NOT PREGNANT

Tested yesterday and came up with nothing. We are bummed. There is a certain amount of entitlement that comes with nightly shots in the rump with a needle the size of an 8p nail. When one doesn't get what is wanted, and said rump is swollen, bruised, and hurting, one is allowed to be bummed. As Grace grows (she will be two on the 12th), the desire to have another child around grows as well. Sibling play together, siblings support each other when parents aren't around anymore. We want another one.

Just a few days before we were to test, my wife said they if it didn't work then she was going to stop trying. I told her not to jump to conclusions, and not to make any big decisions until we found out for sure what was going on. Last night, she turned to me after we climbed into bed and said, "I keep thinking that it will work the next time. I want to try one more time."

I said, "Good."

BLIGHTED OVUM

Apparently, BLIGHTED OVUM is old school terminology. Regardless of what they call it now (Anembryonic Pregnancy or Early Pregnancy Failure ), it all means the same thing - Miscarriage. We went to the docs and they explained it the best they could: basically the egg was fertilized, the sac began to develop, but the pregnancy ceased before the embryo kicked in. Because we have to monitor everything, and take shots, and count the minutes to every step we knew we were pregnant before most folks would. Pretty much we can pinpoint the exact moment of prego-hood. The docs told us that some gals may not even be aware they are pregnant when they have a blighted ovum.

Linda took it rough. For me, when the doc told us that an embryo had not developed, I pretty much just wrote it off as another failed attempt. Bad me. I sort of just shrugged my shoulders at the whole thing and said, "Well, that's that." Not good. Linda was more emotionally entrenched and my response was devastating to her. She took my easy-come-easy-go manner as indifference. Which, looking back, we see that it wasn't, but it sure looked that way. I think the way I responded was a calculated, innate defense against suffering through another emotional rollercoaster like I had when we lost TJ. It isn't that I looked at the miscarriage as a "lesser" loss, but as something that I couldn't deal with in the first place. Linda and I were equally emotional about the situation, but my way of handling it was to put up a layer of bricks and somehow convince myself that she hadn't been pregnant at all.

So, here we are again. Shots, and scans, and time charts, and the whole bit. We know the formula. We know what needs to be done. Looking back over all my experiences in trying to get a family up and running, I have learned this: If an f-ing BLIGHTED OVUM ever comes my way again, I ain't gonna shrug it off. I am going to hold my wife close, and reassure her that I am there for her.

MISCARRIAGE

I don't understand why it needs be so difficult to get knocked up? Last May we started the process of getting pregnant. There was a delay right off the bat with cysts, so Linda needed to go on birth control yadda yadda yadda. We had been down that road before. We were disappointed because with Grace it was so automatic. Wham Bam Thank Ya Mam. Prego Presto! This time took some work. The start of summer saw the start of shots. Shots led to tests. Tests led to disappointment. Three times? Twice? I was an emotional wreck and can't remember. Everything changed, though, when we got a positive read on a home prego test. The rule was, we wouldn't tell anyone. That didn't last. I was so excited I told all of Fresno pretty much. There were dr. appointments to make, plans to make (we would need to tear down the guest room for another baby room, right?), money to save. We went to our first "numbers count" meeting and the numbers (whatever they are) rose as they should. Excitement continues to build. We go again and the
numbers
dropped.

Disappointment. Disbelief. Heartbreak.

I immediately put up walls - a brick at a time. I didn't know what to say, or do, or anything. All I knew was that I couldn't let myself be crushed like I was with TJ. I seemed as if I had forgotten how to communicate my feelings, which didn't help things around our house. My gut instinct told me to count our losses AND our blessings and take Gracie and run with her. Linda took this as a sign that I maybe hadn't wanted a baby in the first place. We were in a communication sink hole.
We called Angel Babies. They were there to help us again. They were there to help sort through the emotions and miscommunication and helped to get things out in the open. I did want a baby, I was numbed by the loss, but I was having trouble finding my words. There is more to it then this. I will need to see how to spell it out.

The docs said we had to wait a while until we started up again trying for a baby. We miscarried right around Christmas, and the docs wanted a full cycles between tries to give Linda's body time to heal. We went to the doctor's last month. Again there were cysts, so Linda was put on birth control for a month. Now it is a go. We did the shots and inseminated yesterday......

RIP PART FOUR (4)

THE FINAL CHAPTER

The time to hesitate is through

No time to wallow in the mire

Try now we can only lose

And our love become a funeral pyre

Come on baby, light my fire

- The Doors , Light My Fire

Hindus perfected the art of cremation. There is tradition and ritual involved in it. The eldest in the house lights the pyre. The ashes are collected afterwards and sent adrift in a sacred river. The cultural influence in America is changing the way we deal with our dead. The new crematorium in Turlock, where I grew up, is equipped with a family viewing room. From this gallery the family can watch the casket be loaded into the cremation chamber, and there is a STARTER button on the wall next to the window. The ancient cultural rites adapted for modern times. It works. Of course, the best funeral pyre ever is at the end of Return of the Jedi. Luke Skywalker lights the pyre containg the remains of Darth Vader, his father, thus returning his father's soul back to the light side. (See picture above)

When TJ died, my wife and I had to decide quickly what we were going to do. I didn’t think I could handle a funeral, so I tossed out the cremation suggestion. Linda agreed. Later, after we had time to really think about the whole thing, Linda told me that her initial reaction to the idea did not set well in her mind. Cremation to her is over-the-top. Does she regret the decision? She says no, and in fact she gets a lot of comfort from having him at home with us. Her concern at the time was not the funeral, but the internment. The idea of burying TJ in a cemetery was too much for grasp.

So here is our plan. Since Linda doesn’t like the idea of being cremated, she will have a traditional Catholic funeral Mass with a graveside service to follow. If I pass away after Linda, I will be cremated and my remains put into a pewter urn that matches TJ’s. No funeral, no memorial service, just my name in the paper and the address of the funeral home. If I die before Linda, she can have me embalmed and do the whole funeral thing. Regardless of all that, TJ will be placed in the casket with either me or Linda. We will more than likely buy a family tomb in the wall of the St. Anthony Chapel at St. Peter’s Cemetery in Fresno, California. One thing that Linda and I both agree upon is that neither of us likes the idea of being underground. The only reason we would plant ourselves in traditional plots would be if the cemetery allowed for big gaudy custom tombstones. I got a few ideas for something where grave stones are concerned. Don’t get me started…..

RIP PART THREE (3)

My father was a mortician for almost 30 years. One would think that after so many years in the business he would have figured out the details of his own service. But no. Not only has he not figured any of specifics, he and my mother can not seem to agree on any of their preferences, other than both wanting to be cremated. My mother must be an old hippie at heart. She wants her ashes to be scattered in the roses that line the drive way of their home in Florence, Oregon. My father does not. If there is one thing he has determined it is that he likes the idea of having a little piece of real estate to call his own. He doesn’t know what kind, nor has he looked into buying anything. He just likes the idea of someone at some time wanting to look him up and maybe come to visit. My mother, apparently just wants to be plant food. Literally. The other aspects of their services have not even been talked about. Do they want a funeral Mass, just a memorial, or a funeral-less wake? What music do they want played? There are so many things to consider. Nothing is planned or worked out. Almost 30 years in the biz and my parents are going into their golden years blind.

We used to visit cemeteries on vacation. I now understand that my father was always on the lookout. Every trip was a scouting expedition for a potential life change – could we live here? My father said that a community could be judged by the cemeteries they keep. I still visit cemeteries when I travel. I couldn’t tell you how many I have been to. If we don’t stop, I sometimes take pictures of grave yards from car windows. I have a beautiful picture from my honeymoon that I took from the passenger side window of our 1978 Diesel Rabbit of the massive tombstones in the Guadalupe cemetery. I’m obsessed. It was Steinbeck’s grave that gave me my final burial plan. His is so simple, a brass plaque in the family plot with his name and the years of his life, 1902 – 1968. Simple. His cremated remains were placed under the name plate and that is that. Ever since visiting his grave for the first time back in 1987, I thought that is the plan for me. I want to be like Steinbeck.

Stay tuned for PART FOUR (4) in which our plan for TJ is finally revealed.

RIP PART TWO (2)

As long as there has been life......there's been death, and the need to do something with the dead. Every culture has it's rituals. Shoot, there are so many different funeral ceremonies a person could go nuts trying to decide which is best for their dearly departed loved one. The ancient Egyptians got the whole embalming tradition started. They would pull the organs out and put them in beautifully carved canopic jars. Then they would pack the abdomen full of a tar like stuff. Of course we have all heard of them removing the brain through the nose! YUCK! But it worked! They wrapped up their family members and now almost every museum in the world has a mummy on display.

There was a group of Romans who lived in northern Egypt way back when. They morphed funeral traditions into a unique mummification that can be seen at the Getty Villa in Malibu. It seems the Romans liked to create portraits of their loved ones. And living in Egypt required a wrap job, so they combined the two. These guys placed a portrait, painted with wax on wood, over the face of the dead person and then proceed with the mummification process. The result is STUNNING. If the portrait wasn't good enough, they also painted the wrapping cloth. Very Cool!

By world standards, there are some cultures who still seem pretty primitive when it comes to dealing with their dead. There are some reclusive Tibetan sects who perform "Sky Burials." Basically they take the corpse to a sacred location atop a hill, or somewhere, then they dismember the body into small pieces, smash the bones up, and basically leave the remains exposed for the vultures to eat. Not pretty, but effective. Not something I would pick, but hey....who am I?

A traditional Hmong funeral can be seen as primitive in many ways, yet it has gained quite a bit of acceptance in America, at least where Hmong have settled (St. Paul area of Minnesota & here in the Central Valley of California). They are huge events with tons of people, music, and food, and ceremonies. I guess the biggest eye brow rising aspect is that of the animal sacrifice. Apparently local funeral homes, city councils, and community leaders have been able to come up with compromises that satisfy all involved. Most animals are butchered by commercial cutters and then delivered to the funeral homes. That is what I call, thinking outside the box.

All this info is interesting, but how would it help us? Stay tuned for PART THREE (3) in which I share our own personal wants and don't wants and what our final plan is for TJ.

RIP PART ONE (1)

My son's remains are in a small urn about the size of a shot glass. It is a nice heavy peyter with his name and deliver date engraved on it: TJ Persons / February 5, 2005. From the day we ordered it I was worried that he wouldn't fit. When we sat with the mortician and worked through the paperwork and signed all the legal forms required by the state in order to cremate a loved one I asked if that urn would be big enough. "I am worried," I said. "I guarantee that the remains of your son will fit in an urn that size." I looked at him closely. I studied his eyes. My father was a mortician for nearly 30 years. I know how these guys work. But I trusted this guy. His eyes were real, sincere. "It's so small," I said. "I guarantee it," he assured. "Can I get it engraved?" I asked. "Absolutely. Wouldn't have it any other way," he said. We shook hands. "Sold."

It has been an age old issue. Some would consider it a problem. In fact entire cities have been created to accommodate the nagging reality of storing our dead. What do we do with everyone? My wife and I have been dealt a hand that demands an answer. When TJ died, we needed to come up with a plan. Now, after two years, we finally have one.

Stay tuned for PART TWO (2) in which I discuss various new and old traditions of handling our loved ones, and I may get to sharing what our plan is.