ours is in our laundry room because well, I don't know it just is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-1596230265817470293?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/1596230265817470293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=1596230265817470293' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1596230265817470293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1596230265817470293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/german-fridge.html' title='A German fridge'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SLLyRYjfxYI/AAAAAAAAAD8/UIUtf2tDwWg/s72-c/SNB11155.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4141074921731070365</id><published>2008-08-25T19:43:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T19:55:00.883+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Bubba Joe's New "do"</title><content type='html'>We've been talking about it for some time now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba Joe needs a haircut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His curls are stunning (just like mine) but it was very thin at the ends and well, just needed cleaned up a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here he is, intently watching his DVD player, wearing his "no tattoos yet" t-shirt, with fresh raspberries on his face from our farm trip:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SLLxUhAY_WI/AAAAAAAAAD0/EsPEhvSupVk/s1600-h/SNB11062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238514651344993634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SLLxUhAY_WI/AAAAAAAAAD0/EsPEhvSupVk/s320/SNB11062.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And here is his "after".  Basically the same hair-do, just shorter.  I'll try to get some better pics, hopefully without him trying to help me as he is here!&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SLLwtDKP3_I/AAAAAAAAADs/dyaPEfARrtY/s1600-h/SNB11202.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238513973318377458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SLLwtDKP3_I/AAAAAAAAADs/dyaPEfARrtY/s320/SNB11202.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4141074921731070365?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4141074921731070365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4141074921731070365' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4141074921731070365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4141074921731070365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/bubba-joes-new-do.html' title='Bubba Joe&apos;s New &quot;do&quot;'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SLLxUhAY_WI/AAAAAAAAAD0/EsPEhvSupVk/s72-c/SNB11062.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7437666790075633106</id><published>2008-08-25T08:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T08:42:59.986+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Answer</title><content type='html'>Seems like most of ya'll had the right idea ... where would you find toothpicks in a grocery store in Germany?  It's so logical (and hence, very "german) ... by the toothpaste, toothbrushes, dental floss ... you get it!  Good job!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7437666790075633106?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7437666790075633106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7437666790075633106' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7437666790075633106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7437666790075633106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/answer.html' title='The Answer'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6111081615916326813</id><published>2008-08-23T21:19:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T21:21:28.464+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='a question'/><title type='text'>Q&amp;A: let's play a game</title><content type='html'>Let's play a little game ... answer the following question in the comment section. I'm curious for your responses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Where do you think the toothpicks are located in the grocery store in Germany?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6111081615916326813?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6111081615916326813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6111081615916326813' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6111081615916326813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6111081615916326813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/q-lets-play-game.html' title='Q&amp;A: let&apos;s play a game'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6494134611174092621</id><published>2008-08-23T14:11:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T14:21:45.991+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lullaby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preeclampsia'/><title type='text'>Such a simple concept</title><content type='html'>As I was putting Henry down for his nap, I was singing to him ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Go to sleep, little one&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;the time has come&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;for you to sleep.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Whatever your dream,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;the world is yours&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;just close your eyes&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;and it's yours.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;And it hit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so paranoid about so many things going wrong in this pregnancy. I know, I mean I really do *know* what can happen. I know that I'm at risk for developing preeclampsia again and I know women who've lost their beautiful babies because of this shitty disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not scared like I was when I held dad's hand as he died. But scared in another way - scared as a mother, scared as a wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all my fears don't do anything. What does do something, how I can be proactive, is to close my eyes and dream. Bubba Joe's Dad and I made this decision to take a leap of faith and try to conceive again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd begun to give up hope, after 9 months of actively trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then we closed our eyes, and dreamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am, 10 weeks pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many things can go wrong. So many things in my life have gone wrong, but I'm still here, and I've made it through hell to return and tell ya'll that I can do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm going to head my own words and let the world be mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anything happens, there's nothing I can do about it. Preeclampsia has no cure, no diet, no vitamins, nothing that can prevent it if its gonna happen. But I don't have to let it consume me with fear. Rather, I'm chosing to dream of the pregnancy that I always wanted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6494134611174092621?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6494134611174092621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6494134611174092621' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6494134611174092621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6494134611174092621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/such-simple-concept.html' title='Such a simple concept'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2851061902830725296</id><published>2008-08-21T12:15:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T12:17:21.005+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='locks of love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cancer survivors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breastfeeding'/><title type='text'>An inspiration to me</title><content type='html'>I found this blog through another blog (isn't that just how it works sometimes?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bitsofmyself.com/"&gt;http://bitsofmyself.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check it out and see for yourself how amazing this woman is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2851061902830725296?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2851061902830725296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2851061902830725296' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2851061902830725296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2851061902830725296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/inspiration-to-me.html' title='An inspiration to me'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4683195538269791767</id><published>2008-08-20T22:22:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T22:31:20.503+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='choices'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medical care'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homeopathy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Simpsons'/><title type='text'>Differences in Health Care</title><content type='html'>Coming from Cleveland, I am proud to know that I came from an area with excellent health care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving to Germany ... well, let's just say that my confidence has yet to be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And being pregnant, with a 10-20% chance of developing preeclampsia again, in a country in which my confidence is MIA, is a bit unnerving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps that's why my BP is up every time I check.  Every. Time.  Or maybe it's that my genetics are catching up with me. Or maybe just a combination of the two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I was telling Lola today, Germans are all about having choices made for them.  From assigned seats at the movies, to the pharmacy in which every medicine you buy has a prescription - and there are NO aisles to browse to look at the offerings - choices just aren't a plenty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holistic medicine is wildly popular here.  I can't tell you the number of prescriptions I've had filled for a homeopathic remedy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is fine and dandy.  I can dig that.  When we're talking something simple, like allergies or well, nausea medicine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we had our tour last week at the University Hospital in Muenster last week of their L&amp;amp;D unit.  Their midwives (not nurses, midwives) and doctors all stress a natural delivery as possible.  And again, while I'm all for the concept of something natural, I also have a great respect for modern medicine.  If I want drugs to numb the pain of well, anything, thank you very much, I'll take something that was man-made.  I mean, do I really want to risk treating preeclampsia with some herbs?  Um, last time I checked, preeclampsia kills moms and babies.  Hmmm, I think I'll take the medically proven and well-documented medicine over something organically grown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now mind you, I'm actually all about organically grown produce, conserving energy and homeopathic medicine.  It was a tapping session (no, not as in dance, but as in tapping on various places on my body while thinking the negative thoughts that I was drowning in) that was one of the first steps of breaking out of my postpartum depression last year.  But it was also the zoloft that helped me function daily. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I just am a gal who likes to have choices.  Damn I like my choices!  And there just aren't enough of them here ... and when they are here, I have to wait 6 frickin' weeks to get what I've so carefully chosen (you know, this isn't McDonald's).  Oh, sorry, that's another post from way back that I never wrote about but shared verbally with many.  One day I'll get around to updating the rest of ya'll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then.  Good night.  I'm going to bed.  (It's 10:30 pm here and Bubba Joe is watching the last of his Simpsons DVD.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4683195538269791767?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4683195538269791767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4683195538269791767' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4683195538269791767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4683195538269791767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/differences-in-health-care.html' title='Differences in Health Care'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6541230251260476175</id><published>2008-08-20T14:16:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T14:17:49.027+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poop'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><title type='text'>How much is that doggie in the window?</title><content type='html'>Our little idiots have decided to act up today ... no clue why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mischka just peed on the curtain in our bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maggie pooped in our bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ewww, gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with my stomach, BJD has to do all the cleaning ... I can't tolerate the smells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we have 2 little doggies for sale ... any takers?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6541230251260476175?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6541230251260476175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6541230251260476175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6541230251260476175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6541230251260476175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/how-much-is-that-doggie-in-window.html' title='How much is that doggie in the window?'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2466522043497346904</id><published>2008-08-19T12:34:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T12:54:39.544+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anniversary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mamma Mia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='manmade lakes versus natural lakes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eating'/><title type='text'>Happy Anniversary to me (and BJD)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Yesterday was our 7th wedding anniversary. I find it very hard to believe that BJD and I have been married that long. I find it even harder to believe that he's put up with me for longer than that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm reminded of what my dad said to me when after coming back from Germany when BJD had proposed ... he must be either crazy or stupid. Still not sure which, but it's certainly brought about a change in me - a change for the better I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, BJD took me to go see Mamma Mia! in the movie theater in Muenster. They sometimes show the movies in the original language, with german subtitles. Now, there's a thing or two to know first about going to a german movie theater: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Germans like order. I think that's a common stereotype, right? But this conveys even to the movie theater. There are assigned seats. Yup. Assigned Seats. As in Row 5, seats 19-20 (which BTW is where we were supposed to sit). And there are 2 "sections" (at least in this theater). A lower one - with tickets costing ~7Euro - and an upper section - with tickets costing ~9 Euro. We paid for the cheaper seats (which were toward the front) and sat in the upper seats. And I watched. People came in, checking their tickets and sitting where they are supposed to. BJD commented later that the people sitting behind us should have been sitting in our seats - they commented on it. I didn't care. It all seems a bit ridiculous to me. It makes me want to open up a movie theater myself and NOT have assigned seating. I wonder what would happen ... mass chaos? boycotting? meltdowns?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;German popcorn - described as sweet and salty. Ewwww. I've only had good kettle corn once. Once. And it was not here. (Okay, it was here in Germany but once again, Em's mom had sent me really great kettle corn that comes from somewhere out in CA or CO or something like that.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;German nachos - okay, the cheese is the same. But the chips - imagine if you can, super salty/fake cheesy doritos that you dip in nacho cheese sauce. Too much. Blach. (But I was hungry ... and pregnant ... and those two combined make sacrifices when it comes to taste.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Previews - I know, I know, it shouldn't surprise me, but it still does. It's all in GERMAN!!! Seeing a preview for High School Musical 3 in german is just wrong. In so many ways!!! (and perhaps most of all, because there really is a 3 in this series!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There is a pause after the previews and before the movie. BJD said that they he'd gone once and they came in offering ice cream for sale. He said it took an additional 15 minutes wait time. Lights came up and the curtains closed (oh yeah, they use the curtains). A few minutes later, lights went down again and the movie began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Everyone STAYED through the end of the movie, including the credits. Okay, it WAS a great movie, but we were one of the first out, and the credits were rolling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's enough about the movie theater.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BJD then took me to a nice little restaurant on the shore of the Aasee (prounced ahhh-sea'ish). It's a manmade lake in Muenster. The food was very very very good!!! And the service, which to my surprise, was excellent! I could get used to it! Let's just say that it's a Muenster version of Pier W in Cleveland (all you Clevelanders know what I'm talking about).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now - I have a question for ya'll - what I missed most during dinner was the tides. How big does a lake - manmade or natural - have to be to have tides? It was way too still and quiet. And at Pier W, being on Lake Erie, you can ALWAYS hear the waves/tides.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2466522043497346904?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2466522043497346904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2466522043497346904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2466522043497346904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2466522043497346904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/happy-anniversary-to-me-and-bjd.html' title='Happy Anniversary to me (and BJD)'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-8238146641643826549</id><published>2008-08-17T14:01:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T14:08:32.076+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food porn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recipe books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cooking'/><title type='text'>I confess, I love food porn.</title><content type='html'>I know, it's a graphic description, but Em's mom introduced the concept to me and nausea or not, I still love great looking food.  Even better when it tastes just as good as it looks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's the one who sent me a few taco/enchilada seasoning mixes.  I confess to not having a clue about how to prepare good mexican.  But I never really had to.  And now that I'm stuck in the land of meat and potatoes (which is okay in a very very limited moderation), I find that I miss my bean burrito with guacamole most. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made enchiladas this week.  They don't have cheddar cheese here (or at least the one I tried once from the UK was well, leaving MUCH to be desired).  So I used gouda.  It was an okay substitute and even Bubba Joe loved the enchiladas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today, I'm working on my baking skills.  Thanks to Better Homes and Gardens &lt;em&gt;new&lt;/em&gt; Cook Book (and Juls' kitchen which I stole it from years ago and have denied since - shhh!  don't tell her!) I've just finished baking a yummy chocolate cake with a coconut frosting.  Dude, what can I say but I rock!  Once it's all put together (and we all wake from our afternoon nap - gotta love being a SAHM), I'll take a pic and share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW - I LOVE recipe books.  And not the kind that tell you to use a package of pillsbury prepared foods because well, we don't have that stuff here.  Besides, I've always enjoyed making foods from scratch.  And before, during the first 5 years of marriage, between working my tookus off and going to grad school, and what being a DINK family, we ate out lots.  Plus there were just lots of good restaurant choices.  Here in Duelmen, the choices suck.  Seriously, they are horrible.  The best dining experience we've had with decent service and good food ... was McDs.  Honest.  And that's such a sad sad statement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT - if you can recommend a good recipe book (or if you have an extra that you'd like to share!!!) let me know!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-8238146641643826549?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/8238146641643826549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=8238146641643826549' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8238146641643826549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8238146641643826549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-confess-i-love-food-porn.html' title='I confess, I love food porn.'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-3106711370306287361</id><published>2008-08-17T12:08:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T12:09:43.853+02:00</updated><title type='text'>What's up with that?</title><content type='html'>Now that I'm prego, little man's appetite has increased 10-fold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking it's because he's still BFing and my milk has changed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he's taken to having a late night snack - something that usually consists of a few bananas, a few yogurts, you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he's also taken to claiming his diaper as his own - No Mommy!  MY diaper!!! (when I try to change it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah- and nausea - I didn't really know what it was before, but it's in full force.  Super yuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-3106711370306287361?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/3106711370306287361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=3106711370306287361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3106711370306287361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3106711370306287361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/whats-up-with-that.html' title='What&apos;s up with that?'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-979048817934699168</id><published>2008-08-14T11:41:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T11:47:33.544+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet dreams are made of this ...</title><content type='html'>Sorry for the bad 80s music now playing in your head.  And darn it if it isn't stuck in my head now too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was nice.  We're a family bed, Bubba Joe, Bubba Joe's dad and I.  The concept evolved into what it is today.  And once we finish up the kitchen (see numerous other posts) we plan on rearranging our storage rooms so that we can clear out the guest bedroom and turn it into Bubba Joe's bedroom.  Oh, it's not that he doesn't have a room.  He does.  We have 3 bedrooms and an office upstairs.  But "his" room is where all his clothing and toys are.  "Our" room is where we sleep.  The new "his" room will be where we throw our old (but just a few years old) mattress on the floor for him and put his closet/dresser in.  (BTW - there are NO built-in closets in Germany.)  But that all comes once said kitchen is finished ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But last night was nice.  Bubba Joe went down fairly easily, no fussing, after having taken a 3 hour nap (whohoo!).  And he slept ONCE AGAIN through the night with no problems.  I think he woke up one time around 5:00ish asking for milk.  We offered him a cup with water and ya know what?  He took it and fell back asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now though, he's taken to cuddling with me but only once he's in a deep deep sleep.  So usually, there's Bubba Joe's Daddio, me and Bubba Joe, cuddled up right next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet dreams indeed ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-979048817934699168?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/979048817934699168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=979048817934699168' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/979048817934699168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/979048817934699168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/sweet-dreams-are-made-of-this.html' title='Sweet dreams are made of this ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-5014108356175454253</id><published>2008-08-13T21:55:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T21:56:36.362+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm here</title><content type='html'>Just sitting here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;observing all that is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thankful for all that was&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and grateful to be here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-5014108356175454253?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/5014108356175454253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=5014108356175454253' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5014108356175454253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5014108356175454253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-here.html' title='I&apos;m here'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-8747446884955688174</id><published>2008-08-12T13:24:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T13:44:04.831+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the horror!  A hole!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKF3eI9e5NI/AAAAAAAAADI/7gLFTNsMt4U/s1600-h/SNB11116.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKF3epvtf7I/AAAAAAAAADQ/zup_S_pJlCE/s1600-h/SNB11119.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233595610466975666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKF3epvtf7I/AAAAAAAAADQ/zup_S_pJlCE/s320/SNB11119.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And here's the "accident" I told ya'll about last week ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFzTpRA0TI/AAAAAAAAADA/eS6gzjoUm3k/s1600-h/SNB11114.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-8747446884955688174?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/8747446884955688174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=8747446884955688174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8747446884955688174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8747446884955688174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/oh-horror-hole.html' title='Oh the horror!  A hole!'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKF3epvtf7I/AAAAAAAAADQ/zup_S_pJlCE/s72-c/SNB11119.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2341763197378185002</id><published>2008-08-12T13:03:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T13:24:12.860+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitchen Pictures (construction)</title><content type='html'>So here's a few pics from the construction (all the pale/vanilla colored cabinets are from our old kitchen):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFx3NihiRI/AAAAAAAAACg/E9YXqIXfslo/s1600-h/SNB11079.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233589435322435858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFx3NihiRI/AAAAAAAAACg/E9YXqIXfslo/s320/SNB11079.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Okay - this pic is sideways, but it's our fridge/cabinets (our fridge is only the middle cupboard - our freezer is in the laundry room).  Sadly, we're covering up Henry's chalkboard that we just added this winter ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFx3voLN4I/AAAAAAAAACo/xOCBTlU-gv0/s1600-h/SNB11080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233589444472944514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFx3voLN4I/AAAAAAAAACo/xOCBTlU-gv0/s320/SNB11080.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here is BJD and his brother cutting out the countertop for the stovetop and the sink:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFx32uyzRI/AAAAAAAAACw/VUE8ebXjcKA/s1600-h/SNB11089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233589446379752722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFx32uyzRI/AAAAAAAAACw/VUE8ebXjcKA/s320/SNB11089.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Not sure what Bubba Joe's Opa is doing here, but it has been a familial affair, getting this kitchen installed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFx4bFpduI/AAAAAAAAAC4/1-0_hK0-eu0/s1600-h/SNB11092.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233589456139286242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFx4bFpduI/AAAAAAAAAC4/1-0_hK0-eu0/s320/SNB11092.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2341763197378185002?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2341763197378185002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2341763197378185002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2341763197378185002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2341763197378185002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/kitchen-pictures-construction.html' title='Kitchen Pictures (construction)'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SKFx3NihiRI/AAAAAAAAACg/E9YXqIXfslo/s72-c/SNB11079.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2283520674333396095</id><published>2008-08-11T13:35:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T13:37:48.354+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sitting here, just waiting</title><content type='html'>and enjoying the silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the feeling of no-nauseousness.  It started last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must be all the Subway I've eaten lately.  BTW - that's what lunch was the other day.  Now normally, I'm not a huge Subway fan.  But Subway is a piece of home and it tasted JUST like what it tastes like at home.  Which you may think would be a given.  Nope.  Mickey D's - not the same.  I don't know why, but Germans have NO clue how to make a burger.  Either they mix pork and beef for the patties (ew, gross ... I mean, why bother?) or the buns are too thick and dense. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, Bubba Joe is enjoying a nice walk with his Opa and his cousin in the double-stroller I found on ebay here for 30Euro.  The doggies are asleep on my bed.  And it's quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I should be cleaning, but I'm just enjoying the silence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2283520674333396095?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2283520674333396095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2283520674333396095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2283520674333396095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2283520674333396095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/sitting-here-just-waiting.html' title='Sitting here, just waiting'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-3016024129252173846</id><published>2008-08-08T16:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T16:19:06.640+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Still full from lunch</title><content type='html'>and now little man is getting up ... I'll be back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-3016024129252173846?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/3016024129252173846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=3016024129252173846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3016024129252173846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3016024129252173846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/still-full-from-lunch.html' title='Still full from lunch'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-3881899052616642177</id><published>2008-08-07T20:01:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T20:03:57.165+02:00</updated><title type='text'>March 19th</title><content type='html'>That's the due date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which means that I'm exactly 8 weeks pregnant today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And boy do I feel it!  Ugh, I forgot how much I do *not* like being pregnant.  I feel so nauseous all the time.  Stretchy pants are my best friends and the girls, well, let's just say that the girls hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Henry's dealing with it all well enough though.  When I'm tired, he'll chill and watch his Bob or Thomas or Maus dvds or will go and bauen (build) with his toys in his room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you ask him if he wants a brother or a sister ... most of the time he says brother, but today he said sister.  I think brother is easier to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want a full 9 months - and NO PE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see our regular OB in 4 weeks, and then the very next day, meet with the high risk doctor over at the Frauenklinik at the Uni-Klinik in Muenster (basically the woman's hospital at the university hospital in Muenster).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-3881899052616642177?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/3881899052616642177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=3881899052616642177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3881899052616642177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3881899052616642177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/march-19th.html' title='March 19th'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-3656568998713860391</id><published>2008-08-04T17:53:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T17:54:48.642+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops!  (a kitchen update)</title><content type='html'>Most of the shelves are in place.  The entire bottom cupboards are installed, complete with a countertop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today ... BJD tells me that as he was drilling in the wall, he hit the power cord.  You see, he didn't follow the line all the way up to the electrical outlet.  Or maybe he did, but he didn't put 2 and 2 together.  So he hit a power cord ... went clean through. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hang on ... let me upload some images ... I'll be back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-3656568998713860391?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/3656568998713860391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=3656568998713860391' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3656568998713860391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/3656568998713860391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/oops-kitchen-update.html' title='Oops!  (a kitchen update)'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6314303437899243756</id><published>2008-08-02T09:47:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T09:58:31.100+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitchens</title><content type='html'>We made a decision to build out our kitchen.  Well, let me explain a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Germany, it's common when you rent that you have a room with the hookups - water, electric - but the kitchen cabinetry itself belongs to the renters.  They *can* sell it to you if you want, or you bring your old one with, or, like us, you have to buy new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buying new is NOT cheap.  But, we found a single module kitchen for 1k Euro.  Of course, nothing in Germany is fast.  We still had to wait 6 weeks for it to arrive.  Then, because of the cheap price, we had to pick it up ourselves and install it ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is, it was small.   Which leads us to this year.  and IKEA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We looked around.  To get a new kitchen that better utilizes our space would cost minimum 3k Euro.  To add to it with pieces from where we originally bought it would cost 1.5k. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to IKEA, came up with a great design (I now have drawers!!! I love drawers!!!) and paid just under 1k.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is, the door color we chose is beige - they're selling out of it.  And because of my love of drawers, it's been now 3 weeks and 3 IKEA stores before we've finished finding all the pieces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Dortmund store, where we originally shopped, was supposed to have all the doors in inventory.  Yeah right.  So much for computers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we went to Kamen yesterday (by Dortmund-ish).  They had the one door we needed for the apothekeshrank (think tall, thin cupboard with 2 doors and lots of drawers that pull out when you open the doors).  But they didn't have the drawer door. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They called the Osnabruck store.  We waited and waited and waited while Kamen called Osnabruck (computer said they had 1 in stock!), Osnabruck confirmed there was in fact 1 there, placed it in a reservation for us, and BJD is on his way there this morning to pick it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if only we could finish building out the kitchen ...:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6314303437899243756?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6314303437899243756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6314303437899243756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6314303437899243756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6314303437899243756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/08/kitchens.html' title='Kitchens'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7695088747984816536</id><published>2008-07-29T17:38:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T17:39:40.504+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A life of poo ...</title><content type='html'>Just want to share my experiences this past weekend ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Bubba Joe and I took a bath the other night.  I decided to shower up (we only have a tub upstairs in the main bath) so after bathing him, let the water out and bathed myself.  Well, right as I'm finishing my shower, Bubba Joe makes a grunting sound - as though he has to potty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, let me preface everything by saying that we're not forcing anything.  Maybe we're blowing our chances, but he goes when he wants to and I just don't have the energy to really focus on potty training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, back to my story ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I explain to Bubba Joe that he's not to potty in the bathtub but only in either his potty or his diaper.  And then I see it.  A big old piece of poo, in the tub.  I screamed for BJD and got out of that tub so fast!  And because I was freaking Bubba Joe started freaking too ... he stepped in it!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BJD came and properly disposed of the poo, washed off Bubba Joe's feet and placed him on the potty.  Then bathtime was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later ... (wouldn't ya think I'd learned already?!?) ... I'm letting Bubba Joe just air out a bit.  It's been very very very hot here, and with no a/c (I'm talking 100+ degrees and ceiling fans only), I've noticed his bum getting a bit red.  So, I'm letting him go commando a bit in our bedroom while tidying up a bit.  And then ... I look over and between our bed and our carpet, there's a big piece of poo!!!  I quickly grab Bubba Joe and remind him that we potty ONLY in the potty OR our diaper and have his bum facing out.  Well, silly mommy ... he's still pooing!  More poo comes out in the hallway between our bedroom and the bathroom and then *I* step in it!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sit him on his potty - he continues to poo (way to go!) while cleaning up the rest of the poo.  Ew, gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, little man has been in a diaper more often.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7695088747984816536?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7695088747984816536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7695088747984816536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7695088747984816536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7695088747984816536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/07/life-of-poo.html' title='A life of poo ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6936361490062494144</id><published>2008-07-25T06:11:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T06:22:07.461+02:00</updated><title type='text'>B.O. for US?  I don't think so.</title><content type='html'>So once again, I can't sleep.  Just before crawling off to bed last night, I read on another blog (duisburg bunny - located on my blog listing) how during B.O.'s speech yesterday in Berlin, someone held up a handheld sign that read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Obama is best for US - VOTE B.O.!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And that got me thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not really into discussing politics so openly via the web, but I gotta tell you I'm a bit frustrated.  And before I go much further, let me just clarify - I am an independent.  A 100% pure American independent swing voter.  Since my first voting election in 1992 to now, I have voted independent (Ross Perot), republican and democrat.  And I can say with some pride that I have never, ever, ever voted for the person who makes it into office. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which scares me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because my only connection to what's going on in the world of US politics is cnn.com or bbc.com.  Plus an open mind while reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what I've read this week is that B.O. is discussing pulling out plans with the leaders in Iraq and making calls for the world to pull those walls down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this is what disturbs me.  He's not the president yet.  (And with my vote likely swinging the other way, he's more than likely to become president - given my history and all.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me repeat this - he is not the president.  He is a presidential candidate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's say that for some unknown reason that the other guy makes it in.  We all know that he has a different timeframe that B.O. does about troop withdrawal (okay, we don't really know anything and what actually happens versus what we know don't always equal out ... but you kwim.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF (and yup, that's a mighty big if) the other guy gets in, what does it say about America or Americans, having our not-yet leader, acting on his campaign trail, making promises to the international community when he has NO control over this?  (I know, I know, he is a member of congress and as cnn.com commented, his trip to Germany was allegedly NOT as a presidential contender but as a senator - yeah right.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really, do you think we need more funk for our country?  Do we really need to stink things up more?  (he he ... I guess now I'm just having fun with the initials B.O. - You know, when BJD and I were thinking of names for Bubba Joe we really DID consider his initials ...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, whatd'ya think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6936361490062494144?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6936361490062494144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6936361490062494144' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6936361490062494144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6936361490062494144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/07/bo-for-us-i-dont-think-so.html' title='B.O. for US?  I don&apos;t think so.'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7571432791095989974</id><published>2008-07-24T21:19:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T21:23:28.871+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing special, just here</title><content type='html'>Finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun has decided to shine down on us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since returning from Ohio nearly 4 weeks ago, we've had half of 1 week, that's like 3 days total, where the temperature was hot.  Hot as in 85+ degrees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time, that is all the other 25 days, it's been cold.  And rainy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just this past week, we hit a grand high of 60 degrees.  And then today, finally, the clouds cleared away and allowed the sun to provide us with a warmth of 75 degrees.  Whoohooo.  Seriously.  I'm ecstatic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BJD just asked if I'm the frickin' weather channel.  Maybe he doesn't get it, being born and raised in Siberia, Russia, then moving to Germany at the grand ole' age of 17, then living with with me in Cleveland for 6+ years ... but weather has a huge impact on well, lots. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hopefully you've appreciated this post (while BJD is still laughing).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7571432791095989974?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7571432791095989974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7571432791095989974' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7571432791095989974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7571432791095989974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/07/nothing-special-just-here.html' title='Nothing special, just here'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-8454558542612849432</id><published>2008-07-20T20:36:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T20:46:21.651+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Duelmener Sommer: Hoene Duo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SIOIgCRnsfI/AAAAAAAAACQ/mpt52yA2GDE/s1600-h/hoene.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SIOIgCRnsfI/AAAAAAAAACQ/mpt52yA2GDE/s320/hoene.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225170076627874290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't expect much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, we live in a very small town that is not exactly wealthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we went, with the intention of having a "date night".  And also with the hopes that by getting out more often, we can spur off the loneliness that creeps up on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy was I shocked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went into Queens, the bar/restaurant (http://www.queens-duelmen.de).  We've been there before and had decent food at decent prices.  I would say it's the Duelmen equivalent of Stonehouse Grill in Westlake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BJD got his usual (jack &amp;amp; coke), I ordered mineral water and a small salad.  Now, service in Germany leaves much to be desired.  But the fact that the "service tip" is included in the price, servers actually make a normal wage, and giving a tip means just rounding up to the nearest Euro makes it okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two guys come out with guitars.  They're not really much to look at but they start warming up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't believe my ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this was just the warm up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They started out with some Miles Davis and ended their first set with one of their own compositions.  And while they definitely can play Miles, their composition ROCKED.  It was a chord progression that went downward and the main focus was this "base" chord.  They fun to watching them play this piece was listening to *how* they got to their "base" chord.  It was musically stimulating.  And that was such a contrast to how this piece was - it felt like I was swimming through the ocean, it was such a watery melody ... I just can't figure out the right way to explain it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so very impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to get to see them again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left after their first set because, well, it was 10:00 and Bubba Joe was at Oma &amp;amp; Opa's.  It was bedtime.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-8454558542612849432?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/8454558542612849432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=8454558542612849432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8454558542612849432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8454558542612849432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/07/duelmener-sommer-hoehne-duo.html' title='Duelmener Sommer: Hoene Duo'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SIOIgCRnsfI/AAAAAAAAACQ/mpt52yA2GDE/s72-c/hoene.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-5746124654857090480</id><published>2008-07-09T21:37:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T21:40:23.605+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Picking Raspberries</title><content type='html'>Today Bubba Joe and I went raspberry picking with his grandparents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raspberries are on of his most favorite foods.  He especially likes picking them himself during walks around the city of Duelmen and eating them.  And of course, his grandparents are more than happy to walk him where the city has planted the bushes (or maybe they're just growing there wild).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a lot of fun and Bubba Joe did so well!  He ate his fare share but also put just as many berries in the bucket.  Of course, there was a time today when he thought Opa's bowl was too empty so he tried to dump some berries in from the bucket ... more ended up on the ground than the bowl! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather was perfect too - a nice cool 68 degrees.  *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a good day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-5746124654857090480?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/5746124654857090480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=5746124654857090480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5746124654857090480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5746124654857090480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/07/picking-raspberries.html' title='Picking Raspberries'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-7322076392826586395</id><published>2008-07-08T00:19:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T00:23:27.336+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A new point of view</title><content type='html'>Just before leaving for Ohio, things here got messy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohio rejuvinated me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've found myself and who I like to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was refreshing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only now, I am beginning to feel the weight of Germany pressing in on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a social being, it's so damned hard to not know where you fit in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't speak the language well enough to engage in a proper, decent conversation.  Oh, I'm not talking about one of those casual ones that we Americans are so good at (and that I missed so much but got my fair share of while grocery shopping back in Ohio!).  I'm talking about a conversation that includes discussions on the presidential candidates, preeclampsia awareness, parenting a preemie, the oil crises and how while the price of gasoline has been high in Germany for ages, it's still not the same as what's going on in the states.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss being me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now the challenge is to figure out how to be me, just here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-7322076392826586395?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/7322076392826586395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=7322076392826586395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7322076392826586395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/7322076392826586395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/07/new-point-of-view.html' title='A new point of view'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-2973319398649062931</id><published>2008-07-06T20:05:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T20:10:15.124+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts on settling in.</title><content type='html'>We've been back home in Germany now just over 1 week.  In the middle of the week, BJD &amp;amp; I came down with a stomach thing.  We're better now, but that meant we did not go down to visit BJD's grandparents yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did, however, go into the city for a Stadtfest.  We couldn't find the balloon guy but we all had fun.  We went with BJD's parents, nephew and of course Bubba Joe himself.  Before we walked back home, we all stopped and had ice cream.  Yummy!  San Remo Ice Cafe.  Delicious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird being here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't explain why.  There's so many cultural difference, but it's also well, quiet.  Sometimes too quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BJD is still working on another Bob the Builder theme song.  I think he's a bit bored without having his cousins to play with.  I know I am!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-2973319398649062931?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/2973319398649062931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=2973319398649062931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2973319398649062931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/2973319398649062931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/07/thoughts-on-settling-in.html' title='Thoughts on settling in.'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4790044817324424972</id><published>2008-06-24T20:40:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T20:43:10.820+02:00</updated><title type='text'>4 weeks?  Already!?!?</title><content type='html'>I can't believe the time is coming for us to go back to Germany.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is much more difficult than last year, when we actually moved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've had a really great visit - with ALL our relatives and friends.  And even with Bubba Joe's major seperation anxiety, I am relaxed.  Okay, maybe not relaxed right now because I'm stressing about going back home, but relaxed because it was an amazing visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned so very much in this last year apart from everyone - and I've come to see things much more clearly (and less emotionally) and have found that I really do like my sister and brother and mom and well, my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday today to Bubba Joe's Cousin, Bubba Joe's Auntie and happy anniversary to Bubba Joe's mom and dad (me and BJD).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4790044817324424972?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4790044817324424972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4790044817324424972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4790044817324424972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4790044817324424972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/06/4-weeks-already.html' title='4 weeks?  Already!?!?'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-1955709963516980860</id><published>2008-06-16T19:08:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T19:33:56.819+02:00</updated><title type='text'>More pics of this trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Blowing bubbles with Bubba Joe's Cousin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajLerxKmI/AAAAAAAAABk/QgN7A1gHIwc/s1600-h/SNB10677.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212533036338457186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajLerxKmI/AAAAAAAAABk/QgN7A1gHIwc/s320/SNB10677.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hanging a picture with a Bob hammer (couldn't find the real one)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajLwfGdSI/AAAAAAAAABs/UL5uomdZCz4/s1600-h/SNB10697.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212533041117164834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajLwfGdSI/AAAAAAAAABs/UL5uomdZCz4/s320/SNB10697.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Isn't he cute?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajMc7Oy7I/AAAAAAAAAB0/1AOftYfJ9iU/s1600-h/SNB10712.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212533053046311858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajMc7Oy7I/AAAAAAAAAB0/1AOftYfJ9iU/s320/SNB10712.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Playing with cousins again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajM80JXUI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Ly9Dlc3ToMQ/s1600-h/SNB10737.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212533061606530370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajM80JXUI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Ly9Dlc3ToMQ/s320/SNB10737.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; BJC &amp;amp; Ms. T's daughter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajNcQmGDI/AAAAAAAAACE/hUexNQXEn_k/s1600-h/SNB10706.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212533070047352882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajNcQmGDI/AAAAAAAAACE/hUexNQXEn_k/s320/SNB10706.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The kids' last day of school&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFag4EAL-oI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Gr535G59P00/s1600-h/SNB14392.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212530503735573122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFag4EAL-oI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Gr535G59P00/s320/SNB14392.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;BJC &amp;amp; Ms. T's daughter jamming&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFag4ld36oI/AAAAAAAAABE/Lzhp4Qf8f7E/s1600-h/SNB14403.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212530512718457474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFag4ld36oI/AAAAAAAAABE/Lzhp4Qf8f7E/s320/SNB14403.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The cousins playing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFag5MB0hjI/AAAAAAAAABM/_OVKSCuSqV0/s1600-h/SNB14435.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212530523069777458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFag5MB0hjI/AAAAAAAAABM/_OVKSCuSqV0/s320/SNB14435.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Me and half the cousins, chillin'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFag6vaFLUI/AAAAAAAAABc/ooCYVweZ5sc/s1600-h/SNB10658.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212530549746642242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFag6vaFLUI/AAAAAAAAABc/ooCYVweZ5sc/s320/SNB10658.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-1955709963516980860?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/1955709963516980860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=1955709963516980860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1955709963516980860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1955709963516980860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/06/more-pics-of-this-trip.html' title='More pics of this trip'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFajLerxKmI/AAAAAAAAABk/QgN7A1gHIwc/s72-c/SNB10677.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-8775389422440880976</id><published>2008-06-16T18:42:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T19:08:05.279+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy am I pooped</title><content type='html'>So we've been here for just over half our trip and I am pooped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba Joe has turned into a real mama's boy - he won't even go to his dad sometimes! So that, on top of visiting and just trying to spend as much time as possible with my family, has me exhausted. And feeling guilty for not spending more time with more of my family. And that doesn't even touch the people that we haven't gotten a chance to visit yet. *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we're having a great trip so far. Dear old sis has told me that we're going to visit dad on Thursday - oh what joy. Just what I want to do, go to a cemetery. Okay so I'm a bit sarcastic about it all, but that's the one place I just don't have ANY desire whatsoever to go. I'd rather go on a roller coaster than go there (which says alot), but she thinks I have to face up to some of my well, fears/concerns/avoidances?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see if I can figure out how to add some pics of what we've been up to ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Henry's birthday party&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFacySnItBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dy613zBObkU/s1600-h/SNB14291.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212526006531306514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFacySnItBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dy613zBObkU/s320/SNB14291.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFaczChoOrI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5qgqVH9dY00/s1600-h/SNB14292.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212526019393108658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFaczChoOrI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5qgqVH9dY00/s320/SNB14292.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFaczChoOrI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5qgqVH9dY00/s1600-h/SNB14292.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFac0N5yYxI/AAAAAAAAAAk/6wkEu61SuHA/s1600-h/SNB14332.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212526039627096850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFac0N5yYxI/AAAAAAAAAAk/6wkEu61SuHA/s320/SNB14332.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we have ALL the cousins here - so that makes only 6 kids (10, 8, 7, 6, 3 &amp;amp; 2) and 2 adults (well, at least we have to pretend we're adults!). We're planning on painting the girls' room and the bathroom today. Hmmmm ... let's see if it actually gets done! Oh, and I just remembered that we're supposed to go to the post office - last week!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also hoping that Ms. Thaing's daughter can come tomorrow night for the rest of the week. That would be cool. But they're coming in from Detroit, so we'll see ... :) And of course, Ms. A and her boy are coming tomorrow for a few nights. Fun fun fun. Germany will feel like boredom with all the silence there after this trip!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-8775389422440880976?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/8775389422440880976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=8775389422440880976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8775389422440880976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/8775389422440880976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/06/boy-am-i-pooped.html' title='Boy am I pooped'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/SFacySnItBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dy613zBObkU/s72-c/SNB14291.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-9104838521424914225</id><published>2008-06-04T10:59:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T11:04:45.880+02:00</updated><title type='text'>There were 8 in a bed and the little one said ...</title><content type='html'>So we arrived last Wednesday evening.  We spent the weekend over at Joe &amp;amp; Rheanon's then came over to Julie's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is that living with so many people is not as bad as I thought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, there are 8 of us living at my sister's and it's really okay.  The kids are finishing their last week of school and we're just catching up with sleep and housework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba Joe is LOVING being with all of his cousins - and is really cute saying all their names: Joey, Jake, Ashley, Alexandra and Aaron.  Not that you'd know it when he says them, but he's trying!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm actually surprised that I haven't heard once - what is he saying?  He still combines languages, but I guess no one really expects to understand a 2 year old!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully later today we can find our camera and I can upload a few pictures - especially of his birthday party from last Sunday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned for more!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-9104838521424914225?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/9104838521424914225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=9104838521424914225' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/9104838521424914225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/9104838521424914225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/06/there-were-8-in-bed-and-little-one-said.html' title='There were 8 in a bed and the little one said ...'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4653408274464261541</id><published>2008-05-11T15:22:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T15:22:52.796+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A Celebration of Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>Today, we've spent the day, just Alex, Henry and I.  Today is Mother's Day.  It means a lot to me to celebrate being a mom.  My journey to motherhood has not been simple nor easy.  It's been complicated by the illness I had which brought motherhood much earlier than I anticipated.  It's been hard because of all the difficulties in my family.  Just as I became a mom, my mom was telling me she was done being a mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother's Day represents so many things to me.  But mostly, I am so thankful to be a mom.  To be a healthy mom.  My journey through postpartum depression has been rife with memories of my family, as it used to be, and goals that never came to fruition, like a new job or escaping reality. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julie made a big deal of Mother's Day for me, long before I was a mom.  She emphasized the importance of being an aunt, yet another role that I was not ready for but has come to make up a large part of who I am as a human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's why this weekend was hard for me.  Here I am, thousands of miles away from those who know me, I mean really know me.  My mother and sister in law both left on Friday for the long weekend (Monday is a holiday here in Germany).  They didn't go away together.  Rather, my MIL went to the North Sea while my SIL went south to Munich to visit friends.  I was reminded of how my family here is simply family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I celebrated today with just us - Alex, Henry, Mischka and Maggie.  The weather has been unusually nice - lots of sun and not one drop of rain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've worked outside in the backyard all day.  And we've enjoyed the antics of a 2 year old who still is finicky - especially about walking barefoot.  But don't worry - he's running around barefoot now!  He just needed a little time to get used to the new feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like me.  Just like you.  We all just need time to get used to things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's just what life is about - taking time when we need to and moving forward when we need to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been listening to music all day.  Right now, it's India.  And I really like the lyrics to this song.  Even if you know the words, please read it.  It really strikes a chord with me today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One shot to your heart without breaking your skin.  No one has the power to hurt you like your kin.  Kept it inside, didn't tell no one else. Didn't even wanna admit it to yourself. And now your chest burns and your back aches. From 15 years of holding the pain. And now you only have yourself to blame if you continue to live this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Get it together. You wanna heal your body, you have to heal your heart. Whatsoever you sow you will reap. Get it together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can fly fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dark future ahead of me that's what they said. I'd be starving if I ate all the lies they fed. Cause I've been redeemed from your anguish and pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; A miracle child I'm floating on a cloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause the words that come from your mouth you're the first to hear. Speak words of beauty and you will be there no matter what anybody says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What matters most is what you think of yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The choice is yours. No matter what it is to choose life is to choose to forgive. You don't have to try to hurt him and break his pride. Just shake that weight off and you will be ready to fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One shot to your heart without breaking your skin. No one has the power to hurt you like your friends. Thought it would never change but as time moved on that ugly duckling grew up to be a swan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; And now your chest burns and your back aches because now the years are showing up on your face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you'll never be happy and you'll never be whole until you see the beauty in growing old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4653408274464261541?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4653408274464261541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4653408274464261541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4653408274464261541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4653408274464261541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/05/celebration-of-mothers-day.html' title='A Celebration of Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-1248354741537648204</id><published>2008-04-24T23:47:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T00:01:33.991+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry Grandma</title><content type='html'>I just got an email from my aunt.  She basically said that my grandma was upset by some of the language in my posting about my dad.  I'm sorry for using offensive language grandma.  I did consider removing it (I originally wrote that posting quite some time ago) but felt that at that time, it really did describe the emotions I went through in watching my dad die. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn't matter.  I don't want to offend anyone with any of my posts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not here to curb my beliefs either so that I don't offend anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom always said that she taught us to think for ourselves - and that did not always mean agreeing with what she had taught us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't sleep.  Once again.  Could be all the tea (I'm not a coffee fan and we've cut out soda, hot tea is very common in Germany).  Or just could be that I'm more well, full of thoughts late at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both of my boys are in bed sleeping.  It's so amazing to watch Henry sleep.  I'm reminded daily of God's blessings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep grandma, I am a believer.  And a strong one at that.  I am a strong Christian woman who happens to have an MBA and works full-time as a SAHM (stay at home mom).  I wouldn't say that the road I've been on has been an easy one - and I'm not too sure about how much of my life has been predestined versus what influence I have had on things - but I do know that I believe.  I believe that Jesus was sent to save me.  And everytime I think of that concept, I get goosebumps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for me, my beliefs were that much more strengthened witnessing my father's passing, my family fall apart, and mostly, by having a son of my own.  I cannot imagine for one day, a life without Henry.  Sure, I've had some pretty rough spots in dealing with postpartum depression.  And there were many many times I did not want to be a mom and only wanted to have my dad back again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I take it all into perspective - preeclampsia / pregnancy-induced hypertension took away my faith in my body; dad dying took away my faith in my parents; my family falling apart took away my support network; moving overseas took away my foundation - there's only one thing left - God.  He's the only thing that's been a constant in my life.  And it took one big boat (the QM2 to be precise) to get me (physically) to where I'm learning that (Germany).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironically Germany is where Martin Luther began questioning the Catholic beliefs - specifically about predestination and paying for your sins.  Even more ironic to me is that (as far as I can tell) only 3 types of Christian churches here - Catholic (HUGE), Lutheran (not as big, but still large), and what Germans call Baptist (though they're more what I call mennonite'ish - a small(er) population).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-1248354741537648204?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/1248354741537648204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=1248354741537648204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1248354741537648204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/1248354741537648204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/04/sorry-grandma.html' title='Sorry Grandma'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-5692901132563964383</id><published>2008-04-22T13:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T13:45:38.467+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I like presentations.</title><content type='html'>Never thought I'd say that.  But I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a part of my job at Sachs that I enjoyed but tended to minimize. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I realize just how much I enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John would smile.  I have to tell him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-5692901132563964383?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/5692901132563964383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=5692901132563964383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5692901132563964383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/5692901132563964383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-like-presentations.html' title='I like presentations.'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-4537427216166486881</id><published>2008-04-21T23:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T23:35:26.500+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ohio Dates</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So, as most of ya'll know, we're coming to Ohio!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YEEEAAAAHHHH!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so very much looking forward to going grocery shopping at well, every hour of the day (stores close here between 7:00 and 8:00 pm) as well as being able to do ANYTHING on Sunday (oh yeah, and they are ALL closed on Sundays - in addition to the stores being closed, we're not allowed to make noise (i.e. no lawn mowing, no loud music, nothing)).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then of course, there's the lovely xrate factor (finally working in our favor!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we arrive in Ohio on Wednesday evening, May 28th and leave on Thursday June 26th.  We're planning on spending time between my brother and my sister's house, with a few days in the first week of June down in Ashland to catch up with friends there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hugs and kisses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-4537427216166486881?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/4537427216166486881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=4537427216166486881' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4537427216166486881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/4537427216166486881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/04/ohio-dates.html' title='Ohio Dates'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4553371925171905607.post-6827846164498833944</id><published>2008-04-21T22:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T23:16:34.473+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The day my dad died</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;I'll never forget that evening of August 13, 2005. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dear friend was visitng BJD (Bubba Joe's Dad) and I in our Lakewood home, sharing a bottle of red wine.  We were talking about our plans to move to Rhode Island - BJD had recently received a promotion and my job was going to allow me to work from home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 11:00 that evening, the phone rang.  No big deal, right?  That phone call changed everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad had fallen down / out of his office chair and couldn't move.  BJD and I had to wait until my brother left so he could swing by and pick us up - we'd had just enough to drink that we didn't drive.  We got to the hospital and dad was there, intubated and mostly unresponsive.  He had a stroke.  His left side was paralyzed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always get this weird feeling in situations like this.  It's almost like an out of body experience, where I'm watching everything seperate from my emotions.  I remember telling dad that if he had to go it was okay.  I remember telling mom that everything was going to be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six weeks later, many ups many downs, he died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother and I were there as he died.  It was so fucking surreal.  And so fucking unfair.  I remember praying with dad the Hail Mary and becoming so angry with God when I said "now and at the hour of our death".  I realized only then the full impact of those words.  Ironically, while dad could no longer speak, he was able to move his lips to pray with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BJD was picking up mom, per the doctor's request.  My sis was also on her way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my brother and I were there, watching dad's breathing becoming slower and less troubled.  We watched his face pale and his body fail.  We stood there, with tears falling so gently, as our world crashed all around us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being the control freak that I am, standard funeral home stuff wouldn't do. I wrote the little handouts that they give out.  I burned CDs with music (no crappy funeral music for my dad, nosiree!!!  Jeremiah was a bullfrog and my dad was a dancin'!)  I wrote, rewrote and rewrote yet again his eulogy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I cried.  I couldn't believe that he was just dead.  I mean, dead.  Gone.  No longer here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the funeral, when they let the family have their last goodbyes, I couldn't move.  My oldest niece sat next to me as everyone took their turn walking up to dad.  I just sat and started sobbing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gently took my hand and gave me the strength to go on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazing.  I will never forget that feeling she gave me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, dad was buried on September 30th.  Green Day has it totally right ... wake me up when September ends.  It still brings tears today when I hear it, not all the time, but sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon after, BJD and I took a long weekend to visit with a friend and her 3 kids in Kentucky.  We took our little guy Mischka with us - he'd also been to visit dad when he was in the nursing home for a week.  Mischka did great on the flight.  We had a fantastic time in Kentucky - and it was nice to be away from it all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the weekend we both quit smoking.  I knew that I never wanted to go through what I witness my dad go through - being intubated and reintubated all due to damage he had done so many years earlier due to smoking.  Some of the damage was just irreversible - he had quit 20+ years prior to his stroke. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the big surprise was that I had just gotten pregnant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoohooo ... normally I would have been ecstatic.  But all I wanted was my dad back.  And for people to stop telling me to be happy that life runs in a full circle.  What crap.  I was sad.  And I felt so guilty because I was sad instead of happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pregnancy went A-OK for a long while ... BJD and I even took a wonderful vacation in Mexico - highly recommend the Riviera Maya to anyone - in March.  But by Good Friday, a co-worked mentioned to me that my face looked swollen.  Somehow I knew that wasn't good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called my OB who offered me an appointment.  I didn't want to waste anyone's time - plus I was working my ass off for my company and loving it.  Plus it was Good Friday and I was helping out at church that evening.  Too much to do to see a doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse suggested I stop at a drugstore and get my BP checked out - and gave me the info that if my bottom number was greater than 90 to go in immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hah again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped at a drugstore, after work, on my way to church.  Their machine wasn't working.  So I quickly bought an automatic one and got to the car, installed the batteries and tried it out.  I don't remember exactly what it read.  But, uh, yeah.  I didn't believe the reading.  It was something like 150/100.  I took it a few more times and it was still really high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to church, helped out, explained to BJD what the nurse said and went home and rested ALL weekend (and of course, as I mentioned before, I am a control freak - so I checked my pressures and STILL didn't believe they were as high as they were!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had helped with my mom to arrange Easter brunch out in Avon, Ohio.  It was supposed to be really nice.  Instead, my BP wouldn't go down and I was scared.  I was 28 weeks pregnant (barely) and finally BJD convinced me to call the OB.  I did.  And instead of him telling me to just take it easy he said he'd meet me at L&amp;amp;D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was put on bedrest for PIH (pregnancy-induced hypertension).  Instead of beginning my lamaze classes that week, I was allowed to NOT work (well, actually my OB said to quit my job, me, yeah right), to lay down and rest and well, do nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tracked my BP 3x daily, did kick counts 2x daily, took my blood sugar levels 4x daily (oh yeah, then I ended up testing positive for GD (gestational diabetes) oh what fun), and all this while remembering to take my BP meds 4x daily and writing it all down for BJD to fax into the high-risk MFM lest he forget me.  (Yeah, great MFM I had - told me that if I didn't fax it into him weekly he'd forget who I was.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Easter Sunday was spent in the hospital.  5 weeks later, I had my baby shower.  The next day I ended up in the hospital, waiting to be induced.  Turns out BJ (Bubba Joe - aka little man) was no longer getting what he needed.  I had preeclampsia.  He was born at 34 weeks weighing 4 pounds 5 ounces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4553371925171905607-6827846164498833944?l=lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/feeds/6827846164498833944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4553371925171905607&amp;postID=6827846164498833944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6827846164498833944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4553371925171905607/posts/default/6827846164498833944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifedeathpreeclampsia.blogspot.com/2008/04/day-my-dad-died.html' title='The day my dad died'/><author><name>Alice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10844620020126346666</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bdbi-LTtdNE/ShwFrKf1ypI/AAAAAAAAAKk/TOO4eTgUlFo/S220/DSC00491.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
